A grooved stone maul. A prehistoric object, found on many continents, made by grinding or pecking the groove to attach a handle. An incredibly labor-intensive activity taking many hours to complete.
In Alberta, stone mauls were used for thousands of years. One maul was found in an archaeological site dating over 10,000 years in Alberta (Fedyniak and Giering, 2016). Unfortunately very few mauls are found in an archaeological context, allowing accurate dating. There is currently no known change in their shape and/or size through time. And, these mauls mainly occur on the southern prairies and not further north.
In the mid-1970s, while out hunting in southern Saskatchewan, I picked up this grooved stone maul in a cultivated field near the edge of a slough. The maul is made from a coarse granitic stone. This one is about 11cm high and 10cm wide. It weighs 1.3kg (2.8lbs). The groove goes almost all the way around the maul, but gets shallower on one side. The groove is about 15mm wide and 5mm deep. One side of the maul has been damaged, either through use or when hit by a farm implement.
Considerable chunk missing on one side of the maul. There is a thin, deep cut line at one edge of the fracture. Possibly made by a cultivator blade rolling over the maul, breaking off a piece.
Close-up view showing the grove in the maul that is polished and smoothed and not as rough as the rest of the stone.
At the time my buddies gathered around to see what I’d found. I confidently stated it was a grooved maul. First Nations people made and used them for pounding things.
How could anyone know so much about a seemingly foreign-looking object by just picking it up and looking at it? Good question. There’s nothing really obvious about the maul to give us a clue what it was used for. Is there? Most people would have walked right by it without even noticing it was a tool.
One method to discover the function of an object is to closely examine it. I looked at both the distal and proximal polls. The proximal poll (smaller end) contained small surface indentations and pocking from use. The distal poll showed smoothed areas, possibly from grinding. It was also slightly flattened from use. Likely from pounding or grinding things. More sophisticated methods, such as microscopic use-wear analysis, would reveal even more about how these abrasions were made.
The base of the proximal poll of the grooved maul, showing indentations and pocking from pounding.
The base of the distal poll showing a combination of indentations but also smoothing on some grains, possibly from grinding something.
Another method we use to determine the function of an object are historic references and ethnographic sources. If an object was used in a certain manner historically, then it was also possibly used in the same way thousands of years ago. This is known as ethnographic analogy. It can be dangerous and it’s always best to use multiple lines of evidence before determining the function of an object.
In his journals explorer David Thompson mentioned First Nations women used stone hammers to smash up deadwood from the trees. According to early ethnographers, “The hammers were of two sorts: one quite heavy, almost like a sledge-hammer or maul, and with a short handle: the other much lighter, and with a longer, more limber handle. This last was used by men in war as a mace or war club, while the heavier hammer was used by women as an axe to break up fallen trees for firewood; as a hammer to drive tent-pins into the ground, to kill disabled animals, or to break up heavy bones for the marrow they contained.” (Grinnell, G. B. 1892. Blackfoot Lodge Tails; The Story of a Prairie People. Scribner, New York.)
This rare photograph of a Northwest Coast Kwakiutl warrior shows a rather larger, fearsome looking stone hand maul near his right arm. Northwest Coast First Nations peoples made a very sophisticated array of ground stone tools. The shapes and varieties of these mauls are considerably different than those used by people on the Canadian prairies. (From Hilary Stewart, 1973. Artifacts of the Northwest Coast Indians. Hancock House Publishers.)
There are other ways to determine the function of an object, which I discuss in later posts. However, first we have to talk about how these mauls were made. Based on ethnographic sources and examination of the stone hammer, the groove was made by patiently pecking, or grinding away at the stone with another preferably harder stone.
The question I often ask myself is why would anyone go through all the trouble to make a stone grooved maul to pound berries, meat and other things, when you can just pick up a suitable rock and use it to pound something, then discard it when you’re finished? You wouldn’t want to carry this object too far. My colleague, Robert Dawe, Royal Alberta Museum tells me that people used the mauls at campsites and left them there when they move. The mobile Kalahari bushmen did the same thing with their heavy metal axes.
There are a few possible reasons for carrying a maul with a hafted handle permanently: 1) warfare and defense; 2) it had sacred or symbolic meaning and was used in ceremonies; and, 3) it created more leverage and force. The American ethnographer George Bird Grinnell described an old Blackfoot man’s attempts to heal a sick child. He instructed two women to sit near the doorway of the tipi facing each other. “Each one held a puk-sah-tchis, [a maul] with which she was to beat in time to the singing” (Grinnell 1892:163) (In (Fedyniak and Giering, 2016).
