May 27, 1885
An exhilarating ride! Yet no easy chore. During our boat ride yesterday, we were thrown against boulders, doused in icy spray, then suddenly grounded by shallow waters. Often we leapt into the river, waded, towed the boats over rocks, until the river channel abruptly fell off into deep, quick current. There we all scrambled back on board to enjoy the run downriver.
All but Tillman. He cared neither for the wading or the riding. Amidst the most exciting stretch of river, he was seized by terror, stood with a wild look to his eyes.
?—?I can’t swim a stroke! he bellowed. —?I’ll drown!
His towering weight nearly capsized the baidarra. I ordered him to sit & stay so. He was a sickly, miserable fellow before our journey was out.
The young tyone commanded our craft with much pride & skill. We men were armed with long poles to aid steering. Our captain would variously shout ‘To Kwul-le!’ (Shallow water!), ‘To Keelan!’ (Deep water!), or ‘A-to!’ (Paddle!) to which we would respond obediently. He evidently knew the river well, so navigated us through narrow turns, turbulent whirlpools that could have easily been the end of us. The light, bendable nature of the boats also showed its worth. I have no doubt that any Army row boat would have been sunk at the first run of boulders.
Most surprising, Pruitt proved an enthusiastic white-water man. At the bow, he paddled with a vigor I did not think his bearing would allow. When we collided with rising waves, Pruitt could even be heard to let out a high-pitched hoot. This caused the two Indian boys in our boat to laugh & cheer.
?—?I believe that is my preferred method of travel, sir, he said when we had landed.
Tillman did not share his opinion.
?—?I plan to walk with the women from here on, he said.
Samuelson translated this to the tyone, who laughed for some time after.
With such a swift current, we made good time. Had we left when the sun first breached the mountains, I have no doubt we could have arrived at the Wolverine River within the day. Instead we floated but for an hour or two, then pulled into shore just below the fork. Here we set camp, waited for the rest of the Midnooskies.
Samuelson was correct about the Indian women. They are strong & enduring. Their pack loads rival anything my men & I carried up the river. As small-framed as they are, they trudge along steadily. They arrived at the camp only a few hours after us, in time to prepare the evening meal.
This morning we once again wait for the Midnooskies to ready themselves. Tillman assists the women, secures a large load on his pack that he will carry when he walks with then. This has provoked taunts from the men, but Tillman displays a rare stoicism.
Nat’aaggi has indicated that she will join them on foot.
May 28
Confluence with Wolverine River
The Trail River wrung us out yesterday. More than eight hours at it. Much of that time was lost when we floated down a channel that ran dry. We worked to drag the skin boats back up to the main river, but the current in places was too strong. We were forced to unload all the boats, portage to another part of the river. Pruitt & I considered that Tillman had not chosen badly after all to walk instead with the women. They reached the Wolverine nearly at the same time as the boats & looked in better shape than the rest of us. We did not make camp until midnight.
Sophie Forrester
Vancouver Barracks
May 27, 1885
Oh, it has arrived! And even sooner than I expected!
During these many months since Allen left for Alaska, the infrequent sound of a wagon or horse approaching the house has caused my heart to seize with dread and anticipation?—?is there some word of him? Can it be that he has returned so early? Please let him be safe and no bad news delivered this day.
It was therefore a most pleasant change these past few afternoons to have my thoughts occupied instead by the small, benign and pleasant hope that my camera might be delivered. And today, the carriage from Bradstreet came with my package!
I suppose Mr Redington is correct?—?at its most basic level, it is only a box with a glass lens, yet I think I am in love with it. It is not so heavy or cumbersome as I feared, and I am able to handle it with relative ease, but there is an agreeable, substantial weight to its polished mahogany, fine leather bellows, and brass knobs. Indeed, it has the gravity of a well-crafted weapon or tool of cartography, masculine and sophisticated, so it seems something of a wonder that it should belong to me.
(And never again will I be so ignorant as to not know the maker of my own camera: “American Optical Co.” is stamped on a brass label, and the name will be so etched in my brain.)
Now that I have removed all the contents of its carrying box, and admired every screw and knob and latch, this afternoon I will set myself the task of understanding its mechanism.
I feel now as if the work can truly begin!