Bannock and Beans: A Cowboy's Account of the Bedaux Expedition
224
Bannock and Beans: A Cowboy's Account of the Bedaux Expedition
224eBook
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Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780772678225 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | The Royal British Columbia Museum |
| Publication date: | 09/01/2019 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 224 |
| File size: | 4 MB |
About the Author
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CHAPTER 1
Joining the Freight Party
It was a nice sunshiny day early in June of 1934. I had just walked over to our little log post office in Hudson Hope to pick up my mail and visit with our postmaster, Fred Monteith, a kindly man and a friend to everyone. In my mail was the long awaited telegram from my good friend Jack Bocock in Edmonton, informing us to go down to Fort St John to start work on the Bedaux Expedition. There were three of us from here who had been offered work as packers: myself, my trapping partner, Bob Godberson, and Willard Freer. We had our application in for a job with the outfit since the middle of the winter. I thought I had a pretty good chance of getting on since I had been out all summer in 1930 on a geological survey with Jack Bocock, who was to be second in command of the expedition. Those of us who did get on considered ourselves lucky for they had over 3500 applications for a job with the expedition.
After coming in off the trapline that spring Bob Godberson and I had busied ourselves at odd jobs, more or less putting in time to see if this Bedaux job was going to materialize. Bob went working in the Hope, while I broke a few horses to ride and also branded and dehorned cattle at several places along the river.
When anyone left our fair city of Hudson Hope it was always an excuse for a dance. The party hung on pretty late, so our departure the next morning was delayed. First we had to build a raft. We cut down a couple of dry jack pines just below town, then hauled a couple more small logs from Joe Turner's place with the team and wagon, along with our bedrolls and riding gear. We rolled the logs over the steep gravel bank and lashed our raft together with our saddle ropes, then piled on our bed rolls, chaps and spurs. The three of us, Bob Godberson, Willard Freer and I, stepped on and we were on our way.
We had 60 miles to drift with the current to the old Fort St John landing and were lucky to have a warm day. The old Peace was at a fair stage of water, so we made pretty good time. The rock reef above the Gates, about 10 miles downstream, was passed without difficulty for the swift water was in the main channel. We landed above the Gates, looked it over, picked our place and sailed right through. We called in at our friends, the Les Bazelys, on the Ralph Osborne place above the mouth of the Red River [Farrell Creek], where we enjoyed a visit and tea, then on down to the Ardills, where we enjoyed their hospitality and dinner. After that we went back down their hill, on to the raft and out into the current. We had a tarp rigged up as a sail to help speed us along, but only had the odd puff of wind, so it didn't help much.
We took turns taking naps to make up for the sleep we missed last night, for we intended travelling late to make the Fort if we could. We passed the mouth of the Halfway River, Bear Flat, and then past where Cache Creek enters from the north. It was quite late when we got to the slide area. By 11 o'clock we reached the mouth of the Moberly River coming in from the south. It was getting pretty chilly on the raft, so we decided to camp for the night. There was an old cabin on the bank. On going up to it we found it was occupied by Herb Taylor, an old-timer who was washing for gold along the river bank. He had been asleep, but made us welcome. He said he was glad for the company, so after we had tea and a bite to eat, we rolled out our beds on the floor, which was old Mother Earth. In the morning we had about 10 miles to go. There was a breeze from the west, so we rigged up our sail, which helped push us along, and we made the landing at the old Fort at 10 o'clock.
After unloading the raft we made up our backpacks and started up the steep hill to the north and the three or four miles to the new site of Fort St John. With fair packs we had to rest a time or two climbing the hill. On getting into the post we hunted up Edward Geake, or Nick as we called him. He was to be in charge of the advance freight outfit that we were to join. We went into camp a mile north of town on Bert Ambrose's place on Fish Creek.
Our first job was to pick out between 50 and 60 head of horses for our outfit. We had all kinds of fun trying out new horses. Bill Pickell had the job of buying the horses for the outfit and was to pay an average of $35 a head for pack horses and a little more for the saddle horses if he had to.
There were a lot of horses in the area, and many people were anxious to sell. Horses were brought in from all directions. I was with Bill when he looked several of them over. It was hard to tell what kind of a horse you were getting, for no doubt people wouldn't be selling their best ones. Bill did a pretty good job of picking them out, and got some cracking good horses. We got stuck with a few duds in our outfit, but also left a few for the outfit that was to follow us.
Some of the boys were put to work in the warehouse filling pack panniers, while Ernie Peterson and I started picking out the pack horses for our outfit and fitting them with pack saddles. We got about 40 head of pretty good horses, then had to start on the young unbroke ones. We put packs on them and turned them loose in the corral, and not too many would buck with their packs. Ernie picked a nice-looking bay gelding that we both thought would make a real good pack horse. He had nice legs and a good saddle back, but after getting the pack saddle on him, getting struck at and kicked, we sure didn't want him in our outfit. We left him for the outfit that was to follow and heard later that they didn't want him either.
