8 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[July 25, 18S9. 



CAMPS OF THE KINGFISHERS.-II. 



ECHO LAKE, ONTARIO, CANADA. 



ANEBISH or Encampment Island, about half-way 

 between Point Detour and the Sault, is a vicinity 

 noted, the Captain said, for the very fine bass fishing at 

 the rapids, later in the season. The river here has three 

 channels, one flowing into the north passage on the Can- 

 ada side, one between St. Joseph and Anebish Islands and 

 one between Anebish and the mainland on the Michigan 

 side, each with its rapids designated respectively East, 

 Middle and West Anebish Rapids, shortened by the 

 natives and Jake-going people into 'Nebish Rapids. The 

 Middle Rapids, at the head of Anebish Island, over which 

 nearly all tne Lake Superior traffic passes, is not a great 

 hindrance to navigation. 



Had it been September we would have made our camp 

 right there on 'Nebish Island, for heart of angler could 

 wish no "fishier" looking water, clear and blue as it came 

 from the great lake above, nor for a more restful picture 

 for the eye as it took in at a sweeping glance the beauties 

 of Anebish Island to the left, the foot of Sugar Island in 

 plain view a short distance up the river, and the high 

 wooded shore of Canada and the upper end of St. Joseph 

 Island on the right, to say nothing of some tiny wooded 

 rocky islets up near the head of St, Joseph that seemed 

 placed there for the especial purpose of involving the 

 beholders in the hopeless effort of making out which was 

 the "sweetest" and loveliest of the lot. But it was useless 

 to waste time in longing for a closer acquaintance with 

 them; we were bound for Echo Lake, the unknown, 

 whose waters were yet as a sealed book to us. 



On the way up we had questioned the Captain about 

 the lake (steamer captains are supposed to know every- 

 thing, but frequently don't), but he knew little in regard 

 to it. He had heard it was a good region for trout, that 

 it was a small lake not over a mile long, but he had 

 never heard of any one disturbing its waters for bass. 



At the landing at Anebish Island a young, bright-look- 

 ing fellow came aboard, whom the Captain addressed as 

 "Ben." and he was at once turned over to us as one likely 

 to give all the desired information about the lake we were 

 seeking. Yes, Ben had be(e)n there. He said the 

 lake was two or three miles back from the river in the 

 mountains; was a mile long, not over a mile and a half 

 and maybe a half mile wide. Near the head was a fine 

 camping place, with a stream near by that was full of 

 good trout; but as to bass, he had never heard of any one 

 taking them out of the lake, but supposed there were 

 plenty in it, and so on. 



Fine trout fishing right "adjacent to the camp" was 

 "good enough for the Joneses," and we were correspond- 

 ingly elated at the prospect of* appeasing the cravings of 

 our "trout tooth," which had become somewhat bother- 

 some from a year's idleness. Ben was voted a "bully 

 feller." and was undoubtedly a young man of good parts; 

 bright and chock full of information for anglers: but it 

 turned out (as is usual in such cases) that he had never 

 been to Echo Lake, even mentally, and knew, if possible, 

 less about it than we did, and we knew nothing. 



Ben also knew everybody at the Sault, and would 

 come around to the hotel after supper and put us in the 

 way of hiring good boats for the trip to the lake, etc. . 

 etc. After supper Ben didn't show up, nor have we seen 

 him since; and I may safely assert that we have lost faith 

 in Ben and his ilk. and have come to the conclusion that 

 the only way to get at the exact location and dimensions 

 of a new lake is to ask some one about it who has never 

 been there — and then hunt it up ourselves. 



After leaving the rapids, a matter of four miles, we 

 entered a very beautiful sheet of water, Great Lake 

 George, another widening out of the river, nine miles in 

 length by four and live wide. 



As we neared the head of this lake Ben pointed past 

 the foot of a low, green-clad island, across a wide rush- 

 grown bay to a gap in the Canada hills, where he said 

 was the mouth of Echo River, the outlet of Echo Lake, 

 and this, which was corroborated by the Captain and 

 the ."jolly mate, proved to be the only reliable scrap of 

 information gleaned from him. 



Less than a mile further on, we entered the river 

 proper, with Squirrel Island on one side and Church's 

 Landing, or Church ville on the other, neither more than 

 a good stone's throw from thadeck of the steamer. 



Church's Landing is a small settlement on Sugar 

 Island, which is 25 miles in length, on the American side 

 of the river. 



Just above the head of Squirrel Island a sharp bend in 

 the river to the west shuts out the view of the broad 

 waters of Lake George, and as the steamer swung into 

 the channel over against the Canada shore, we passed 

 Cunningham's Landing, and a mile or more further up 

 Garden River on the same side. 