A hafted grooved stone maul from rawhide and wood. A handle on this stone maul would create more leverage and force. The author of this post said it took about eight hours of pecking and grinding to form the groove on this fine-grained granite rock. From, ‘Sensible Survival’: https://sensiblesurvival.org/2012/04/28/make-a-hafted-stone-axe/
As I mentioned before, making ground stone tools is very labor-intensive. But, I have read few articles on just how much work it takes to make a stone maul. One researcher conducted an experiment to make a mortar from a basalt cobble. Below are some basic results of that research.
In this particular experiment, it took about two hours to peck a cavity about 8cm in diameter, 3cm deep into a basalt cobble. From, Andrea Squitieri and David Eitam, 2016. “An experimental approach to ground stone tool manufacture. Journal of Lithic Studies Vol. 3:553-564.
Pecking the mortar hole from a basalt cobble. From, Andrea Squitieri and David Eitam, 2016. “An experimental approach to ground stone tool manufacture. Journal of Lithic Studies Vol. 3:553-564.
Finishing the mortar by polishing it with water and basalt powder. Andrea Squitieri and David Eitam, 2016. “An experimental approach to ground stone tool manufacture. Journal of Lithic Studies Vol. 3:553-564.
I guess there’s only one way to find out how long it takes to make a grooved stone maul out of quartzite. And that is to make my own grooved stone maul. I’ve nothing but time on my hands during these Covid days. I mean, how hard can this be?
The Experiment
First I went down to my local river to find some suitable rock candidates to make a stone maul. What was I looking for? Having never made one, I wasn’t sure. I checked some of the mauls at the Royal Alberta Museum collections. They come in all shapes and sizes. And they are made from various types of rocks: granite, basalt, sandstone and quartzite. But, according to research at the Royal Alberta Museum, in Alberta, First Nations people used quartzite (67%) most often to make a stone maul (Fedyniak and Giering, 2016). The reasons? Quartzite was the hardest and most abundant rock available.
A sample of stone grooved mauls in the Royal Alberta Museum collections. This photograph is taken from an article by Kristine Fedyniak and Karen L. Giering, 2016. “More than meat: Residue analysis results of mauls in Alberta.” In: Back on the horse: Recent developments in archaeological and palaeontological research in Alberta. ARCHAEOLOGICAL SURVEY OF ALBERTA, OCCASIONAL PAPER No. 36.
Looking for suitable rocks to make a stone grooved maul along the south bank of the North Saskatchewan River, Edmonton, Alberta, Canada. These rocks along the shore have eroded out of a higher layer of Saskatchewan Sands and Gravels. Although these deposits contain a variety of types of rocks of different sizes, by far the most common is quartzite, a hard metamorphic rock. I looked at thousands of rocks before picking one or two particular specimens.
After searching for some time, the cobble I finally decided on felt the right weight to pound things and was almost round and symmetrically shaped. This cobble was about 12cm high and 11cm wide. Before pecking, it weighed 1.38kg (3.0lbs).
The unmodified quartzite cobble I chose to make my grooved stone maul.
I’ve read some literature about stone tool pecking and grinding. According to most sources the hammer used to peck out the groove should be a harder material than the stone maul material. This is somewhat problematic since quartzite is a 7 on the Mohs hardness scale. Even granite is slightly softer being only around 6.5-6.6 on the Mohs hardness scale. And basalt is only a 6. This then posed the first problem. If prehistoric peoples were pecking and fashioning grooved stone mauls out of quartzite, then what were they using to make them? None of the local rocks in the Edmonton area were harder than quartzite.
And were they just pecking, or incising and grinding the grooves? The smooth finish on the stone maul I found didn’t help answer that question. When I used a magnifying glass I could see the granite granules were crushed and smoothed. Examination of the groove under a low-power microscope might tell me even more.
I chose these two rocks to peck and groove the maul. The one on the left is a granite (1.6lbs or 0.73kgs) and the one on the right is probably a quartzite (0.44lbs or 0.2kgs) (hard to tell with the cortex still on the rock). Only experimentation and time will tell whether these two rocks will work. I’m not that optimistic though.
I have no idea how long this will take. It may take weeks, or perhaps months. I’ll record the amount of time I spend pecking away, whether I peck or grind and how my pecking stones hold up. I’ll keep you posted on my progress, problems, success. We’ll turn this post into experimental archaeology, since there are still relatively few studies on how to make ground stone tools. Especially grooved mauls found on the Canadian prairies.
