Canadian Transport Sourcebook

Pathfinders.

From a deep canyon in the heart of a range of Canadian mountains there emerged on a September day a group of unkempt and weather-scarred men. They continued their stumbling march over a ground covered by masses of rock, fallen trees, long rank ferns, and poisonous devil's club.

At mid-day they halted, wearied and hungry, and each man ate his perilously meagre rations. Then one of the party, a tall, bearded man with a commanding presence and distinguished appearance, despite the raggedness of his attire, turned to a younger man beside him and gave him a few words of instructions. The younger man fired two rifle shots in rapid succession. All the men then listened intently. The report of a gun shot was heard in reply. The rifle emitted another three shots, and again a gun shot was heard—once—twice—three times. 'Thank God! we have established our con­nections!' the tall, bearded man, evidently the leader, exclaimed. The longed-for supplies were there as arranged. All anxiety for the future was over.

The party hurried forward, eagerly and excitedly overcoming the obstacles underfoot. After a little time they halted to rest, and the young man again pulled the trigger of his loaded rifle. Two shots, more distinct from their closer proximity, were heard. The men again advanced, elation marked on every countenance. Going straight in the direction of the sound, they strove to follow it. Soon they were out of the green woods and before them lay the waters of the Columbia. On the opposite shore, about a mile distant, they observed the smoke of a camp. A series of hurrahs broke from the men—their friends from Kamloops were there at the appointed meeting-place. From the opposite bank two canoes shot out. As the men in the canoes came into sight, a look of amazement and bitter disappointment sprang into the tense faces of the watchers. The canoes con­tained Indians—only. The two parties met at the water's edge. The Indians could not speak English, but with the help of a little "Chinook" the travellers learned that no one had arrived from Kamloops. It was the Indians who had replied to the shots.

'We were in the heart of the desert and asked for bread. We did not even get a stone, but met hungry Indians ready to devour the little store we had brought with us.'

The tall, bearded man was Sandford Fleming, Chancellor of Queen's University and world-famed engineer. The younger man who fired the rifle shots was his son; the other two men were Dr. Grant, Principal of Queen's University, and Albert Rogers. Five packers completed the party which had emerged from the canyon. Sandford Fleming was making his memorable journey over the proposed route of the Canadian Pacific Railway through the mountains to the Pacific.

Sandford Fleming's diary of his journey is a vivid exemplification, not only of the hardships endured and perils encountered by him and his companions, but by the men who were the first pathfinders for the railway which was to stretch in an unbroken line from the Atlantic to the Pacific. The tales of heroism, of deeds of daring and self-sacrifice performed in the endeavour to wrest from the mountains their jealously-guarded secrets, constitute a record as thrilling in its nature as the stories woven by a wizard of romance.

Fleming's journey is especially historic in that it was the first human connection made between the three mountain passes discovered by Dr. Hector, Walter Moberly and Major Rogers respectively, and the first over the entire route of that portion of the great transcontinental highway between Lake Superior and the Pacific Ocean. His narrative constitutes a permanent tribute to great explorers and brave men.

'Our journey this day was over exceedingly rough ground,' reads a passage in his diary. 'We have to cross gorges so narrow that a biscuit might be thrown from the last horse descending, to the bell-horse six hundred feet ahead, ascending the opposite side. The fires have been running through the woods and are still burning ; many of the half-burnt trees have been blown down, probably by the gale of last night, obstructing the trail and making advance extremely difficult.'

Nor did the road improve as they advanced; many miles of burnt woods still lay before them. The air was still and quiet, otherwise they would have had the additional risk of blackened trunks falling upon them, with disastrous consequences. On they went, down and up gorges hundreds of feet deep, among rocky masses, where the horses had to clamber up as best they could amid sharp points and deep crevices.

'The trail now takes another character. A series of precipices run sheer up from the boiling current to form a contracted canyon. A path has, therefore, been traced along the hillside, ascending to the elevation of some seven or eight hundred feet. For a long distance not a vestige of vegetation is to be seen. On the steep acclivity our line of advance is narrow, so narrow that there is scarcely a foothold; neverthe­less we have to follow for some six miles this thread of trail, which seemed to us by no means in excess of the requirements of the chamois and the mountain goat.

'We cross clay, rock, and gravel slides at a giddy height. To look down gives one an uncontrollable dizziness, to make the head swim and the view unsteady, even with men of tried nerve.

'I do not think I can ever forget that terrible walk; it was the greatest trial I ever experienced. We are from five to eight hundred feet high on a path of from ten to fifteen inches wide and at some points almost obliterated, with slopes above and below us so steep that a stone would roll into the torrent in the abyss below. There are no trees or branches or twigs which we can grip to aid us in our advance on the narrow, precarious footing. We become more sensible to the difficulties we encounter each step as we go forward. The sun came out with unusual power; our day's effort has caused no little of a strain, and the perspiration is running from us like water. I myself felt as if I had been dragged through a brook, for I was without a dry shred on me.'

The travellers arrived at Major Rogers' camp weary and footsore after their terrible march of many miles over rough ground high up on the mountain side, over path every step of which was a renewed difficulty, a path crossed only because of the very desperation of their circumstances. Having entered on the journey, they would not turn back, and they had to face the difficulties in their front, cost what it would.

Before them lay a seemingly impenetrable barrier—the Selkirk Mountains, through which the railway was to battle its way westwards. Major Rogers had discovered a pass two years before, and Sandford Fleming determined to traverse the newly-found cleft in the mountains. Rogers offered to accompany them part of the route, and to send his nephew, Albert, who had accompanied him in his exploratory expedi­tion, the entire distance. A horse trail had been opened to the summit of the Selkirk Range, and a short way down the Illecillewaet.

