The lake was about one mile long and two hundred yards wide, and was fed by a good-sized stream coming down from the north in continuous rapids.  The stream was deep, and the canoes were poled up with all the outfit in them to the lake above, and on a great bed of huge, packed boulders at the side of the stream we halted for lunch.  The quest was becoming more and more interesting.  When was our climbing to end?  When were we really going to find the headwaters of the Nascaupee, and stand at the summit of the plateau?  It was thoroughly exciting work this climbing to the top of things.

That afternoon our journey carried us northwest through beautiful Lake Adelaide, where long wooded points and islands cutting off the view ahead, kept me in a constant state of suspense as to what was to come next.  About 4 P.M. we reached the northern extremity of the lake, where the way seemed closed; but a little searching discovered a tiny stream coming in from the north and west of this the well marked Indian trail.  What a glad and reassuring discovery it was, for it meant that we were on the Indian highway from Lake Michikamau to George River.  Perhaps our task would not be so difficult after all.

The portage led north one hundred yards to a little lake one mile long and less than one quarter wide, and here we found ourselves at the very head of the Nascaupee River.  There was no inlet to the lake, and north of it lay a bog two hundred yards wide which I knew must be the Height of Land, for beyond it stretched a body of water which had none of the appearance of a still water lake, and I felt sure we should find its waters flowing north.

It was just 5 P.M. when, three hundred miles of my journey into the great, silent wilderness passed, I stepped out of the canoe to stand at last on the summit of the Divide—­the first of the white race to trace the Nascaupee River to its source.

I had a strange feeling of being at the summit of the world.  The country was flat and very sparsely wooded, but I could not see far.  It seemed to fall away on every hand, but especially to north and south.  The line of the horizon was unnaturally near, and there was more than the usual realising sense of the great space between the earth and the sky.  This was enhanced by the lifting of a far distant hill-top above the line as if in an attempt to look across the Divide.

That morning I had found myself with only a few films left, for the fascination of taking the first photographs of the region traversed had betrayed me into using my material more lavishly than I should; but now I squandered two films in celebration of the achievement, taking one picture looking out over the waters flowing South to Lake Melville and the Atlantic and facing about, but without otherwise changing my position, one over the waters which I felt sure we should find flowing north to Ungava Bay.