The white canoe, and other legends of the Ojibways : Monckton, Elizabeth, 1869-

THE WHITE CANOE.

T T was four days since the women had borne
her out of the lodge and buried her in the
edge of the forest. Four days, and Waywas-
simo had not tasted food and only left his lodge
at evening to kindle the fire upon her grave.
Four times was the spirit’s camp-fire lighted as
Waywassimo followed the soul of his beloved
on its lonely journey to the Land of Shadows,
but now the charred and blackened embers lay un-
touched upon her grave and a veil had fallen be-
tween the soul of Waywassimo and his beloved.
The squaws brought food and placed it inside
the lodge door, but Waywassimo turned away
his face. He had no desire for the food of the
old women when all his soul was hungry for the
voice of his beloved, his beautiful Lcelina with
eyes like stars and a voice like the wind in the
pines. Tall and straight as a young fir tree !

Graceful, bending like a willow, swift of foot
and light of laughter! No, there was never an-
other like her, Leelina the gentle, Leelina the fair !
Another moon and she would have been his bride,
but now the w^omen had buried her in the edge of
the forest, and Waywassimo was alone !

They brought his bow and arrows and laid
them inside the lodge door. For a moment
the blood of the hunter quickened in his veins ;
then he remembered that no longer could he lay
at the feet of Leelina his trophies from the chase,
so he turned away his face and heeded them not.

Again they came and laid his tomahawk and
war-club inside the lodge door and without he
heard the tom-toms and the saw-saw-quan of the
w-arriors. Once more his pulse leaped and he
made as if to array himself for battle ; but when
he laid his hands on the war garments, rich with
wampum and porcupine quills, he remembered
that Leelina would not be there to join in the
feasting, and to hear the stories of his prowess
on their return, so he turned away his face and
heeded them not.

Then they came no more, and Wavwassimo

sat alone in his lodge, neither eating nor drink-
ing, until the women shook their heads and said :
“We will soon kindle the spirit’s camp-fire on
another grave in the forest.”

As Waywassimo sat alone in his lodge, weak
and faint from long fasting, he dreamed strange
dreams. All the stories the old men had told
him came back to him, but now they were not as
old men’s tales, but mingled strangely with his
dreams of Leelina.

They told him of a pathway leading from
earth to the Land of Souls, and how the great
Master of Life, in pity for those who loved well,
had granted this boon that they might see one an-
other again. Dim and uncertain was the path-
way and few on earth had found it, for the way
was long and weary and the love of many grew
cold.

Night after night, as Waywassimo lay on the
mat in his lodge, the dream came to him as the
old men had told it, and at last he knew that he
should have no peace until he had found the
mysterious pathway and seen Leelina again.

He took a handful of corn in his meda-bag and

a few arrows in his quiver, then steaHng out of
the village in the darkness, he stood beside the
grave of Leelina. His spirit w^as going to seek
hers, yet in all the four corners of the earth he
knew not which way to turn. At last he drew
his bow-string and sent an arrow singing toward
the stars. The arrow fell to the southward,
and setting his face in that direction, Waywas-
simo started on his journey.

For many days he walked, through forests,
over rank beaver-meadows, across streams and
marshes, without finding any trace of the myste-
rious pathway. Bewildered and faint with weari-
ness, he kept on until his limbs gave way beneath
him and it seemed as if he had but left the vil-
lage to perish in an unknown wilderness. But
not to save life itself would he turn back from
seeking Leelina, for if it was the will of the Great
Spirit that he perish, then his soul should be for-
ever with hers in the Islands of the Blessed.
Then, as Waywassimo strengthened his resolve
and moved forward on his journey, a Spirit came
to him out of the shadows of the forest, and,
taking his hand, pointed to a trail under the

leaves and dead grasses. No word did the Spirit
speak, and when Waywassimo Hfted his eyes
from the trail, he was alone, but he was standing
in the pathway to the Land of Souls.

On and on he went, his weariness falling from
him and his limbs strengthening with renewed
vigor. The snow was deep on the ground and
matted thick on the trees when he left the vil-
lage; but, as he proceeded on his journey, the
snow gradually disappeared, the gray clouds dis-
solved and floated away, and over him arched the
tender blue of Spring skies. The boughs flushed
with swelling buds, and through them swept
a breeze warm and balmy and odorous with the
breath of flowers.

No sign of human life did Waywassimo see in
all his journey, but the breeze grew warmer and
balmier, the trees burst into full leaf, wild flowers
grew along his pathway, and the forest was
melodious with the song of birds. Moving on to
the southward the foliage became richer and
more luxuriant, more brilliant the plumage of
the birds, and at night-time myriads of fireflies
twinkled and ^rlowed in the dense forest.

Now the trail became plainer, and by this sign
Waywassimo knew that he was nearing his jour-
ney’s end. At last it emerged from the forest and
led along a sloping hillside, on the summit of
which stood a solitary lodge. Within the lodge
sat an old man, with whitened locks upon his
shoulders. He was clothed in a single garment
of skins and held a staff in his hand. Waywassi-
mo knew by the stories of the old men that it was
Chebiabos, the ruler of the Land of Souls.

