CHAPTER XV

MY CAMPING EXPERIENCE IN TOOKTOO VALLEY

Conclusion of the Murder Scare—A Fifteen-mile Walk along the Arctic Shore—Matt my Sole Companion—An Arctic Paradise—A Tramp with an Unpleasant Ending—Twenty-four Hours with Nothing to eat—In the Shadow of the Ice-cliffs—Fording a Glacial River—Safe in Camp again.

Tuesday, July 12. Gibson arrived this morning, minus his sledge and his entire load, having been obliged to abandon them on account of hard traveling. He advises me to go to the head of the bay without delay, as the ice is even now in a bad condition, and each day makes it worse. Ikwa was on the point of starting with a sledge of provisions and bedding, and I decided at once that Matt should accompany him. I shall follow later along the shore. At one P. M. Matt and Ikwa started, with five dogs, one native sledge, and one toboggan. I fully intended to leave after supper, but I found so many things to do that I was too tired to think of walking fifteen miles, and determined to wait until to-morrow. I gave my room a thorough cleaning, and put down my new carpet, washed and did up my bed-curtains, and made things as bright and clean as possible. I hope the little den will look somewhat homelike to Mr. Peary when he comes back. I am afraid this lovely weather will not last much longer; but even if it rains I believe I can be as comfortable in the tent as here at Redcliffe.

Kyo came in to-night and had a long talk with the doctor about the doctor’s threatening to shoot the huskies. He is very much frightened at the doctor’s carrying the revolver. What added to his fright was that we opened the side window this afternoon, Kyo immediately concluding that we intended to fire on the natives from it. I am more than ever convinced that there was nothing in Matt’s “overheard conversation,” and it is certain that all the Eskimos are badly frightened at the display of firearms. Kyo said the doctor might shoot the others, but the bullets would not hurt him; that the “kokoyah” (evil spirit) was kind to him, and he would never die. But if the white man killed the Innuits the kokoyah would, at Kyo’s command, “shad-a-go” (destroy) their vessel, and they would all die. Finally peace was declared, and Kyo brought over his sealskin float, for which he wanted wood to make the ring of his kayak. I am sorry for this episode, which has brought about an unpleasantness with the natives.

Wednesday, July 13. At 2.30 this afternoon, in company with Dr. Cook, I left Redcliffe on my fifteen-mile walk to the head of the bay, which we reached at eight o’clock. Matt and Ikwa, who had preceded us, had a terrible time in getting through. Half the time they were in water above their waists, and occasionally they were obliged to float themselves over on Ikwa’s sealskin float. It was all that Matt could do to persuade Ikwa to continue. It began to rain about ten P. M., and has rained lightly ever since. I fear the doctor did not have a pleasant walk back.

Thursday, July 14. I made a short scout after duck, but saw only a few eiders far out on the ice. How sweet the air is, and how restful the rushing of the streams as they make their way to the shore! I feel the need of rest and quiet, and it is very peaceful here. When the weather clears I shall enjoy the rambles over the soft green moss, I know.

Friday, July 15. This morning the sun was shining brightly, and had it not been for the mosquitos the day would have been thoroughly enjoyable Matt and I started about nine A. M. to take a look at the country beyond Boat Camp, but I find it will be impossible to cross the glacial river, and yet I must get to Tooktoo Camp before long. After lunch I took my shot-gun and started out in the direction of the hanging glacier, where there are a number of ponds. In one of these I saw two long-tailed ducks, but I could only secure one. The breast gives us one meal, and the rest of the bird stew for another. After supper we took a walk over the hills toward the glacier. The evening was fine, the air sweet, the grass and moss soft, and studded with thousands of flowers. In every direction can be heard either the rushing and roaring of a glacier river, or the rippling and swishing of some tiny stream. The snow-buntings and sandpipers are hopping about and chirping merrily, and the great golden ball is moving slowly along the heavens. The inland ice seems to wear a continual smile, so bright does its surface appear. Does it wish to assure me that all is well with the ones who are traveling on its bosom, or is it only mocking me? I will try to think the former.

Sunday, July 17. A dull, foggy day. The mosquitos are so thick that it is all but impossible to venture out.

Wednesday, July 20. Yesterday at noon the sun was shining brightly, and there was a light southeast wind, enough to keep the mosquitos quiet, so I decided to start for the cache back of Tooktoo Camp, in which I wished to deposit a note and some canned goods. I knew it would be a long tramp around the intervening lake, but I would be amply repaid if my husband were to return while I was still here, and find the note, assuring him of a welcome a few miles beyond. When we reached the mouth of the glacial stream which discharges into the head of the bay, it was low tide, and we made an effort to ford it, thinking thereby to save a walk of five miles. Matt stepped in and I followed. The water felt intensely cold; it was above my kamik-tops, but not above my knees, and we went on. When we came to a rock about one fourth of the way over I was compelled to climb on it and beat my feet and legs; I could not control them any longer. Then we again plunged into the icy water, which now reached above my knees. It took us fifteen minutes to cross, and the temperature of the water was certainly not over 35°, for large and small pieces of ice were floating about us. The current was in places very strong, and had it not been for the boathook I had taken with me, on which to hoist a flag over the cache, I should have been swept off my feet many times. Once across, and our wet stockings changed for dry ones, I did not regret having come. We found the cache after some little trouble, and I deposited the note, also a can of milk, a can of fruit, some biscuit, and a small flask of brandy, and then put up the flag.

