I shall now relate my adventure on Princess Royal Island during my return from the geological survey in the Yukon Territory in 1917.
When I arrived in Prince Rupert I decided to visit my brother Arthur on Princess Royal Island. Arriving in Prince Rupert from Skagway I got off the boat and enquired when the Surf Inlet steamer would leave. They told me it had left only an hour before, and would not go again for one week. I did not favor the idea of spending a week in that damp mouldy smelling town. I then remembered that Art had once written to me about their discovery of a way to cross the island from Surf Inlet to Butedale. I thought if he could do it I can. The following day I caught a steamer south which let me off at Butedale about midnight. Near the dock was a hydroelectric power plant which furnished power to the salmon cannery and community. I went to the power plant with my suitcase, pack sack and sleeping bag. There was an operator in charge and he let me in where it was warm. The month was October and nights were getting chilly. I soon explained to the man what my plan was, namely to walk to Surf Inlet. He said that I was crazy to attempt such a trip. I told him that my brother and Fred Wells had done it. He agreed, adding that no one before or since had ever done it and that 2 men the year before had attempted it and finally reached the northern part of the island, built a raft and put to sea hoping to reach some help. As they were aimlessly floating about they were seen by some Indians who thought they were ghosts or evil spirits and prepared to shoot them, but eventually rescued them.
I told the man that having come this far, I would certainly not back out now. He agreed to take care of my luggage until I should pick it up in the future. I remember him telling me that he would not attempt such a trip for a million dollars. Early next morning I went to the cannery cook house and bought my breakfast. The principal item was fish. I made up a pocket full of sandwiches and started out carrying a small packsack and my geology pick. There was a rock cliff behind the cannery, down which a water fall tumbled. A ladder had been built from the beach to the top of the waterfall. I climbed this and found a river flowing through a forest of small fir and spruce. Following this for about a mile I came to the shore of a very large lake which extended for a long distance particularly toward the south where it disappeared in a series of bays and points of land. Directly across was a high rocky mountain face down which a roaring white waterfall tumbled, falling into the lake below. Art told me later that this waterfall came from another lake far up the mountain. The shore upon which I had come was covered with old trees and branches which had accumulated from the shore line logging operations which had been going on for a long time. I think it interesting to explain how logging was carried on around the lakes and mountains nearly 60 years ago. The entire logging equipment consisted of saws, axes and Gilchrist Jacks. Much of the timber was very large. The logging was carried on only along the shorelines of the lakes. A tree would be chosen for falling. It was necessarily within a short distance of the lake. First a number of small trees were cut and fallen between the tree and water. These were lying parallel to the shore. Next the huge tree would be fallen toward the water, landing across the skids. The limbs and top would be trimmed off. Next two Gilchrist Jacks would be set against the sawed off trunk and by hand power the huge log was pushed inch by inch towards the water. Hydraulic jacks were unknown. It is hard to appreciate the amount of skill and patience required to bring the great logs into the water. After that they were floated to a landing zone where they were moved over the rock cliff into the salt water and carried to saw mills.
As I was standing on a big log on the shore I could see that the only possible way to travel west would be to follow the north shore of the lake. The south shore extended indefinitely and disappeared behind the mountains far away. As it happened I was on the wrong side of the river to proceed west and was thinking that I would have to return all the way back to the cannery to get across the river. While considering this plan, I saw a man get out of a house boat on the lake, get into a boat and start rowing toward me. When he reached me he said "I saw you and thought you were my partner whom I am expecting to return from a trip." I explained my plan and asked if I could hire him to row me to the northwest end of the lake. He agreed to do this, but had to return to the houseboat where his wife was getting breakfast. She was a very neat, attractive and efficient young woman who seemed happy in her lonely role as wife of a hand logger. We started west taking along a small dog for company. On the way my friend told me of previously rowing two men across the river on the same venture I was starting. He had never heard if they were successful or not. I have written elsewhere what happened to them. In time my companion, after rounding some points entered a bay into which a small river flowed. We went up the river as far as possible and he let me off just where he had let off his two former passengers. He remarked that at that point they had scared up two black wolves which ran away. Art told me that the island contained a good many black wolves. Incidentally, Art told me the these wolves are very clever. While hunting he had once seen a wolf go out on the ice of a lake and lie down motionless for a long time. While lying there some ravens came by. They landed on the ice and one began to cautiously approach him. The raven apparently assumed that the wolf was dead, having been motionless for so long. The raven approached cautiously closer and closer until quick as lightning, the wolf snapped the raven in his jaws. When my friend left on his return home, I started up the river. I went as rapidly as I could knowing I had a long journey ahead of me. The farther I went the rougher it got. The river valley got narrower and more rocky and steep. The entire valley was filled with masses of boulders and broken rocks which had fallen from the mountainous cliffs. It was hard to walk on these rocks as they were wet and slippery. There were many holes and crevices between the rocks and I remember being very careful, feeling that if I should slip and fall I could easily break a leg or twist an ankle with no possible rescue. I was in first class physical condition and travelled as fast as possible. Finally I came in sight of a huge rock cliff directly ahead. At the base was a great mass of snow left over from snowslides of the previous year. On my left side was nearly vertical rock, hundreds of feet high. The right was not so precipitous but according to my compass it tended too far to the north to suit me. Carefully observing the cliffs I thought I saw a possible way of climbing up. There was a broad ledge which extended high up into the cliffs. It looked as if this might extend to the summit. I started up the ledge, finding it to get narrower the farther I went. Finally it got so narrow and steep that I discarded my pack and continued as it got narrower and steeper. Soon I was crawling on hands and knees until the end was in sight. It narrowed to nothing and the ledge disappeared into a cliff. From that great height the whole valley was before me like a map. Below the cliff was a small forest of huge spruce trees. This looked like a protected camp spot. Carefully climbing back down, the spruce grove was reached and being pretty wet from the pools and ponds, I built a nice fire. There was a split and shattered dead tree trunk which provided me with a lot of good dry wood. I had brought in my small packsack some dry oatmeal, sugar and tea. I made my supper of this, saving some for breakfast next morning. I took off my boots to dry my feet, which were wet and cold. I woke up finding that the fire was nearly burned out and also my socks had gotten scorched so that they fell apart, but luckily my foot was not burned. I was wearing a cap which also became scorched. It was still about 3 o'clock in the morning and the fire being nearly out, I lit my candle which I always carried for fire making. As I headed back to my split log for more wood there was at my feet in the darkness a tremendous roar. I don't remember ever in my life being so startled. Of course I knew in a second it was a grouse.
Gathering more wood I rebuilt the fire and went to sleep again. It soon began to rain a mixed snow and water. At daylight I was up and started westerly toward the cliff. In a few minutes I was soaked with water up to my waist. It was very brushy and the leaves and twigs held a tremendous quantity of slush. I followed the base of the cliff keeping as high as possible. I did not want to miss any possibility of going westerly. Higher and higher and steeper and steeper I went. I was far above timber and far above where I had climbed the day before. It got steeper and higher. I came to vertical sections of rock. In one case the only way up was wedging myself of the walls of a crevice. The rock became smooth and ice covered. I was in danger of slipping at anytime, and that would have been definitely the end. To the north and west I could see the rocky divide which separated my valley and river from a similar valley and river except that there was a lake from which the river started. It was a valley and river identical to the one which I had come up. Of course I believed that was a river running parallel to mine and would continue easterly to the Inside Passage, emptying north of Butedale. After studying this over carefully I came to the conclusion that I could not make it. There was no point in going down to the lake in the other valley. I should have known that was the only possible way to go. On the other hand, I had no food and had eaten only a few sandwiches in the last 24 hours of very strenuous exertion. Strangely enough, I have never remembered any sense of hunger during that time.
Once having made up my mind I started back full speed, realizing that I had a long way to go with no food. Once started I made all speed possible. Where possible I ran. Oddly enough on my return I kept closer to the river and found it much easier than over the rocks the day before. I finally got down to the lake where I had landed the day before. From then on it was follow the lake shore in and out mile after mile. The hand loggers had been along the entire shore line and it was a mass of tree tops, limbs and branches. It was exhausting work. Presently I cam to a great long log which had apparently escaped from the loggers. It was afloat near shore. I thought "I will try floating on this log." It was large enough at the butt to safely hold my packsack. I found a piece of split wood for a paddle and shoved off. It moved only by inches and presently a breeze came up and it began to drift out. I could see that I would never get anywhere at this rate, so began paddling desperately for shore. It was a long tough paddle and I lost more than ½ hour which was very unfortunate for me. From there on I followed the shore line constantly fighting through the brush, branches and treetops. At times I walked in the water. At one place was a point of land projecting out into the lake. I thought some time could be saved by climbing over this isthmus. It was getting later and still I could not see the end of the lake from which I had started the day before. It finally got dark and it was slower and more difficult to travel. Eventually coming around a projecting point of land I come into view of the main lake and could see a tiny light far across. I did not go a step further, but sat down and shouted as loud as possible. It was some time before I had a very faint answer. I knew that the logger who had rowed me up would know who was calling and that he would come for me. We were both glad to see each other. He said they had worried about me the night before when it rained and snowed. His wife had a big meal for me and they made me welcome until the next northbound boat came. Returning to Prince Rupert I caught the boat which I had missed the week before. The weather was getting stormy and the ocean rough. In the night the boat rocked so violently that the safe in the captain's cabin broke loose and rolled all about the cabin.
The next day we arrived in Surf Inlet where a number of men and some cargo were unloaded. It seems that there was a practice at that time of automatically firing and hiring a number of men on each weekly trip. The reason was that certain men running the mine got a kickback for each new man hired. Of course that meant an equal number lost their jobs.
The people at the dock were all quite friendly and let me go along on the next ore boat to the mine and mill. They all knew Art and Fred. Finally arriving we docked and landed and the first person I saw was my brother Art who was bailing out a boat preparatory to going fishing. He was astonished to see me, and I told him of my adventure in attempting to cross his island. He said "You had made it but did not know. The lake you saw beyond the mountain was actually the headwaters of this river here. Had you gone down to it you would have found my blanket tied up in a tree and my initials cut into the tree. Another 2 or 3 hours would have gotten you here." I have often wished to return to that adventure.