“I have looked for you long, my son,” the old
man said, advancing to meet Waywassimo. ”She
whom you seek is not here, but she passed this
way a few days before you. Enter. I will give
you food, you may rest in my lodge, and then I
will guide you upon the same journey.”

Waywassimo entered the lodge of Chebiabos,
he partook of the food placed before him, and
lying down on a bed of boughs he slept as he had
not slept since Leelina went away.

The sun was high in the heavens when Che-
biabos led Waywassimo out of the lodge, and
pointed to a lake stretching through the valley be-
low. Its clear waters sparkled in the sunlight,

and beyond it, misty and blue lay the fair plains
of the Land of Souls.

“Behold the Plains of the Blessed, my son,”
Chebiabos said. “You stand now upon its bor-
der, but before you can go forward you must lay
aside your bow and arrows, for no sign of war-
fare or bloodshed is allowed to enter that land.”

Then leading Waywassimo back into his lodge
Chebiabos stripped him of his travel worn rai-
ment, of all the implements of hunting and war-
fare, and clothed him in a beautiful garment, soft
and white as the finest moose skin, and fringed
with wampum that shone like silver in the sun-
light. Then when Waywassimo walked forth
from the lodge, he found his feet light as if
winged so that he could travel with no feeling of
weariness.

Together they entered the forest bordering the
lake which divided them from the Land of Souls.
Here Waywassimo found all things ac he had left
them behind. The trees of his own forest grev:
around him, birds flitted through their branches,
and animals sprang across his path. The sun
shone brightly on a familiar world, but over all

brooded a strange oppressive stillness. The trees
swayed in the breeze, but there was no rustling of
leaves, no chirp and twitter of bird song, no whir
of wings, no drone and hum of insects, and not
even a twig crackled under foot as they moved on
through the forest.

The silence grew heavier and more oppressive
until Waywassimo felt a strange surging and
singing in his ears, and his brain reeled with a
sense of unreality. His companion uttered no
word as they passed through the silent forest, and
he felt himself suffocated with the pounding of
his own heart in his bosom, and the surging of
the blood in his ears became as the roaring of a
cataract.

Stretching out his hand Waywassimo made as
if to lay it on the trunk of a tree growing beside
the way, then the surging in his ears stopped,
and his heart stood still, for his hand swept
through the air and dropped at his side. There
was no tree ! Again he stooped to pluck a flower
growing among the moss, but his fingers closed
upon themselves, and there was no flower ! Then
Chebiabos turned to him and said ;

“It is so, my son, we are in the Land of Sha-
dows. Behind you are all realities. These are
but the forms of things that have beautified the
earth and perished. The Master of Life is great
and very good, and he has ordained that nothing
be lost. The flowers that bloom for a day, the
trees that waved their branches through the sun
and storm of many years, all things that his hand
has fashioned live forever. See, my son, the
forest is full of birds, but there is no song. They
are the shadows of birds that have sung to you
on the other side, and the animals which you
see around you are but the forms of your own
good and evil thoughts. You walk in the Land
of Shadows, my son, the border country to the
Land of Souls.”

At last they emerged from the forest and found
themselves on the bank of the lake. As Way-
wassimo strained his eyes across the level shining
water a speck appeared among the mists upon the
horizon, the lingeripg floating mists of morning
that melted sea and sky together. Now it fell
and now it lifted, sometimes flying, sometimes
floating like a heron or a wild goose, dipping,

flashing in the sunlight, but ever coming nearer,
nearer, until the straining eyes of Waywassimo
saw the speck upon the water, not a wild goose nor
a heron, but a shining white Cheemaun coming
toward him across the water. None there was to
steer or paddle, but straight along a track of
splendor came the white canoe to Waywassimo.
Now it grounded safe among the glittering peb-
bles, then he saw that on the bottom lay a paddle
made of silver.

**It is the White Canoe come to carry you
across the lake,” Chebiabos said, “and there is no
other means of passage to the Land of Souls. I
leave you here, for every pilgrim must make the
voyage alone, but if you have faith all will be
well.”

Then Waywassimo stepped into the White
Canoe, and taking the silver paddle, pushed off
from shore. When he had gone some distance
out upon the lake he saw another canoe approach-
ing, gliding over the shining water, and drop-
ping showers of crystal spray from the gleaming
silver paddle. Nearer and nearer It came, and
Waywassimo dropped his paddle and again

strained his eyes across the ghmmenng sheet of
water. The slender figure which swayed with
every dip of the paddle w^as a woman. Now he
could see the glittering fringe of wampum on her
arms, and w^aist and bosom, see her dark and
floating tresses, see the oval of her features, — yes,
it was his lost love, Leelina !

On and on she came until the tw^o White
Canoes floated side by side, but when Waywassi-
mo stood up and held out his arms to her, Leelina
smiled and laid her finger on her lips as if warn-
ing him to silence.