This is quite a pretentious but sleepy-looking little 

 Canadian village, with a post-office, as some of our 

 party afterward learned by ordering their mail for- 

 warded there from the Sault, which, as far as we have 

 found out up to date is still in process of forwarding. 

 The mail facilities between the two places seem to be 

 somewhat out of gear, although the distance is only 

 about 10 miles as the crow flies. 



Garden River takes it name from an insignificant little 

 "crick" flowing into the St. Mary's River a short dis- 

 tance below, our attention being called to it by Ben as 

 we passed the mouth of it, as a great trout stream up 

 near the headwaters somewhere in the vicinity of Echo 

 Lake, but after our experience with Ben we are firmly 

 of the opinion that there are no fish in it better than 

 white suckers and "stone rollers." 



The scenery along the river from Garden River up is 

 of entrancing beauty, and we enjoyed it so thoroughly 

 that we were in sight of the falls long before we were 

 ready to turn from the other wonders of this wondrous 

 river. From the deck of the steamer, as we approached 

 the town, we could see a tumbling, roaring, white-capped 

 mass of water rushing from shore to shore, lashed into 

 spray and foam as it tossed and whirled over its rocky 

 bed, a restless, resistless, ever-rushing torrent— the com- 

 bined volume of the thousand streams and brooks feed- 

 ing the great lake above, to find temporary rest at the 

 foot of the rapids in the wide, deep basin reaching in 

 unbroken expanse between the two towns, the American 

 and Canadian Sault de Ste. Marie, 



It is a masterpiece of nature's handiwork worth a long 

 journey to behold, a sight not soon to be forgotten; but 

 now we had little time to devote to it, for the steamer 

 was at the dock and ail was hurry and bustle to get the 



calamities ashore and our arrangements made for the 

 night. 



The calamities were stored in a warehouse a few yards 

 away, which is also the custom house of the port, to be 

 under lock and key for the night, and soon after we 

 were under the protecting "fin" of mine host H. B. 

 Smith, of the Chippewa House, a block from the river, 

 distracting him with questions about the country, 

 the fishing in the region round about, and espe- 

 cially about Echo Lake. He had heard of the lake, but 

 could give us no information about it or the bass fishing 

 to be had in it; didn't know anything about bass or bass 

 fishing, but was "way up on trout:" in fact, every one 

 we talked with knew nothing about bass, but they all 

 knew trout; everybody knew trout, fished for trout, 

 talked trout, ate trout, when they could get 'em, and 

 could tell us where to find them, big and little, by the 

 bar'l, but bass was an unknown quantity, and had to 

 take a back seat where trout was king. We began to 

 feel that our piscatorial education had received a violent 

 backset, and were on tke verge of feeling sorry that we 

 had come so far after a little sport with such an insigni- 

 ficant fish as the black bass when there were so many 

 lordly trout "layin"' round loose in the streams waiting 

 to be yanked out. 



"Take a Mackinaw boat," said one, "and go around 

 Whitefish Point and fish the streams along the south 

 shore of Lake Superior for 40 or 50 miles, and you can 

 can catch hundreds and hundreds of 'em; fish the 'streams 

 along the north shore 60 or 80 miles above, and you can 

 catch thousands of 'em." 



But nobody fished for bass. They just talked trout to 

 us till we felt dry and spotted, and old Sam moved the 

 Jedge to unusual hilarity the next morning by telling 

 him that "during the night he had dreamed he was a 

 ' speckled beauty ' " (Sam's a trifle speckled when in good 

 condition), and in making a pass at a June bug hovering 

 over the brook in which he was disporting himself, he 

 kicked the covers off the bed and the wind out of his 

 partner, Charley, at the same flirt, and didn't get the bug 

 after all. " A clear case of ' bugs,' " Charley said, brought 

 on by mixing too much " Soo" water with his festivities 

 the previous evening at the Chippewa House bar. Some 

 time after supper, when we had given up our steamer 

 acquaintance, Ben, an old guide and "land looker," 

 a Capt. J., whom Capt. Barker had promised to send 

 around, dropped in to fill us up with information about 

 the country and the fishing and the lay of Echo Lake. 

 Capt. J. was a trifle off color, having several dashes of 

 aboriginal blood in his veins, but he was withal a clever 

 gentleman, well informed, a good talker, and thoroughly 

 acquainted with all that northern region, for he had been 

 a land looker and guide from away back, andhad camped 

 and fished for trout and hunted and looked up pine lands 

 on half the northern peninsula of Michigan and a goodly 

 strip of Canada for years past. He told us all about 

 Echo Lake (and it turned out to be in the main correct), 

 how to get there, and said there was one very small stream" 

 coming in near the head of it, in which we might find a 

 few trout, but he knew nothing about our fish, the bass. 



