Nov. 2, 1895.] 



FOREST AND STREAM, 



388 



bridge in the Dorchester district is his favorite fishing 

 disappear amid a shower of spray in a rush shoreward. 

 Around whirled the canoe and another race of paddle and 

 scorching line followed. The hubbub that arose from my 

 Swarthy paddlers was simply tremendous. Talk about 

 the stoicism of the Indian! A perfect stream of excited 

 Chinook, hilarious and profane, gurgled and flowed from 

 their cavernous mouths as with hair flying they bent and 

 swayed with rhythmic movements over their flashing and 

 dextrous paddles. Even amid the excitement of the 

 ohase which now made my pulses quicken I had time to 

 note the picturesque tout ensemble of my aboriginal out- 

 fit. But the rush was short, as upon my putting a check 

 on the line the salmon again shot skyward. Then he did 

 what should have occurred to him earlier in the struggle, 

 when his strength was fresh; he sounded; 20, 30, yes, 

 40ft. he went perpendicularly downward without halt or 

 indecision, and then slowly yielding to the supple lance 

 he came to the surface and was reeled to within 10ft. of 

 the boat. 



But that quality in fishes which anglers call gameness, 

 and which I suspect in our salmon is the instinct of self- 

 preservation that makes him wary of the seal, the otter 

 and the grampus, revived his flagging energies at the 

 sight of the boat and canoe. It was the opportunity to 

 score success, and probably would have succeeded if the 

 alert Siwash had not beea" prepared for such a move and 

 had not countered by an exhibition of superb paddling. 

 How the Indians did it passes my comprehension, but 

 quick as was the salmon yet the Indians were quicker, as 

 with a shout I saw that the boat had been pivoted around 

 clear of the line and without toppling me over from my 

 standing balance in the narrow craft. Putting an imme- 

 diate pressure on the reel, which was already under a 

 heavy drag, I succeeded in checking the runaway, who 

 after hanging a minute on the swaying tip of the rod 

 swung around to the right and then broke water in a 

 futile attempt to release the hook. It was a valiant 

 effort, but the good rod was surely breaking down his 

 strength. Each minute the radii of the circles the salmon 

 was making around the boat were diminishing until he 

 was reeled close in astern. My arms ached, and I was 

 ready to call him in out of the wet, but there was a 

 vicious glare in his eye as he swam along, warning me 

 that he had not reached that stage when the white of his 

 belly would show iu token of vanquishment. He was 

 playing a wily game to catch fresh wind, so I told the 

 Indians to head for the beach. 



For fully 50yds. he swam alongside not 20ft. distant, giv- 

 ing me a splendid opportunity to observe his magnificent 

 size and action in the water. Was he ready to surrender? 

 Easily I reeled in, and as gently he came. The klootch- 

 man dropped her paddle and raised the long gaff, but his 

 keen eyes caught the movement and once more he made 

 a rush for freedom. It was of brief duration. Endurance 

 had reached its limit, and I easily turned him again 

 toward the canoe. This time I reeled rapidly, and when 

 the fish reached the side of the boat the heavy gaff caught 

 him. There was a convulsive struggle, then two brawny 

 arms lifted the quivering form over the gunwale and the 

 battle was ended. Oncorhynchus kisuteh was van- 

 quished. 



Ever since he emerged from the pink-tinted egg among 

 the gravel beds of the Skykomish beneath the glaciers 

 back of Index Peak, where he first escaped the voracious 

 trout, he had successfully hustled to the very prime of 

 life, preying upon the young herring, smelt and sculpins, 

 and always dodging his foes, the seal and black killer, 

 until in a fateful hour, mistaking the flash of a brass troll- 

 ing spoon for an evening luncheon, he succumbed to the 

 resilience of a mere withe of lancewood, weighing but 

 9oz. , and less than one mouthful of his daily food. 



