92 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Aug. 21, 1890. 



ON CANADIAN RIVERS. 



IThe following chapter is taken from Mr. E. A. Samuels's new 

 volume, "With Fly-Rod and Camera."] 



THE mellow, flute-like song of the hermit thrush awoke 

 me before sunrise on the following morning. Nudg- 

 ing my friend to arouse him, I stepped outside the tent. 

 The camp-fire had burned out, nothing of it remaining 

 but a few black embers. The two guides were sound 

 asleep under their blankets, the heavy covering being 

 pulled up over their heads completely. 



Taking our rods, Frere and I stepped past the sleeping 

 men on our way to the pool; they awoke instantly, how- 

 ever, for your bush sleeper is easily awakened. With a 

 big yawn they arose and began to move about thpir camp 

 duties, the first of which being invariably filling and 

 lighting their pipes. 



"What sort of a day is it to be?" I asked of Hiram, as I 

 prepared my tackle for a cast at the foot of the pool, 

 Frere having gone to the head. 



Hiram gave a look at the mist which completely en- 

 veloped the forest about us, and then at the drenched 

 leaves which trembled slightly in the breeze. 



"Oh, it'll be bright enough by and by," he replied, "the 

 wind is sou' west, and the webs are plenty." As he spoke 

 he pointed to the gossamer webs which had been spun on 

 the bushes and brakes and weeds about us. 



It is almost an invariable sign, that if gossamer webs 

 are abundant in the morning, the day will be fair. 



"Well, Hiram," said I, "here's for luck," and I began 

 casting above the rapids at the foot of the pool. 



"Luck to you!" he replied, and returned to the camp, 

 where his axe w as soon heard busy in preparing wood for 

 the breakfast fire. 



The morning was dark, and the mist hung so heavy 

 above the pool that I could but indistinctly see Frere, 

 who was at work at the upper end. For my own fly I 

 had my favorite, a silver-doctor. It is a fly" with which 

 I can do better work than with any other, in all waters 

 and with all fish. 



Now, silver-doctors are to be met with in most varied 

 forms. At one time I had upward of four dozen of them 

 in my books that I had gathered here and there, and 

 hardly two of them were alike. If the body is silver 

 tinsel it matters but little, in the opinion of many tyere, 

 how the rest of the fly is made, and the result is that when 

 one speaks of this fly he conveys but a vague meaning. I 

 have silver-doctors with whole wings and with made 

 wings; with all kinds of hackles and with none at all, and 

 with tails and without. 



My favorite style is made with pure silver tinsel body — 

 no other is worth using. The tail consists of two or three 

 webs of a widgeon's or teal's mottled feather, together 

 with the same number of webs of the ruffle of the golden 

 pheasant. I like a small hackle on a silver-doctor, and if 

 I were to have a dozen tied, should have three each with 

 gray, brown, yellow and black hackles. Not heavy, but 

 nice neat hackles. 



Doubtless some one will say, "Ah, but that's not my 

 idea of a siver -doctor at all." "All right," I reply, "it's 

 mine; I want a small hackle on it." 



Now for wings. I don't like whole wings, that is, 

 wings made of whole feathers, but prefer made ones, 

 those which are made of varied fibers selected from many 

 feathers, among them always a few shreds of the mottled 

 feather of the widgeon or teal, two good feathers from 

 the ruff of the golden pheasant, and over all, two or three 

 good sprays from the crest of the same bird. 



Above all, I want the fly tied so hard and firmly that I 

 cannot move it at all on the hook. If it is loosely tied, it 

 soon becomes worthless, in fact it is unsafe, for the hook 

 is likely to pull out with the first fish. I always reject a 

 fly that is not stiff, or which is at all movable on the 

 hook. It is an expensive fly, such as I have described, 

 but it is the most killing in existence. The silver-doctor 

 commonly sold is a cheap affair compared with this, but 

 deliver me from such and all other cheap flies. I always 

 prefer to have mine "tied to pattern," and do not accept 

 any which will not stand a rigid scrutiny. 

 t I began casting with a short line, my invariable habit, 

 and worked further and further out into the pool with 

 every few casts. I believe in covering thoroughly every 

 foot of water as I go. Your salmon does not always lie 

 away off in the pool, and it is much better to strike your 

 fish on a short line than a long one, particularly if you 

 are lifting for a back cast. A single instance will illus- 

 trate this. I had been fishing the upper end of a pool, 

 and had worked down to nearly the foot; I had a long 

 line out: so as to reach the further shore, and had care- 

 lessly allowed it for a moment to swing in the eddy. As 

 I lifted for another cast, I noticed that my fly was hardly 

 ten feet from me. When I gave the lift the fly swung 

 in, and and at that instant a salmon, that had been lying 

 beside a boulder almost at my feet, arose and took the 

 lure. 



Of course the tip of my rod went to "smithereens" on 

 the instant and the salmon "hooked off." Yes, I always 

 cover the water thoroughly as I go and do not lengthen 

 my line until I have had my fly all over the surface in 

 my reach. 



Frere was busy at his end of the pool, but saving a few 

 trout which he shook off his fly without disturbing the 

 water, he had got no rises. 



I also got a few trout up but did not hook them, for 

 we were after salmon, and the flouncing of a few trout 

 on the surlace of the water is sufficient, generally, to 

 keep salmon from rising. 