Then he launched out and told us of a score or more of 

 trout streams till we felt bad again that we had been 

 brought up as plain bass fishers, and when he wound up 

 the first chapter of his discourse with "Yes, gentlemen, 

 the country is full of 'em, actually full of 'em," our 

 "trout tooth" gave a mighty yearn for a chance at a 

 dozen or two of 'em, albeit there were none on the table 

 for supper or breakfast. 



He referred us also to a Mr. Everett, who had some 

 very good small boats to hire, and advised us to hire a 

 tug to take us and our baggage and small boats to the 

 camp, which we decided to do, as the three boats would 

 not carry us and our outfit at one trip. 



In the morning we would see a Mr. P. M. Church, a 

 hardware merchant, and hire his steam tug Pioneer, 

 which was the only one in the harbor that had a smoke- 

 stack with a "jint" initby which it could be lowered in 

 order to pass under the bridge near the mouth of Echo 

 River. 



All this talk took place in presence of the dispenser of 

 beverages attached to the Chippewa House, and as the 

 captain had a habit of saying, "Don't mind if I do," and 

 "Same as before," in answer to certain questions pro- 

 pounded him by our boys and the dispenser, by the time 

 the pow-wow was over some of our boys were chock full 

 of "information" and the captain even fuller of "same as 

 before," and with all his attainments as a pine-looker 

 couldn't have told the difference between a Norway pine 

 and a squaw vine. 



But he evidently got home all right, for he turned up 

 next morning before breakfast fresh as a morning glory, 

 albeit with his hearing a trifle impaired it seemed, for 

 when asked by old Sam, "How did you rest last night, 

 Captain?" he replied, as he nodded to the dispenser, 

 "Same as before, with a little bitters," and then he talked 

 some more trout, and told us of a few more streams that 

 had escaped his memory the night before. 



From all accounts we made up our minds that it was 

 somewhat of a region for trout. 



He told us also that we could hire the cook of the 

 Pioneer, Louis Lesarge, a wiry little Indian, to go with 

 us to camp, as it w r ould be the last trip the Pioneer would 

 make anywhere for a few weeks, and Louis was a good 

 camp cook, etc. 



Captain J— n was a walking edition of general informa- 

 tion, complete in one volume. 



We found Mr. Everett and hired his three boats at $2 

 a day for the three, and then waited an hour or more for 

 Mr. Church to arrive at his store, chafing with imoatience 

 at the waste of valuable time. The price for the tug was 

 $20 a day, but as she had a half day's work to do in tow- 

 ing a couple of loaded lumber scows down to a sawmill 

 just above Church's Landing— right on our way — we could 

 put the small boats and our calamities on one of the 

 scows ahd go that far without charge, then the tug was 

 at our service for the remainder of the day for $10. The 

 bargain was made, and we were to pay the master of the 

 tug, Capt. Dave Tate, at the end of the service. 



Then Capt. Dave had to go to the Custom House and 

 50 through a farce of red tape to get permission to take 

 lis boat into a Canada pond. First, the name of his 

 vessel and her tonnage, name of master, number of crew, 

 destination, and nature of cargo to be carried. This 

 matter of cargo called for a few more yards of red tape 

 in the shape of another set of blanks,' that brought the 

 writer in speaking contact with the grizzled but good- 

 n atured Customs official. I 



The first blank space in this document was filled in 

 with my baptismal and other appellation. Where from ? 

 The number in the party? Where we were going? What 

 we were going to do? And what we had along with us 

 to do it with? 



Old Grizzly asked a few more not very "sarchin' " 

 questions — just to kill time, as we supposed — and we 

 finally agreed on a simple "fishing and camping outfit," 

 •and the tape trade on that side of the river was at an end. 



When the blanks had all been filled in, to the please- 

 ment of our grizzled friend, and duly copied into a big 

 book, a handful of them were handed to Capt. Dave, 

 who then had to cross the river with them to the Custom 

 House on the Canada side to get a "permit" to enter 

 Canadian waters with his tug, another delay that caused 

 us a violent attack of "annexation fever" right there, 

 which was only relieved by prompt measures in the shape 

 of some "plain an' ornamental, but vigorous oratory." 

 after we were out of ear-shot of Old Grizzly. Capt. Dave 

 took his departure across the river in one of the little 

 ferry tugs plying between the two Soos every twenty 

 minutes or so, to be gone a couple of hours, as it proved, 

 and Sam and I to relieve the pressure, walked up to have 

 a look at the locks and rapids, and as a matter of inter- 

 est to the readers of Forest and Stream a brief mention 

 of these great locks may not be out of place. 



The old locks nearest the river are two in number and 

 are each 350ft. in length by 70ft. in width, now seldom 

 used except in a rush. 