That’s it for now. Time to get to work….
The Viking Ribstones, near Viking, Alberta, Canada. In a former post (https://canehdianstories.com/wp-admin/post.php?post=1776&action=edit) I mentioned these sacred rocks have lines and holes pecked or incised into the stone. The lines depict the ribs of the buffalo. The holes possibly to kill the buffalo. An example of ground stone technology on a massive scale. I marvel at the amount of work that went into making these objects.
In a former blog I talked about Historical Fiction as a possible genre to personalize historical facts. I continue in that vein with another short story. What happened at a remote late eighteenth century Canadian, Saskatchewan River fur trade post when the brandy supplies kept disappearing? The story is based on North West Company’s clerk Duncan M’Gillvray’s Fort George journals, John McDonald of Garth’s memoirs, and archaeological investigations at the fort site in the 1970s. Our main man, chief trader Angus Shaw, faces a problem. Pilfering. By his men. How does he deal with it? Read on and find out.
The Story
Fort George, Alberta, 1793
One of the fort Engages rushed into chief trader Angus Shaw’s rather spacious private quarters in the Big House, sitting on the high banks of the North Saskatchewan River. Before Shaw could ask what the man wanted, the words came tumbling out.
“They’re here Sir. And there must be a least two-hundred of them.”
“Who’s ‘they’ LaFrance? The King of England and his court? Quit talking in riddles man. Speak English.”
“Blackfoot, Sir. Wanting to talk and trade. They insist on a meeting and gifts first.”
“What the hell are they doing here this late in the fall?” Shaw stood up from his chair, walked around a bit, considering what to do.
“Well, they’re here. Can’t just turn them away. Break out the tobacco and brandy, LaFrance, and invite their principal men into Indian Hall. Keep the others out.” Shaw knew he had to accommodate them or lose the trade to his neighbors at Buckingham House.
“Buckingham House,” he snorted. “Where does the HBC come up with those damned names?” Then he considered his fort’s name, ‘Fort George’. ‘Not exactly fitting for the Canadian wilderness either,’ he thought. He waited for his men to finish preparations and LaFrance to return. He was still deep in thought when the door opened letting in the drafty cool fall air. And a little more.
“Close the door LaFrance. You’re letting in that awful stench. What is that anyway?”
LaFrance answered dutifully. “It’s from the butchering sir. We’re starting to fill the ice pits with meat for the winter, to make pemmican for the spring brigades.”
“Well, it smells God-awful. I’m glad winter will soon be here so that stench won’t be as bad. Are we ready for the meeting LaFrance? You look a little pale.”
LaFrance was standing there, trembling. “Sir the high wines are almost all gone, and what’s left tastes more like water than brandy.” LaFrance quickly looked at the door, as if getting ready for a rapid escape. He knew Shaw was going to blow his lid.
And LaFrance was right. Shaw lost it. Completely! He hurled his clay tobacco pipe at the mud wall, breaking it into little pieces. He kicked a chair, sending it flying LaFrance’s way. His Cree country wife, Marguerite, came running into the room to see what was wrong. She took one look at the scene, then quickly left.
“How in the hell can that be? The brigades just got back from Montreal two months ago and we’re already low on liquor? This is a disaster LaFrance. I’ll have to borrow more from our neighbors at an exorbitant price, of course. But not now, let’s give the Blackfoot what we have and hope it’s enough.”
After Shaw partially regained his composure, LaFrance tentatively ventured some more information. “Well Sir, about what happened. The lock on the storage cellar was tampered with again. It seems someone broke in and helped themselves to some drink.” LaFrance was stammering now, looking quite guilty, as if he might somehow have been involved.
“Some drink? The lock was tampered with? How so, LaFrance?”
“Well, smashed into little pieces, Sir.” Again the Engage looked quickly away, steadily backing toward the door. “I think Sir, we’re ready. The principal men are gathered in the Indian Hall and await you.” He turned and hurried out the door.
As Shaw walked toward the Indian room to meet the Blackfoot principal men, he thought about his not so little dilemma. He knew without alcohol, he would lose the trade to his competitors. ‘This is happening to often. Those god-damned French Canadians. They drink and party endlessly and could cost me a small fortune if this keeps up.’
