am glad I brought my compass, he thought, as he kept missing marker after marker. At times he felt completely lost, but then after what seemed like an eternity he’d finally find another mark.
It was now well past their deadline they’d set, and Dave and Bill were getting very concerned by Ed’s absence. Dave was just about to start tracking Ed’s markers, when he saw him suddenly appear from a patch of birch trees far to the south of where he’d originally started out.
“Thank God,” Dave whispered to Bill. “Hey Ed, we were getting worried about you,” he shouted.
As Ed approached them, they could see the relief on his face, along with a smile that suggested he’d also found something.
“Just wait until you hear what I have to tell you,” he joyfully smiled, clearly relieved by finally finding his way back to where he’d started from earlier that day. For the next half hour they ate lunch and talked about the cliff, the hidden waterfall, and laughed over Bill’s frightening confrontation with that huge black bear.
“I told you guys we’d figure this thing out!” Dave slyly chuckled, grinning from ear to ear. “Now I’m more determined than ever. And Damn it, we’re now gonna find some gold nuggets,” he laughed, once again marking his map where he’d suspected the mysterious lost river was located. “It all makes sense,” he said. “I bet those map makers just assumed it was the Split Rock River.” Then he paused to think a moment. “Let’s try to make it to Ed’s wall, and we can camp there tonight.”
As they gathered their packs, they continued to jabber, and during the silent moments it was obvious they were hopefully thinking about the gold they were surely going to find, once they found this hidden stream. During their brisk hike, they also joked about chopping their way along that dried up river as their obvious enthusiasm was rekindled with every step they took.
“It looks like we might have to move our campsite and the boat.” Dave explained.
“Yes,” Bill agreed, “but first we’ll need to determine where this new river empties into the lake.”
Suddenly Ed pointed straight ahead. “There it is,” he grinned, stopping just long enough to stare at the jagged cliff he’d been describing over and over.
“It doesn’t look so big from here,” Dave laughed. Then with a little more concern, he whispered, “But I don’t recall seeing anything like that last year!”
Once again, it took only a short time before they were standing at the foot of the cliff.
“That surely sounds like a waterfall to me,” Dave whispered, “there’s no mistake about that. Now all we have to do is figure out how to get up there so we can see it.”
After much searching, they finally found a crevice that looked climbable, and they quickly started the difficult task of slowly working their way to the top. After more than a few scrapes and bruises, the three tired climbers cautiously peeked over the edge of the cliff, where they stared in awe at a large bowl of cascading rapids that seemed to be bubbling right out of the earth itself.
“Oh my God,” Dave shouted. “I’ve never seen anything like this in my entire life.”
As Ed and Bill pulled them self up to where they could see better, they both mumbled, “Oh my God - I can’t believe this.”
“That has to be an aquifer,” Bill shouted. “That water’s coming right up out of the ground. I remember seeing one of these in Austin, Texas - it was called The Edward’s Aquifer,” he explained over the noise of the rushing water. “And look at that mist it’s making over the pond - it looks like it’s bubbling right out of the bowls of the earth.”
“I’ve heard that rivers can travel hundreds of miles underground, but this is unreal,” Dave explained, pausing to take a deep breath. “So that’s where the lava silt and gold must be coming from. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if this waters coming from as far away as the Canadian Rockies. That’s the only way lava silt could be found in this part of the country.”
Finally all three of them just sat completely silent, absorbing every detail of the remarkable phenomenon that was unfolding right in front of them under an equally spectacular sunset, and it soon became obvious that words were unable to describe any of their feelings.
After several minutes had passed, the spell of the moment was shattered by the repeated clicking of Ed’s camera, as they finally decided to climb down into this huge bowl, where the water was wildly dumping into Dave’s magic stream.
“All these cliffs must have been pushed up through the crust of the earth years ago,” Bill whispered, still out of breath, as all three of them awkwardly slid their way down to the edge of the churning water that was slowly swirling in a large circle. As they stood entranced by the power surrounding them, the cooling mist washed the sweat from their faces, and in a strange but magical way it seemed to offer strength to their tired bodies. The entire pool was at least twenty yards across, and as they cautiously walked along the edge of the pond, they felt as if they were in some strange hypnotic trance. The whole experience had left them with a euphoric feeling, but also an ominous respect and fear of the magical things that were noticeably overwhelming each of them.
Those Indians must have known about this? Dave thought, as they worked their way around to the cascading stream rushing out the mouth of this most unusual pond that sat in what looked like a bombed out crater. Finally they walked to a more peaceful location down stream, where they could camp for the night, just as the sun was falling below the horizon and they all hurriedly collected wood for a fire that would provide their security for the night.
Chapter 3
Bear Claw was the Chief of the Ojibwe Annishinaabe Indians living on the Red Lake Reservation, which was located on the United State’s side of the boarder along the western shoreline of The Lake of the Woods. Both Canada and the United States had granted the Indians the sole right to net fish from this lake’s abundant supply of Walleye, and the Ojibwe tribe made much of their living by selling the fish they netted from the large open waters at the south end of this huge lake. Bear Claw, and his small tribe of Ojibwe Indians also maintained a fish processing plant at Wheeler’s Point, where the lake emptied into the Rainy River, which was only six miles north of Baudette, Minnesota. When the tribe was netting near the eastern shore, they always stayed at their smaller Canadian Reservation at the mouth of the Grassy River. On this Reservation, there was a single dirt road that took them south to Wheelers Point, which was about eight miles southwest from where Dave, Bill and Ed were camping at Split Rock Falls.
“Please tell us the story about Kitchimanidoo, the children shouted as they pulled on Bear Claw’s deerskin pants leg.”
With that Bear Claw smiled, as he casually sat down on a huge log bench near the fire.
“All right, but you must promise me you’ll go right home and go to sleep when I’m finished.”
“Yes, we promise,” they shouted in unison as they all snuggled close together, tucking their legs under them and leaning forward in anticipation of what was about to take place.
Bear Claw was in his late seventies, and his face was tanned and wrinkled from the strong winds that were almost always blowing over Lake of the Woods. In fact his wrinkled skin looked much like the leather band he always wore around his forehead, holding back his long gray hair that
