October 10th of that year, McClure turned his attention to other matters — not to finding Franklin, but rather to discovering the Northwest Passage. His lookout had spotted open water in the distance, and he wondered if it was a continuation of Barrow Strait. McClure led a sled party across the ice to the land on the east side of the channel. He and the small party climbed up a 500-metre (1,500 feet) rise and from that vantage point saw the ice-packed channel. Dr. Armstrong, medical attendant to the crew, was convinced that the highway to England from ocean to ocean lay before them, but McClure needed to set foot on shore of the passage himself.
Eleven days later McClure and a party set out again on an exhausting five-day journey along the eastern shore of Banks Island to the end of the channel. On October 26, 1850, Robert McClure, standing on a 200-metre (600 foot) promontory, confirmed the presence of a water route from Atlantic to Pacific. The Northwest Passage had been discovered. McClure and crew were eligible for the prize of 10,000 pounds that had been promised by the English government for the discovery.
Regardless of his success, McClure remained to search for Franklin. By September 9, 1852, the crew were down to one meal a day. In October, a delegation pleaded with the captain for an increase in food, but McClure refused. It was reported that Sub-Lieutenant Robert Wynniatt went mad. Each man weighed about 15 kilograms (35 pounds) less than when they had left England, and 20 were ill with scurvy.
A few years ago, the people of Ivanhoe cleared the grave site of Henry Gauen, erected a fence, and placed a tombstone there in his honour.
Author’s collection
During one outing Henry Gauen was attacked by a polar bear. Henry kept the bear at bay until he managed to shoot it with his gun, but carried scars from the bear’s claws on his back for the rest of his life. Notwithstanding a polar bear attack, Henry actually put on his skates and was, quite possibly, the first man to ever skate on Artic ice.
The winter of 1852–53 dragged on, and the health of the crew declined further; two crew members went insane and howled all night. By the end of January, a clerk, Joseph Paine, and one of the mates, John Boyle, had died of scurvy. A day later Lieutenant Pim of the Resolute found the Investigator. On April 15th the remaining crew of the Investigator set off by sled for two vessels moored off Melville Island. It was a ghastly journey — half the men were lame from scurvy, unable to stand, shrunken, hollow-eyed, and slightly crazed.
By the September 25, 1854, Gauen and what others remained of the Investigator’s crew had arrived home in England. They were presented with 10,000 pounds, 80 pounds of which was Gauen’s share. He was also presented with a silver medal embossed with a sailing ship, specially cast for Arctic explorers. He subsequently married an English woman and came to live in the hamlet of Ivanhoe.
As for Franklin, it was later discovered that he and his two crews had indeed perished over a period of time. Several factors contributed to this loss of life, one being the harsh environment. Another factor leading to the death of some crew members was discovered to be lead poisoning. It has been calculated that each crew member would have been allotted about .25 kilograms (.5 pounds) of tinned food every second day — a regular ingestion of lead from the lead-tin solder used to seal the tins. Furthermore, it was later found that the side seams on some of the tins were incomplete and the food had spoiled, a recipe for botulism. Exact details will remain a secret, lost to history.
Mr. Henry Gauen died in July 1889 at the age of 77. He was buried just north of Ivanhoe, on the west side of the road, on the land that he had settled. Over the years his gravesite became overgrown and lost from view. However, the people of Ivanhoe have since cleared the grave site, erected a fence, and placed a tombstone in his honour, just one example of their pride in the community.
The citizens of Ivanhoe have chosen to remember and be grateful to the man who helped establish a cheese company for the community, and I am grateful to them. Henry Gauen was my great-great grandfather.
Kapuskasing
The majority of folks say Ka’puskasing
But if we had a chat
They’d say Kapuss’kasing’
And say it, just like that
And if they went to live and sing
They’d soon be saying Kap!
So I guess it doesn’t matter much
But I like Kapuss’kasing’
This Native place by the river’s bend
Needs a different ring!
— Allanah Douglas
The region that we know as Kapuskasing today was primarily used by fur traders. The Hudson’s Bay Company and the Old Northwest Traders both set up operations in the area. In the early 1900s, the National Transcontinental Railway (now CN) pushed through this wilderness and a station was built where the railway crossed the river. It was first known as McPherson and was in 1917 changed to Kapuskasing, a Cree word meaning “the place where the river bends.”
Back in 1914, the Canadian government decided to purchase 1,280 acres of land west of the Kapuskasing River and south of the Transcontinental Railway tracks. Their objective was to establish an experimental farm. They chose this area because it was part of the fertile Great Clay Belt region of Northern Ontario. Scientists believed they could develop hardier varieties of crops that would be able to withstand the harsh climate of the north.
Kapuskasing circa 1914. First built as a prisoner of war camp and subsequently used to house potential war veterans in an attempt to settle the area.
Archives of Ontario
The station was, however, converted that same year into an internment camp for illegal immigrants and prisoners of war. These internees built a barracks, hospital, canteen, YMCA, post office, bakery, and a supply depot. They also managed to clear 100 acres of land that first year. By the end of 1915, the camp had 1,200 internees and 250 soldiers to supervise and operate the complex. Incredible as it may sound, these internees had cleared another 500 acres of land by the end of that year. By 1917 most of the internees had been paroled due to labour shortages, and 400 prisoners of war replaced them. The camp remained open until 1920, when the last prisoner of war was repatriated. Thirty-two German prisoners died while at the camp and were buried across from the present-day public cemetery.
The Canadian government then embarked on a new land settlement scheme for returned soldiers. Government officials managed to route 101 settlers to Kapuskasing. Each soldier was assigned a 100-acre lot. A training school for these new pioneers was built at Monteith and dormitories were built to provide housing until the settlers could erect their own homes. The government also provided farm implements, stock, and seed at very low cost to the settlers.
Determined to make this work, the government built a sawmill, a planing mill, a blacksmith shop, a steam laundry, a store, and a school on the east bank of the Kapuskasing River. The settlers were subsequently organized into groups, and each party was supervised by a government foreman. The goal was to clear the land for farming.
It wasn’t long before these settlers had had enough. They felt like little more than work gangs, there to satisfy some government idea of settling the north. Just back from fighting a war, this scheme seemed as much like a POW camp as it did a place to get a fresh start. It was all about control. The men were unhappy with the arrangements and the majority of them abandoned the entire project. Out of 101 settlers, nine remained. They were Mair, McCall, Yorke, Wing, MacMinn, Grant, Le Marrier, Gough, and Poolton.
Things began to look up for Kapuskasing in 1922, when the Spruce Falls Power and Paper Company built a pulp