Then in a more sober moment of thinking, he reluctantly admitted: ‘Well, even though they are some of the worst scoundrels around, they’re the best canoe men, carpenters, and labourers in the Canadian west. And, maybe it wasn’t them. Some of my officers aren’t exactly angles either. I’ll just have to build something to keep everyone out of the Company stores, and hide the liquor.’ He left and walked into the Indian Hall, cordially greeting the Blackfoot principal men.
…………………….
“Early this morning ten young Blackfoot came in for tobacco for a band who were to arrive later; sent, as usual, six inches to each principal man. They arrived at noon and pitched their tents, each party near the gates of their own trader. Gave them liquor as usual, one pint of Indian rum to each principal man, and they began to drink.” (from the journals of Alexander the Younger, Fort Vermilion (on the Saskatchewan near Fort George, November 12, 1809; Coues 1897:571)
They all sat and smoked, and prayed. Then one of the Blackfoot men took a sip of his brandy, blanched, and spit it all over the wood hall floor. He looked at Shaw in disgust, a deep scowl forming on his face. He spoke to Shaw’s translator, who turned a lighter shade of red.
“So, what did he say, Blanchet?” Shaw already knew but listened anyway.
Blanchet reluctantly told Shaw, while the principal men were fidgeting, as if preparing to leave. “He says this stuff tastes like horse piss, and not brandy. Next spring he’s taking all his furs to the Hudson’s Bay Company. They have good brandy there. And, he asks what that terrible smell is outside? Smells worse than a buffalo jump in the summer.”
“Tell him we had an accident with the brandy. It fell into the river on the journey up the Saskatchewan. Got a little watered down. Tell him I’ll compensate him with extra tobacco and more brandy next spring if he brings his furs to us. As to the stench. Tell him not to trade us bad meat anymore.” Blanchet translated, and the Blackfoot reluctantly sat down again, still grumbling among themselves and giving Shaw nasty stares.
Shaw stared back, thinking. ‘They will go next door anyway, to see if the HBC has a better offer, as soon as they are done here.’
The next day, the Blackfoot traded a few wolf skins and left. LaFrance came rushing up to Shaw. “Sir, the good news; they left. The bad news; with half our horses.” This time LaFrance was already out the door before the litany of curses came rushing out of Shaw’s mouth.
Shaw looked through the open door into the fort courtyard. ‘Jesus, can it get any worse than this? I’m stuck in this shithole with these drunkards for the rest of the winter. And now I have to deal with a bunch of very belligerent Natives next spring. Who keep stealing my horses, then trading them back. And this stinking meat. I’m going to get sick.’
As the events of the day went through his mind, Shaw noticed a large black plume of smoke across the river in the southwest. ‘Great! And to top it all off, they set the prairie on fire as a farewell.’ It was before noon. He was about to pour himself a stiff brandy anyway. He stopped short, realizing they didn’t have any left.
…………………..
“They [Hudson’s Bay Company] allowed us the free use of the well for some time, but at last, apprehensive of its drying up also….from the quantity taken from it by so many for all purposes, Mr. Tomison, a powerful man, refused to allow us further supplies….Mr. Tomison would not listen to any reason, indeed I had little to give him — but that if he would not give us our wants that either of us must pay a visit to the bottom of the well.” (from the memoirs of John McDonald of Garth, c.1795, Fort George, Alberta, in Morton 1929:lxii)
A few days later John McDonald of Garth was brought into Shaw’s quarters, barely standing. Kind of wobbling. “So, what the hell happened to you McDonald? Christ, you look like shit.”
McDonald, scarcely able to speak, finally got a few words out. “Well, Shhiir, I met with that scoundrel Tomison and his men at the well and I beat them up pretty badly.” Garth burped, then wobbled, having trouble keeping his feet.
Shaw looked on incredulously. They were already indebted to their neighbors for the liquor and now this man got into a fight with the HBC – about what? Water? There was a whole bloody river flowing before his eyes and John fought over the spring water supply closer by?
“Well, by the look of your face McDonald, you really put a scare into them.” Shaw remained stoic, reluctantly waiting for John to speak. He occasionally exaggerated when he told his stories. Especially when drunk.
“I did my best sir. Shhoowed them who is boss of the water, I did. They didn’t want to share the well, but I thought otherwise.”
“And, where exactly did you manage to get a hold of so much liquor, man?”
“Private stocks,” mumbled McDonald, before nearly tipping over.
Shaw just stared at his soon-to-fall-down officer in astonishment. ‘God, please help me. I’m surrounded by idiots.’ He eyed McDonald disparagingly, thinking: ‘Well maybe he’ll suit my purposes. He owes me after this little incident.’