We put in a good husky snubbing post outside the corral where we tied the unbroke horses and the ones we found to be halter pullers. We left them there for a while to get used to their packs. They put on quite a show when they all pulled back at the same time, sometimes getting the snubbing post out of the ground altogether. But they never got away for they could never decide to go in the same direction. The worst was Old Red, a dark chestnut gelding, around 1200 pounds, a well-built horse but plumb ornery. He was supposed to have been broke but never did know anything. He'd buck, kick and throw himself any time he felt like it. He gave us trouble most of the time he was with us before finally drowning in the Muskwa River 250 miles up the trail. Geake said Old Red was too ornery to swim.
We had a lot of Riley & McCormick pack saddles shipped in from Calgary, but they had too small a tree for some of our horses. Frank Wagner, a trapper up the Halfway River, made a lot of pack saddles and we were lucky enough to get some of his for our bigger horses. There were a number of army pack saddles that were horse killers. We got stuck with a few of them. There weren't nearly enough saddle blankets so we opened up several bales of fair cotton and wool blankets. With a big string of pack horses you don't unpack at noon, so it was necessary to have the saddles well padded.
We tried out about 30 head of horses before we picked the 6 saddle horses for our outfit. Some of them gave us quite a ride. It's funny how a horse will carry a pack sometimes and buck like the dickens when you go to ride him. All of us got pretty good horses. I settled for a flea-bitten gray horse from southern Alberta. He turned out to be a whale of a good horse – would stand with his lines down, a good swimmer, and good in fast water. When our boss asked who wanted to carry the company rifle on their saddle I volunteered and got to be the hunter for our outfit. Then I found that my Smoky was game shy. I had some trouble getting the meat back to camp for a while, but he soon got used to it.
The Bedaux Expedition was like Santa Claus to a lot of Fort St John people since money was scarce. The Bowes and Herron garage did well for they did most of the hauling from the railhead at Dawson Creek. They d id good service and helped out in many other ways. The stores did a lot of extra business, as did the local blacksmith, Pete, and his helper, John Peck. We had all our pack horses shod in front and the saddle horses shod all around. We had to lead the horses the mile into town from camp. It took about three days to complete the job.
We held the horses in Bert Ambrose's pasture but the fence wasn't too good in the brush and 16 head got out one night. These horses had come from south of the river, so we assumed they would head for the river near the ferry about 14 miles distant. Bill Pickell got his gas wagon and loaded Edgar [Dopp] and me in with our saddles. Although we covered a lot of country by dark, we failed to locate them. There was a lot more bush in that country. We left word around. A fellow down by the river located them and drove them up to our camp for the reward.
Finally we got the horses and rigging sorted out and got busy making up the packs in Clark Finch's warehouse in town. We had 10 gas packs. There was a total of 20 containers with 10 gallons in each one. These containers were specially made in Edmonton but came without a baffle in them. We realized that the gas splashing back and forth with every step would murder a horse's back, so the tops were all taken off, the baffle welded in, and the tops welded back on. Those tanks were awkward things to get a pack rope to stay on, so we fitted them with rings wired on, and a rope to hang them from the pack saddle, which made for quicker packing.
Our flour was packed in canvas panniers. We'd put 50 pounds in the bottom, then make the pack up to 80 or 85 pounds with more perishable stuff, such as oatmeal, cornmeal, sugar and salt. Matches were put in tins and were distributed, as were a lot of other things, into as many packs as possible, so in case we lost a pack in a river or any place, we didn't lose all of everything. The very compact packs such as flour were up to 200 pounds per horse, but the weight was cut down for the more bulky packs. Our wooden pack boxes were packed the same way, with the canned goods in the bottom and the more perishables on top. This was done for many of the river crossings might wet the bottom of the packs. Each pack was numbered and the contents listed and marked on the pack. The lists were also entered in a book. Eventually we got all our packs finished and hauled down to our camp at Fish Creek.
The big day finally arrived when we began packing up for the start. We wrangled the horses at 5 am. After picking out our horses we put saddles on them, then started hanging the packs. It took us several hours. Eventually we put all our stuff on 51 pack horses, which, with the six saddle horses, made 57 horses all together in the outfit. There were six to go out with this outfit. Edward (Nick) Geake, who had been a major in the British Army, was to be in charge. Besides owning land near Pouce Coupe, Nick had located on a small place just below the forks of the Halfway. Nick knew that I had broke a lot of horses since I had come up to the Peace River country. In fact, I had worked on some horses in his own corral.
Willard Freer, who was to be our cook, grew up in the Peace River country. Ernie Peterson, an experienced trail hand who had a place on the North Pine was going out for the adventure. His packing partner, Art MacLean, was a young fellow raised in the Fort St John country. My packing partner was my trapping partner, Bob Godberson, raised around High Prairie, Alberta.
CHAPTER 2On the Trail
(July 4–15)
We turned the horses loose and had a little excitement when a few tried to buck their packs off, but finally they started to line out and down the narrow grade across Fish Creek. We headed north, then a little to the west to the Montney country: didn't make too long a drive for the first day, 10 to 12 miles, camping across Montney Creek by Alf Clark's place. Our horses camped well that night, considering they were from all over the country, but we were to experience considerable trouble later when we got into more bush.
