The big move from Ontario to Manitoba in 1879

The following account was written by David James Watson.

Just a few of the highlights of our trip to Manitoba in the spring of 1879.

Departure from Elma, Ontario
We left Millbank station in the township of Elma in Perth County along with a number of families coming to Manitoba, where my father [James Watson jr.] and my oldest brother [Robert] had taken homesteads & pre-emptions in the summer of 1878 on Sec 32 TP15R15 six miles north of where the thriving town of Neepawa now stands. At that time it was wild land, but now our old homestead is known as the Dables brothers’ farm.

In the summer of 1878 my father and brother got some land broken up and some log buildings up, and in the winter of 1878 my father came back to Ontario to make the arrangements for moving the rest of our family to our new home in the west.

On the Train
The train being of considerable length, the car with the stock wasn’t near the coaches we were in. So when the train would stop to take on water, my brother Solomon, a lad of fourteen, would get off the coach and run to the stock car to milk the cows. Then the next time the train stopped he would get off the stock car and come back with the milk.

The train was made up of several cars of settlers’ effects besides the coaches, which made a train of considerable length. One dark night, the coupling on the car we were in broke and left us sitting on the track between stations. My mother, being awake, wondered at the stop. On looking out she could see no lights, so she sent a man back to find the conductor. He got men with lanterns out each way along the track, as another train was nearly due.

When the train arrived at the next station with no train men aboard, it caused considerable excitement. As they came back in search for us they were afraid to speed in case they ran into us. Finally they spotted the signal lights of the train crew. They hitched onto the coach we were in. I can remember the big red embers from the engine coming over our coach as the fireman stoked the old engine, but there was no damage done.

So we finally arrived at St. Boniface on one of the first trains on the newly laid steel between Emerson and St. Boniface. There being no railroad into Winnipeg and no bridges across the river, we had to cross the river by ferryboat.

Fort Garry
The government had a building on the Winnipeg side of the river about where the CNR station now stands. The building was about 100 feet long. It was one story with a partition down the centre and then divided into 12-foot rooms where the new settlers could get temporary lodgings while getting organized for their final destinations. There was a cookhouse on either side of this big building to accommodate the people. Quite frequently a woman would put her kettle on the stove and go back to her room for something else, to find on her return that someone had set that kettle off and set hers on. Well, there were some Irish women who didn’t approve of that way of doing business, so quite often there was a fight. When they had demonstrated who was the best boxer, they would call a Mr. Frost, who lived close by and was supposed to supervise the use of the buildings. But if Mr. Frost got wise in time, he usually was absent. Well, needless to say, it furnished amusement for a lot of us youngsters.

Fort Garry on the north side of the river was in good repair at that time and had a stone fence enclosing quite a sized piece of land. The fort had what we youngsters called “peek holes” to shoot through if attacked by Indians. There was another old landmark on the north side of the river, a red building, which I was told was a grist mill. The fort was a favorite place for us youngsters to play while the men folk were getting ready for the journey west. There being too much freight to load in the wagons and carts, part of the stuff was sent to Portage on the old stern wheeler boat that used to follow the river to Brandon.

Mud on the Trail
Well, we finally got started west, so in the absence of better roads we followed the south Red River Cart trail, which crossed the sand hills north of Carberry. The season being very rainy, we had to cross many bad waterholes. Some places at a really deep creek, a homesteader would build a bridge of poles and stay there all day and charge for each wagon, cart, or loose animal that crossed. Other places the men would wade through to see how deep the water and mud was, then they would hitch two teams to each wagon and try their luck. If they got stuck in the mud, the men would carry the children and some of the women to dry ground, and then carry part of the load, then take logging chains and if the chains were too short to reach solid ground, they would take poles and notch the ends of the poles so the chains wouldn’t slip off, and in that way draw the wagons out. The oxen being better in mud than horses, usually got through by having some of the men help by lifting on the spokes in the wheels. The mosquitoes were so thick one could scarcely see through them. When the women fried meat in the evenings, the mosquitoes would come to the fire, their wings would scorch, and they would drop in the frying pan. The grease would scarcely run out of the pan.

