ADIRONDACK GUIDES. 



THOMAS C. KING. 



To one familiar with the guides and 

 hunters of the West the famous Adiron- 

 dack guides are both a surprise and a disap- 

 pointment. Last summer 1 wandered about 

 the Adirondack woods and lakes from 

 July until November and made the guides 

 a study. 



These men became famous through the 

 writings of prominent litterateurs who have 

 visited the North Woods. A person may 

 be eminent in the professional world with- 

 out being able to distinguish between good 

 guides and poor ones. The transition from 

 the routine of city life to the freedom and 

 pleasures of the wilderness is delightful, 

 to say the least; and those who experience 

 that change are too apt to lavish on man 

 the thanks due to nature.. Such books as 

 "Little Rivers," "Camping in the Adiron- 

 dacks" and "Brown Studies," are but a few 

 of the delightful and charming volumes 

 which have been written about camp life in 

 the picturesque Saranac, Tupper, Placid or 

 Ampersand regions. Those books have ex- 

 alted the guides, and, it seems to me, un- 

 justly so, because only a few of the older 

 woodsmen are of the types described in 

 them. The fishermen and camp laborers 

 who hang about Adirondack hotels and vil- 

 lages fall far below the ideal ascribed to 

 them in books. 



Unquestionably, camp life to day is totally 

 different from that of 20 years ago. Then 

 the tourist came with his fishing and 

 hunting outfit and was met by the same 

 guide who had served him for years. Con- 

 trast a season now in the Adirondacks with 

 the good old time to which I refer. A city 

 man coming here to spend a few weeks or 

 a month, must bring 5 or 6 trunks. The 

 social gaieties in which he must participate 

 are, of course, not on so large a scale as 

 those of the city. Nevertheless, either 

 he or the members of his family must at- 

 tend parties and receptions, be well posted 

 in golf and tennis and, incidentally, take an 

 interest in amateur theatricals. Occasion- 

 ally, he may vary the monotony by taking 

 a short row on the lake. The guides of 

 the leading hotels receive $4 a day just as 

 they used to 20 years ago, but they have 

 practically nothing to do. If the visitor 

 decides to go on the lake, he starts at 9 or 

 10 a. m. and returns for dinner. Even if 

 he takes a lunch with him, he is back by 3 

 or 4 in the afternoon. Not only does he 

 pay the guide's wages, but when he leaves 

 the hotel he gives the guide a tip according 

 to the dimensions of his pocketbook or his 

 generosity. As a natural result, the guides 



183 



are spoiled. As no one wants to visit the 

 real wilderness and forego the luxury and 

 social pleasures of the hotels, so the guides 

 of to-day know only the lakes, rivers and 

 short carries over well traveled roads from 

 one hotel to> another. Outside of these 

 beaten paths they know nothing. 



This is well enough for those who would 

 rather play golf than catch trout or 'shoot 

 deer ; but I contend this does not warrant 

 the application of the term guide to men 

 who are really camp laborers. These men 

 would starve if called on to do guiding in 

 the Rocky mountains. 



Upper and Lower Saranac lakes are sur- 

 rounded by camps, some of which cost up- 

 wards of $100,000. Scarcely one cost less 

 than $10,000. The guides procure supplies 

 from the lake steamer or at the railroad 

 station, take care of the children, go for 

 the mail and do menial services. Years 

 ago it w r as common for a party of guides 

 and sportsmen to make the trip to Pitts- 

 burgh down the Saranac river, a distance 

 of nearly 100 miles. From Lower Saranac 

 to the head waters of the Hudson, or 

 through the Fulton Chain, or North to the 

 St,. Lawrence were also favorite excursions. 

 One or 2 trips to Fulton Chain were made 

 last year, but no one went down the 

 Saranac. 



Amusing stories of the greed and incom- 

 petence of some guides are told by the old 

 timers who winter in Saranac village. 



A wealthy woman living at a hotel on 

 Upper Saranac desired to buy a coach 

 horse to use in Boston. Why she voiced 

 her desire in the presence of 2 or 3 guides, 

 and what led her to think she could find 

 blooded stock in the woods, passes my com- 

 prehension. Two of the guides w T ent to 

 Saranac village and bought an ordinary 

 plug for $40. They put in 2 or 3 days 

 brushing and polishing his coat, gave him 

 certain stimulants and led him to the hotel. 

 The woman paid them $175 for the re- 

 juvenated skate. 



There are but few angle worms pro- 

 curable on Upper Saranac. The crew of 

 the little steamboat employ a boy at the 

 South end of the lake to dig bait as re- 

 quired. They pay him 10 cents a can. Mr. 

 Blank, of Washington, is a wealthy man. 

 He has a number of children and occasion- 

 ally they amuse themselves by catching 

 perch from the hotel dock. He told a guide 

 to keep the youngsters supplied with bait. 

 Two months later a bill was handed him 

 for 20 cans of worms at 50 cents a can. 

 "Great Scott," said he, "I made my money 



