FOREST AND STREAM. 



me not to try to enter it. He said there were several other 

 smaller inlets scattered along the coast, but none of them 

 could be depended upon, and should never be attempted 

 unless the wind was off shore and no sea running. He 

 said I should recognize Phillip's Inlet, by first passing two 

 or three miles of high bluffs, near the beach, which are 

 known as the "High Hills," and were called half way be- 

 tween East Pass and St. Andrews, then would come a low 

 country, with the pine trees apparently well back from the 

 beach. A hammock was on a little hill just at the west v of 

 the Inlet, and if I was close in shore, I would be able to see 

 up the inlet, a fishing shanty, about a quarter of a mile 

 Itom the beach. The only settler in this strip of country, 

 lives some two miles back from this inlet, in a country 

 which is just alive with deer, bear, and turkeys, and with 

 no one to hunt them, except occasional parties from the 

 neighborhood of Tallahassee, or tke smaller cities of West 

 and xviiddle Florida. 



Capt. Lynn thought I might find it too rough to enter 

 St. Andrews if the wind held; if so, he advised me to keep 

 on four miles further, to the north end of Crooked Island, 

 where there was a good harbor of easy access. Thanking 

 him for the information, and declining an invitation to 

 bring my family ashore to breakfast, as the wind being 

 lair, I was in a big hurry, I returned on board the "Idle 

 Hour." Breakfast was ready when I got there, but a boat 

 put out from the smack "Hope," which was at anchor near 

 by, bringing us three fine red-snappers, all alive and kick- 

 ing. This welcome addition to our meal, delayed us a 

 little, and it was not until after 7 o'clock that we hoisted 

 anchor to run down the channel two miles to the pass. 

 The tide was running out very strong, as it usually is here, 

 for all the water froih this large bay, with its many size- 

 able rivers, finds its way to the sea through this one small 

 pass. The channel is nearly all the way on the main land, 

 or eastern side, but the deep water of the channel at the 

 bar itself changes from side to side with the prevailing 

 winds . 



As for several weeks past we had been having strong 

 easterly winds, it was now over on the west side and a long 

 ahoai hooked out from the eastern shore. As Capt. Lynn 

 had said, it was rough at the bar, but it did not break all 

 tke way across, and 1 boldly headed for the smooth water. 

 After a few minutes' pitching and tossing, during which, 

 perhaps, I wished myself back at the anchorage, we were 

 tafely over, and out among the long smooth swells of the 

 Gulf of Mexico. Here let me remark that if ever I sail 

 over this route again I will leave the Pass just before dark, 

 with a fair wind, and do my running in the night. One 

 advantage of starting at night is, that in the darkness you 

 haven't that long and seemingly endless strip of sand beach 

 ever before your eyes, and another and greater is, that af- 

 ter making your night's run you have plenty of daylight 

 before you to enter harbor with, and none of the passes 

 on this coast are safe to enter alter dark. Once in a while 

 a man does it in a case of extreme emergency, but he sim- 

 ply takes the chances between a certainty of losing his ves- 

 sel outside, and the bare -possibility of a safe run in. 

 Many coasting schooners have been lost both at East Pass 

 and at St. Andrews in trying it, and several lives lost with 

 them. There are but seven feet of water on the bar at East 

 Pass. Alter getting well outside I laid my course E. by S. 

 This took me about a mile from land for the first halt of 

 th 3 way, when the coast gradually sweeps around until 

 you are steering S. E., when about eight or ten miles from 

 St. Andrews. I found the wind quite fresh from the S. 

 W., ana we swung along at a good rate, but the heavy 

 seas gave us so much of a roll that my crew were soon all 

 seasick. Mrs. X. soon braced up, however. I think, per- 

 haps as she had seen but little boating in the past seven 

 years, she might have been a little alarmed at the situation, 

 and there is no better remedy for seasickness than a little 

 fear. 