Beyond that point lay the wilderness in all its native ruggedness, without a path for the human foot, with the river and mountain gorges only as landmarks and guides.

Early the next morning the travellers were in a canoe floating down the Columbia River. Looking back they saw the rocky range which they had crossed at such peril. The terrace on which they stood at sunset lay along the foot of the hills, and a second terrace was seen to follow the Kicking Horse River, some twelve hundred feet high. The ground from the canyon of the Kicking Horse River ascended to this terrace, and it was along the face of this upper shelving acclivity that the narrow ledge of pathway was traced, which Fleming had followed for miles. 'I never wish to take another such walk. I dared not look down. It seemed as if a false step would have hurled us to the base, to certain death.'

At noon the party left the canoe, having overtaken the packers and the horses, and proceeded on foot until they reached a rugged mountain defile, leading up to the summit, which they were to cross. The mountain peaks rose high above them, and, although it was far advanced in the forenoon, the sun had not yet ascended to the lofty horizon.

They crossed many old avalanche slides. On the southern side of the mountains, as they wound their way, great scaurs, banked with snow, were seen two or three hundred feet above the bottom of the narrow valley through which a creek flowed. To the north lay a glacier some fifty yards thick at its overhanging termination. Five miles from their previous night's camp they left the creek and followed a small stream to the south.

Half a mile further they reached the summit of the pass, the discovery of which had solved one of the mightiest and heart wearying problems which con­fronted the pathfinders for the Canadian Pacific highway.

It was an occasion for celebration. 'I recollected, that I had a package of cigars, a gift from a genial Ottawa friend. They had crossed and re-crossed the Atlantic with me during the present summer, and it was little thought that when they came into my possession that their aroma would mingle with the atmosphere of a summit in the Selkirk Range. They are produced. We have no wine, so we can only congratulate Major Rogers over the cigars on the discovery of a pass so far practicable and on certain conditions appearing to furnish a solution of crossing over the Selkirk Range.

'As we quietly rested, enjoying our cigars in the midst of the remarkable scenery which surrounded us on every side, Major Rogers described to us various details connected with the discovery of the pass. . . With his nephew he had climbed a mountain on its northern bank, and from the summit he looked down on the meadow on which we were then resting. Major Rogers, pointing to the height directly in front of us said:—'There Al. and I stood; we could trace through the mountains a valley, and the con­clusion was established in my mind that it led to the unexplored branch of the Illecillewaet. We also traced a depression to the east, which we considered might lead to the upper waters of the Columbia. And so it proved.'

The travellers were in high spirits. Feeling that some memorial should be preserved of their visit there, they organised a Canadian Alpine Club. Sandford Fleming, 'as a grandfather,' was appointed interim President, Dr. Grant Secretary, and Sandford Hall Fleming Treasurer. A meeting was held, and they turned to one of the springs rippling down the Illecillewaet and drank success to the new organisa­tion. Unanimously they carried resolutions of acknow­ledgment to Major Rogers, the discoverer of the pass, and to his nephew for assisting him.

'The air is bracing, the day is fine. We have regained our freshness and elasticity, and to show that we still are young and unaffected by our journey we deem it proper to go through a game of leap-frog, about the only amusement at our command, an act of Olympic worship to the deities in the heart of the Selkirks! Our packers looked upon our performance gravely, without a smile.'

Thus and then was played the first recorded game of leap-frog in the Selkirk Mountains.

The hour arrived to leave the pleasant meadow in Rogers Pass and pursue their journey. A trail had already been cut as far as it was made passable. Beyond that point the Fleming expedition would be the first to cross the Selkirk Range from its eastern base on the Upper Columbia.

The descent was comparatively rapid. Soon the travellers came in sight of a conical peak which stood out majestically among its fellows. There, they thought, was a fit spot for the virgin attempt of the Canadian Alpine Club. They named it Syndicate Peak; Major Rogers declared that it would be the summit of his ambition to plant on its highest point the Union Jack on the day that the first transconti­nental train passed through the gorge in which they stood.

They continued along the valley walled in by mountains thousands of feet in height. Trudging slowly over the newly cut trail high up among the rocks, they descended again to the flat with all its horrors of devil's club until, at last, they reached a surveyor's camp, twenty-four miles from the summit of the pass. The horses had now to leave them, it being impossible for them to proceed further. The trail had reached its end, and the men had now to carry on their shoulders what they required, through an untrodden forest without path or trail of any kind.

They said good-bye to Major Rogers and to the surveyors. 'In saying good-bye to them we were bidding farewell to all civilization which had forced itself into the mountains. . . . We were now turning our back on civilized life and its auxiliaries, again to meet them, we trusted, at Kamloops. Our world was for a time in our little band. We knew nothing of the country before us and we had no assistance to look for from the world behind us. We were following a tributary of the Columbia to the waters of that river, and this was the one guide for our direction. One by one we march off in Indian file to the forest.'

The story of the journey through a wilderness unknown, as recorded by the diarist, is a story of hardships and suffering. Over and under fallen trees of immense size they crawled and crept, and the men soon showed that they felt the weight of their burdens. Their halts were frequent. The dripping rain from the bush and branches saturated them from above. Tall ferns, reaching to the shoulder, and devil's club through which they had to crush their way made them feel as if dragged through a horse-pond, and the perspiration rolled from them in streams. They met with obstacles of every descrip­tion. The Panax horridus were numbered by millions and they were perpetually wounding the men with their spikes as they struck against these. (' Devil's club!' a later traveller bewailed. 'What an experience is devil's club! Imagine a bare stick an inch thick and five to eight feet high with a spread of tropical-looking palmated leaves on the top, set off by a bunch of bright red berries. The entire surface of the stick is covered by sharp, fine spines and the canes grow so close together that sometimes it is impossible to force a way through them without using an axe. The points of the spines break off in the flesh, causing it to fester and become very painful.') The advance was varied by ascending rocky slopes and slippery masses, and again descending to a lower level. They waded through alder swamps and trod down skunk cabbage and the terrible prickly aralia. Their daily march averaged about three miles, and at the end of each all were utterly exhausted; their first business at the frequent halting places was to extract the poison laden prickles from their hands and legs.

