Simpson’s Travels
We are continuing Sir George Simpson’s travels from Lachine to Red River in 1841. In our last post we reached and paddled past Chats Falls, on the Ottawa River. As we know, the “Chats” name comes from the raccoons that swarmed the place. Raccoons must have been everywhere on this canoe journey, but there were a lot more of them here than elsewhere, it seems. They camped that night at the place they called The Grand Calumet.
At this point he talked of two of his guides: the ‘trusty half-breed guide’ he called Bernard, and Morin. Tom Taylor is no longer one of his guides, it seems. Jean-Baptiste Bernard guided Simpson’s boats to the Peace River and down the Thompson and Fraser to Fort Langley in 1828, so I know who he is. I am not too sure who the Morin is, as he is not mentioned in Bruce Watson’s books, Lives Lived West of the Divide; nor does he appear in the HBCA Biographical Sheets. If you know (and I am sure someone out there does), let me know. I would like to know his first name.
So, Simpson’s travels continued on from the Grand Calumet, which is an island in the Ottawa River. The name comes from the dense white limestone found there, and Alexander Henry said that the stone was “soft enough to be whittled into pipes or calumets.” Hence its name. Above the Calumet Island, the river widens into Lac Coulonge. There is an HBC post there, first built by Nicolas d’Ailleboust, the Sieur de Coulonge, in 1865. So here is Simpson’s arrival at Fort Coulonge.
“It was six in the morning before we left the Grand Calumet behind us; and thence we proceeded without farther impediment to Fort Coulonge, distant about two hundred and ten miles from Montreal. Some of us had looked forward to this place with a good deal of interest, as a short halt would here be necessary in order to transact business and receive supplies. In addition to Mr. Sivewright [John Silverwright], who was in charge of the establishment, I here met Mr. [Chief Factor Angus] Cameron, another of the company’s officers, who had come all the way from his own station, Lake Temiscameng [sic], to wait my arrival. As the latter gentleman accompanied us on our departure, with his canoe and five men, our party now became quite formidable, mustering forty persons in all. After making portages at several rapids and among them the justly admired Culle Bute, racing round the base of a rocky hill in a very narrow channel, we encamped for the night at the entrance of Lac des Allumettes.”
In my book I talk about “smoothing,” which Simpson was known for. But I also notice how the HBC men all “smooth” Simpson as he makes his way across the continent. Angus Cameron’s visit to Fort Coulonge I would place firmly under that label. (As I see later, he might have had a job to do for Simpson.) Simpson’s journal continues:
“In the morning–the morning, be it observed, of the ninth of May– the water was crusted with ice thick enough to require the aid of poles in order to break a path for the canoes. After touching at the company’s post on the borders of the lake, we halted at five, being three hours earlier than usual, for breakfast, that the sun might do our work for us by melting away our icy barrier.” Remember they started off at 1 in the morning, and so Simpson is talking about stopping for breakfast at 5 a.m.! His journal continues. “We soon stumbled on another obstacle in the shape of a boom, placed athwart the river by the lumberers of the neighborhood.” Athwart means ‘across, from side to side.’ “The custom among these hardy fellows is for each person to place his mark on his own timber, when he fells it in the winter; the logs are then dragged to the banks of the river over the snow, there remained to be wafted by the rising waters of the waters to the nearest boom. At this common point of union, each lumberer combines first his sticks into cribs, and then his cribs into rafts–the latter being like floating hamlets with four or five huts, and a population of twenty or thirty men….
“The scenery [of the Ottawa River] is generally picturesque, here rising in lofty rocks and there clothed with forests to the water’s edge; and the whole, being now deserted by its ancient lords, is left free to the civilizing influences of the axe and the plough. In the course of this day and the next we made several portages, reaching about five in the afternoon, the point at which the Matawa [Mattawa] flows into the Ottawa from the south-west. This spot might be considered as the first grand hinge in our route. We were here to leave the magnificent stream [the Ottawa], on which we had accomplished the entire distance of nearly four hundred miles for even at Lachine, and still farther down, the two great rivers of Canada, the Ottawa with its earthy yellow, and the St. Lawrence with its lake-born blue, are nearly as distinct from each other as when rushing to their confluence down their respective channels. At this place was a small post belonging to the company where we left Mr. Bainbridge [the aide-de-camp for the engineer Colonel Oldfield, who accompanied Simpson to Lake Nipissing] to await the arrival of a small canoe which I had ordered to follow us from Fort Coulonge to secure the retreat of Colonel Oldfield; and as soon as his little vessel arrived, he was to follow, and, if possible, to overtake us.
