Because of my prissy disposition, I cannot for the life of me understand what could possibly have been going through the minds of the early European explorers who came to British North America (as Canada was previously known in White circles on entirely different continents) with a can-do attitude. In particular, I’ve been thinking lately about the Palliser Expedition of 1857 to 1860. Oy vey, was THAT a trip!
Irish-born John Palliser decided on the journey and brought along Eugene Bourgeau from France, James Hector from Scotland, John W. Sullivan as a second Irishman in order to sway any votes they might have amongst the group, and Thomas Blakiston from Britain. Between the 5 of them, they consisted of a geographer (Palliser), a botanist (Bourgeau), a geologist/naturalist/surgeon (Hector), a mathematician/sextant observer (Sullivan), and the always essential magnetic observer (Blakiston). That is, Thomas Blakiston was a guy who could actually use a compass or who could at least nod along with whatever John Sullivan, a mathematician with his own sextant, was saying. With the blessing and support of the British government and the Royal Geographical Society, the guys set out to gather scientific information about the unexplored land and to scout the area looking at the feasibility of colonization, as they blazed a new trail through the prairies and mountains west of Lake Superior, surveying the route for the armchair explorers at home.
They enlisted the help and support of local Indigenous guides from the regions they were moving through, in addition to a group of Metis interpreters and scouts that they hired once they hit the Red River area. None of those guys needed to carry a sextant. The expedition filled up on supplies at the Red River HBC (back in the days when they sold more than just designer clothes) and moved their gear using horses and carts. Think about the struggle of THAT trip the next time you’re stuck in a crowded SUV driving across the prairies with your in-laws on the Trans Can. Things can always be worse.
By the spring of 1858, it appears that the group was centering itself in an outpost in the middle of what we know as Alberta, using it as their home base to return to once they’d explored and mapped out different areas or mountain passes in the Rockies. During the spring, the two Irish guys went to map out the North Kananaskis Pass and then the Kootenay Pass, which is WAY down passed Fernie for crying out loud, before returning to their home base by the time winter set in. That seems like remarkable timing. Good work ethic fellas!
Meanwhile, team doctor/naturalist/geologist James Hector set out with a small group to find a pass that crossed the Continental Divide northwest of what we now call Lake Louise. The Indigenous people in the area had long used this route but of course that didn’t count until White guys ‘found’ it themselves. The trail moved along a river and once it got close to the pass, there was a 12m (40 foot) waterfall. The path above the waterfall must have been particularly perilous because one of the pack horses in Hector’s group fell off the trail and into an eddy. Gadzooks! Everyone pitched in to help and when the pack horse was eventually fished out of the eddy, no doubt with a case of the dizzies, everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
However, James’ own horse had wandered off while the rescue operation was being undertaken, as a horse would, and James had a heck of a time trying to catch him. When he finally did, in all the excitement the horse kicked James squarely in the chest, although since they were standing fairly close together it wasn’t with his full strength but it was enough to knock James out cold. OUT COLD!
James’ own account of the situation indicates that he was so soundly unconscious and for such a length of time, that his companions thought he was dead, poor chap, and proceeded to start the ghastly task of digging a grave. As they were preparing to put him into it, he suddenly woke up. Imagine the all ’round surprise at that! I’ll bet his horse was pissed.
The only person who was there for the whole affair, and who outlived James Hector, was one of the Metis guides and while he agreed with the majority of the details outlined in the scenario, he recalls that one of the party was left to keep an eye on the unconscious doctor while the others set up camp, fished for supper and tried to think of what was to be done next. Finally, after several hours, the doctor did come around and, in some serious pain from the horse kick to the chest, instructed this guide on how to mix some of the medicines he had brought along so he could give himself a shot of relief. Even with this more likely version of events, I’m still thinking the horse was left pissed.
The ride back to home base must have been horrific as there were likely some broken bones and bruised organs involved in being on the hoof end of a horse kick, but James lived to regale his trip mates about the whole episode and was able to finish the expedition in 1859 at Port Vancouver with the rest of the fellas. Once they’d all reached Port Vancouver, they boarded a ship headed down the coast to Panama, overlanded to the other side (pre-canal), and then snagged passage on another ship up to Montreal. From there it was a simple trip across the Atlantic to Liverpool where they arrived to great (in a restrained British way) fanfare and plentiful job offers. James decided to take one of those offers and settled on another scientific exploration job, but this one went to New Zealand. That led to a government posting in which he is reputed to have done quite a bit of good for that country.
No matter how much he contributed to New Zealand over the next 40 years, in disciplines from science to managing the first botanical garden to being a Chancellor of the young University of New Zealand, I think we can all get behind the idea that his greatest contribution in life was getting walloped by his horse on a trip to Canada. For without James Hector we would not have the great Canadian story to tell tourists and children of the colourful naming of the Kicking Horse Pass while we point vaguely in the general direction and travel at outrageous speeds along the TransCanada Highway through that very same pass, grateful that it shaves both time and carsickness off any trip through the Canadian Rockies.
Here’s to you, James Hector! Thanks for taking one for the team!