'Last night we discussed the suggestion of con­structing a raft, and with the current float down to the Columbia. As we look upon the water foaming past us and the numerous rocks and obstacles in the stream, we are satisfied that no raft could live long in such a torrent. The valley is narrow and is skirted by lofty mountains, wooded up their sides and of considerable elevation; but owing to the height of the trees we cannot see their summit. Occasionally during the day we have beheld snow peaks peering above the lower levels. In some parts of the valley a stray sunbeam never penetrated the lower ground.

'Darkness at an early hour enshrouds the base of the peaks, so the cook has to bake to-morrow's bread by the light of the fire. Suddenly thunder is heard and the red glare of lightning illuminates all around us. For some time we are threatened with rain and at length it falls in torrents. The thunder and lightning are now seen and heard through the valley, and our one danger is that a heavy wind may spring up, and, as often happens, root up many of the forest trees around us; but our trust is in Providence as we wrap ourselves in our blankets to sleep.

'By the morning the thunder had ceased and the thick tall trees around us stood erect; the air is thick with mist . . . . We mount our packs, for we all carry something, and start onwards for another hard day's march.

'The scene of our midday meal of cold pork and bread was the junction of two clear streams from the mountains, the more bright and crystal-like from contrast with the chocolate-looking water of the Illecillewaet. We resolve to encamp somewhat earlier, so that the men may dry their clothes by daylight. It was fair weather when we halted by a picturesque brook, tired and weary enough. The spot we selected was a turn at the Illecillewaet where the boiling, roaring torrent sweeps past with for­midable fury. . . . . On the river there is a forest scene of dark cedar, while here and there lie immense prostrate trunks, some of them eight or ten feet in diameter, covered with moss. Beyond the river the mountains frown down upon us as defiantly as ever. . . . .

'It is Sunday, so we venture to sleep a few five minutes longer, and as we hear the roar of the rapids which seem to shake the very ground we wonder how we could have slept through it. It rained all night; none of the men had tents and they nestled by the trees and obtained what protection they could. Our waterproofs were divided among them as far as they would go, and such as did not possess them were more or less drenched.

'Looking skywards through the openings in the thick overhanging branches there seems a prospect of the clouds rising. Sunday though it be, with our supplies limited, we are like a ship in mid-ocean: we must continue our journey without taking the usual weekly rest, which would have been welcomed by us all. Dr. Grant called us together, and after the simple form of worship which the Church of Scotland enjoins under such circumstances, we start onwards.

'The walking is wretchedly bad. We make little headway, and every tree, every leaf, is wet and casts off the rain. In a short time we are as drenched as the foliage. We have many fallen trees to climb over, and it is no slight matter to struggle over trees ten feet and upwards in diameter. We have rocks to ascend and descend; we have a marsh to cross in which we sink often to the middle. For half a mile we have waded, I will not say picked, our way to the opposite side, through a channel filled with stagnant water, having an odour long to be remembered. Skunk cabbage is here indigenous and is found in acres of stinking perfection. We clamber to the higher ground, hoping to find an easier advance, and we come upon the trail of a caribou, but it leads to the mountains. We try another course, only to become entangled in a windfall of prostrate trees.

The rain continues falling incessantly: the men, with heavy loads on their heads, made heavier by the water which has soaked into them, become completely disheartened, and at half-past two o'clock we decide to camp. Our travelling to-day extended only over three hours; we have not advanced above a mile and a half of actual distance and we all suffer greatly from fatigue. I question if our three days' march has carried us further than ten miles.'

The strain of the terrible travelling began to tell upon the party, and an attempt to systematize the marching was made. 'Hitherto our rests had been irregular. Our halts were long and we were drenched with perspiration; we got chilled, so we laid down the rule to walk for twenty minutes and rest for five. Dr. Grant is appointed the quarter-master general for the occasion, with absolute authority to time our halts and our marches by the sound of a whistle, and when he sees fit to call special halts after extra ordinary snorts.

'Our period of progress for twenty minutes often seems very long, and we wearily struggle through the broken ground and clamber over obstacles, eagerly listening for the joyful sound to halt proclaimed by the whistle.'

Thus the explorers struggled forward. In the lower canyon of the Illecillewaet they climbed from rock to rock, grasping roots and branches, scrambling up almost perpendicular ascents, 'swinging ourselves occasionally like experienced acrobats and feeling like the clown in the pantomime as he tells the children "here I am again."' At some places the loads had to be unpacked and the men had to draw each other up, by clinched hands, from one ledge to another. They had another chapter of the Kicking-Horse Valley experience; passing cautiously along a steep slope where a false step was certain disaster; creeping under a cascade, over a point of precipitous rock and surmounting obstacles, which, unless they had to go forward or die from starvation, would have been held to be insurmountable.

Was ever such a journey made by human beings before? The very deities of the mountains, one might fancy, heralded them as heroes. 'As we were preparing to rest for the night a bright glare of lightning and a sharp peal of thunder wall us to protect our clothes as best we can against rain. We saw but one flash and heard its accompanying loud crash to remind us that each night of our descent by the Illecillewaet we have been saluted after dark by heaven's artillery.'

When they emerged from the lower canyon of the Illecillewaet their terrible struggles against nature in her fiercest mood were forgotten in the anticipation of the longed-for succour. 'We expect the party from Kamloops with supplies to meet us there. It is the eleventh of the month. I had named the eighth of September as the date at the latest when we should reach the place appointed.'

