Stories of the Ottawa River
By Katharine Fletcher
“Once upon a time…” – Everyone loves a story what better time in the dark of December, to spin some tales of our Ottawa River, in the words of historians, historical figures – and the likes of you and me.
Champlain meets Algonquin Chief Tessouat
It’s 1613 and French explorer Samuel de Champlain is searching for a passage to the Orient using the Ottawa River as his highway to the interior. After leaving Montreal, he wrote in his journal (The Voyages and Explorations of Samuel de Champlain, (1604-1613) Narrated by Himself, Vol. II): “On the fourth day we passed near another river which comes from the north [Gatineau], where some tribes named Algoumequin [Algonquin] lived. It is not wide, but filled with a vast number of rapids, which are very difficult to pass. Sometimes these people go down this river to avoid meeting their enemies, knowing they will not look for them in places so difficult of access.”
Champlain
Champlain continued paddling, portaging around the Chaudière Rapids (you can visit the actual portage at Voyageur Park, in old Hull). After his Algonquin guides performed their tobacco ceremony to bless their onward journey, they continued to Morrison Island, where he met the legendary Algonquin chief Tessouat. Peter Hessel, in his The Algonquin Tribe, (ISBN 0-921082-00-2) sets the stage: “The Kichesippirini [Algonquin tribe] were the traditional middlemen in the Ottawa River trade that had flourished as long as anyone could remember. The Ottawa River was one of North America’s busiest trade routes, even long before the arrival of Europeans. For centuries, canoes laden with native copper, flint, obsidian and even whale bone had travelled up and down the river. Whoever occupied Morrison Island was in a favourable position… The Kichesippirini were kingpins in the fur trade. They collected tolls from every canoe that passed their island.”
The Jesuits and explorers viewed tolls, as Hessel suggests, “interference in free trade.” Champlain proclaimed to Chief Tessouat, that his aim was “only to assure them of my affection and of my desire to aid them in their wars.” Tessouat remained unconvinced… Hessel notes that the Algonquins, “were not prepared to jeopardize their livelihood as toll collectors by allowing the French to penetrate the country further to the west.” Champlain, asserting he’d be back, returned to Montreal…
Fur trade to lumber rivalries
Time travel to the commercial rivalry between the Hudson’s Bay and Northwest companies for dominance of the fur trade. In 1821 the HBC absorbed the latter – but posts remained throughout Canada’s hinterland including along the Ottawa. By the 1820s, Scotsman John McLean resided at the Chat’s Falls post – near Quyon, Quebec. In his journal (Notes of a Twenty Five Year’s Service in the Hudson’s Bay Territory) McLean writes that by 1822, fur traders and lumbermen competed for supremacy of the Ottawa, which carried trade east to Montreal, Quebec City – and Europe:
“Petty traders swarmed all over the country; the posts which were established in the interior to cope with them traded freely with the natives, in order to secure their furs from competitors. Thus the immense sacrifices the Company had made to obtain a monopoly, as they imagined, yielded them no advantage whatsoever.”
Songs of the river
By the 20th century, we were in danger of losing the songs of the voyageur and lumberjack. Edith Fulton Fowke and Richard Johnston are familiar to anyone with a fascination for our traditional French, Scots, English and Irish folk songs. In Chansons de Québec, they included “Envoyons d’l’avant, nos gens!”(Paddle your canoe, my boys!), a song sung by lumbermen along the Ottawa and Gatineau rivers. The first stanza goes like this: “Quand nous partons du chantier/Mes chers amis, tous le coeur gai/Pour aller voir tous nos parents/Mes chers amis le coeur content/Envoyons d’l’avant, nos gens!/Envoyons d’l’avant!”
