XXV 

 VANCOUVER AND BEYOND 



1897 



ONCE more salmon and three kinds of piscators, those on the 

 water, those in it, and those in the air, but the sea this 

 time, Burrard inlet, the mouth of Vancouver harbour on the 

 Pacific. The northern shore upon which stands an Indian 

 village or two rises gradually towards some bright green 

 mountains further inland ; to the south is that most beautiful 

 natural park famed all over the world for its gigantic cedars and 

 spruces. To the west, now hidden by a dense veil of mist, lies 

 Vancouver island with its mountains, while the harbour and Port 

 Moody rounds off the landscape to the east. It is all very 

 beautiful the sea, the sky, the thickly-wooded shores, huge trees 

 and high mountains in the distance. As we the fishermen sit 

 in our boats waiting for the incoming tide, there is plenty of 

 time to enjoy the beauty of the scene, bathed as it is in the 

 brightest sunshine, and to get our tackle ready now fitted with 

 a spoon for these west coast salmon are not to be taken in with 

 the fly. At last, and quite suddenly, the tide rolls in with a 

 rushing sound, forcing its way against the until then placid sea 

 and causes the boat to dance about on the warring waters and 

 become difficult to manage. And now what a commotion there 

 is all around us ; thousands and probably millions of salmon are 

 brought in on the tide, the sea is thick with them, they roll 

 about everywhere and hundreds jump clear of the water as if for 

 very joy of living wherever one can look. But it is not all joy 

 which makes them thus momentarily leave their native element 

 and take a leap through the air, for there are deadly enemies 



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