But alas for their hopes! The provisions from Kamloops were not there—as already narrated. It was the bitterest trial of all.

Sandford Fleming and his companions decided to cross the Columbia in the Indian's canoes and to send back the packers to McMillan, the surveyor, as they had promised him. 'We divided our little store of provisions with the fine fellows who had carried our impedimenta down the Illecillewaet so that they would have enough to take them back to McMillan's camp. I added a letter of approval to their chief. No men ever more deserved thanks than they did. They were all made of the truest and best of stu and let me here make my acknowledgments to them for their admirable conduct. . . . These men had been put to the test, and showed of what material their manhood was made.'

Arrived at the western bank of the Columbia, the little group of travellers made a fire on the beach and sat down to eat their scanty dinner, after which they seriously considered their situation. They were fatigued beyond measure, and every joint ached. The skin of all of them was lacerated in places, and their hands were festering from the pricks of the devil's club. And they had not yet come to the end of their work. They were well aware that there were tremendous difficulties yet to be met in reaching Kamloops. Their supply of food was nearly exhausted, and what they had left they had to carry themselves. They felt grievously disappointed that the men from Kamloops were not there as arranged, and their absence had a terribly depressing effect on the spirits of the party.

'Our decision as to the course we are to take cannot be long delayed, as our slender stock of provisions will last but a few days. In this painful embarrass­ment, and it was painful, we asked ourselves the question: Would it be prudent to go risking the chance of meeting the party from Kamloops, or do the circumstances compel us to give up the idea of crossing the Gold Range and force us to enlist the services of the Indians to take us down the Columbia, some two hundred miles to their own village, from which point we can find our way to Portland in Oregon in twelve days, and then by Puget's Sound reach our destination in British Columbia? This mode of procedure was most repugnant to us; but, however desirous we were to cross the Gold range of mountains, we had seriously to consider the situa­tion. I may seem to exaggerate the doubt and mis­giving which had thus crossed my mind. But the acts of the case must be borne in mind that our dependence rested entirely upon receiving the supplies from Kamloops; this source failing, none was open to us. Had our stock of provisions been exhausted and no Indians been present on the Columbia, I do not see that our fate would have been different to that of many an explorer: starvation. There was only one deduction to be drawn from the absence of the Kamloops party: that there had been misapprehen­sion or misfortune, and that we could not look for assistance where we stood!'

The party were in a grave dilemma. It was evident, under the circumstances, that they had to act independently of others, and, in view of the state of their provisions, they had to determine at once on the course to be taken. Their united feeling was strong that they should not abandon the Eagle Pass. They recognised that after a night's rest immediate action was imperative, that they ought in no way to delay, but to proceed onward, leaving behind them tent, blankets, baggage, and everything not absolutely required, carrying only the remnant of food they still had, with a small frying pan, and so work their way westward as best they could.

Evening came on. All that was to be heard was the peculiar sound or the rapidly flowing stream and the distant roar of the Falls of the Illecillewaet.

Gloom gave way to hope when five men, of whom four were Indians, appeared next morning on the flats of the Columbia, a short distance from Fleming's camp. The anxious travellers rushed to meet them; their deliverers had arrived. The leader, McLean, gave Fleming letters from the Hudson's Bay Company's regent. Among them was a sheet of foolscap setting forth a list of the provisions sent. But where was the food? The sheet of paper alone represented the provisions, for it was all that the Company's party had brought with them. The stores entrusted to them to bring to the Columbia had been cached at a point five days distant, and they had brought with them barely enough food to supply their own wants. Consterna­tion again made its unwelcome presence felt in the minds of the travellers from the east.

McLean explained. The terribly rough nature of the ground through the Eagle Pass had caused unforeseen delay. Many parts of the valley were blocked by fallen trees of gigantic size; and the obstructions, owing to masses of rock, the lakes, swamps, and a general ruggedness, had proved to be formidable. No attempt had been made to bring on any of the provisions beyond the point which the horses could not pass. At that spot the whole was cached, and one of the Indians had been detailed to remain behind in charge of the animals.

There was not a moment to be lost in making a start. It was discovered that the Indian hunters who were camped near by were well acquainted with the country for some distance back of the Columbia; it had been their hunting ground. One of these was engaged as a guide to take the party on their way by the least difficult route, to the extent of his knowledge of the country.

We imagined that we were making the best of starts. We all started forward in Indian file with that springy gait which marks men having confidence in themselves. The guide, however, led us to his own camp. He did so without explanation or remark. He entered hiss wigwam and we remained outside. Thee proceeding was inexplicable, until we learned that he had to repair his moccasins before he could start. We halted three quarters of an hour, while the squaw deliberately plied her awl and leather thong, the Indian in the meanwhile sitting motionless, smoking his pipe and looking into the embers of the fire. We could only imitate his patience and await the result. At length, in the same silent way he re-appeared and started without comment on the trail. We sub­missively followed. The thought crossed my mind that in this case knowledge was power.'

After travelling seven miles the party reached the summit of Eagle Pass. As night came on they set fire to a hollow cedar tree. It flamed rapidly and illuminated the scene around for the whole evening. The moon shone in the heavens, but the dense forest intervened and the camp remained in shadow.

They had entered the third range of mountains and after crossing the summit had passed beyond the waters flowing into the Columbia. They had reached the waters of the Eagle River, which found their way through valley and gorge to the turbulent Fraser. On the third day from their entrance into Eagle Pass they arrived at the cache. Never was the sight of food more welcomed by wayfarers in the wilderness. McLean and the four Shuswap Indians, dispatched from Kamloops with supplies for the travellers, had helped to finish the meagre remnant of stores which Sandford Fleming and his companions had carried across three mountain summits from the Bow River, and the party arrived at the cache without even a crumb of bread in their possession.

