River Rough, River Smooth. Anthony Dalton
I was confident she would be sturdy and hoped she would prove to be watertight. Charlie Campbell had, apparently, been inspired by the same York boats I had seen at Lower Fort Garry a few days before.
A plaque on a white-washed wall of the old HBC building also commemorates the celebrated Charlie Campbell who, it says, worked for the Hudson’s Bay Company for forty-four years (1924–1968).
On the way back to Irv’s office I saw Ken McKay’s York boat for the first time, tucked into the reeds close to a house, which, I later learned, was Charlie’s home. It certainly looked impressive with its mast and crosstree moving slightly in the breeze, giving it the appearance of being ready for anything.
Irv gave me a photocopy of a slim book on the history of Norway House,2 and a dictionary3 of Swampy Cree terms translated into English. Both items were extremely useful for my research and a thoughtful gesture, although the Cree language would not be easy to learn.
There are forty syllabic characters with twelve final consonants in Cree, whereas we who use the Roman orthography have but twenty-six characters in our alphabet. Cree syllabics, or Pepipopa,4 were developed in the early nineteenth century by Methodist missionary James Evans5 so that the Cree could read the scriptures. Anthropologist Alan McMillan6 described syllabic writing as differing “from that using an alphabet by having one character for the whole syllable (minimally, a consonant and a vowel combination).” More recent epigraphers have suggested that the symbols used by Evans may have already been known in ancient times in Europe. Be that as it may, James Evans was the man who taught the Cree to read and write in their own language. Eventually, due to his dedication and intelligence, the complete Holy Bible was translated into Cree.
The stone monument to the Reverend James Evans, creator of the Cree syllabic dictionary, stands on Church Point in Norway House.
There is no doubt that the Reverend Evans was a highly talented man and a dedicated linguist. During a long stint in Upper Canada he had worked with the Ojibway, even devising a written version of their language. He actually translated some of his own works into Ojibway for them. The hard-working missionary was also capable with his hands. While at York Factory he fashioned a canoe from sheets of tin. Evans is said to have covered thousands of miles in his shiny craft, making any en-route repairs with a soldering iron. Because it reflected sunlight and ripples on the water, the Cree called Evans’s tin canoe the “Island of Light.”7 It is certain that Evans followed the route we were about to take, at times by Cree canoe, sometimes in his tin tub, and possibly by York boat. Evans and his family eventually went back to England, where he died of a heart attack not long after while lecturing to raise money for the missions. In 1955, over a century after his death, his ashes were finally returned to Norway House.8 They rest, as perhaps they should, close to the lovely little white church on a grassy knoll. There, on Church Point, a monument celebrates his exemplary work and his life’s achievements.
The Cree have lived and hunted in this area since sometime after their ancestors crossed the land bridge over the Bering Strait, between Alaska and Siberia. Being nomadic hunters and seasonal gatherers they travelled constantly in search of sustenance. The Cree settled in a vast land of forests, rivers, and lakes: a land where food was plentiful.They named each of those rivers and each of the lakes in their own language. They soon found all the best fishing spots, the most productive hunting grounds, and discovered the most comfortable places to set up their wigwams.
The land was different then; the Cree knew it belonged to the Great Spirit.The rivers were pure, the forests and plains rich in game. The Cree lived wherever they wished, though there were some potential restrictions. Their distant neighbours, the Chipewyan in the north and west were their enemies and to be avoided if at all possible. In the south, however, the Assiniboine were their friends.
Occasionally the Cree and the Assiniboine would join forces to hunt buffalo on the grasslands of the prairies. Sometimes the young men of the tribe went to war against the Sioux with the Assiniboine;9 though most historians agree that, in general, the Cree have always been a peaceful nation.
When I was a boy at school in England, I was fascinated by all things associated with Canada, particularly its Native populations. Images of healthy braves riding furiously after stampeding buffalo were part of my childish introduction to Canada’s history. Perhaps part of the attraction for me was due to a relative, my great-uncle, who roamed Canada in the early 1900s. He had lived in Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan, at a time when the prairie regions were still in the evolutionary stage between wilderness and farmland. I’m sure he must have had many opportunities to meet and learn about the Native Canadians. Sadly he died long before I was born. I would love to have heard his tales of adventure.
Raymond Beaumont, author of a brief history of Norway House, opened his work with: “Long before Norway House existed, there was only a river and a lake, part of a waterway that started in the mountains far to the west and ended at the great salt water sea to the north. All around, as far as the eye could see, stretched forest, marsh, and muskeg with patches of bare rock here and there. It was a place untouched by human hands.”10
Standing alone on the shores of Playgreen Lake later that afternoon, with my back to the settlement, the Norway House area really did not look so different to me. I stood on a flat rock, bare except for some patches of lichen.There was still the river and the lake. We were surrounded by woodlands and I knew there were marshes and muskeg not far away. I could see why the early hunters and gatherers came to this place. It was an idyllic setting with game and fish in abundance.
In summer, the watery highway of the Hayes River system reached from Hudson Bay to this natural crossroads. The operational season, however, was too short for the fur traders in London. In the early nineteenth century, the Hudson’s Bay Company made plans to build a winter road from the site of present-day Norway House to York Factory. Standing on the shores of Playgreen Lake that day, I was reminded of a tenuous link between me, the Hudson’s Bay Company’s ships, and the seasonal track.
On May 29, 1814, the HBC’s Prince of Wales11 set sail from the English port of Gravesend, on the Thames River, as Nonsuch had done 146 years before. She was bound across the north Atlantic, through the tidal turmoil of Hudson Strait, and into Hudson Bay. Her destination, as usual for many westbound Company ships, was York Factory. Eight Norwegians and one Swede joined the vessel before she slipped her moorings at Gravesend. The Norwegians had been hired to work at a variety of locations along the proposed winter road. The ninth member of the party, a Swedish naval officer, Lieutenant Enner Holte,12 was the supervisor and interpreter.
One hundred and twenty-six years later, as the dreadful conflict in Europe escalated toward the Battle of Britain, I was born in an upstairs bedroom of a semi-detached house in Gravesend. Fifty-four years after that, I got ready to travel the river running through the land the Scandinavians had been sent to clear.
Prince of Wales, which was to carry Lieutenant John Franklin’s overland expedition to York Factory five years later, dropped anchor at Five Fathom Hole on September 3, 1814. The anchorage, a few kilometres from York Factory, was as far as the ship could go. All the men and cargo were ferried ashore in company schooners and other smaller boats. Once the passengers were on shore, the HBC factor, or head man, issued Holte with his instructions and advised him of the plans. He and his party were to travel inland, up the Hayes River to the first specified site for the winter road. Being skilled with long-handled axes, the Norwegians were to clear up to sixty acres of land and plant potatoes. From there they were to move to White Falls, also known as Robinson Falls, fell the trees and plant rye.
The project was far from successful. On September 10, the Swede, the Norwegians, a Company clerk, and a handful of Irishmen left York Factory in two boats. At the end of the first day the Irishmen turned back for York Factory, apparently because they disliked eating pemmican,13 and shipped out for the Emerald Isle.
The Swede and the Norwegians continued upriver. Holte had great difficulty in imposing his will on the unruly and hard-drinking Norwegians. The eight