We retraced our steps past old Tooktoo Camp to the mouth of the river. Here we found that the tide had already risen a foot, and we continued our walk along the river-bank toward the head of the lake. On reaching it we found that it communicated with a second lake by a deep, roaring torrent, which, although narrower than the river below, was still too wide and deep to be crossed; so on we went till we reached the end of the second lake, and here it seemed as if we might walk around it by climbing along the lower edge of two glaciers, although we were by no means sure that a raging stream did not sweep down on the other side. Great rocks were continually rolling from the top of the glaciers, and I did not think it safe to venture. The scene was an impressive one. Black cliffs raise their heads over four great white glaciers, smooth as marble, and at their feet roars a furious torrent, till it merges into a broad lake, which looks as calm and unruffled as if this stream were only a drop in its depths. On each side of this stretch of water the valley is carpeted with soft green moss and yellow poppies, and fairly alive with the chirping and flitting of birds. We tarried here quite a while. I could not make up my mind to leave so beautiful a scene; besides, the only thing left for us to do now was to wait for low tide, which would be about one A. M., and then ford the river where we had crossed it in the morning. It was 8.45 P. M. when we again reached the mouth of the stream. The tide was high, but falling. Had we had something to eat we should not have minded the waiting. We kept moving in order to keep warm, until we thought that the tide had reached its ebb. As we neared the shore we could see no familiar line of rocks which indicated low tide, and on closer examination we were horrified to find a “high low tide.” Still we felt we must attempt to cross, and Matt started in, while I followed at his heels. The first step was over our knees, the next came mid-thigh on Matt, and then I backed out, for I knew that we were not near the deepest part yet; besides, the current was so strong that I could hardly keep my footing. We tried lower down, but with the same result. Even had we made up our minds to bear the cold water, we could not possibly have stood up against the current. We then determined to try it in the lake, but were baffled there as well. By this time we were pretty well drenched, almost to our waists, and yet the only thing for us to do was to wait for the noon low tide of the morrow. We sat down on a rock, took off our stockings and kamiks, and wrung the water out as best we could, then put them on again. I knew it would never do for us to sleep, or even sit still in our wet clothes, for there is always a cool breeze blowing, and the night temperatures average about 40°; yet the prospect of twelve hours more of tramping, when we had already tramped twelve and a half hours, with nothing to eat—we had only had coffee and a cracker before starting—and a cold fog settling down upon us, was anything but encouraging. I suggested that we go to the cache, where we had left the brandy and milk for the inland ice-party, and mix a drink of some of it, and then begin the climb to Nunatak Cache. This we did. I had my old enemy, the sick-headache, brought on by lack of food and the excitement, and consequently every step was agony, yet I knew I must keep on. Thoughts came crowding in upon me of my husband and my mother. We walked and walked until almost ready to drop with hunger, fatigue, and lack of sleep; then, as we climbed above the fog into the warm sunshine, we would sit down a few minutes, wrapping our heads in our handkerchiefs to keep off the mosquitos, which swarmed about us. As soon as one of us saw the other dozing we pushed on again. In this way we climbed through the ravine and in sight of Nunatak Cache, but it was impossible for me to go farther; my limbs trembled under me, and refused to act at my bidding. We returned to the river. At 11.30 this morning the welcome line of rocks indicating low tide made its appearance, and, to our great relief, we found that we were able to cross the stream. Two more thankful creatures never were than we when we found ourselves on dry land on our side of the “kook” (river) again. We were perfectly numb with cold from mid-thigh down, and so ran and pounded our feet and limbs for the three miles that intervened between the river and the tent, which we reached in an hour. Thus far we feel no ill results from our icy adventure.

Saturday, July 23. The bay, which has been perfectly clear of ice, except for a few small bergs near the glacier, is filled again, as a result of the tide-wind. The white whales, which have been sporting about for a number of days, are shut out from their playground. I tramped about nearly all day, but did not get near any game. I never weary of Tooktoo Valley. To me it is a beautiful spot, with its river and lakes, its glaciers and mountains, its carpet of soft green moss, its wealth of flowers, and its busy birds and insects. I have not heard from Redcliffe since I left there, over a week ago; no information of any kind has come to me.