All was now well with the travellers, and they proceeded on their journey with lighter hearts than they had known for many a day.

'At Savona's Ferry I received messages by telegraph, and I was reminded of being once more within the circle of artificial wants and requirements. For the last thirty days we have been out of the world, knowing nothing beyond the experiences of our daily life. Our leading thoughts were of the difficulties which lay in our path and of the labour necessary to over­come them. There was nothing vicarious in our position; there was no transfer of care or labour to others. Each one had to accept what lay before him, and our world for the time was in our little circle. Now we are reminded that we are again in another condition of being.'

There is a note of kindly lament in the closing portion of Sandford Fleming's diary of the journey, of a nature which showed the bigness of the man and leader. 'At Victoria I am to part with Dave Leigh, the last of the men who had been with us in the mountains. He joined us at Bow River, and had determined to see us to the end of our journey. From the day when we commenced with pack-horses to cross the range of mountains, Dave has stood by us and has gallantly helped in many a difficulty. He is a powerful Cheshire man, such as one would fancy a northern Englishman to be: honest, self-reliant, plain-spoken and staunch, with a peculiar habit of calling a spade a spade. He has cooked for us in all circumstances, there is no other word for it, heroically. He did his share of the packing, and if there was a load a shade heavier it was caught up by Dave with some saying of his own, and off he trudged as if it were a plaything. He had done everything for us that a man could do with unfailing cheerfulness, and has followed our fortunes for many a mile. He has driven pack horses, paddled canoes, rowed boats, built rafts, stretched our tent, driven handcars, cooked our food and indulged in many a hearty objurgation at skunk cabbage and devil's club. He crosses the Straits of Georgia, and then at Victoria we have to say good-bye.'

The search for a path for the Canadian Pacific Railway is an epic in adventure.

It began as far back as 1857. In that year an Imperial Commission was established by the British Government 'to inquire into the suitability of the Colony of Canada for settlement and the advisability of constructing a trans-continental line of railway through British territory from the Atlantic to the Pacific Ocean, and thus to connect and at the same time to provide a safer and more direct means of communicating with the British possessions in the Orient,' in the official phraseology.

To Captain Palliser, an officer of the Waterford Artillery Militia, was given the task of exploration. Assisting him were Lieutenant Blackiston, of the Royal Artillery, and John Sullivan as geographers, Dr. (afterwards Sir James) Hector and M. Bourgeau, as botanist.

For four years the British party worked in the wilderness—a wilderness extending from the British boundary line to the height of land in the far north, and from the western shores of Lake Superior to the waters of the Pacific. Over the plains and through mountain passes they carried an the work of investigation.

The Palliser expedition is memorable in the history of the Canadian Pacific in that one of the great passes through which the railway now follows—the Kicking Horse—was discovered by Dr. Hector, an event commemorated in the granite shaft which was later erected in his honour near the "Great Divide."

Dr. Hector and his party suffered intensely from the pangs of hunger, caused by the unanticipated scarcity of game. Near the confluence of two rivers, the leader received a severe and painful kick from one of the pack horses, an episode which gave the name Kicking Horse to the river and to the pass. But the relentless necessities of hunger compelled the explorer, disabled and wracked by pain, to proceed without delay, and at the utmost speed possible in the circumstances.

Success crowned his efforts. 'In that pass,' said Captain Palliser, referring to the discovery, ' Dr. Hector has observed a peculiarity which distinguished it from others we have examined, viz: the absence of any abrupt step at the commencement of the descent to the west. This led him to report very favourably upon the facilities offered by this pass for the construction of a wagon road, and even the project of a railway by this route across the Rocky Mountains might be reasonably entertained.'

But Captain Palliser's report to the Imperial Com­mission shattered the hopes of the British Govern­ment. It was an unqualified disapproval.

'I cannot recommend the Imperial Government to countenance or lend support to any scheme for constructing, or it may be said, forcing a thoroughfare by this line of route, either by land or water, as there would be no immediate advantage commensurate with the required sacrifice of capital; nor can I advise such heavy expenditure as would necessarily attend the construction of any exclusively British line of road between Canada and the Red River Settlement. . . . . The knowledge of the country as a whole would never lead me to advocate a line of communi­cation from Canada across the continent to the Pacific, exclusively through British territory. The time has now for ever gone by for effecting such an object, and the unfortunate choice of an astronomic boundary line has completely isolated the Central American possessions of Great Britain from Canada in the east, and almost debarred them from any eligible access from the Pacific Coast on the west.'

Before Captain Palliser returned to England to present his report, he met at Victoria a man who was afterwards to play a prominent part in the pathfinding for an overland railway to the Pacific—Walter Moberly. To Moberly Palliser said that all hopes of obtaining a feasible line by which to construct a railway through British Columbia would have to be abandoned, as the Gold range of mountains, immediately to the west of the Columbia river presented an unbroken and impassable barrier.

Walter Moberly had his own opinion on the subject. Five years later, having been appointed assistant to the Surveyor General for British Columbia, he organized a light party to explore the Gold, Selkirk, and Rocky Mountains. He soon reached the Great Shuswap Lake and made a forced march to its south arm, where he observed a valley running easterly, apparently through the Gold Range, and in the very direction in which the explorer wished to find a pass. 'I arrived at the Eagle River and on the top of a tree near its mouth I saw a nest full of eaglets, and the two old birds on a limb of the same tree. I had nothing but a small revolver in the shape of firearms; this I discharged eight or ten times at the nest, but could not knock it down. The two birds, after circling round the nest, flew up the valley of the river; it struck me then, if I followed them, I might find the much wished for pass.'