“At one of the rapids below Mattawa, the heavy canoes, which came up a few days after ourselves, lost a very valuable chest of medicines–one of the very few accidents which could be imputed to the carelessness of a voyageur during the long course of my experience. This morning, however, we were reminded that serious disasters had occurred and might occur again, for we breakfasted near two crosses, while running the adjacent rapid.
“Before bidding good-by to our old friend the Ottawa, let me here offer a description of a day’s march, as a general specimen of the whole journey. To begin with the most important part of our proceedings, the business of encamping for our brief night, we selected, about sundown, some dry and tolerably clear spot; and immediately on landing, the sound of the axe would be ringing through the wood, as the men were felling whole trees for our fires, and preparing, if necessary, a space for our tents. In less than ten minutes our three lodges would be pitched, each with such a blaze in front, as virtually imparted a new sense of enjoyment to all the young campaigners, while through the cracking flames might be seen the requisite number of pots and kettles for our supper. Our beds were next laid, consisting of an oil-cloth spread on the bare earth, with three blankets and a pillow, and, when occasion demanded, with cloaks and great-coats at discretion; and whether the wind howled or the rain poured, our pavilions of canvas formed a safe barrier against the weather. While part of our crews, comprising all the landsmen, were doing duty as stokers, and cooks, and architects, and chamber-maids, the more experienced voyageurs, after unloading the canoes, had drawn them on the beach with their bottoms upwards to inspect, and, if needful, to renovate the stitching and the gumming; and, as the little vessels were made to incline on one side to windward, each with a roaring fire to leeward the crews, every man in his own single blanket, managed to set wind, and rain, and cold at defiance, almost as effectually as ourselves. Weather permitting, our slumbers would be broken about one in the morning by the cry of “Leve! leve! leve!” [get up, get up, get up]. In five minutes, woe to the inmates that were slow in dressing, the tents were tumbling about our ears; and within half an hour the camp would be raised, the canoes laden, and the paddles keeping time to some merry old song.”
The book from which I am taking these stories was Sir George Simpson’s favorite project, something he thought would make him even more famous than he was. He put this in purposely, not writing it at the time but adding it in later, so that English and Canadian readers would know how wonderful he was. He needed recognition. I could say something that was far more polite, perhaps, but this really was his goal in the end. Nevertheless, his book gives a good picture of Simpson’s travels, and its an excellent and interesting read.
But there’s more. “About eight o’clock, a convenient place would be selected for breakfast, about three-quarters of an hour being allotted for the multifarious operations of unpacking and repacking the equipage, laying and removing the cloth, boiling and frying, eating and drinking; and while the preliminaries were arranging, the hardier among us would wash and shave, each person carrying soap and towel in his pocket, and finding a mirror in the same sandy or rocky basin that held the water. About two in the afternoon we usually put ashore for dinner; and as this meal needed no fire, or at least got none, it was not allowed to occupy more than twenty minutes or half an hour. Such was the routine of our journey, the day, generally speaking, being divided into six hours of rest and eighteen of labour. This almost incredible toil the voyageurs bore without a murmur, and, almost invariably, with such an hilarity of spirit, as few other men could sustain for a single forenoon.
“But the quality of the work, even more decidedly than the quantity, requires operatives of iron mould. In smooth water the paddle is plied with twice the rapidity of the oar, taxing both arms and lungs to the utmost extent;” A pause here: not always. I have a story that says that
had a picked crew of Iroquois canoemen from Caughanawage, above Montreal, than whom there are no better in the world. They were dressed in red shirts and trousers of rough serge, with red L’Assomption belts wrapped about their waists. Sir George and his secretary slept until seven o’clock that first morning, except when Sir George, still apparently asleep, raised his arm and slipped his fingers in the water. The steersman no sooner noticed this than he put added force into his stroke, the others followed suit, and the canoe fairly leaped ahead.
To continue Simpson’s long quote: “amid shallows the canoe is literally dragged by the men wading to their knees or to their loins while each poor fellow, after replacing his drier half in his seat, laughingly shakes the heaviest of the wet from his legs over the gunwale, before he again gives them an inside berth; in rapids, the towing line had to be hauled along over rocks and stumps, through swamps and thickets, excepting that when the ground is utterly impracticable, poles are substituted, and occasionally, also, the bushes on the shore. Again on the portages, where the breaks are of all imaginable kinds and degrees of badness, the canoes and their cargoes are never carried across in less than two or three trips, the little vessels alone monopolizing, on the first turn, the more expert half of their respective crews. Of the baggage, each man has to carry at least two pieces, estimated at a hundred and eighty pounds avoirdupois [customary measure of weight], which he suspends in slings of leather placed across the forehead, so that he has his hands free to clear the way among the branches of the standing trees, and over the prostrate trunks.