The sun is disappearing behind the snow-capped sum- 

 mits of the Olympic Mountains, and its lingering rays, 

 painting a broad band of vermilion and golden russet 

 across the waters of the Sound, fall aslant a sandy beach 

 along the western side of the Everett Peninsula. Near a 

 long Blender canoe, half withdrawn from the ebbing tide, 

 squats a Tulalip squaw, her long black hair streaming 

 over shoulders draped with a red and yellow blanket; a 

 few feet distant, leaning on a carved and pointed paddle, 

 stands her broad-shouldered Siwash husband, whose 

 swarthy face is seamed with weather stains, and in whose 

 outstretched hand is dropped a broad silver dollar by a 

 corduroy-clothed pale face. On the sands, over which the 

 purple twilight gently gathers, and in the midst of the 

 picturesque group, lies the gleaming form of a silver sal- 

 mon, whose race is run and who has fought a good fight. 



Cayuga. 



Everett, Wash., Oct. 18. 



TROUT AT THE UPPER DAM. 



Boston, Mass., Oct. 26.— The following account (kindly 

 furnished me by one of the oldest and most successful 

 anglers at the Upper Dam pools in the Bangeley Lakes) 

 of large brook trout taken at that noted place during the 

 months of August and September this year will no doubt 

 prove interesting to many readers of Forest and Stream. 

 The record for August is twelve trout, average 5>lbs., 

 largest S-^-lbs. For September, twenty trout, average 

 61bs., largest 8£lbs. Some of the lucky fishermen in Sep- 

 tember, giving date of capture and weight of their largest 

 fish, were: Sept. 13, R. N. Parish, S-^lbs.; Sept. 14, J. C. 

 Dougherty, S-i^lbB.; Sept. 15, Hiram Blood, 5-,%lbs.; Sept. 

 15, J. C. Dougherty, 7ilbs. ; Sept. 16, E. S. Osgood, 4-j%lbs. ; 

 Sept. lb, R. N. Parish, 5£lbs. ; Sept. 18, J. 0. Dougherty, 

 5|lba.; Sept. 19, T. B. Stewart, 6iba.; Sept. 19, R. N. 

 Parish, BJibs, ; Sept. 22, W. J. Reynolds, 741bs. ; Sept. 24, 

 Dr. W. A. Drake, one of 81bs. and another of 4|flbs.; 

 Sept. 27, R. N. Parish, 51bs., and the same gentleman on 

 the 30th, one of 8£lbs. 



The Smelt Fishermen. 



Smelt fishing around Boston is booming just now, and 

 both the sportsmen and regular market fishermen are 

 getting great numbers. I have heard it said that they 

 are averaging larger this year tban for some seasons past, 

 and what fish I have seen rather confirm me in this belief. 

 One of the best catches, as regards quantity, which I 

 have heard about was made by two market fishermen on 

 one day last week. In a little less than three hours' time 

 they captured 533 fish, weighing 72|lbs. I believe they 

 were taken in Dorchester Bay, but am not quite sure of 

 the locality. Joshua Hammond, of Boston, is one of the 

 most devoted smelt fishermen we have. Being a very 

 busy man, he dof s most of his fishing at night, and is re- 

 markably successful at the sport. The Granite avenue 



place, and, regardless of weather conditions, he can be 

 found there on several evenings of each week. A good 

 part of Mr. Hammond's success may be attributed to his 

 expert knowledge regarding bait. It has been demon- 

 strated to him that the sea worm is the great bait for 

 night fishing, while the shrimp, the best bait for day fish- 

 ing, he finds almost useless for night use. Blood worms 

 are fair, but cannot compare with the sea worm, which 

 is a more delicate morsel, and is so regarded by the 

 sensible smelt. Hackle. 



FOUR WEEKS ON PRESQUE ISLE LAKE, 

 WISCONSIN. 



