Where the Bass Bite 
BY ST. CROIX 
Five yearsago I went on an exploring trip to 
Temagami. Five not overlong years, and yet 
in theinterval hotels have arisen, steam launches 
taken the place of birchbarks, and the noble 
redman learned to know his value. Why? 
Because in Temagami and its companion lakes, 
Lady Evelyn and Obabika, there is about the 
best bass-fishing of the continent. If any fault 
may be found it is that the fishing is too good. 
The bass are so eager that they take almost any 
bait, and like all else that comes easily, the bass- 
fishing may prove somewhat wearying. Yet 
this is a good fault; an excellent fault—for it is 
so easy to leave the bass alone and do some- 
thing else for awhile; to lay the rod aside until 
the old twitching of the muscles of the right 
arm shows that the surfeit has passed off and 
that we are once more keen and ready to do 
battle. 
For beauty of a quiet, peaceful kind I cannot 
imagine anything to surpass Temagami. It 
was the Algonquin heaven, and a very pretty 
paradise it is. Clear water, rocky, pine-clad 
shores and islands, and a pure, germless air 
that makes it the Mecca of the hay fever sufferer, 
for here he is absolutely certain of a respite. 
Moreover, it is so easily reached: Take your 
parlor car at Toronto, and run through to 
North Bay, and after a good night’s rest, trans- 
fer to the branch line, and in a few hours you 
get off at the eastern arm of the great lake and 
find a good hostelry awaiting your honorable 
_ presence. Everything you should need may be 
had here, though the dyed-in-the-wool sports- 
man will certainly have brought many things 
with him, some few of which he had, perchance, 
better left behind. 
Seventeen miles farther on you will find a most 
picturesque inn ready to offer you the hospitality 
of the woods, than which nothing is more satis- 
fying. By this time you will have left your 
delicate, ladylike appetite behind and be quite 
ready to eat anything from fried lake trout to 
moose steaks. 
Here some married men leave their wives, 
while others prefer to take them along, and 
certainly if a woman likes the simple life there 
is no need to divide the party. From Temagami 

Island the canoe routes radiate to every point 
of the compass, and you may make your trip 
one of a few hours’ duration or extend it 
through a long summer. The canoe can pene- 
trate to the uttermost parts of this delightful 
country, and if you are not adept at managing 
these graceful, frail craft you may enlist the 
services of skilful Algonquin canoemen, men 
who will tackle the worst stretch of white, rock- 
strewn river, and master it with scarcely an 
effort. It is always pleasant to see a master at 
work, and these poor Indian trappers are the 
very finest canoemen the world has produced. 
Pity it is they are so few. 
When I first visited Temagami, things were 
different. We went in by way of the portage 
from Haileybury, and followed the Montreal 
to Mattawabika Falls; thence to Lady Evelyn 
Lake, Gray’s River—where the bonnie brook 
trout swarm—and ended up with Temagami 
and the Metabetchewan. This made a pleasant 
round trip, which, however, was somewhat 
marred by a serious shortage of provisions 
toward its close. Bass are very good eating, 
but bass straight, without bread or anything 
else, except a weak decoction of tea minus 
sugar and milk, is not to be commended for a 
steady diet. Thus, it came to pass that one 
sad morning I said to my Indian—there were 
just two of us: “How long would it take to run 
down the Metabetchewan?” (We were camped 
on Temagami Island.) 
‘“‘About two days, unless we paddle hard.” 
“All right, we will paddle hard.” 
Se we started at nine o’clock one beautiful 
August morning, and had it not been for a leaky 
canoe, we should have reached the mouth of the 
Montreal River late that night. As it was, we 
got there at two o’clock next day, after having 
spent six hours at various times in persuading 
that old canoe to float a little longer. Bernard 
used to feed it with the best spruce gum obtain- 
able at every portage, and even then we could | 
not keep our blankets dry. 
This run from Temagami to Temiskaming is 
said to be between forty and fifty miles as the 
river flows. No one who has tried to paddle it 
in a day will dispute these figures. 
We looked for health, scenery and fish—and 
we found all three. Now, most people are look- 
ing for silver as well, and not a few are finding 