Towards noon it came off qalm, and as the heavy sea 

 was still running, we rolled and pitched finely. I was tow- 

 ing my sniff with a ten-foot painter, and as there was no 

 headway on the sloop one of the rollers picked up the 

 ekiff and sent it into the stern with such a force as to split 

 the stern-board from the port side to the tiller hole. Be- 

 fore I could get out a line to rig another painter with, slam 

 it came into the other quarter, making a complete wreck 

 of the stem-board. This was not a serious damage, how- 

 ever, as the breakage was all above deck; but still it wasn't 

 a nice thing to happen. 



Three precious hours were lost for want of wind, and 

 it began to look doubtful about reaching St. Andrews be- 

 fore dark. A little after 3 o'clock the breeze again sprang 

 up from the southwest, and freshened rapidly. It was 

 soon a whole sail breeze. While rushing along, and only 

 about a mile from the beach, a kingfish struck at the knot 

 which was in the painter of the skiff, and had quite a 

 struggle with it before he got loose. Had not my crew 

 been disabled I would have rigged a trolling line, and 

 might have had some good sport, as they are otten caught 

 on this part of the coast. We made out the high hills 

 without difficuliy, but I am not positive that 1 saw the ex- 

 act location of Phiiips's Inlet, although we made out the 

 location of the lagoon inside. It was sunset when the first 

 of the landmarks for St. Andrews came in sight. These 

 are two miles and a half west of the Saddle Hills, and are 

 the first cabbage palmetto trees that are met with on the 

 •journey. The" Saddle Hills are in plain sight, and look 

 like one green hill if you are close in shore. Half-way be- 

 tween this cluster of palmettos and the Hiils are a collec- 

 tion of tall dead pines. The Saddle Hills had always been 

 represented to me as being right at St. Andrews, and as 

 being the principal landmark. There used to be an en- 

 trance just west from them. This has been closed for 

 several years, but is still shown on the Coast Survey charts. 

 There it> now but one entrance to St. Andrews, and 1 will 

 give my experience in finding my way into it on the return 

 trip in due time. 



At the present time it was just dark when the Saddle 

 Hills were abeam. I could hear the breakers roaring down 

 to leeward just beyond them, and was not long in deciding 

 not to try them or get very close to them in the darkness. 

 I held my course about S. E. by S., and about four miles 

 further on passed within thirty yards of a black buoy. 

 This proved afterward to be the outside St. Andrews buoy. 

 I knew I was now off the north end of Crooked Island, 

 but as 1 could make out no break in the sand beach there 

 was nothing to do but keep on for St. Joseph's Bay. As 

 the entrance to this is eight miles wide, I thought I ought 

 to hit it even in the dark. It was now blowing so fresh 

 that I was obliged to stow my jib and double reef the 

 mainsail. There had been a good deal of water shipped 

 »y the skiff, and this had to be bailed out, which was not 



a pleasant job with such a sea on; but it had to be done, 

 and was done. After making everything snug we bore 

 away again, going much easier when under the shortened 

 sail. 



After sailing until Hear midnight I began to get a little 

 uneasy at not seeing some signs of a harbor; thought I had 

 not kept close enough to land, and this proved to be the 

 fact afterwards; but to be on the safe side I hove to until 

 about 2 o'clock, then, finding that I had but four or five 

 fathoms of water, I decided to anchor for a while and see 

 how things would look at daylight. It was a rough place 

 to anchor in, as about every tenth sea was breaking, and I 

 didn't know whether my holding ground was good, or if 

 good, that it might not pull my bow under. I was not as 

 well acquainted with the boat as I wished to be, and didn't 

 know how much she would stand. Everything worked 

 well, however, and although we rolled and pitched very 

 lively, as was to be expected, no seas were shipped, and 

 except when one broke at just the right moment we were 

 not even spattered. Not so with the skiff, however, as it 

 was swamped in no time, and as I Knew it would fill again 

 in five minutes, it I bailed her out, I let her go as she was 

 until morning. It seemed as though morning never would 

 come; but it did at last, though very slowly, with much 

 haze. I had a good opportunity then to see what kind of 

 seas we had been riding during the night, and when the 

 first one of the old "he\ ones came, and I saw the end of 

 the bowsprit dip into it, 1 grabbed the rail and held my 

 breath, thinking surely we were going to be washed. But 

 not a bit of it; the "Idle Hour" rose to it as gracefully as 

 a bird, and not a drop of water came on board. I have 

 never doubted her ability to ride seas since then, and with 

 the heavy ground tackle which I carry always feel perfect- 

 ly safe when bottom can be reached. 