Along early in the winter of 1894 there could have 

 been seen two "fish cranks" talking and making arrange- 

 ments for the next year's fishing trip. Now, these two 

 cranks were trying to locate a place where they could go 

 and spend a month and not be bothered with "fixen up 1 ' 

 every time they went to eat a meal, where they could 

 wear their old flannel shirts and hunting suits without 

 having some one remark, "Look at the horrid man in 

 the old rags." 



These two cranks were J. C. Hahne, better known as 

 Chickaree, and the writer of this. After lots of talk and 

 some figuring and many hours spent in looking over 

 maps we concluded that the Presque Isle Lake regions of 

 northern Wisconsin would suit us, if the rest of the party 

 that was to go with us were agreeable, and after any 

 amount of corresponding (they lived in Greenville, O., as 

 did Chickaree) it was decided that Marenisco, Mich. , 

 would be the end of our trip by rail. Aug. 25 was the 

 day we left here. The party consisted of J. C. Hahne 

 (Chickaree), Al Hahne (Thunderpumper), Dr. A. J. 

 Marling (Tamarack), Abe Weaver (Old Spruce), Charlie, 

 our cook, and last, but not to be left, the writer of this. 

 A jollier, freeborn, half-white party never went into the 

 woods than we. 



We had sixteen pieces of baggage checked through to 

 the end of our railroad ride; we all had round trip tickets 

 and so did not have much fear of having to walk home. 

 We left here at 1:52 P. M. and landed in Chicago that 

 evening, spent the next day there and found out from 

 the Northwestern Road that we would have to act as our 

 own agent at Marenisco to receive our baggage and at- 

 tend to checking it out when we left. Of all the roads I 

 ever traveled over (I have been from the Atlantic to the 

 Rockies and from Canada to the Gulf) the Northwestern 

 tries the hardest to make it pleasant. There were no 

 questions asked of how many tnere were in the party or 

 how much baggage we had; it was, "Gentlemen, what 

 can we do for you?" 



We left Chicago at 5 o'clock P. M. on Monday by way 

 of Milwaukee and Monico Junction, and there is where 

 we made the mistake; we should have waited until 8 

 P. M. and gone by the way of Milwaukee and Powers. 

 Then we would have avoided any tedious connections as 

 we arrived at Monico Junction at 3 o'clock A. M. , and had 

 to wait there until 9 that morning, when we got a train 

 for Watersmeet. There we had to change cars again, but 

 only had a short time there, in fact, only time enough to 

 find out that our baggage was ahead of us and had been 

 carried to the next station beyond Marenisco, but the 

 agent said it would be back on the train coming East that 

 afternoon. After leaving Watersmeet the only station 

 between there and our destination is Gogebic, and it only 

 consists of the depot and one house, but there is a good 

 road from there to Lake Gogebic. There wagons meet 

 the train and take any one out to the lake. The distance 

 is about eight miles in a ribrtherly direction. About 1 

 o'clock on Tuesday we arrived at the end of our railroad 

 ride, and found ourselves in an old sawmill town, minus 

 the sawmill; it had burnt down some time ago. 



I had been in correspondence with a party there for 

 some time, so we were met by John McLaughlin, who 

 told us to make ourselves at home. He took us to his 

 house and tried to make it pleasant for us, and his effort 

 was a success. When the train came in from the West it 

 brought all our baggage in good shape. After storing 

 that away in a small budding there, we thought it time 

 to make some inquiry about the trout fishing, and found 

 that the season was a little late and that the nearest 

 stream that had any trout in was four miles west, with no 

 way of getting there only to walk or get on the good side 

 of the section boss. We got on the right side, and at 7 

 o'clock next morning you might have seen a well-loaded 

 handcar, bristling with fly-rods, headed west, propelled 

 by several nationalities. We left the car where the road 

 crosses the Little Presque Isle River. There we divided 

 the party, Thunderpumper and myself went up the 

 stream, while Chickaree and Tamarack, with the cook, 

 went down stream. Old Spruce was laid up for repairs 

 and did not come with us. We fished up and down that 

 stream until 5 o'clock that evening, and caught seventy- 

 nine very nice trout, which was considered a very nice 

 catch, everything considered. When we counted up to 

 see how many each party had caught, it was found that 

 Tamarack and partner had beaten myself and partner, 

 and beaten us badly; but didn't we get a "roastin'," and 

 we haven't heard the last of it yet. All we could say was, 

 "Wait, and we will show you how to catch bass." 



