Book Review: R. M. Patterson’s Dangerous River (Nahanni)
by Brand Frentz

Dangerous River, Patterson, R. M., Chelsea Green Publishing Company, Post Mills, Vermont, 1990 (reprint), 274 pp., photographs & glossary, ISBN 0-93031-26-1.

There is something exotic and mysterious in the word "Nahanni." It sounds remote and fantastic, and the first snatches of information about the Nahanni country, about savage Indians living along a tremendous river in wild mountainous terrain, only enhanced that impression in the outside world.

As often happened, the name "Nahanni" was what the Indians who lived along that river were called by their neighbors, the Slave Indians. Its meaning was ordinary: "people far away, over there." It is far away, in the mountainous western part of the Canadian Northwest Territories. The Nahanni region was one of the last places that relentless European trappers and prospectors reached, some to their sorrow. The ominously-named Deadmen’s Valley in the middle reach of the Nahanni was the place that the dismembered bodies of three gold seekers were found early in the 20th Century. Legend said the Indians killed them, or the bears, but nobody knew.

Legend also said that they had found gold, and that was what R.M. Patterson told everyone had caught his interest in 1927 when he decided rather casually to make a trip into the country. In fact, it appears that he was a restless adventurer whose main concern was seeing new, different country. And the Nahanni in 1927 was still uncharted land. Most of the people he talked with about the river and its surrounding country warned him not to go, that if he did he would not return. If the colossal rapids and falls didn’t get him, the Indians would, or the bears...

Patterson was a big, Oxford-educated Englishman who served in World War I, then tried to settle down to a bank job after the war but could not. He had a thirst for adventure, and came to Western Canada, and finally the Northwest Territories. He was a fine writer with a poetic eye, as well as a hardened outdoorsman — hunter, trapper, and canoeist. He could do whatever was necessary to live in the woods, and he kept journals of his experiences.

Many years after the trip Patterson used his journals to complete the book Dangerous River, about his solo trip up the Nahanni in the summer of 1927 and his return in May 1928 with his partner Gordon Mathews to spend a year prospecting for the mythical gold and living off the land. These two narratives give a memorable picture of the region in that early day, and an exciting story of canoe travel.

Maps were no help. From a high point above a tributary river Patterson observed two mountain ranges stretching into the distance; neither was shown on his map, and the river below him was drawn in the wrong place. This pleased him. He mentions the "beautiful blanks" on his map of the Nahanni region, and felt pleasure at "seeing it first."

The book rewards the reader in many ways. There are fascinating descriptions of paddling, poling, and tracking up vicious rapids and later shooting back down them, including some occasions in November and May when ice was an added problem. He gives detailed stories of famous places on the river — the canyons, Nahanni Falls (in fact he claims to have taken the first photograph of the Falls), Figure-of-Eight Rapids (today called Hell’s Gate), and others. In 1927 Patterson met and traveled with Albert Faille, the renowned canoeist and outdoorsman from Minnesota. Faille demonstrated boating skills that impressed even Patterson, who was an outstanding canoe man. He gives a thorough story of the region’s history and natural features, including the wildlife that he and Matthews lived off (they brought in flour, sugar, tea, and etc. too).

The greatest value of the book for me was his careful description of how he traveled. Learning what obstacles he faced and surmounted shows what is possible. One vivid example is how he got up through Box Canyon in 1927, on his own (he and Faille had figured it out and done it together earlier). The canyon had sheer walls and there was no possibility of paddling against the powerful current. The water was too deep to wade. But there was a narrow ledge 10-15 feet up on the rock wall on one side where you could walk and track (line) your boat through.

It was hard to reach the start of the ledge with the roaring current pulling him downstream, but Patterson made it and rigged his canoe for tracking. As he moved ahead on the ledge the boat bounced crazily in the current, but followed. Then a sudden gust of wind caught it and threw it against the wall he was walking on. It lodged beneath him, out of sight. Carefully leaning out he could see down the overhang to a narrow opening at water level. The canoe was jammed in there. He tugged on his line from above, working it in various ways. Nothing happened.

Patterson was in trouble. There was not another human being within 50 miles. He could not swim across the raging river. His canoe was his only way off the ledge. He was even more anxious because the river was rising. The boat might be held tight indefinitely and ground up against the rock. Time was short.

He decided he needed to pull from an angle, so he moved back downstream, lay down and cautiously leaned out, gripping a rock knob in one hand for support. He began working the line with the other. After a few minutes of trying to time his tugs with the falling of the waves, the canoe moved, maybe an inch. A little later it came another inch. His arm was hurting, and the river was rising, but there was nothing else to do. He kept working, trying to jerk just when the canoe dipped between waves. After an hour he had moved it only a few inches, there were still many feet to go, and he was getting badly weakened.

Just as suddenly as the gust had pushed it into the notch, one of his jerks freed it and the boat came shooting down, almost pulling him off the ledge when it hit the end of the line! Patterson summarized the experience like this:

Every day on this river one took risks — calculated risks, most of them, with a few extras thrown in for good measure. But it never did to push the luck too far: only a fool would make a trial of fortune right after getting out of a jam like that. So, while the wind blew, no more tracking here — and I yanked the canoe out of the water, put my arm round the centre thwart, hitched the gunwale on to my shoulder and walked up the ledge with my burden. I had had enough fun for one afternoon. (p. 117)

The book is enjoyable and educational. Patterson was probably a wonderful storyteller in person. We are fortunate that he left this book of his adventures in the Nahanni country, and that a publisher decided to republish the book in 1990.