It is quite a "knack," that the salmon fisherman ac- 

 quires, to shake off a trout that has seized his fly, without 

 "stirring up the water," as the expression goes, but it is 

 a necessary accomplishment. Occasionally one will hook 

 the trout so firmly that it must be landed, and then the 

 better way is to wastp no time but to drag it as expedi- 

 tiously as possible bodily through the water and up on 

 the beach. The pool is thus disturbed but little, for the 

 fish is landed before it has a chance to flounce about. 



I had been casting; for fully ten minutes, during which 

 I had successfully shaken off two or three small sea trout, 

 and was just on the point of casting ovft to an eddy 

 across the pool, below a huge boulder that arose from 

 the depths, when a large sea trout took my fly, and with 

 a splash and a plunge down he went to the bottom, and 

 into the eddy that I had been essaying to reach. 



Away spun the line, my reel shrieking to me discord- 

 antly just then, my rod bending in a circle with my 

 efforts to keep the trout from disturbing the salmon. 



But in vain! A large sea trout is a very strong fish and 

 active withal, and I could not check mine even with the 



full strain of my rod. Suddenly from the depths of the 

 pool, where the trout was darting about, out sprang a 

 salmon, a goodly fish, leaping several feet into the air, 

 ami falling back with a tremendous splash. 



Another near by also sprang out, and the guides who 

 had joined me, and who supposed that the leaping fish 

 was fast to my hook, exclaimed, 



"He's a lively fisb, sure! Mind, Doctor, or you'll lose 

 him." 



Frere, who also came to my side said, "You are giving 

 him too much strain." 



"Giving the old Harry too much strain," I exclaimed, 

 "I've only got a pesky trout on." 



"Oh! that's no trout," said Hiram, flourishing the gaff; 

 "sure we saw him twiste [twice], 'twas a saumon, and a 

 good one, too." 



"Yes, but he is not hooked, confound him," I replied, 

 reeling in the trout that was now about tired out. 



"There he goes again!" shouted William, but this time 

 they plainly saw that the salmon was leaping in fright, 

 and not with my fly in his mouth. 



The truth was that the trout in swimming about, had 

 run the casting line against two or three of the salmon, 

 which, doubtless fearing a net or some other of man's 

 snares, leaped to avoid them. A salmon is as suspicious 

 and as shy as a crow, and the least disturbance or noise 

 or molestation will put it on the qui vive. 



It is not at all uncommon for the casting line to strike 

 a fish in the pool, when it is fast to another, and I have 

 more than once had my hooked salmon send several into 

 the air by rubbing the line against them. 



We landed the trout, and killed it, It was only of 

 about three pounds weight, but it was very strong for its 

 size. 



Of course after such a disturbance we concluded that 

 we had better rest the pool a while, and as breakfast was 

 soon to be ready, we laid aside our rods, and, after a 

 wash , repaired to the camp, at which the guides were 

 busy preparing our morning meal. And such a royal 

 breakfast as it was! and such appetites as we had when 

 we sat down to it! Boiled sea trout, fried grilse, boiled 

 potatoes, pilot bread and butter; listen, fried onions, and 

 coffee with condensed milk. 



Boiled sea trout is, gastronomicaily, in my estimation, 

 the most delicate of all fish. Nothing can compare with 

 its delicacy, yet richness, of flavor. It should be cooked 

 and eaten as soon as possible after it is killed, for it soon 

 deteriorates and becomes insipid. 



No other way of cooking than boiling brings the sea 

 trout to the epicure in all its excellence, and in fact this 

 is true of most fish. 



A fried sea trout is not nearly as acceptable, and I do 

 not fancy one broiled, although broiling is better than 

 frying. Next in my opinion to the sea trout comes the 

 grilse, and that is also better boiled than fried. 



Never shall I forget the exquisite enjoyment with 

 which one of these fish was eaten on a certain occasion. 



We had been in the canoe four or five hours in a chilly 

 drizzle of a rain, through which we saw the sun only for 

 a few minutes during the entire day. 



We were descending one of the Canadian rivers, our 

 party consisting of one of my friends, myself, and our 

 two guides or canoemen, all in one large canoe. 



Tired we were and hungry, for we had been running 

 rapids and fishing the glorious pools that lay between 

 them all the time, and such work gets up a wonderful 

 appetite. At last the "arret-la" was spoken, and we came 

 to a landing place. Hauling the canoe upon the pebbly 

 shore, our men soon had a fire started and the tea kettle 

 steaming. 



Taking from the canoe a grilse weighing about foot- 

 pounds, and cutting up the rich blood-red meat, they 

 cooked it in the frying pan, using but very little fat, that 

 contained in the tissues of the fish being sufficient. 



The fresh- caught fish thus cooked was of delicious 

 sweetness, and the meat was firm, nutty, and with just 

 the right degree of richness. Yes, that was a fish ever to 

 be remembered; it was eaten with exactly the right sauce, 

 and under the right circumstances. Many a time have I 

 eaten my fresh-caught salmon or trout by the camp fire 

 in the woods, but it seems to me that none other ever 

 tasted like that particular grilse, 



Hiram, as an accompaniment to my fish, gave me two 

 boiled potatoes, and such potatoes ! Early Ense they 

 were, which had been grown on newly cleared land, 

 called "burned land," because it had been lately burned 

 over. Unless one has eaten such potatoes, he knows 

 nothing of what constitutes a good one. