Chapter 18
TRUE SOURCE OF THE MISSISSIPPI The exhausting portages of July 21, between the east and west forks of the Mississippi, prepared us for a sleep which even the Minnesota mosquitoes could not disturb, and which was not broken until long after the sun was glinting upon us through the trees on the morning of the 22nd. Although I had cautioned the guides to awaken me at dawn, I found them snoring lustily at six o'clock.
As soon as all were astir, Chenowagasik and the Lagardes prepared breakfast. George struck tense and rolled the blankets, while Payne busied himself with an article for the St. Paul Pioneer Press descriptive of our voyage to Lake Itasca. But little ceremony was observed at breakfast, which was served with due regard to our scant rations, and consisted of a small slice of bacon and a flapjack, each of very meager dimensions. Notwithstanding the fact that
we were now confronted with empty haversacks and nearly depleted cartridge boxes, my companions were still eager to follow my lead in the work of exploration beyond Itasca, which from the beginning had been the controlling incentive of our expedition, the grand objective towards which we bent all our energies. To stand at the source, to look upon the remotest drills and springs which contribute to the birth of the great river of North America. To write Finis in the volume opened
by the renowned de Soto more than three hundred years ago, and in which Marquette, La Salle, Hennepin, Lahontan, Carver, Pike, Beltrami, Schoolcraft, and Nicolette have successively inscribed their names were quite enough to revive the drooping spirits of the most depressed. During our encampment on the island, Chenowagasik again reminded me that he had planted corn there many years before, and that his wigwam once stood near the spot where we had pitched our tents.
He also repeated what he had told me before launching the canoes at Leech Lake, that the region about Lake Itasca was his hunting ground, and that he was thoroughly acquainted with all the rivers, lakes, and ponds within a hundred miles. He further said that Paul Belieu was in error concerning the source of the great river, and led me to conclude that the primal reservoir was above and beyond Itasca, and that this lake was simply an expansion of the Mississippi,
as are Bemidji, Cass, Winnebagooshish, Pepin, and several others. Fully convinced that the statements of Chenowagasik were entirely trustworthy, and knowing from past experience that he was perfectly reliable as a guide, we put our canoes into the water at eight o'clock, and at once began coasting Itasca for its feeders. We found the outlets of six small streams, two having well-defined mouths,
and four filtering into the lake through bogs. The upper end of the southwestern arm is heavily margined with reeds and rushes, and it was not without considerable difficulty that we forced our way through this barrier into the larger of the two open streams which flow into this end of the lake. Although perfectly familiar with the topography of the country, and entirely confident that he could lead us to the beautiful lake which he had so often described, Chenowagasik was for
several moments greatly disturbed by the network of rushes in which we found ourselves temporarily entangled. Leaping from his canoe, he pushed the rushes right and left with his paddle, and soon, to our great delight, threw up his hands and gave a characteristic Chippewa yell, thereby signifying that he had found the object of his search. Returning, he seized the bow of my canoe and pulled it after him through the rushes out into the clear, glistening waters of the infant
Mississippi, which at the point of entering Itasca is seven feet wide and from twelve to fifteen inches deep. Lusty work with our paddles for half an hour brought us to a blockade of fallen timber. Determined to float in my canoe upon the surface of the lake towards which we were paddling, I directed the guides to remove the obstructions and continued to urge the canoes rapidly forward, although opposed by a strong and constantly increasing current. Sometimes we found it
necessary to lift the canoes over logs and occasionally to remove diminutive sandbars from the bed of the stream with our paddles. As we neared the head of this primal section of the mighty river, we could readily touch both shores with our hands at the same time, while the average depth of water in the channel did not exceed ten inches. Every paddle stroke seemed to increase the ardor with which we were carried forward.
The desire to see the actual source of a river so celebrated as the Mississippi, whose mouth had been reached nearly two centuries before, was doubtless the impelling motive. In their eagerness to obtain the first view of the beautiful lake toward which we were paddling, and greatly annoyed by the slow progress made in the canoes, my brother and Payne stepped ashore and proposed a race to the crest of the hill which Chenowagasik told them overhung the lake.