As morning broke I was very glad that I had come to 

 anchor when I did, for with the course I was holding I 

 should have either gone outside of the point of St. Joseph, 

 or have got into the breakers on the point itself. Very 

 likely the latter, as the last mile or more of the point has 

 no trees on it, and lies so low I could not have seen it in 

 the darkness until close in. After leaving Crooked Island 

 the coast trends off to the eastward for a few miles, and I 

 ought to have kept closer to it. It is safe to keep a mile 

 or mile and a half out, and by so doing avoid both inner and 

 outer breakers; or if very dark, and steering by compass, 

 after passing half-way down Crooked Island hold S. E. by 

 E. until the light at Cape San Bias can be seen over the 

 woods, and bearing about S. by W. When this light can 

 be seen from the deck of a small craft you can be pretty 

 sure that you are either inside, or just off the "Hook" of 

 St. Josephs. 



As soon as it was well light and I could make out my po- 

 sition accurately I began preparations for a start. First 

 the skiff must be got alongside and emptied. This was 

 rather difficult, owing to the high seas which were run- 

 ning, but by taking advantage of them, and Mrs. X's as- 

 sistance it was hauled on board, and the water allowed to 

 run out. I anticipated trouble in getting up anchor, after 

 the strain which had been on it all night; but here again I 

 made the heavy seas of use in helping to break ground, 

 and we were soon under way, heading for the point of St. 

 Josephs. There are 24 feet of water at the shoalest part 

 of this channel, and the entrance is perfectly open and 

 easy to any vessel of ordinary draft, even in rough weath- 

 er, as on the "middle ground" — as the only shoal in the 

 mouth of the bay is called— there is 18 feet of water. It 

 was breaking continuously across this middle ground; so 

 with my limited knowledge of the entrance, there was 

 nothing for me to do, coming from the quarter I did, but 

 run the breakers, trusting to the seaworthy qualities of my 

 boat, which had already been well shown up. The skiff 

 was swamped almost instantly, but the wind was so fresh 

 that we pulled it along almost as well as when empty, and 

 were soon safely around behind the point, where the water 

 is smooth as a mill-pond. 



St. Josephs was formerly quite a flourishing little city, 

 had a railroad running back into the country, and shipped 

 large quantities of cotton; but somewhere between 1842 

 anu '40' the yellow fever devastated it completely. Its 

 most prominent citizens having fallen victims to that dis- 

 ease, or being driven by it to other parts, the remainder 

 became discouraged and moved with houses, stores, brick 

 ware-houses, and in short everything, to Apalachtcola, so 

 that now it is hard to believe anyone ever lived in this 

 wilderness. On account of its ease of access it is a fa- 

 vorite harbor for fishing smacks and coasters during bad 

 weather. There seems to be from ten to fifteen fathoms 

 of water all over the bay, even quite close in shore, and 

 with the stiffest holding ground I ever tried to lift a thirty- 

 pound anchor out of. It is well sheltered from every wind 

 except east or southeasterly. 



We found the smack Gladiator, of Pensacola, a trading 

 sloop from Apaiach, and a party of fishermen under Capt. 

 Parker from St. Andrews, all in behind the hook waiting 

 for a change in the weather. They expressed much sur- 

 prise at seeing a craft so small as mine coming around the 

 point in such weather, but I told them it was just the time 

 i ought to come around there, if I couldn't come sooner. 

