The Voyageurs Journal By: Duy Tran
Today is an unforgettable day. Journal log: day 28 of, month 7 of, year 3, 1811 A couple of months ago, I received a letter from my wife saying that she and my children miss me, and that my mom is getting very sick. So, my day started off normal, waking up from 5 or six hours of sleep, and we began to paddle. After 8 endless hours of dreadful paddling, we stopped on a rocky, narrow, slippery, river side, where we ate our lunch. Me and my crew sat on the wet rocks, and talked about our families as we ate some pemmican. Then, we continued to a Metis neighbourhood in Assiniboia, where we traded guns, blankets, pots, pans, sweaters, ETC, for pemmican, a food that was made from buffalo meat, berries, and fat. After we traded with the Metis, we continued to paddle for about 2 hours, until we had to get off our canoe for a portage. Portaging is when you need to get to another body of water from one, so you take your boat and supplies for a little hike, or portage across the land to the next body of water. I had the option to carry goods, or carry the canoe, I chose to carry goods. I tried carrying a canoe once instead of carrying goods, and it was a big mistake, I couldn t see where I was going, and my hands were never free, I couldn t stick my arms out for balance, or even swat some mosquitoes away. After my terrible canoe portaging experience, I stuck to carrying goods and never portaged a canoe since. The way most of us carry our goods, is we take the strap from the bag of our goods, and put the strap around our heads, so our arms are free to have balance. People who carried goods, had to carry 90 pounds worth of goods on their heads, When I just became a voyageur, I hated carrying 90 pounds of goods on my head, it was back breaking work and I felt that they were not paying me enough for the hard work I was doing. Every night when I fell asleep, it would feel like my arms and back were burning, and my muscles were twitching, from all the
paddling and carrying, I wanted to rip them out and throw them away, but every time I felt like quitting from the pain, I always reminded myself why I became a Voyageur, because I wanted to have the feeling of adventure, and I always wanted to challenge myself. Now, it s like I m a true man, it doesn t feel heavy when I hold 90 pounds, or when I paddle for endless hours, I guess you could say that I ve fit into my voyageur shoes. As we portaged through the slippery, wet, grassy terrain, we decided to take a break when we got to the riverbank. When we got to the riverbank, we had our lunch, which was just pemmican. After lunch, we continued to paddle to Fort William, where we dropped off our goods, and I receive any letters from family members. At Fort William, I was greeted by my friend Fred, who I used to paddle with, but works as a mailman at fort William now. He gave me a letter from my family, and it said that my mom died a year ago, and that my wife and children have been depending on my mother s sewing skills to put food on the table, otherwise, the money from my job was put aside to save up. But now that my mother has died, my wife will have to spend the money I make on food. In the letter, my wife also wrote that she wanted me to give up my contract, or trade it with a friend so I don t have to be a voyageur for 6 more years, because the winter was coming up, and my wife doesn t know how to hunt, so they might not survive the winter. After I read the letter, I could not believe that my precious, beloved mother had died, and my family could have suffered the winter, I broke down in tears, as I thought of the negative that could have happened, then immediately went to look for someone I could trade my contract with, I needed to get home to take care of my family. Turns out I have good luck. An old friend of mine, Jacob, just found out his wife had died, and was planning to live the rest of his life in the fur trade; also Jacob only had 7 months left in his contract. After staying at Fort William over night, I and my crew began to paddle west again.
Day 25 of, month 11 of, year 3, 1811 We where paddling and trading with Indian Forts for about 4 months since we left Fort William now, and I was getting desperate to go home. My crew and I decided to take a break, so we went on an island to eat lunch. At lunch time, I had the usual corn and pigs fat boiled in a kettle over the fire, and a handful of pemmican. After lunch, we continued our journey west, down lake Athabasca. Suddenly, we took a turn and found out that there was a raging rapid ahead. My crew and I were confident that we would make it, because we were great paddlemen, but deep down inside of me, I felt that our flimsy canoe made from birch bark was going to flip. We dodged two large rocks, and still had our stability. We dodged three more rocks, and we were off balance, but we regained our balance. Even though we were able to regain our balance, I had a feeling we wouldn t make it, suddenly, a giant wave hit the side of our canoe, forcing us into a giant rock that flipped our boat, sending all our goods, and men flying into the rapids.
I saw 3 of my crew members sink. Me and 4 others crew members, were able to swim to a muddy riverbank. We crawled up the river bank shivering, and petrified, as we watched 1 other member drown to his death.
Once we gained our conscience, we looked around, and saw our canoe and paddles floating where the water had calmed down, so we had one of our crew members swim out to the boat and bring it in. After, I swam out and grabbed the paddles, the other crew members immediately began to paddle the boat further west, while my crew member and I who swam out took a break. We paddled until dusk, then went on shore, and huddled under the canoe and slept. The next morning, we woke up and continued to paddle, we paddled further west down lake Athabasca, and in about a 4 days, we were at Fort Chipewyan, we arrived hungry, but had a great story to tell, we never gave up and kept on going, I can t believe I made it, and I will be going home with a great story to tell in a couple of months.