Friday, August 7th.—­Portaged 2 miles to river on our south; good paddling save for a rapid now and then.  So big we think, Low’s map to the contrary, that it comes from Michikamau.  Anyway it comes from that way and will carry us a piece toward the big lake.  No cuttings.  Big trout despite east wind.  Caught about fifteen.  Cold wind drove away flies.  Fire between big rocks.  Moon over bluffs beyond.  Fine evening.  Fine river.  Fine world.  Life worth living.

Saturday, August 8th.—­Nasty, cold, east wind.  Went 4 1/2 miles through it all in good river with six short portages first three-quarter mile, and stopped about 1 P.M. to make Sunday camp and get fish.  Put out net, ate our dried fish and by hard labour got a few more for supper.  Only a bit of bread a day now, no grease, save a little bacon.  All hungry for flour and meat.

Sunday, August 9th.—­Raining this morning and most of the P.M.  Cold, east wind.  Caught about forty-five trout by hard effort, several 3/4 lb. each.  George made paddle and scouted.  Burned his knife.

Monday, August 10th.—­Rain and east wind.  Caught one big fish before breakfast.  Wallace ate it.  George and I ate pea meal.  On first portage found old summer cuttings and wigwam poles.  Feel sure that this was the old Montagnais route.  Went 3 miles and crossed four portages.  Then on strength of being on right road and needing fish, camped before noon.  Mother’s birthday.  Ate some of her dried apples last night with sugar.

Tuesday, August 11th.—­East wind.  Warmer a little.  Just a little rain.  No fish biting.  Slept late.  Climbed ridge and tree.  See ridge of high half barren hills away ahead.  Think this the ridge east of Michikamau.  Hungry all the time.  Down to 40 lbs. of flour, 8 lbs. tea, about 20 lbs. pea meal, a bit of sugar, bacon, baking powder and dried apple, just a bit of rice.  Saw mountains ahead from a bluff just below our evening camp.  River runs north apparently; it must therefore be Low’s Northwest River I think.  Mountains look high and rugged, 10 to 25 miles away.  Ought to get good view of country from there, and get caribou and bear.  Moccasins all rotten and full of holes.  Need caribou.  Need bear for grease.  All hungry all day.  George weak, Wallace ravenous; lean, gaunt and a bit weak myself.  Fish braced us wonderfully.

Wednesday, August 12th.—­Best day of trip.  Started late.  Cloudy, damp.  I took pack over half mile portage and stopped to fish.  Fourteen trout.  Three portages and then—­glory!  Open water.  Five miles and stopped for lunch, with good water before and behind for first time since Grand Lake.  Old wigwam and broken-down canoe at lunch place.  Ate trout and loaf of bread.  Hungry.  Started again, hoping for stream to fish in.  Made 3 miles.  Then a big bull caribou splashed into the water of a bayou 200 yards ahead.  Wallace in bow took shot, high and to