Our stories of the river
Late Quyon resident, Irishman Gervase O’Reilly was one of the great horseman of the Valley. He knew I shared his passion for horses and he entertained me with many tales, including some about the races on the frozen surface of the Ottawa River at Quio. The late Ottawa Valley author Joan Finnegan taped O’Reilly, recounting several of O’Reilly’s stories in Tallying the Tales of the Old-Timers (ISBN 1-896182-95-X): “I have dates back to 1910 with the horse races at Quyon – on the ice. They came from the Ontario side – Arnprior, Carleton Place, Renfrew – to the races at Quyon… The last races were in 1926. … They had tents on the ice, you know, for the horses between heats. And the blacksmith would set up in a tent. And there would be steam coming out of that tent as though you had a fire on in there.”
Well-known Pontiac author (The Polish Hills and others) and environmental activist Venetia Crawford first saw Oiseau (Bird) Rock, a 150m high outcrop of Canadian Shield rising from the Ottawa downstream of Chalk River. I asked her how she came across the legend of the name, and she said, “I have been collecting native stories for years – from Joe Kokoko, an Algonquin from Fort Coulonge; Cree stories from Wemindji, Quebec; and Coast Salish stories from Vancouver. The story from Oiseau Rock is one of the most famous stories from Pontiac County.” How did the rock get its name, I asked? She explained, “An Algonquin maiden was heart broken when her lover left her to lead a war party against the Iroquois. They had been spied paddling up the Ottawa River towards their camp near Fort William. The lover died in battle. The maiden flew from the top of Oiseau Rock like a bird to be with him in death.”
Cottager, Pontiac resident and correspondent for The Equity, Hope Cadieux-Ledoux spins her personal memories as a child holidaying by the river near Pontiac Station: “My grandfather used to tell me that when he was a boy in the early 1900s he used to see an old Algonquin couple paddling their canoe up to the islands (marshes) every evening to fish. There used to be a duck blind on one of the scrubbier islands. Behind it was a rusty old barrel and a piece of stove pipe that had been fashioned into a makeshift stove. We used to stop and lovingly inspect it in the belief that this must have been their camp.”
Max Finklestein, author and modern-day Canadian wilderness explorer is a renowned canoeist who is a champion of our nation’s heritage rivers. He writes a gentle memory: “Some of my peak moments of being a Dad have taken place on the Ottawa River. I remember one spring day, paddling on Constance Creek, in late April, with my son Isaac, then four, his best friend Maeve, and our three-legged dog, Mica. In early spring, map turtles congregate at the final bend of the creek just before it joins the Ottawa River. Map turtles are ‘big water’ turtles, The tend to stay out in the river, and this annual spring gathering in the creek is a true wildlife spectacle. As we paddled stealthily towards the bend, we could see dozens of map turtles, their shells glinting in the spring sunshine, lined up on floating logs. All my passengers, kids and dog, leaned forward, bodies rigid, as we glide towards the basking turtles. Maeve and Isaac have nets in their hands, eager to catch one of the sleeping turtles. It is a moment that will stay with them all their lives.
Romance on the Ottawa
Finally, I’ve heard many tales of romances where beaus would paddle or drive horses – or, later on, snowmobiles – across the river to visit their sweethearts. A friend of mine, a former Quyon [we locals say Quio] resident, tells of the first time she set eyes on her husband:
“The night we met was at Pug’s Inn in Quio. It was a nice dance hall, with a parlour built on and a screened veranda in front. Some young men rowed a boat over the river from the Ontario side – and rowed back the same night! In those days, you know, only the fast girls went outside to the cars. And, I didn’t. It was the 31st May, 1946. One of those boys and me? We’re still happily married. When we got married on 11 June 1949, the groom, best man and wedding party crossed at Quio on the old side-wheeler ferry. It could only take two cars at a time – they got priority in front of a line of waiting cars! Oh, people didn’t mind, back then.”
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Thanks to the river, which flows through our lives, we stay connected to times past and future. Keep this river safe, clean and loved, forever – that’s my Christmas wish. Katharine Fletcher is a freelance writer and author of books such as Capital Rambles: Exploring the National Capital Region, which includes many tales of the Valley. Contact her at chesley@allstream.net with your stories of the Ottawa River.Print this page - Email this page