Geake was a fine person and could sure handle men, but he had very little experience with horses. We wanted more bells to put on the horses to start out, but he said no. He was told the more bells you have the more bunches you have to find, which is true, but it takes time for horses to get used to and follow a bell. We said it's better to hunt for horses with a bell on than without, as we were to find out later. But we had our horses all on hobbles and wrangled them the next morning without too much trouble. The grass had been good and there was not too much bush.
We stocked up with a few eggs, butter and vegetables from the settlers, for this would be our last chance to pick up anything of that sort. There were only a few settlers in the next 100 miles and no one after that. After a hot morning for packing, we got on the way, following the creek up and crossing Montney Creek on the bridge where there was a small settlement and store. We were kept busy getting the horses lined out through Montney. Ernie asked me to slip into the store and pick him up some kind of a small mirror for shaving. All I could get was a lady's compact, powder puff and all, so Ernie got lots of teasing about his make-up.
We headed straight west and camped for the night on Red Creek. The camp was good for horse feed – pea-vine and vetch knee high, but a lot of second-growth poplar, so we had plenty of trouble wrangling the horses. We hunted until near noon, then started packing. When we were ready to turn loose and start out, we were still two pack horses short. Geake said to me, "I think you can find them, Bob. If you get them you can follow along, and if you don't find them by dark, come on into camp."
I tracked and hunted in that second-growth poplar the rest of the day but failed to catch up with them. With so much fresh sign it was hard to sort out the tracks, so at dark I gave up and hit the trail toward camp. After travelling several miles of wet trail I went over a height of land and dropped down into the head of one of the branches of Cache Creek. It was around midnight and I was damn cold. I saw a light still flickering so I rode over. There were some Indians camped there, with a couple bucks still sitting beside the fire. I asked them which way the big outfit went.
One Indian pointed up the creek and west and said, "Lots pack horses that way go. They lose one horse, we catch um and tie up." They showed me the horse and I found it was a little bay mare we called Daisy, a green horse but not too wild. I took her with me and about a mile along the trail I found her pack, so I tied it on, rode over a ridge down into another branch of Cache Creek, and into camp. I was pretty cold and as hungry as a bear. I hobbled my horses, grabbed a bite to eat, and climbed into my bedroll about 2:30 am.
I wasn't there long for camp was astir about 4 o'clock. Ernie, Art and Bob went out to wrangle horses and brought a bunch into camp an hour and a half later. They were missing 20-odd head. After a quick breakfast Ernie and Art headed back to the Red Creek camp to try again for the missing horses there, while Bob and I went looking for the rest. We finally found 8 and while Bob took them into camp, I got on the trail of the 14 head still short, heading down Cache Creek. I caught up with them about eight miles down. It looked like they were trying to quit the country, for they were still going strong. I didn't have too much trouble tracking them since the ground was pretty heavy, and there was practically no other domestic stock in that vast country. Although hobbled, they had gone quite a distance. I unbuckled the hobbles from one front leg and buckled it onto the other so that they could carry their own hobbles back to camp.
We didn't intend to move camp that day for we wanted to try and simplify our packing method. We decided to bore holes in the ends of the wooden pack boxes, thread a rope through, and tie a knot, thus making a loop, so that we could hang the packs from the forks of the pack saddles instead of tying the basket hitch. We had begun to realize we were short-handed for such a sizeable outfit. Four of us – Art, Ernie, Bob and I – were doing most of the packing. The boss didn't have too much experience at packing, and invariably any of the horses he packed soon had to be adjusted on the way. Willard, the cook, had never packed before. He was supposed to pack his immediate kitchen horses but never got too far at it. I mentioned that I could rustle a brace and bit from a homesteader who lived about four miles distant. I knew this part of the country well for I had broke horses on this range for Billy Hill four years before. He had quite a bunch of horses that ranged along the head of Cache Creek and north toward the Blueberry River.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Bannock and Beans"
by .
Copyright © 2009 Bob McAtamney and Jay Sherwood.
Excerpted by permission of Royal BC Museum.
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Table of Contents
Foreword — Jay Sherwood,
Introducing Bannock and Beans,
Charles Bedaux,
Bob White,
BANNOCK AND BEANS,
Preface,
Part One: The Bedaux Expedition,
Joining the Freight Party,
On the Trail,
Into the Wilderness,
Misery on the Muskwa,
Charles Bedaux and the Bedaux Expedition,
With the Main Bedaux Party,
Fort Ware,
North of Fort Ware,
The River Return to Fort St John,
Part Two: Empire Ranch,
Bedaux's Empire Ranch — Jay Sherwood,
Travelling to the Location, Winter 1936,
A Trip to Bear Lake,
Return to Hudson Hope,
Summer 1936 — Jay Sherwood,
Travelling to the Location, Summer 1936,
Summer at the Location,
By Horse to Hudson Hope,
Afterword — Jay Sherwood,
Acknowledgements,
Sources Consulted,
Royal BC Museum,