 After getting well rested and everything made snug I took 

 a tramp over towards the outside beach with my double- 

 barrel, and picked up a dozen and a half of plover and 

 beach birds of half a dozen different kinds. They were 

 all as fat as well could be, and the stew we had that eve- 

 ning was royal. 



May 4th— A party came off from the smack to take a 

 hunt ior deer. I did not require a second invitation to 

 join them, as it was understood we were to shoot nothing 

 but bucks. There were five, all told, in the party, and our 

 plan was to go up the bay on the inside beach of the point 

 lor about four miles, then deploy at about two hundred 

 yards apart towards the outside beach and beat the woods 

 Dack towards camp. This was all very nicely carried out, 

 and eight deer were seen by the different members, but no 

 one got a shot. 1 was greatly surprised at the large num- 

 ber oi pairs of quail we started. In this country it is 

 not common to find them in the wild woods, but rather in 

 the vicinity of plantations, when they have the run of the 

 corn and pea fields, but here the nearest field must be 

 twenty or thirty miles away. There is a good spring of 

 water with a barrel sunk around it near the fishing camp. 

 This camp is only about thirty yards from the inside btaeh, 

 and just in the euge of the first brush as one comes from 

 the point — just about half-way between the first pine tiees 

 and the landing. Majob, Sakasota. 



[To be continued.] 

 . ■» « » ■ • 



A Finishing School.— The halter, 



A TRIP TO 



For Forest and Stream 

 GASPE. 



Y friend and I left here on the 11th July, and took 

 the Intercolonial railway from River Du Loup f or 

 Dalhousie, in New Brunswick; time from Point Levis to 

 Dalhousie, thirteen hours. We found the trip over the 

 Intercolonial very pleasant, the cars comfortable, and the 

 sea breeze from Kiver Du Loup to St, Flavien most delight- 

 ful, after enduring the heat of Montreal and Quebec. The 

 portion of the line from the St. Lawrence to the Resti- 

 gouche and along the Metapedia is very wild and alpine in 

 its appearance. 



After the summit level is passed, the train descends at 

 the rate of forty miles an hour down the valley of the Met- 

 apedia, and along the banks of that beautiful river. As 

 the train flies along down the valley, we are in a constant 

 fear that we are just likely to get upset into thejriver alonff 

 side of us, but the road bed is good, and the steel rails 

 make the road like a billiard table, and the quick curves 

 are turned with perfect safety. So we are landed at the 

 Metapedia station, opposite our friend Daniel Fraser's hos- 

 pitable door before we realize that we are on the borders of 

 New Brunswick. The valley of the Metapedia contains some 

 of the finest scenery in the Dominion; and as the air is cool 

 and good fishing is to be had here, I would advise tourists 

 and invalids to take a trip here by the cars, and they would 

 not be disappointed. From this point we got to Dalhousie 

 at 10 p. m., where we met a fishing party from St John's 

 and New York en route for fishing quarters on the other 

 side of the Bay of Chaleurs. They had a steamer hired to 

 take them over, and offered us a passage with them, which 

 would take us to near the mouth of our river the little Cas- 

 capedia, but when the time for departure arrived, and no 

 steamer making its appearance, my friend and I took the 

 opportunity of a fair wind and tide, and the offer of a good 

 boat, and in three and a-half hours arrived (with a reef in 

 our sails) at our destination, after a glorious sail down the 

 Bay, thirty-five miles. 



We landed on Saturday at the mouth of our river, where 

 we had good quarters at a farmer's house; and on Monday 

 morning we had our two Birch canoes and four men ready 

 to ascend the river thirty miles. We had also, another 

 canoe to take our baggage and provisions for fourteen days, 

 and so we started at 6 a. m, , up the river toward the Chick 

 Choik mountains, and at 6 p. m., arrived at our camp, 

 where we had previously erected a substantial and comfort- 

 able shanty 30x40 feet, after a hard day's poling on the part 

 of the men. 