Circumstances prevented the explorer from following the river through the valley for more than a short distance. He returned to the head of Shuswap Lake and conducted his party over the watershed to the Columbia River. He then dispatched his Indians for more supplies, and, accompanied by Perry, 'the mountaineer,' and an Indian boy in a canoe they had made from a tree, started down the Columbia to connect with a branch party at the head of Upper Arrow Lake.

'We swept along at a grand rate and, at last, found the river getting narrow, with high rocky banks and overhanging cliffs. I was in the middle of the canoe taking bearings, estimating distances, etc., the Indian boy in the bow and Parry steering. The boy suddenly exclaimed:—" Wake closhe chuck-konaway name luce": " Bad water—all will be killed"; he put in his paddle and lay down in the bottom of the canoe. I crawled over him, and, getting hold of his paddle, Perry and I managed to keep the canoe out of the whirls that threatened to suck us down. At one moment we were on the edge of one of these dangerous places, and the next swept a hundred yards away by a tremendous "boil." Sometimes one end of the canoe became the bow, and at other times the opposite end; but at length we reached a little sandy cove and landed in still water. We had run the "Little Dalles" without knowing it.'

Moberly, like Sandford Fleming on another occasion, met with disappointment through the non-arrival of the connecting party at the appointed meeting-place. He returned up the river, in which they had recently come face to face with death, the poling against the terrific current demanding Herculean efforts. At a landing-place he came across a link with the past in the shape of a very old blaze on a fir tree. On this blaze were inscribed the latitude and longitude, signed by David Thompson, astronomer and explorer or the Hudson's Bay Company, with the date A.D. 1828. Moberly's latitude agreed with that of the Englishman; their longitudes differed slightly. 'It was valuable information for me,' Moberly generously acknowledged.

The intrepid traveller now ascended the mountains on the west side of the Columbia River, for the purpose of reaching the ridge range and following it to the boundary line, if need be, in his search for a pass. From the summit of a high peak he saw a valley extending to the far-off Shuswap Lake, and a con­tinuation of it running westerly to the Columbia River, and also a valley extending far to the southward.

'Was this the anxiously wished for pass? How much depended upon it? How would it affect the future prospects of British Columbia? These and many other questions passed through my thoughts during that almost sleepless night. Before daylight, leaving my companions, who could not understand my hurry, to follow after me, I was off to the bottom of the valley and, on reaching the stream, found the water flowing westward and a low valley to the eastward. I blazed a cedar tree and wrote upon it:—"This is the pass for the Overland Railway."'

Walter Moberly had discovered the path in which, twenty years later, the rails from the east met those from the west and the last spike was driven. With the incident of the eagles in his mind he named it Eagle Pass.

The explorer's self-designed task was not yet completed. Grim work lay ahead of him. Entering the Selkirks by the deep gorge-like valley of a river which joined the Columbia from the east immediately opposite the mouth of Eagle Pass—the valley from which Sandford Fleming and his companions emerged eighteen years later, weary, worn and hungry, looking for food which was not there—he forced his way through dense underbrush, incessant cold rain, over jagged rocks and fallen trees to the forks where it divided into two streams of nearly equal size. The general bearing of one valley above the forks was north-east; that of the other nearly east. The latter valley was evidently one that, judging from its general bearing, would be most likely to afford a pass in the desired direction, and Moberly decided to follow it.

But the Indians had not the dauntless spirit of their leader. The explorer tried to induce them, by every possible persuasion, to accompany him all the way across the Selkirk Range. All his efforts were unavail­ing. Winter had set in, they said, and the party would be caught in the snow and never get out of the mountains. Death lay ahead.

Moberly, to his chagrin, had to abandon his exploration of the valley. He reported to the British Columbian Government that it was his belief that the only feasible pass through the Selkirk Range would probably be found in that region, and urged that future explorations should be made in the direction of the south-easterly branch of the river, which he had named the Illecillewaet, in the nomenclature of the Indians who were with him, meaning 'a very rapid stream.' Sixteen years afterwards, acting on this suggestion, Major Rogers traversed the valley and discovered the pass through which the railway was destined to cross the Selkirks.

The entrance of British Columbia into the Con­federation of Canada, in 1871, was an epoch making event in the history of the Canadian Pacific. In the terms of union the Canadian Government undertook to secure the commencement, within two years, of a railway from the Pacific Ocean towards the Rocky Mountains, and from a point east of the Rocky Mountains towards the Pacific, having in view a through line of railway to connect the sea-board of British Columbia with the Atlantic, and to complete the transcontinental system within ten years from the date of the union.

The work of exploration and surveying was entrusted to Sandford Fleming as engineer-in-chief. It was a stupendous undertaking. Through the forests of Ontario, along the rugged shores of Lake Superior—a vast inland sea—across the buffalo-tracked prairies of the North-West Territory, and over five hundred miles of towering mountains beyond, a route had to be discovered and surveyed. Attached to the army of surveyors were specialists, whose duty it was to study and report on the botanical, geological, clima­tological, and topographical features of the country, both along the proposed line of the railway and in the tributary territory. The location of a telegraph was also undertaken; the great railway engineer had his dream of a Canadian Pacific oceanic cable, con­necting the Dominion with China, Japan, India, and Australasia, a dream the subsequent realisation of which was an outstanding achievement in a noble career.

From Ottawa to Red River the surveying parties had to overcome physical obstacles of the most trying nature. The country was practically unknown. The few fur traders who penetrated the region followed the canoe routes of lakes and rivers, and the region in the interior had never been trodden by civilized man. Dense forest with heavy undergrowth barred the way of the pathfinders, who had literally to hew their way westward.

