Trapped in the Wiser Lake Wilderness

I started from Whatcom early Tuesday morning, carrying my blankets in a bundle, and luckily, as it afterwards turned out, my umbrella. At Old Fort, three miles north of Whatcom, instead of following the bay shore, a turn is made to the eastward. I followed 'Mc's trail' for six miles with its half-burned bridges and logs. The snow lay nearly a foot deep, with a yielding crust at the top and water underneath, making every step an effort. I struck the edge of a dark forest about dusk and knocked at the door of a cabin where a gentleman named Dix informed me I was two miles from Wiser Lake. By the time I reached the deep woods, the ground was under water in many places. I had to pass over and under freshly fallen maple, cherry, and birch trees. As I was not the lucky possessor of a single match, I shouted, 'W-h-o-o-o' through the trees, but with rain pouring and wind moaning, there was no answer. I spent thirteen hours of darkness, shivering in my blanket, with my coat over my head, and no less than five trees fell so closely as to send snow showers all over me. I reached the lake without further mishap, but the Nooksack river, a mile farther on, is a raging flood nearly half a mile in width, and it will be several days before we can cross it.