To this proposition of my companions I made objection, and insisted that all should see the goal of our expedition from the canoes. What had long been sought at last appeared suddenly, On pulling and pushing our way through a network of rushes, similar to the one encountered on leaving Itasca, the cheering sight of a transparent body of water burst upon our view. It was a beautiful lake. The source of the father of waters. A few moments later and our little flotilla of three canoes was put in motion, headed for a small promontory which we discovered at the opposite end of the lake.
We paddled slowly across one of the most pure and tranquil bodies of water of which it is possible to conceive. Not a breath of air was stirring. We halted frequently to scan its shores and to run our eyes along the verdure-covered hills which enclose its basin. These elevations are at a distance of from three to four miles, and are covered chiefly with white pines intermingled with the cedar spruce and tamarack. The beach is fringed with the mixed foliage of the evergreen species.
At one point we observed pond lilies, and at another a small quantity of wild rice. As we neared the headland, a deer was seen standing on the shore, and an eagle swept over our heads with food for its young, which we soon discovered were lodged in the top of a tall pine. The waterfowl noticed upon the lake were apparently little disturbed by our presence,
and seldom left the surface of the water. This lake is about a mile and a half in greatest diameter and would be nearly an oval in form but for a single promontory which extends its shores into the lake so as to give it in outline the appearance of a heart. Its feeders are three small creeks, two of which enter on the right and left of the headland and have their origin in springs at the foot of sand hills from five to six miles distant. The third is but little more
than a mile in length, has no clearly defined course, and is the outlet of a small lake situated in a marsh to the southwestward. These three creeks were named in the order of their discovery, Eagle, Excelsior, and Deer. The small lake, which is the source of Eagle Creek, I called Alice after my daughter. Having satisfied myself as to its remotest feeders, I called my companions into line at the foot of the promontory which overlooks the lake,
and talked for a few moments of the Mississippi and its explorers, telling them that I was confident that we were looking upon the true source of the great river, and that we had completed a work begun by de Soto in 1541 and had corrected a geographical error of half a century's standing. Concluding my remarks, I requested a volley from their firearms for each member of the party in commemoration of our discovery. When the firing ceased, Payne gave me a surprise by stepping
to the front and proposing that the newly discovered lake be named Glacier in honor of the leader of the expedition. The proposition was seconded by Moses Lagarde, the interpreter, and carried by acclamation notwithstanding my protest that it should retain its Indian name, Pokegama. Much to the surprise of everyone, as we were about closing our ceremonies, Chinawagasik assumed an oratorical attitude and addressed me as follows,
in a few words of true Indian eloquence. My brother, I have come with you through many lakes and rivers to the head of the Father of Waters. The shores of this lake are my hunting ground. Here I have had my wigwam and planted corn for many years. When I again roam through these forests and look on this lake, source of the great river, I will look on you. The latitude of this lake is not far from 47 degrees. Its height
above the sea is an object of geographical interest which in the absence of actual survey it may subserve the purposes of useful inquiry to estimate. From notes taken during the ascent it cannot be less than three feet above Lake Itasca. Adding the estimate of 1,575 feet submitted by schoolcraft in 1832 as the elevation of that lake, the Mississippi may be said to originate in an altitude of 1,578 feet above the Atlantic Ocean. Taking former estimates as the basis and
computing them through the western fork, its length may be placed at 3,184 miles. Assuming that the barometrical height of its source is 1,578 feet, it has a mean descent of over 6 inches per mile. At Lake Bemidji, the Mississippi reaches its highest northing, which is in the neighborhood of 47 degrees. The origin of the river is an untraveled and secluded region between Leech Lake and the Red River of the north, not less than a degree of latitude south of Turtle Lake,
which was for a long time supposed to be the source, removes both forks of the stream outside the usual track of the fur traders and presents a good reason perhaps why its fountain-head has remained so long enveloped in uncertainty end of true source of the mississippi
