A VACATION IN MUSKOKA. 



JOHN R. CHRISTIE. 



Many of my friends are fond of both fish- 

 ing and shooting, but they claim that a 10 

 days' vacation is not sufficient time in which 

 to enjoy either. Hence they spend the va- 

 cation season in making short trips about 

 New York, or in visiting other nearby 

 cities, and when they return to office or 

 shop they are tired and in more need of rest 

 than when they left. 



Many of us do not know what sport we 

 can have, where we can go to get it, and 

 what little it really costs to spend a short 

 vacation where there is good fishing and 

 shooting; nor what beneficial results are 

 obtainable from a week of camp life in a 

 healthy locality where fish and game 

 abound. 



One day last spring — one of those days 

 when we get a touch of spring fever — the 

 whole office force seemed to think, as one 

 man, of vacation. The result was we quit 

 work, and began to discuss the possibility 

 of having no vacation; but concluded the 

 business had been sufficiently good that the 

 company need not deprive us of the annual 

 rest. 



" Where are you going this year, Jack," 

 I was asked. 



" To Muskoka, or up along the Georgian 

 Bay, if possible," I replied. 



" Oh, that's too far. Why you spend all 

 your time going and coming." 



" Sure," said another. " What's the use 

 of trying to see how far you can go. If 

 one had a month or so. there would be 

 some reason in going so far." 



I went as I had gone before, and will 

 now tell you something about my trip. 

 The 10 days allotted to me began Tuesday, 

 July 5th. Monday, July 4th was a holiday, 

 which enabled me to get away on my 

 journey Saturday. July 2d. Sunday morn- 

 ing I was in Buffalo, and spent the day in 

 taking snapshots about the Falls. I had 

 often seen the Falls and seldom paid them 

 even a glance, but this time it was different. 

 I had along 2 cameras, and the recent use 

 of these instruments had given me new 

 eyes. With these converted eyes I went 

 along the Falls, down the rapids, taking 

 snap-shots. I enjoyed the day immensely 

 and as I started away from New York with 

 the intention of making the best possible 

 use of every moment, felt pretty well sat- 

 isfied with the pictures I got of old Niagara. 



Monday noon I met my brother in To- 

 ronto, and after lunch we started for 

 Gravenhurst, or Muskoka Wharf, where we 

 took the boat going up the lakes. Tuesday 

 morning I was among the islands of Mus- 



koka, at my destination, and my vacation 

 had just commenced. Muskoka Wharf is 

 140 miles North of Toronto; and it is just a 

 mile and a half from this place that, after 

 long and careful experiments and tests by 

 medical experts of various places in Canada 

 and this country, the site was located for 

 the Consumptive Sanitarium. Here hay 

 fever is unknown. The air is fragrant with 

 pine, spruce, and balsamic odors, which no 

 doubt largely contribute toward the lung 

 healing record this place has made. 



When we arrived at the house we had se- 

 lected as our temporary home, we were 

 shown the boats that were at our disposal. 

 They varied from canoes and row boats to 

 large fishing smacks. With the sail boats 

 alongside, the canoes and row boats had 

 little attraction for us. However, before we 

 left Muskoka, we found out what it meant 

 to be 8 or 10 miles from home at sundown, 

 with a large fishing smack and no breeze. 

 It meant blistered hands and stiff joints the 

 next day, and a resolution to take a smaller 

 boat on the morrow. The next morning 

 would find us sizing up the different boats 

 at the dock and finally we would again take 

 the larger boat. The factor that invariably 

 brought about this decision was its carrying 

 qualities. With it we could all have plenty 

 of room, beside a goodly supply of ice to 

 keep the bait cool. And it is astonishing 

 the quantity of bait one can use up there, 

 in the course of a week, especially when it's 

 always at the right temperature. 



The landlord was good enough to ac- 

 company us on these trips, and his familiar- 

 ity with the island and the various fishing 

 grounds insured a good sail and plenty of 

 sport. 



Just before we would set sail in the morn- 

 ing the old man would say, " Well, boys, 

 which shall it be to-day, pickerel, bass or 

 'longe?" We held in reserve his favorite 

 spot " the bass grounds " though he had 

 worked us up to concert pitch with stories 

 of wonderful catches. 



One fine morning we sailed into the cove, 

 running the bow of the boat on a ledge of 

 rocks which afforded us anchorage. In 3 

 few minutes my reel whizzed and I had a 

 3 pound bass as an introduction. What fun 

 we did have for an hour or 2! 



I followed my brother about day after day 

 with 2 loaded cameras, and not once could 

 I induce him to take a plunge in the lake. 

 He got so he would shudder at the sight 

 of a camera. No matter how carelessly I 

 would handle the loaded Winchester, he 

 would not pay the slightest attention; but 



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