…………………
Next spring, after all the engages and voyageurs left for Montreal, Shaw took McDonald aside and explained his plan for a new cellar for the liquor. John nodded, fully realizing that if he failed Shaw, he was done with the Company. So, he and a few trusted men worked for months to build it.
That fall, after examining the large, fresh mound of earth beside the big house, Shaw eyed McDonald. “I hope you got it right, John. If you so much as mutter a word how this here was built, you’ll be buried in it. And worse, no more brandy.” McDonald nodded solemnly. ‘What could be worse than no more brandy,’ he thought.
“One more thing John. If my stocks start disappearing, I’ll be coming after you.” McDonald visibly grew paler at those last words, but said nothing.
Soon after, the men arrived from Montreal, their canoes laden with supplies and trade goods. Including lots of brandy and rum. Joseph was grunting and cursing, shouting out to Francois behind him, two ninety-pound bales on his back. “So, we paddle for two-thousand miles to get this stuff here and then we have to haul it up to the highest bank on the river. Why not build down along the river?” Francois said nothing, only grunted in return, trying to balance his equally heavy load. He was too busy thinking about all the brandy they would drink this winter.
Once inside their fort, the men looked around. Something was different. They looked toward the Big House. Beside it, a new building, of sorts. Just a large low mound of earth.
Pierre leaned over to Louis. “Is that a new cellar? Look how close it is to the trader’s quarters. Hard to pilfer the brandy stores when it’s that close.” They put the brandy barrels near the newly built mound and looked at the mound again. Strange though, no door.
Shaw came out of his house. He looked at his somewhat confused men. “Leave the liquor here, take the rest of the provisions to the stores.” His men nodded, looking back somewhat forlornly at the brandy and rum kegs.
Once they finished, Shaw gathered them again. Now they had tired-looking puzzled faces. His men knew something was up. But what? “Gabriel, break out a barrel for the men. Let’s celebrate after the long journey.” Shaw turned, leaving them to their revelry. And soon they were falling down drunk, having already forgotten about the new mound beside the trader’s house.
Next morning the brandy barrels in front of Shaw’s House were gone. The men walked around the compound, still a little drunk and perplexed. Thinking, barely. Now focused on only one thing. ‘Where did the brandy barrels go?’ They looked at the strange mound by Shaw’s house again. No entrance. Anywhere.
Shaw sat in front of his house, smoking his pipe, watching his men. There was a look of satisfaction on his usually stoic face. He took a sip of his brandy and toasted those closest to him. “To your health Pierre, men.” Pierre only spat in return. The rest, including McDonald, only glared. Shaw only smiled in return, relishing his private stock of liquor. Not even the smell was that bad when your private stock was safe.
……………………….
Fort George, Alberta, 1978.
Harry Reed and his crew were excavating parts of the Big House at Fort George, probably the residence of Angus Shaw and his country wife. And a large subterranean structure beside the Big House. Even though it was a hot Alberta afternoon along the river, everyone was happy. This was a great fort site. As he would later learn, maybe one of the best, and most complex, he would ever excavate.
“Jay, what did you find in that big storage cellar?”
“Well, all pretty normal. It’s a wood cribbed subterranean structure with the roof coming down to the ground. Poles, with bark and sod roof. Kind of a root cellar with a roof, probably all covered with sod.” Harry looked at the sketch Jay gave him, then at Jay, and the somewhat concerned look on his assistant’s face.
“And, what else, Jay?”
“It doesn’t have an outside entrance. We’re missing something Harry.”
Harry stared at Jay. Maybe a little too long. He hated these situations. Because you kept digging until you found out why the building did not have a door. Even if it took all summer. Chasing one little fact for countless hours. Was it worth it? Who really cared if you added that fact to the historic record. He did.
Harry looked at Jay again, wondering if he was getting too much sun. “A building without an entrance. Ridiculous, Jay.” Jay looked at Harry and knew immediately what he was thinking. ‘Find the damned entrance. Even if if takes the rest of the summer.’ So, they went to work.
A few weeks later, the project now almost over, the two men sat talking, drinking their beers, overlooking the large excavated storage cellar and parts of the Big House. “So, why would he do that, Harry? Did he want all the brandy for himself?”
Harry thought for a moment, took another swig of his beer before answering. “He didn’t trust his men I guess. Not with the liquor. That was the only way he could control the supplies. And those brass spigots for casks we found down there certainly hint to liquor storage.” They sat in silence pondering their somewhat unusual find.