Some of the rapids on the river look very ugly to a per- 

 son not accustomed to the mode of travel, and the fact of 

 its taking us ten hours to go up 20 miles to our shanty, and 

 that we can make the run down in three hours, will give a 

 fair idea of the rapidity cf the current. However, the sen- 

 sation of going down some of these rapids at the rate of 

 fifteen miles an hour, and that in quick bends of the rivur, 

 with the spray at times dashing in your face makes the 

 position exciting, and had you not perfect confidence in 

 your men, would make you feel rather nervous. For my 

 own part I enjoyed it very much, and with the men who 

 handled my canoe, 1 would have no fear ©f lying down to 

 have a sound sleep, if I felt so disposed. 



We arrived at our shanty at 6 p.m., and soon found our- 

 selves at home in this wild mountainous region, with lied 

 Pine Mountain towering almost perpendicularly in front of 

 us— some 5,000 or 6,000 feet above the bank of the river, 

 and twenty miles from the nearest settlement. The air 

 here is bracing and the river water as clear as crystal, and 

 as cold as ice. 



Next morning, -after a bath in the river, which made our 

 teeth chatter, we started to fish, and went up ten miles to 

 the forks of the river, where the breeding bed* ^ the bu- 

 nion are. We had very fine sea trout and salmon fishing 

 for the rest of the week— the trout in this section of the 

 river weighing on an average, six pounds by our steel yard, 

 and the salmon twenty pounds — and both giving excellent 

 sport in landing them. 



On Saturday I started down the river for civilization, 

 leaving my friend, with his two men, in the camp; and on 

 the way down landed three twenty pound salmon, and 

 forty-three trout, of five pounds average weight. 



On the following Monday, the day being very wet and 

 cold, I got nothing for my pains, but on Tuesday 1 had a 

 glorious day's fishing, netting three salmon and fifty fine 

 trout in a few hours in the afternoon. I may mention for 

 the information of anglers that I had on one occasion, two 

 salmon rise to my fly at one cast, and one of them a thirty- 

 six pounder, I had the pleasure of hooking. Six times run- 

 ning I landed two five, pound trout witn two flies on my 

 castiug line, and my stern boatman who had the landing 

 and unhooking of them, was so tickled that he declared he 

 had never seen such fishing before. 



This evening I decided to camp out as we were to late to 

 go to the shanty, after selecting a site on the bend of the 

 river in front of some rapids, 1 set the men to work and in 

 a couple of hours had a place fit for the Governor General 

 to sleep in. The camp is made as follows:— Two trees 

 within convenient distance are selected, and a wedge-like 

 pin driven into each, and on this is laid a long pole strong 

 enough to support the bark intended for the roof. UprighJ 

 and cross bars are then laid and attached to this with cord 

 made from the inner bark, and on this is laid the birch and 

 cedar bark taken from the adjoining trees. It is interest- 

 ing to see the rapidity with which the large trees are de- 

 prived of their coats; the axeman cuts a circle with his axe 

 round the tree, some eight or nine feet from the ground, 

 aEd another near the ground, and having made a slit from 

 one circle to another, he then takes a stick flattened at one 

 end like a chisel, and inserting the sharp point between tire 

 bark and the tree, the coat of bark is off in a trice, and laia 

 on the name of the shanty. The sides are also covered in 

 the same way, and then two feet deep of cedar boughs i laiQ 

 for a bed with one foot more for a pillow, and then a huge 

 fire of logs is made right at your feet. Having spread your 

 top coat underneath, taken off your boots and coat, wnicn 

 you put over you, and then your water-proof coat over ai , 

 with a square yard of thin birch bark under your feet, yo 

 can bid defiance to flies, wind, or weather, and get up ai 

 a, m. delighted with your temporary residence, and navi g 

 taken a good sponge bath in the river in front, you a 

 quite ready for your breakfast of trout or salmon fried i 

 sait pork, and washed down with a good cup of tea. # 



Oil our way up ihe river we saw a very large eagle nag 

 from off an island in front of us, and on landing we tou ou 

 the remains of a rabbit on which the monarch of birds w 

 making his dinner. We also saw the fresh track of raoosu 

 deer opposite our camp. 