Now about the trout fishing in that country. There 

 is as good as could be asked for, I was told by good 

 authority that where the Little Presque Isle empties into 

 the Big Presque Isle River there is some of the finest trout 

 fishing in the Northwest, and from there all the way down 

 the river to Lake Superior the fishing is fine. There is 

 where the big ones are caught. A three-pounder can be 

 taken any day. There are a number of small streams 

 that empty into the river and they are full of trout, but 

 not such large ones as there are in the river. There is only 

 one trouble about this fishing ground, and that is the 

 difficulty of getting to it. To get there will take lots of hard 

 work and some hardships. It will be necessary to take 

 boats in with you as far as the falls by wagon. We found 

 out that it took more work than money to get along in 

 that country. We found the people very clever and not in- 

 clined to rob you. One wishing to visit that section should 

 write to John McLaughlin, at Marenisco, Mich., who 

 will give you all the information possible. He is a perfect 

 gentleman and knows all that country; he and another 

 man by the name of Hamlin are going to build a camp 

 on the Big Presque Lake for the entertainment of guests; 

 they have a number of tents there now, but expect to put 

 up permanent buildings this winter as soon as there is 

 snow enough to do the teaming. But more of this later 

 on, 



After supper we thought it time to get things ready to 

 get down to the lakes, but found that Mr. McLaughlin 

 had made all arrangements lor teams and drivers. The 

 next morning we were all up bright and early. When 

 we came to getting our traps in the wagons we found we 

 would have more than could be hauled in two loads, and 

 as no other team could be had at that time we started 

 with two loads, leaving one load to be brought in the 

 next day. We had a team and buckboard to carry us. 

 We got away about 7 o'clock in the morning. Everything 

 went well for the first five or six miles, and then it 

 seemed that the roads were not improving with distance, 

 but we got along very well for nine miles, which brought 

 us to the State line between Michigan and Wisconsin. 

 Then trouble commenced, for of all the roads I ever had 

 the pleasure of traveling over I think this was the 

 worst. It was up one hill and down another, over 

 stones and logs. Sometimes the wagon would try its 

 luck at running on two wheels, and then there would be 

 some lively scrambling to see who would be on the high 

 side. That was the longest four miles I ever traveled, but 

 at last we reached the river, as far as the teams could go, 

 but boats were brought down from the camp to meet us. 

 It was decided that Old Spruce and myself should take 

 the guide and go to the camp (which is about two miles 

 by river and lake), and there look out a good place to 

 pitch our tents and establish our camp. The rest of the 

 boys said that as soon as the baggage arrived they would 

 load up the boats and follow, so with the guide we started 

 up the river, and of all the crooked, narrow, shallow 

 streams it was ever my lot to take a boat up this is the 

 worst. It took us about three hours to make the camp. 

 There we were met by Tom Darley, the camp cook, one of 

 the jolliest Frenchmen you ever saw. His greatest delight 

 outside of seeing a man eat is to tell a story, and I am 

 sure if he ever tells you the story of "me buck" you will 

 ever after remember him. After a good supper we picked 

 out a place for the tents just across a narrow part of the 

 lake from the camp. There was a fine spring of water 

 right under the hill from the place where we would make 

 our home for the next four weeks. 