Fort George, 2015
The little boy, holding his father’s hand, read the interpretive sign overlooking an enormous hole in the ground at the Fort George site. “Why would the trader have a secret passageway from his house into this cellar dad?”
“Maybe he didn’t trust his men, son.”
“But what if the archaeologists hadn’t found this passageway?”
“Then, son, I guess we might not know as much about the relationship between the boss and his men.”
“But what if it doesn’t mean that at all dad? Maybe the trader was too lazy to go out in the minus forty degree winter night and get some brandy? So, he had the men build a passageway to the cellar from his quarters.”
The father looked thoughtfully at his boy. “I agree. Except for one thing. There was no other entrance, except through his quarters. I don’t think he wanted his men traipsing through his private quarters all the time. And he didn’t want them in that cellar. Looks a little suspicious to me, son.” They walked off, still a little puzzled, to read another interpretive panel at the site.
Author’s Note
For many years I thought about the peculiar storage cellar and its even stranger entrance at Fort George. Although we looked for an outside entrance, the evidence was sketchy. The concealed tunnel from Angus Shaw’s Big House to the storage cellar was real enough. Below is a sketch of the fort showing the location of the cellar and the entrance into the Big House. The cellar excavation was incredible. The roof had collapsed into it and was almost completely intact. Poles, bark and all. For me it was one of those rare archaeological moments.
This is a revised version of Robert Kidd’s (1970) layout of Fort George, based on our later excavations at the fort. The final story about this fort, and who occupied it, has not yet been told. The layout of this fort, in a short eight year period of occupation, changed several times. In fact, in one of those versions, the south palisade ran through former buildings. And, many of the building cellars were packed with rubbish. This has also puzzled me for many years. I have been toying with the idea that after the North West Company abandoned this fort, someone else (i.e., independent peddlers, Metis freemen, etc.) re-occupied it. Presently, the archaeological facts just don’t fit with a single occupation.
Interpreting what we found, however, was the most difficult part of all. Obviously Shaw wanted a private entrance into his stores. But why? Was the little boy right? Simply for convenience? Or, because of the social distance and distrust between North West Company Scottish traders and their mostly French Canadian/Metis labourers? Other differences, including clothing, housing and food, and type of labor, also separated the Company officers from their men.
As is often the case, there is no definitive proof or one answer here. All too common when dealing with either the historic documentary or archaeological records. This story represents one of those possibilities.
References
Coues, Elliot (editor). 1897. New Light on the Early History of the Greater Northwest: The Manuscript Journals of Alexander Henry, Fur Trader of the Northwest Company, and David Thompson, Official Geographer and Explorer of the Same Company, 1799-1814. Volume 2. Ross and Haines, Minneapolis.
Kidd, Robert S. 1970. Fort George and the Early Fur Trade in Alberta. Provincial Museum and Archives of Alberta, Publication No. 2.
Masson, L. R. (editor). 1890. John McDonald of Garth Autobiographical Notes, 1791-1816. In Les Bourgeois de la Compagnie du Nord-ouest: Recits de voyages, lettres et rapports inedits relatifs au nord-ouest Canadien. Volume 2. De l’imprimerie generala. cote et cie, Quebec.
Morton, Arthur S. (editor). 1929. The Journal of Duncan M’Gillivray of the North West Company at Fort George on the Saskatchewan, 1794-5. MacMillan, Toronto.
Whenever I travel down Anthony Henday Drive in Edmonton, Alberta, I am reminded of this man’s journey to Alberta 266 years ago; and of my own somewhat peculiar involvement in it. You see, there are many ways to explore and understand human history. I thought I might gain more insight into that sometimes murky past by doing something a little different. But, before I tell you about what I did, first we need a little background about Anthony Henday.
Anthony Henday Drive, a ring road which goes entirely around most of Edmonton. Constructed over a 26 year period at a cost of $4.3 billion, the highway can have a traffic volume of 106,000 vehicles per day.
Anthony Henday’s journey to Alberta
In the first half of 1990s the then Provincial Museum of Alberta wanted to develop a new First Nations gallery of culture (which opened in 1997). My job was to help develop a First Nations-European contact display. Anthony Henday I thought. That’s a great contact story. A no brainer. ‘Who is that’, you ask? You know, the dude who, in 1754, paddled, rode, walked, from Hudson Bay to Alberta to ask the ‘Archithinue’ (probably Blackfoot) to come to York Factory to trade (a distance of over 1,500km). He was one of the first white men to contact them in our province. (The French may have been in Alberta earlier. But that is another story).