“But in addition to the separate labors of the land and the water, the poor fellows have to endure a combination of both sorts of hardship at least three or four times every day. The canoes can seldom approach near enough to enable the passengers to step ashore from the gunwale; and no sooner is a halt made than the men are in the water to ferry us to dry ground on their backs. In this unique department of their duty they seem to take pride; and a little fellow often tries to get possession of the heaviest customer in the party, considerably exceeding, as has often been the case in my experience, the standard aforesaid, of two pieces of baggage.”
Those poor men! They had so many jobs to perform, and they received little thanks for the work they did. And yet they seemed to enjoy working for the governor, perhaps, because he loved the romance of the birch bark canoes and the men who paddled them. Simpson’s travels continue with the beginning of his journey up the Mattawa River to the height of land between the Ottawa and the French River.
“To return to our voyage up the Matawa” he wrote, “I could not help remarking the influence of the state of the weather on a traveler’s estimate of scenery. Under our sunny sky, the winding banks, wooded, in every bay and on every point, down to the water’s edge, were charmingly doubled, as it were, in the smooth and transparent stream, while Captain Back, under the horrors of a heavy shower, described this as the most dismal spot on the face of the earth, as a fit residence only for the demon of despair.” I have Captain George Back’s Narrative, but didn’t copy that part of his journal out, as it happens–but if you want to see what it is he said, it is online. Simpson’s writings continue: “Rain, be it observed, is a comparative trifle, while one enjoys the shelter of an oil-coth in the canoe. The misery hardly begins to be felt till you are deposited, with all your seams exposed to the weather, on the long grass, though even this stage has the merit of being far less wretched than that of forcing your way among the dripping branches. Here, for the event is worth noting, we encountered the first attack of the mosquitoes.
“Next day we made eleven portages crossing the height of land and reaching a feeder of Lake Nipissing. The only portage worthy of special notice, was that of the falls of Lake Talon, where a large body of water rushes through a narrow opening in the rocks, from a height of about fifty feet. Separated from the boiling cauldron, into which the torrent throws itself by a projecting ledge, a silent pool forming a kind of gloomy recess, carries the canoes to the foot of a rock so smooth and steep as to be almost impracticable to novices. This declivity, and a narrow platform at the top, constitutes the portage…
“We had now got fairly into the region of the fur traders, beyond the ken alike of the farmer and the lumberer; and we here discovered the traces of beaver in the shape of pieces of willow which had been barked by this extraordinary animal.” I can’t help but wonder if Sir George ever saw a beaver, alive? I would not be terribly surprised if he had not. Simpson’s travels continues:
“To make the day’s work with our eleven portages still harder, we did not encamp till after ten at night, while the closing division of our toil consisted of a swamp about three-quarters of a mile in length, the tracking being, on the whole, the wettest and heaviest on our journey. Our resting place was bad, the ground damp, the water muddy, the frogs obstreperous and the snakes familiar. In spite, however, of all these trifles, fatigue was as good as an opiate, and in sound sleep we soon forgot the troubles of the day.
“After indulging in the morning till half-past two, we reached Lake Nipissing at daybreak. Here I left Colonel Oldfield, instructing Mr. Cameron at the same time to remain with him. After seeing them safely planted by the side of a glorious fire, we bade them adieu. In less, however, than half an hour, our progress was arrested by a field of ice; and having worked our way through it to the shore with difficulty, we cleared our ground, pitched our tents, and resigned ourself to our fate. After the fatigues of yesterday, our men, delighted with the god-send, soon fell asleep on the bare ground, even without the trouble of a wish, while we ourselves, besides making up all arrears of shaving, washing, dressing &c., killed time with eating, drinking, chatting, and strolling. From a Native family in the neighborhood we purchased some fish for a few biscuits: and we soon found that the biscuits might have been saved, for we succeeded in spearing twenty or thirty dorey averaging two pounds each. Having attempted in the afternoon to find a path for our canoes, we were obliged to encamp for the night with a gain of only three-quarters of a mile.
“Making our way next morning, we breakfasted on the portage between Lake Nipissing and its outlet [on] French River….”
Here I will end this post, so that we can all enjoy their journey down the beautiful French River to Lakes Huron and Superior. The first post in this series is here: https://nancymargueriteanderson.com/sir-georges-travels/
When I write the next post in this series, you will find it here: https://nancymargueriteanderson.com/whatever-i-call-it/
They updated WordPress, and so it is almost impossible to use and everything has changed. I will probably spend the rest of the day trying to figure out how. to add an image, or do my meta introduction, or add the names of the people who I speak of in this post. In other words, its a real headache when WordPress updates themselves, and I wish they wouldn’t change everything all at the same time!
Grumbling is over. Enjoy the stories in this post.
Copyright, Nancy Marguerite Anderson, 2026. All rights reserved.