It was then getting dark, and we knew from our trip up 

 that it would be impossible for the others ever to get up in 

 the dark. Tom volunteered to go and meet them and try 

 and give them a lift. He says that after getting into the 

 river it was so dark he had to feel his way, but being 

 thoroughly acquainted he had no trouble. He had not 

 gone more than half a mile when he heard some one talk- 

 ing and went up to them, found it was Chickaree and the 

 cook. They had got their boat fast on a limb under the 

 water, and the cook, in trying to get the boat off, went 

 overboard, and by some hook or crook got under the 

 boat. He yelled "push the other way," but Chickaree 

 kept pushing the wrong way, thinking he was right, 

 and all that saved the cook from getting the top of his 

 head wet was a log that kept the boat from going any 

 further. At about 9 o'clock they all got to the lake as 

 wet as if they had been at the bottom. 

 . The next day the rest of our baggage came to the land- 

 ing and we got the guides to go and fetch it down to 

 our camp. This ended the worst part of our trip, as 

 Mr. McLaughlin came down and brought some men 

 with him to cut a road into the lake, and when we 

 came out we had teams all the way and a better 

 road. 



By 4 o'clock the next afternoon we had things in very 

 good shape. Then it was proposed we should go fishing. 

 As we had no meat in camp, we thought fish would take 

 the place of it; so Chickaree and myself took a boat and 

 started out for a point across the lake, where Tom had 

 told us there was good fishing. We had hardly arrived 

 there when I had a strike, which I responded to by driv- 

 ing the hook in his jaw. Then trouble commenced, for it 

 was nip and tuck between us as to which would get the sur- 

 plus line on the reel; sometimes I had a ma jority and then 

 Mr. Bass had it. Between the old split-bamboo, silk line, 

 Frankfort reel and myself we began to get the best of it; 

 but it was not until the bass had tried the old tactics of 

 jumping out of the water two or three times and then 

 trying to find the bottom. At last he was in reach of the 

 landing net and lifted into the boat. He weighed exactly 

 3ilbs., but had fight enough to do justice to one a great 

 deal larger. After catching a couple more we concluded 

 we had enough for that evening, and returned to camp, 

 where the cook had a good supper ready for us. 



The next day the first thing was to get a supply of bait. 

 Minnows are very plenty, and as we found that they were 

 the best bait we could use, we built a live box to keep our 

 fish and minnows in, and then proceeded to fill it. In 

 the lake you will get shiners, but down in the river, where 

 you will have to catch them with a hook and line, you 

 can get all the chubs you want. After providing a sup- 

 ply of minnows we began to have some of the sport we 

 had come so far for; but it would be tiresome to you to 

 have to hear the old story over of how this one was taken 

 and that one got away, so will not go over them, but will 

 summarize: We caught about 400 fish in the four weeks 

 we were in there. 



It would probably be of more interest to know some- 

 thing of this country than to listen to all the different 

 fights we had with the bass. 



Our camp was located on a high point of land extend- 

 ing out into Big Presque Isle Lake, about one-half mile 

 from where the Big Presque Isle River makes its start 

 for Lake Superior. We were, about fifteen or sixteen 

 miles south of Marenisco, Mich. The lake is very 

 irregular in shape, being full of coves and points 

 projecting out into it. The water is as clear as 

 any Bpring water and very cold. The banks are high, with 

 timber growing down to within 5 or 6ft. of the water's 

 edge. The space between the water and timber looks as 

 if some expert had been trying his hand at paving, so 

 smooth are the banks lined with stone. I estimate that 

 the greatest length of the lake is about three or four miles 

 and it is very nearly as wide in its widest part. There is 

 a narrows that connects it with Mud or Van Vleet Lake 

 south, and there is a good portage that will take you to 

 Crab Lake, and from there by short portages you can go 

 to Horse Head, Ox Bow, State Line and a number of 

 lakes in that direction. By going down Presque Isle Lake 

 in a southwest direction you come to a short portage of 

 100yds. that leads you to Lake Katinka, the prettiest of all 

 the lakes we visited; it is about one and one-half miles 

 long and about three-quarters of a mile wide at its widest 

 part; it has two islands in it, with points of land running 

 down toward them which leave only small narrows to 

 pass through. The shores are all high and dry and wooded 