“…where we were conducted to the Leader’s tent; which was at one end, large enough to contain fifty persons; where he received us seated on a clear (white) Buffalo skin, attended by 20 elderly men….Attickasish my Guide, informed him I was sent by the Great Leader who lives down at the great waters, to invite his young men down to see him and to bring with them Beaver skins, & Wolves skins; & they would get in return Powder, Shot, Guns, Cloth, Beads, &c. He made little answer: only said that it was far off, & they could not paddle.” (from Anthony Henday’s journal, October 14, 1754, somewhere near Innisfail, Alberta)
After the Blackfoot leader turned down his request, Henday wandered around Alberta for the rest of the winter with his Cree and Assiniboine companions, not really knowing where he was and almost totally dependent on them: November 16, 1754. “Women making cloathing for cold weather…” Those women made his clothing as well, or he likely would have froze to death. The group eventually ended up near or at Edmonton in the spring of 1755.
Over the years there has been considerable controversy surrounding Henday’s journal (of which there are four different versions, none being his original) and his journey west. Was the whole thing a fabrication? Did he travel this far west? And, how do we know Henday ended up in or near Edmonton? His journal entries are quite specific on both direction and distance; and, occasionally land-forms. Before coming to Canada he was a seaman (some think a smuggler) in England. Sailing required a rudimentary knowledge of navigation including the use of a compass. Note the direction and distance of some of Henday’s journal entries: Sunday, October 12, 1754: “Travelled 8 Miles. S.W.b.W.”; Wednesday, October 30, 1754: “Travelled 4 Miles W.b.N.”; Thursday, November 7, 1754. “Travelled 4 Miles N.W.”
These are compass bearings. it is highly likely Henday was using a compass rose such as the one shown below:
This compass rose has only 16 points and is divided into sixteen segments (22.5 degrees each). Some compass roses are divided into as many as 32 points of direction. On occasion Henday uses a 32 point bearing (e.g., “Travelled 4 Miles W.b.N‘).
There are also a lot of problems when taking Henday’s directions and distances and plotting them on a modern map to see where he traveled. Alwynne Beaudoin, Royal Alberta Museum, and I did just that realizing, and taking into account, that magnetic north in 1754 would not have been the same as it is today (see our article for more detail, listed in the references at the end of this blog). Also, how accurate was Henday in estimating distances in a canoe, on horseback or on foot? Here’s roughly the route that many of us think Henday took when he got near Edmonton. He likely came up Saunders Lake, and the Gwynne Channel (located south of Edmonton which connects to Blackmud Creek.) His journal entries indicate that after journeying up Saunders Lake, he trekked approximately 20km on the ice of a river until he reached the North Saskatchewan River. (A cursory look on a map of the Edmonton region shows there are not many creeks or rivers big enough to choose from). He most likely continued north up the Gwynne Channel, and then followed Blackmud Creek (which connects to Whitemud Creek) until he reached the North Saskatchewan River, putting him in today’s Edmonton – a distance of approximately 20km.
A map of the Edmonton area showing Saunders Lake, Gwynne Channel to the south, connecting to Blackmud and Whitemud Creeks to the North Saskatchewan River.
The Making of the Anthony Henday Diorama
We developed a diorama with Henday sitting in a large tipi feasting with the Blackfoot leader. One side of the tipi was open displaying a large mural depicting the rolling landscape in the Innisfail area and the camp’s curious onlookers peering in, having probably never seen a white man before:
Anthony Henday sitting to the ‘Archithinue’ Leader’s right. In the foreground are the trade gifts Henday brought with him and the bowl of buffalo tongues which the group are feasting on. His Cree ‘companion’ and Attickasish (decked out as a trading captain) are on Henday’s right. An elder sits on the left side of the Archithinue leader
Casting My Head and Hands
We needed mannequins in the Henday diorama, including Henday. I was asked if I would like to be Henday. To do that, I would have to have my head and hands cast. Without much hesitation or forethought, I agreed. What better way to get into character, and perhaps even divine what this guy was like 250 years ago. Really get inside Henday’s head.