The figures for the new lock were kindly f urnished by 

 Mr. M. Lynch, the superintendent in charge, and I quote 

 from his letter: 



"The dimensions as given are taken from the records 

 of this office, and you can rely on them as being correct. 

 The chamber of the new lock is 515ft. between hollow 

 quoins, 80ft. wide, narrowed to 00ft. at the gates. The 

 depth is 394ft., capacity l,500.000cu.f t.. lift 18ft., depth 

 on the miter sill 17ft. A guard gate is placed at each 

 end of the chamber, making the total length of the walls 

 7l7f c. The water is let into the lock from two culverts 

 under the floor. These culverts extend from a well above 

 the upper gates to another well below the lower gates, 

 each culvert being 8ft. square. There are 34.207cu.yds, 

 of masonry, in the construction of which about 35,000 

 barrels of cement were used, every barrel of which was 

 tested before it was taken on the wall. The weight of 

 one leaf of the upper gates is 40 tons, one leaf of the 

 lower gates 70 tons." 



The rapids have a fall of 17ift,. and are 1,500yds. in 

 length. At a point opposite the locks the river is 733yds. 

 wide, while at the widest part of the basin, below the 

 rapids and between the two towns, it has a width of 

 1,280yds. 



When he had looked over the new and old locks to our 

 satisfaction, we walked down to the water's edge a few 

 yards away to get a better view of the rapids, and to 6ee 

 if there were any Indians out in the river "scooping" for 

 whitefish. 



Sure enough! there, 100yds. out and down near the 

 foot of the rapids in very swift, broken water, were a 

 couple of the copper-colored, huckleberry - gathering 

 fiends hi a birch canoe, one kneeling in the stern holding 

 the frail craft perfectly motionless in the current with a 

 pole braced against the bottom of the liver, and the other 

 standing in the bow with net in hand gazing intently 

 into the swiftly rushing water. At least that Avas the 

 situation as we made it out from the shore* but if that 

 Indian was holding the canoe in the rapid current with 

 no other aid than the pole, it was an exhibition of mar- 

 velous skill that can certainly be acquired only by long 

 practice. 



We watched far some time without seeing a motion 

 from either occupant of the birch, when suddenly Mr. 

 Lo, in the bow, made a dive and a down stream scoop 

 with his long-handled, overgrown lauding net, but it 

 came up dripping and empty, and he resumed his cigar- 

 sign "attitude, with the difference, however, that the 

 glance of his eye had a downward slant into the water 

 instead of the vacant gaze into empty space affected by 

 the wooden warriors standing guard in front of tobacco 

 stores. 



"Water haul," said old Sam, with a dry rasp in his 

 voice, ■■ could do that well myself with a pitchfork." A 

 few minutes of motionless gazing into the water and 

 Mister Lo made another quick swoop with the net with 

 the same result as before, and then the canoe dropped 

 back with the current a few yards and came to a stand- 

 still again. A short period of waiting and again the net 

 was plunged into the swift current, and as it came out 

 we could see a gleam of white and pearl through the 

 meshes, struggling and flopping as it was swung over the 

 canoe, and when the Indian bad released the tish and 

 resumed his watch for another victim, we walked back 

 over the locks and down to the dock, where the Pioneer 

 with her tow had been brought up from her slip below, to 

 await the coining of Captain Dave, wel 1 satisfied that our 

 trip of over 700 miles had not been in vain. We had 

 seen a broken-spirited child of the forest, a frayed rem- 

 nant of the once poweif ul Chippewas, scoop a luckless 

 whitefish out of the rushing waters of the rapids with a 

 long-handled net — a feat Sam said "he could perform him- 

 self if the fish would keep still till he got the net well 

 around it." But in truth the great locks, the beautiful 

 river, and the wonderful rapids amply repaid us for the 

 trip. 



Captain Dave had not yet returned, but we pulled the 

 boats up on one of the loaded scows, put our camp chests 

 and luggage aboard (we came near overlooking a big box 

 offside meat, potatoes, butter, eggs, flour, etc., that 

 Knots and Charley had bought up town), and waited 

 nearly another hour for him. 



He came at last when our patience was about ex- 

 hausted, and judging by a snap of his eyes and a whiff 

 of his breath he had evidently met with some of hi3 

 Canadian friends across the river, and had been "tam- 

 perin' diligently with the flowin' bowl." 



Another half hour was trifled away in a trip up town, 

 and at last he came aboard and we were off down the 

 beautiful river and to Echo Lake, with a good store of 

 provisions, fluid and solid, good boats and a good cook — 

 we had hired Louis — and our spirits rose to the bubbling 

 over point at the prospect of soon being established in a 

 good camp. 



Although old enough to have outgrown a tendency to 

 indulge in youthful capers, the "boy" that was left in 

 old Sam and the writer got the upper hand, and I 

 chronicle the "episode" without comment that there on 