The work on the prairies was less arduous, although it had its own peculiar difficulties. In the mountains the obstacles were on a gigantic scale. Rocks, forests of fallen trees, rushing torrents of glacial origin—all to be traversed. 'Deeds as worthy of record as any ever done in battle,' says Begg, 'were of almost daily occurrence on the C.P.R. surveys, and, although they have not yet formed the subject of romance or poem, the heroes of them can look with pride to the result of their pluck and endurance: the Canadian Pacific Railway—a lasting monument to Canadian enterprise and patriotism.'

The Canadian Pacific surveyors had their own anthem, written by one of themselves. In every camp, from Lake Superior to the heart of the Rockies, they sang their song of cheer, forgetting the toils and vicissitudes of the day in the merry glow of the camp fire, their voices awaking echoes which had never before responded to human notes. 'The C.P.S.,' sung to the air of Les Deux Gendarmes, has earned the right to a place among the folk songs of Canada:

Far away from those we love dearest,

Who long and wish for home,

The thought of whom each lone heart cheereth,

As 'mid these North-West wilds we roam.

Yet still each one performs his duty

and gaily sings:

Tra, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la,

Hurrah! the jolly C.P.S.!

They're at home upon Superior's shore,

Hurrah! we'll drink to them success,

And a safe return once more.

From all parts of our new Dominion

As strangers each the other met,

We'll strive for each one's good opinion,

And part with nothing but regret.

And as we trudge along the line, boys,

We'll gaily sing:

Tra la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la,

Hurrah! the jolly C.P.S.!

In the woods or prairies, wild and free,

Hurrah! we'll drink to them success,

Wherever they may be.

When home in spring we are returning,

A tired and weather-beaten band,

We'll find the lamp of love still burning

For us, by some fair, constant hand.

For wives and sweethearts—cheer them hearty,

And gaily sing:—

Tra la, la, la, la, a, la, la, la, la, la, la,
Hurrah! the jolly C.P.S. !
Hurrah! for those at home we love so dear,

May Heaven each loved one there bless,

For sweet home we'll raise a cheer.

It is an anthem hallowed by memories of the wilderness. For ten years Sandford Fleming and his assistants laboured at their task. In initiating the work the chief drew up a general plan of action. He urged that every snort should be directed to the discovery of the shortest and best route through the forest region, from Ottawa to the Red River, which would touch or connect with Lake Superior; that the line over the prairie should traverse the best area for future settlement, and that the greatest possible energy should be brought to bear on the work of exploration in the Rocky Mountains zone in order to discover a practicable line which would best subserve the interests of the country, and lead to the most eligible harbour on the Pacific coast.

The problem of the mountains was the greatest problem of all. The difficulties met with in the mountain region was so great that the engineers were almost baffled. At the end of 1875 thirteen separate lines had been run through the valleys of British Columbia, eleven of which converged from their coast termini to the Yellow Head Pass, and the end was not in sight. Year after year the work was carried on, line after line was located and abandoned, till in the autumn of 1879, an Order-in-Council was passed, adopting the route through the Yellow Head Pass to Burrard Inlet, on the Pacific Ocean.

The importance of the mass of information gathered by the Canadian Pacific surveyors is inestimable. For the first time Canadians learned the true value of the 'Great Lone Land.' The wilderness of the West was transformed into a Land of Possibilities.

From the inception of the explorations and surveys, in 1871, until the year 1880, the enterprise was in the hands of the Dominion Government. In that year the great undertaking was transferred by the Govern­ment to a corporation which was destined to become a household name throughout the world—the Canadian Pacific Railway Company.

Events now moved rapidly. The Company decided to change the route selected by the Government to a more southerly direction. Attention was turned to the Bow River and Kicking Horse passes, and the valley of the Columbia. Major Rogers, who had been appointed engineer in charge of the mountain division, discovered the gateway of the Selkirks. Moberly had sixteen years before discovered the path through the Gold Range on the same course, and the new line was tentatively adopted.

Verily, the mists were clearing,

The story of Major Rogers' discovery of the pass which bears his name has been written by his nephew, Albert Rogers, who accompanied his uncle on his expedition up the Illecillewaet valley. It is a thrilling ord of intrepid fearlessness and adventurous energy. The spirit of the man—an American—was exemplified in the boldness of his plans. His purpose was to make his way from the Pacific coast across an unknown mountain region and meet his assistants, whom he had despatched by a well travelled route to Bow River Gap, on the east side of the Rockies, at the end of two months' time. By his indomitable push he accomplished his object, fifteen days later than the time set, having covered all but about one hundred miles of the mountain portion of route as finally adopted, and having made a long detour into the United States for supplies.

Twenty-two days were consumed in travelling from St. Paul to Kamloops, where the outfit was secured for the journey through the wilderness. Eight days more were absorbed in estimating distances: trying to find out how far an Indian could travel between suns with one hundred pounds on his back and no trail, how little food he would require to do it—the exigencies of exploration prohibit superfluous burdens—and what kind of food was best under such condi­tions; what protection from the weather would be required and the possibilities of supplementing the larder by killing game. After much trouble, which resulted in subsidising the Indian Chief, Louie, and with the assistance of the priest in charge of the Mission, ten strapping Indians were enlisted under a contract which Albert Rogers admits was of rather an ironclad nature: their services would be given without grumbling until discharged, and if any went back without a letter of good report, his wages would go to the church, and the chief would lay one hundred lashes on the bare back of the offender!

These essential preliminaries arranged, Major Rogers chartered a small steamer to take the party to mouth of Eagle River on Shuswap Lake. Landing at the mouth of the Eagle, the two explorers bade farewell to the last sign of civilization.

An old canoe was found at the mouth of the river and this was utilised in transporting the outfit as far as possible. After caching the canoe and taking their packs on their backs, they discovered that, meagre as the commissary seemed, it was not possible to carry it along in its entirety. The necessary caching and returns made the journey across the Gold Range to the Columbia one of fourteen days of hard travel. On reaching the Columbia, they built a raft of cedar logs large enough to carry the supplies and the explorers, the Indians swimming, with one hand pushing the raft to make the crossing, and landed a mile above the mouth of the Illecillewaet.

