Ober's journey - Week 21

Something becomes clear in these final days of paddling Lake Winnipeg — the two paddlers know where they are. Ernest Oberholtzer is naming even the points in the lake. And though we can tell that Billy Magee and Oberholtzer are both eager to be done with this massive undertaking, they are still being careful about the wind. 

“We had dinner and at half past three were about to start out for the point, when two boats came down under sail from the north. There were two families of Indians going to their home on Pigeon River… On their advice we went back to our fire; they said it would be rough at the point… The lake looked almost calm and the iced reefs glistened in the afternoon light.” 

Ice was their companion five months ago, northwest of here, and ice is their companion once again, as Oberholtzer and Magee paddle south on Lake Winnipeg. Nov. 1: “The front of the canoe and my clothes were covered with ice.” 

The next day, Magee is sensing home. “At supper time… Billy began chanting a portion of the Ati soh kahn in a soft musical voice. It was the episode of the two old women that bumped their heads and died in trying to see a moose swim the lake.” 

On Nov. 3, they re-stocked a little, whether they needed it or not (4 lbs sugar and 20 lbs flour for $1.50) “and accepted a fine bannock.” By now they were paddling at any time of the night or day, just to miss the wind. And yet, “Tried to land in bays, which were full of floating ice.” Ice had chased them down the big lake. 

Did they know, on their last evening of camping, that it was their last evening of camping? Certainly there were signs: “could smell barn-yards and sooty chimneys and smithies all the way.” The following day, which happened to be American Election Day, Nov. 5, “Reached point near Gimli at half past one o’clock and Billy cooked lunch while I walked into town to send a telegram.” And with that their camping was over. That night included a warm bath and a hotel bed. Readers can imagine muscles twitching, dreams of ice and wind and shorelines in the dark. Surely it would be a long time before the shoulder muscles of these two men did not feel the swing of the paddle, and many weeks before their ears quit listening for ice at the bow of a Chestnut canoe. 

On Nov. 6, Ober wrote: “…took train at half past five for Fort Frances. Car full of lumberjacks… I went into another car to look over my notes.” 

To follow Ober’s journey, purchase “Bound for the Barrens” available at www.lulu.com.