In hindsight what was I thinking? I didn’t realize that in order to be Henday I had to have my head and hands encased in cement – well, a form of plaster of Paris. My mustache was shaved off, my eyebrows greased up and my hair covered in plastic. (Those of you who are claustrophobic should maybe stop reading this blog now.) First, they greased up my hands, then poured plaster over them, and told me not to move them. Of course, as soon as they said that I immediately wanted to move my hands. It took twenty minutes for the plaster to set and I managed hold up, kind of. But the worst was yet to come.
My head was next. What I didn’t know was that my entire head would be covered in plaster. My only connection to life consisted of two small nose holes to let me breath. At that point lots of things went through my mind; mostly of what potentially could go wrong. So, they poured plaster over my entire head with just those two little holes connecting me to life. ‘Just try to relax Heinz. This won’t take long.’ I couldn’t hear. I couldn’t see. My head was getting rather warm as the plaster set. The only thing I remember thinking, was: ‘Don’t panic, don’t start hyperventilating or you will suck plaster up your nose.’
Me (Anthony Henday). There is no painting, sketch, or even a description of what Anthony Henday looked like. Born in 1725, he would have been about 29 years old when first entering Alberta. Given the time period and his rough mode of travel, he likely would have had a beard and long hair.
Despite my worst fears, the results turned out pretty good, as you can see from these images. I was dressed in the style of the time period. I received hair and a beard. Thousands of people have looked at me (Henday) over the years, not knowing who I really was. I’m still sitting there on a billboard beside the Queen Elizabeth II Highway, near Innisfail, Alberta, somewhere near where Henday probably met the Archithinue in 1754.
As to being any wiser about Henday’s life, having my head encased in plaster? I would not recommend this method to anyone.
The Historic Sites of Alberta Anthony Henday sign beside the Queen Elizabeth Highway, near Innisfail, Alberta. (Courtesy of Alberta Culture, Multiculturalism and Status of Women.)
The Henday diorama and the old Provincial Museum of Alberta are gone. So is my head. I am in the process of asking about it; maybe even getting it back. I just talked to the Director of the new Royal Alberta Museum, Mr. Chris Robinson, about my head. (He didn’t even know that I was in that diorama posing as Henday; it was before his time as director). He’s looking for it. Wish me luck.
Henday in 1997 (left). The wannabe Henday today, much greyer and older (other left).
Note: Hey, Edmontonians, or other Albertans, Canadians, take a survey of how many people know about Anthony Henday. At your next dinner party, on the streets of Edmonton, your local hockey rink. Wherever. Ask people who Anthony Henday is and what he means to this City. I’d love to hear the results. I would guess, approximately only one-third of the people you ask will know, yet many of us see that sign almost every day. I’m doing my own survey and will post all results in a later blog. Maybe by then I will have found my head.
References
Beaudoin, Alwynne Beaudoin and Heinz W. Pyszczyk. 1998. Where Was Anthony Henday and What Did He See? Alberta Archaeological Review 28:25-31. [Alwynne Beaudoin and I traveled around the Innisfail area trying to use Henday’s directions to find land-forms and reconstruct his journey. As we crested a rather high hill that morning, I looked west and saw the Rocky Mountains, as Henday might have. I (and others) always wondered why he never mentioned them in his journal, until I read a quote from David Thompson about those same mountains: “At length the Rocky Mountains came in sight like shining white clouds in the horizon, but we doubted what our guide said; but as we proceeded, they rose in height their immense masses of snow appeared above the clouds…” (David Thompson’s journals. In Travels in Western North America, 1784-1812, edited by Victor G. Hopwood, pp.94.) And, then once the humidity had increased in the afternoon, we could no longer see them.
Burpee, Lawrence J. [editor] 1973. The Journal of Anthony Henday, 1754-55. York Factory to the Blackfoot Country. Canadian House, Toronto. [There is a lot of controversy around Henday’s journal, of which there are four different versions, and where exactly he traveled. Some scholars even claim they are a fabrication. However, based on his descriptions of land-forms, rivers, and directions, I believe he did make it to Alberta. Just not always where Burpee puts him. Despite all these problems, the Henday journal is a great little read]
MacGregor, J.G. 1954. Behold the Shining Mountains. Applied Arts Products Ltd., Edmonton, Alberta. [Historian, James MacGregor also plotted Henday’s route from Hudson Bay to Alberta, based on his journal entries. It differs considerably from Burpee’s map. Burpee has Henday turning south, after meeting the Archithinue, and returning to York Factory, via the Red Deer River while MacGregor has him turning north and ending up along the North Saskatchewan River. Almost al Henday’s entries after that meeting are to the west and north.]