From now they pushed forward, making twenty-minute runs, with five minute rests, picking their way over mudfalls, scaling perpendicular rock-points, wading through beaver swamps dense with underbrush and the fiendish devil's clubs, the Indians balancing all the time one hundred pounds on the back of the neck. 'I am convinced,' says Albert Rogers, 'but for the fear of the penalty of returning without their letters of good report, our Indians would have deserted us.'

Although at this season the days were very long and the party travelled from early till late, they were five days making sixteen miles. Reaching the forks of the Illecillewaet, they followed the valley which Moberley had described in his report as the direction most likely to lead to a pass through the Selkirks—the direction he would have taken had not his Indians refused to accompany him. A mile and a half from the mouth of the fast fork they came to a wonderful canyon, where the river, far below, was compressed into a narrow, roaring, boiling torrent. This gorge was later named Albert Canyon by Dr. Grant during his journey with Sandford Fleming, in honour of Major Rogers' nephew.

For five days their course was across snow avalanches some of which had started from the very peaks and had left a clean path behind them, crushing huge trees into matchwood. On and on they struggled until they reached a point where the stream seemed to fork, and in front of Major Rogers there appeared the in range of the Selkirks. The whole success of his journey and the possibilities of getting a direct route for the great national thoroughfare defended upon the gateways that might be at the head of either of these streams.

At the forks the travellers decided to cache every­thing that would impede travel, and make a forced march up the north fork to the summit. Taking all the Indians with them—they did not dare to leave the Shuswaps with the supplies, which were getting alarmingly low, and short rations had already begun to tell on the party by the number of holes they had taken up in their belts—Major Rogers and his nephew, with two days' rations, started over the crust of snow, keeping in the lee of the great mountains which they had named Syndicate (afterwards changed to Mount Sir Donald), and in the shadow of which they travelled until they arrived at a large level opening. This they crossed and discovered that the water divided there, running east and west.

From the opening of the summit they had seen a strip of forest extending about half-way up the moun­tain between two snow-slides, and decided to make an ascent at that point. Cutting each a good tough, dry, fir stick and adjusting their light packs, the party began to climb. The terrible travelling with heavy loads through the valley, soaked to the skin by rain and wet brush, wading in snow and ice-water, and sleeping in but one-half pair of blankets to each man, had begun to show on all their faces. Gaunt as greyhounds, their lungs and muscles were of the best, and they soon reached the timber line, where the climbing became very difficult. They crawled along the ledges, getting a toe-hole here and a finger-hole there, keeping in the shade as much as possible and kicking toe-holes in the snow crust. When several hundred feet above the timber line, the men followed a narrow ledge around a point that was exposed to the sun. Four of the Indians in the lead had tied their pack-straps to each other's belts in order to help over bad places. The leader had made several attempts to gain the ledge above by crawling on the soft snow. Then a catastrophe happened. By some awkward move the Indian fell backward with such force as to miss the ledge upon which the other three stood. Headlong the four fell, striking upon a very steep incline some thirty feet below. Down this they rushed, rolling and tumbling, tangled up in their pack straps, until they disappeared from view over another ledge

'Our hearts were in our mouths,' Albert Rogers narrates, 'fearing the worst might have happened to them. Dead Indians were easily buried, but men with broken legs, to be carried out through such a country and with barely food enough to take us back to the Columbia River on a forced march, made a problem which even strong men dreaded to face. Anyone who has been a mountain climber knows that there are times when going down is a great deal more dangerous and difficult than going up. Slowly de­scending, we had nearly reached the timber line when one of the Indians, with an exclamation, pointed to four black specks moving across a snow-slide far below. Our glasses were quickly turned on them. There they were, and, to our great relief, all were on their pins making down the mountain as fast as possible.'

The travellers had lost several hours of the best part of the day for climbing, but they had started for the top and what Major Rogers purposed that he performed. The sun had long set in the western heavens when they reached the summit.

The extreme exhaustion of the explorers was forgotten in the panorama of glory which spread before them. 'Such a view! Never to be forgotten! Our eyesight carried from one bold peak to another for miles in all directions. The wind blew fiercely across the ridge, and scudding clouds were whirled in the eddies behind the great towering peaks of bare rocks. Everything was covered with a shroud of white, giving the whole landscape the appearance of snow-clad desolation. Far beneath us was the timber-line, and in the valleys below the dense timber seemed but a narrow shadow which marked their course. We had no wood for fire, no boughs for beds, were wet with perspiration and eating snow to quench our thirst; but the grandeur of the view, sublime beyond conception, crowded out all thoughts of our discomforts.

'Standing upon a narrow ridge at that great eleva­tion, 'mid nature crowned by solitude, where a single false move would land one in the Great Beyond, man feels his weakness and realizes how small is human effort when compared with the evidences of Nature's forces.'

Crawling along his ridge, the explorers came to a small ledge protected from the wind by a great per­pendicular rock. There they decided to wait until the crust again formed on the snow and the morning light enabled ahem to travel. At ten o'clock it was still twilight on the peaks, but the valleys below were filled with the deepest gloom. The shivering men wrapped themselves in their scanty blankets and nibbled at their dry meat and bannock; samping their feet in the snow to keep them from freezing, and taking turns at whipping each other with their pack straps to keep up circulation of the blood.

Two years after Major Rogers' discovery of Rogers Pass, Sandford Fleming made his historic journey at the request of the Canadian Pacific Railway Company, and reported favourably on the feasibility of the proposed route through the mountain passes.

Canada's great highway was found.