Together they paddled on, and now Wayw^as-
simo noticed that the weaves w^ere running high
though the sun still shone, and there w^as not a
cloud in the sky. Higher and higher they grew^
rolling against the canoes, as if they w^ould swamp
them, and as Waywassimo bent to his paddle he
found himself looking down through the clear
transparent water straight to the bottom of the
lake, and his heart grew cold with fear as he saw
that the sands on tlic bo Horn were strewn with
the bones of those who had perished in crossing.

Waywassimo would have turned back, but

v/lien lie looked at Leelina he saw no terror in
her face, but she Hfted her finger again and again
to her Hps, and smiled at him across the billows.
Then Waywassimo’s courage and faith came back,
and as he bent again to the paddle he found that
whenever the White Canoe touched the foaming,
angry waves they melted away and left a smooth’
path before it.

Now he saw other canoes likewise struggling
among the waves. Some toiled for a little while
and then sank out of sight ; others kept on, bat-
tling among the billows, and a few, like their own,
foimd the waters calmed before them. Only the
canoes of little children met no v/aves but the
waters parted before them, leaving a luminous
pathway straight to the Land of Souls.

So Waywassimo learned that it was according
to their faith, and all fear and uncertainty de-
parted from him and with steady arm he dipped
his paddle and smiled back at Leelina across the
water.

Now an island seemed to rise out of the lake
before his eyes and an invisible hand was steer-
ing him straight toward its sloping shores, on

and on until a great wave swept the canoe liigh
upon the sandy beach. Looking up he found Lee-
lina before him, and she held out her hands to
him, with a smile on her lips and the light of
love in her starry eyes.

“It is the Happy Island,” she said. ”The Great
JMaster of Life has permitted us to tarry here
awhile,” and taking his hand she led him along
the shore and into the forest.

Long they lingered on the Happy Island, Way-
wassimo and his love, Leelina. Together they
wandered over green and sunny meadows,
through the dim and shadowy woodlands, listened
to the songs of gladness, to the robin and the blue
bird ; heard the wind among the branches, heard
the rippling of the waters, heard their own
licarts throb together while they sat in blissful
silence, with the smiling heavens above them and
the smiling earth around them. The icy breath of
Kab-bi-bon-ok-ka never blew upon that island,
not a snowfiake from the Northland, not an ice-
crust on the brooklets, but drowsy, dreamy, end-
less Summer reigned upon the Happy Island.

Waywassimo knew not how long they lingered

there together, for light of sun and moon there
was none, naught to measure days in passing,
naught to mark the night and morning, but all
was one long radiant noonday and the smiles
and sighs of lovers were ics light, its air, its sun-
shine.

At last there came a day when a voice spoke
to Waywassimo out of the perfumed breezes, say-
ing:

*’The desire of your soul has been given you.
You have seen Leelina and had a foretaste of the
joy which shall be yours when you are summoned
to the Land of Ponemah. But the time is not
yet. It is ordained that you return to your people
and rule them for many years. Not in sadness
and sorrow shall you dwell among them, but as
my messenger of joy and peace. Leelina remains
to await your coming; you will find her still
young and beautiful when at last I call you from
the Land of Snows.”

Then Waywassimo awoke and found himself
still in the Valley of Bitterness and Tears.

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AND ISTHMIANA.

BY THEODORE WINTHROP

via The canoe and the saddle: adventures among the northwestern rivers and forests.

From 1866 and now free on the Internet. An account of a journey by canoe in the northwest.

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Interesting canoe models and paddles from the  Material culture of the Davis Inlet and Barren Ground Naskapi.

About the Book

The collections of Field Museum of Natural History contain more than 500 ethnographic specimens collected by William Duncan Strong among the Davis Inlet and Barren Ground Naskapi in 1927-1928. The artifacts in this collection are described and illustrated. Information on material culture in Strong’s photographs, diaries, and field notes has been included to enhance the artifact descriptions.

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Check out this video:

Combine it with This is Canoeing and put on your own canoe video fest. Great for when the water is frozen solid.

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Wooden canoe at sunset on Esther Lake. Minnesota. Used with permission from Bryan Hansel Photography. Another picture from the same outing is used in our header.

Bryan built this canoe, a Freedom 17 designed by Steve Killing, in his second floor apartment while living in North Liberty, IA. It was too big to fit out the door, around the corner and down the apartment building’s stairs, so when he finished it went out the window. He sent his girlfriend to the parking lot and started to lower. Before it hit the ground, people ran to help. A business owner operating under Hansel’s apartment griped, “I wondered what all the banging was about.” Although I don’t know why you’d need a hammer to build a canoe there must have been a reason for the banging–maybe completely unrelated to building a canoe. Canoe builders do get all the chics. I bet the current tenants are still vacuuming up cedar dust.

Get It

For canoe builders, Bear Mountain Boat Shop sells plans, and for mere mortals, Bluewater Canoe makes the Freedom in 39-pound shoulder saving Kevlar. Bryan writes about making the photo on Paddlinglight.com. Order a print from Bryan on his website. The image number is 100718-104.

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