Arrival in the Wilderness
Well, we finally reached our new home on the 7th of June, 1879, with three youngsters sick with measles, after being on the road 23 days. It was no pleasure trip for my mother, to say the least.

Neighbors were scarce at that time. Sam Buchanan and his son John one mile away, Bill Warnock 1 1/2 miles, Jim and John Coulter 2 miles south, Jonas Potter 3 miles west. Gradually the settlers kept coming in. There being no churches or schools, the missionaries had to hold services in settlers houses and travel on horseback in the summer and by toboggan in winter time.

Pioneering

There being no local stores to get supplies at, my father had to draw supplies from Portage and Winnipeg. The first winter we were in Manitoba he spent 42 days drawing supplies. My eldest sister came out in the fall of 1879 with her family of three, so with our late arrival the previous spring, we had no potatoes or vegetables.. It took a powerful lot of bread to feed such a houseful, 15 in all. I remember once in particular, my sister Jenny, just a girl in her teens, baked 100 pounds of flour between Friday morning and Saturday night, which I think was rather a record with just a common cook stove to cook in.

As time went on and more settlers came in, the settlers called a meeting and set a day, and they went to the bush to get logs and built a church, where all the settlers could attend like one big family.

Indians
Sometimes we would meet huge bands of Indians on the trail, and usually the fellows with the most feathers in their headdress would be riding ponies at the front of the caravan of fifty or more carts, with a pony hitched to each cart with each pony tied to the preceding cart. usually three or four Indians were riding along either side of the road, each with a long whip to keep the caravan moving along. Once I remember seeing one of their ponies get stuck in a mud hole and he refused to pull, so one of the Indians tied the pony’s tail to the whiffletree, then he applied the whip. To the surprise of all of us white folks, the pony pulled the cart out in that way.

Local Government
As time went on, the settlers decided to elect a council to look after the business of the County of Beautiful Plains. The members of the first council have all gone to their last resting place. The names of the first council as I remember them were: Jonathan Hamilton*, reeve, William Curry, sec. Treasurer, James Watson [the writer’s father], Peter Graham [brother to “Big Jim”], Thomas Newton, John Honeyman, a Mr. Leatch I invite correction if this isn’t right.

A petition was later presented to the council asking that a trail be opened from the Neepawa district to Dauphin, so a delegation was appointed to see if a road could be made. The names of the councilors appointed follows: James Watson, Wm. Gardiner, Peter Graham, Tom Newton. So they set out with ox carts, tents, provisions, and several young men from the district went with along in hopes of finding homesteads. They blazed a trail through bush in many places, and followed gravel ridges where possible. Eventually they returned with a satisfactory report that a trail could be made, which was later done. Settlers used that route for several years. It was also used as a mail route to Dauphin for several years.

Burned Out
In the early eighties the government passed a law making it legal for a man who had taken out the deed for his first homestead to take out a second homestead. So, in 1885, the year of the North West Rebellion, my father took a second homestead on the SE of section 16TP18R15, near where the village of Riding Mountain now stands. He built a house on it in 1886 and moved to it in the same year. The nearest neighbor then was John Bare, three miles south, but again neighbors soon began to come in. We had to do our shopping and draw our grain or any other produce to Neepawa. Then in the summer of 1887, I homesteaded on section 14T18R15. I worked out at $18.00 per month in the summer and $13.00 per month in the lumber camp drawing saw logs in the winter. I finally built a house and had it nicely furnished. I lived in it three months when it got burned with all its contents, so I again was just worth the clothes I was wearing. Mr. John Crawford, the implement dealer offered to supply me with what implements I needed to get a new start, so with friends like that I made a new start and got my debts paid.

I had some tough sledding at times, but I try to forget that and just think of the many friends I have at Riding Mountain. [– David James Watson]