With Face to the West

Marie Anne
The Frontier Spirit of Marie Anne Lagimodière
Copyright 1984 Western Producer Book Service
246 pages,
ISBN 0-88833-138-X.

Voyageurs knew their days would be long and, with or without portages, they would be tiring. On a river, they complained about the portages, but on a lake where a day's paddling might be unbroken except for brief intermissions for a smoke, they might wish for the change of pace offered by a portage. No wonder their moods varied like March weather; they sang, complained, laughed, and cursed their occupation but remained intensely loyal to it.

Marie Anne had tried to prepare herself for work and danger, but the monotony of sitting at the exact center of the canoe, hour after hour, was something for which no preparation could be effective; and the cramped position caused her legs to ache cruelly. The tasks for which she could assume responsibility were limited. She won the gratitude of the men in her canoe by doing all the mending and the preparation and cooking of fresh fish when the men were engaged at a portage. These were useful chores but hardly satisfying for one accustomed to a much wider variety of activities.

More than once Jean Baptiste saw her eyes fill with tears and knew that she was thinking of dear old Maskinonge, or suffering from leg cramps. For good reason, he worried about her, and although he ceased to talk about it, he still believed that she should not have come.

Even as he thought about it, bullets whistled over the bow of the boat and the voyageurs crouched low and reached for their guns. "Indians!" they said with one voice. "Keep low, they'll likely shoot again." No native figure was in sight, but one of the men replied with a shot to remind anybody within range that canoemen can shoot too.

The men had neither the time nor the will to engage in a war with the tribesmen, but here was a convincing reminder of another hidden danger for which travellers should be prepared, and paddling resumed at a faster pace.

Lake Nipissing's blue water and green border offered the brigade their first lengthy spell of canoeing without the necessity of periodic portages, and the miles passed pleasantly. Lake water, of course, could be rough enough to toss loaded canoes like corks in a washtub and, wisely, the men chose to travel close to the shore to permit a fast retreat to some nearby cove in the event of a sudden squall. But Nipissing remained calm and the only squalls came from the cormorants.

On Riviere de Franchaise, the current favored the canoes all the way, but presented five portages, all short ones. Then the party seemed to coast right into Lake Huron, the sight of which brought shouts of welcome from the men. The days on Huron passed without incident except for drenching rains from which there was no protection, forcing everybody to sleep in wet clothing.

Then there was Lake Superior, big and treacherous, with all the characteristics of an inland sea. The sun was setting when the brigade moved through the narrows and halted for a night camp on a stretch of white sand. The lake was peaceful and might have passed for the Sea of Galilee on a calm evening. As usual, Marie Anne gathered wood and started a campfire while the others joined in the routine of unloading, beaching the canoes, and making ready for the extra ration of rum that would honor Lake Superior.

Superior would be the last, long lap of the journey to Fort William, at the end of which there would be relaxation and celebration. It was a pleasant prospect. And despite tired muscles, the rum induced the men to sit longer at the fire to sing some French songs and exchange stories. Steersman Dorian, as always, had stories from earlier adventures on this route. He told about the swimming moose that upset his canoe on Lake Superior, and then about a big wind storm on the same lake - a typical Dorian exaggeration - so strong that it picked up his loaded canoe, carried it the full distance of a paddling day, and set it down without loss of either cargo or men.

Marie Anne joined in the laughter and Jean Baptiste said he was glad that she hadn't forgotten how to laugh. But there was one voice more sober than the others, that of the bowsman. He agreed that progress to date had been good, and there would now be the advantage of straight travel, without the time-consuming portages, all the way to Fort William. "But by Gar," he said as he eased himself off the sand to make his bed under an overturned canoe, "you know you can't trust this old lake. I've seen the damnedest storms on this water. Sometimes they came up so fast that nobody had time to pull a waterproof over his shoulders or get a boat to shore. I tell you, a storm can come up just like myoId woman's temper."

Jean Baptiste had no stories to tell but when he and Marie Anne finally retired to bed, the rum was still having its effect and he was in a mood to talk.

"Good men in this crew," he said. "Best I've travelled with."

"They seem like good people," she replied. "I guess we've been lucky in getting along so well. Maybe a woman in the crowd can bring good luck. Think so, Ba'tiste?"

He snickered and said nothing. She tried him with a more important question: "Ba'tiste, are you glad I came, or do you still wish I had stayed home?"

He wasn't ready for that question, and stammering slightly, replied: "Sometimes...." then held her more closely making additional words unnecessary.

Lake Superior in the morning light looked beautiful, calm, and innocent. Voyageur hearts were light and Marie Anne's voice mingled with the others as paddling songs-unusual at early morning hours--echoed across the water.

Suddenly, the big lake seemed to erupt in anger. With hurricane force, the wind assumed command, and men turned their canoes toward the shore and paddled furiously. Here, without warning, the travellers were caught in the dangerous test of which they had been warned. Boats rose and fell as waves broke over them. Marie Anne was frightened. Having no paddle with which to take action, she closed her eyes and prayed for deliverance for all those battling desperately against the driving wind and waves.