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Down North
Sunday July 25 : 37
My own little precious one,
I am writing this in the hope of getting a stray aeroplane to take it out.
Since I wrote we have descended the Slave River to Great Slave Lake, and are now entering the Mackenzie proper. It is perfect weather, as warm as an English June, and there are only about 3 hours of dark. We slip gently down rivers 3/4 of a mile wide, and stop at little posts, where I receive
X on marginal map marked: Here we are
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deputations of Indians and Grey Nuns. I have passed through the Crees and the Chipewayan, and am now among the Dog-ribs. To-morrow I will be among the Yellow-Knives. They are a much uglier and smaller race than the Indian of the Plains, but very friendly. I am getting considerable insight into the work of Hudson Bay, and hearing all kinds of wonderful stories from Mounties and old-timers.
It is impossible to describe this
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country, for it is built on a scale outside that of humanity. Great Slave Lake, for example, could comfortably hold Scotland and Wales. In spite of the heat there is an exhilarating freshness and purity in the air. It is the essential romance of Nature with man left out. At the same time the country is curiously busy. We are always passing Indians, and aeroplanes often swoop over us. I simply must bring you here, for it can be like nothing else in the world - a sort
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of West Highlands on a colossal scale.
We are a very pleasant ship's company, and food and quarters are extraordinarily good. "Maggie" is a complete comedian. In trousers and a tartan shirt she skips about like a chimpanzee, and when she is not photographing landscapes and incidents, she is photographing butterflies emerging from their chrysalis, of which she has brought a stock with us. She is a good example of an ardent professional, and not at all assertive. Gordon is burned like a
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negro, and I am not much better. We have hardly seen a fly, even when we tied up.
Monday July 26
At Hay River yesterday I saw the summer home of the Mounty dogs, like huskies with none of the wolf in them. We had a service on board, and then we got Pat's wire, of which I was very glad. We struck a heavy thunderstorm going out of Slave Lake, but at Fort Providence, on the Mackenzie proper, we had a beautiful
