Adventures in Nahanni Land
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!1 ADVENTURES IN NAHANNI LAND Written by PUBLISHED Assisted by Grandpa Clifford August 22, 2019 Grandma Clifford Coincides with our 60th Wedding Anniversary This is one more adventure in the series of tales, our experiences, written for our grandchildren for their enjoyment now and when they are older. Although written for them a wider audience may enjoy peeking in on our adventures. It involves four trips to Nahanni land. One by kayak, one by jet-boat, one by bicycle, and one by car !2 TABLE OF CONTENTS PART ONE. FIRST VISIT………………………………………………………………………4 PART TWO. TRIP TO THE NAHANNI. AUGUST 1969……………………….………….…29 PART THREE. RETURN TO THE LIARD. NAHANNI COUNTRY. BIKE TRIP 1992…..…90 PART FOUR. FOURTH VISIT TO NAHANNI COUNTRY…………………………..…..…111 EPILOGUE………………………………………………………………………….………….125 BIBLIOGRAPHY / BOOKS…………………………………………….……………………..131 ARTICLES-DOCUMENTS-INTERNET……….……………………………………………..133 BACK COVER……….………………………………………………………………………..134 !3 PART ONE FIRST VISIT I don’t have to tell you that your Grandma (Jean) and I love wilderness. I have been thinking about this. It is not always easy to separate the draw that wilderness has for us apart from the connections these places have to people. I recall my childhood Sunday school teacher asking what places we would like to see if we were to visit Israel. I listed three places. Mount Sinai where Moses received the ten commandments, the River Jordan in the wilderness where Jesus was baptized, and Mount of Olives where Peter cut off the ear of a Roman soldier in defence of Jesus. (I thought this was a terribly brave act.) Neither Mount Sinai nor the Mount of Olives compares with the mountains in Alberta nor would the River Jordan compare with the wild rivers of Canada. In these instances the people associated with these “wilderness” places were the main draw. When I was ten years of age I would have loved to visit Sherwood Forest - home to Robin Hood and his merry men. I had a mental picture of Robin Hood, Little John, Friar Tuck, Will Scarlet and Maid Marian as well as the magnificent Sherwood Park. Today, as an adult, I would take the time to see Sherwood Forest if I was visiting nearby. However it would fall short of meeting the expectations I had formed as a child. It is far too small - nothing like it once was. In 1907 the protected Sherwood Forest doubled in size to 1054 acres. This is smaller than cliffLAND, our family protected nature reserve. As a child I wanted to visit the cave where Tom Sawyer got lost. Actually when I was in college a classmate and I went there the day before the season opening. We met a college student who would be leading public tours once it opened and he offered to take us on a private tour to parts of the cave not open to the public. It was exciting. He led us into an area where the low ceiling forced us to crawl on our knees. One knee was on a narrow ledge and the other on an opposite ledge and in between was a deep chasm. We could hear running water deep below us. Then the ledges became farther apart and my friend and I began to think it was going to become too wide to straddle. Finally to our relief it narrowed and we came to a spot where we could stand. It did live up to how I imagined the cave when I read about the young Tom Sawyer and Becky being lost in the cave. However many years later Grandma and I took the traditional tour of this cave. Enjoyable? Yes. But it was a far cry from the excitement I experienced 40 years previously. In these two instances, Sherwood Forest and Tom Sawyer’s cave, it was the association these heroes of mine had with these “wild” places that took precedence. This is not to imply wilderness in and of itself does not have an awesome attraction. At age !4 fourteen I was so excited about going to Jasper National Park I barely slept a wink the night before. Your Grandma and I have been on many hikes and river trips that took us into beautiful wilderness areas. Such trips were a joy. What I am saying is that the most magnificent wilderness places are made even more special to us when they have become associated in our minds with great human stories. Over the years I have become more appreciative of the role literature plays in creating associations of human legends with their wilderness settings. These associations add immense value to our experiences. As I outgrew Robin Hood and Tom Sawyer, other books drew me into deeper identity with my own country. The story of Silver Chief, Dog of the North written by Jack O’Brien was one such book. The exciting story of a part husky and part wolf forming a bonding relationship to a Mountie helped me to fall in love with Northern Canada. The Call of the Wild and White Fang by Jack London drew me even further into the lore of the north. I suspect that the human mind is constructed to take special notice of stories involving creatures of nature, such as a dog or wolf or a person, playing out their adventure within the beckoning landscape of wilderness. Your Grandma loved the story of Heidi - an orphan child raised by her grandfather in the wilderness of the Swiss Mountains. I am sure the mystique of the mountain wilderness setting enriched its appeal to Grandma who read this book over and over again.. Stories of the Klondike Gold Rush inflamed my imagination and I knew someday I must visit these places - the Chilkoot trail, the Yukon River, other remote northern rivers, and the touted Dawson City. Grandma and I eventually visited these places. But that is a tale for another time. It is hard to know how many people felt compelled to visit these northern places as a result of the powerful stories told in these books. It is no exaggeration to suggest there were thousands. Not quite as monumental as the stories of the Klondike, but monumental still, were stories about the mysterious Nahanni Country. Many stories were circulated but one book stimulated the imagination as no other. “The Dangerous River” by RM Patterson. His writings caused thousands of people to visit the Nahanni country, if only in their imagination. Hundreds more, including myself and therefore indirectly your Grandma, were influenced by Patterson to undertake this adventure. But I am getting ahead of myself. The first time I recall hearing about the Nahanni was through the stories shared by Cliff Taylor in the early 1950's when I was in my early teens. I since learned there were articles about the Nahanni carried in the newspapers prior to this and it is possible I may have already picked up bits and drabs of information. Cliff Taylor was an officer in the Canadian Air Force serving as a social worker. He was also a !5 lay minister in our church. He was a good story teller and I sat spellbound as he talked about the Nahanni. Cliff described Nahanni lands as basically an unexplored spot in the North West Territories made inaccessible by deep canyons, high waterfalls, whirlpools and by huge boat devouring rapids. But these obstacles paled into insignificance compared to the other dangers facing those who dared to enter this kingdom. A kingdom? Yes. It was home to an Indian tribe of unknown origin led by a white Chieftess. They were said to be head-hunters and their fierce warrior reputation struck such fear into the hearts of neighbouring native groups that few dared venture into their territory. It gets worse! Many natives were convinced it was a ghost ridden, haunted place. Evil spirits abounded. A few that ventured close to the Nahanni heartland reported being terror struck by the terrible unearthly wailing and screeching of demonic proportions that confronted them and by an awful putrid stench far worse than the smell of rotting eggs or rotting flesh. So who would risk such a terrible fate that awaited anyone venturing into this kingdom? No one. No one except those who had become mad, irrational and blinded by the lure of gold. The twentieth century had barely dawned when two brothers went up the Nahanni River in search of gold. They did not return. Finally, as risky as it was, a family member and a couple of others felt compelled to search for them. They found the dead bodies of the two brothers lying side by side. It was a stomach-turning sickening sight. Their heads had been severed and who ever did this grisly murder must have taken their heads with them. Like most stories, the details of the murders differed according to who told the story but the one thing they all agreed upon was that their heads had been cut off and no signs of the skulls had ever been located. This spot became known as the Headless Valley. Later it was named Deadmen Valley. Another fearless soul went far up the Nahanni in search of gold. The story goes that he spotted a native person going down the Nahanni River and gave him a letter to be delivered to his friend. The letter stated he had found gold and asked his friend to join him as soon as possible. The friend did so only to find his murdered body and his cabin burned to the ground. These stories started the legend, believed by many to be true, that somewhere in this wilderness exists a lost rich gold mine.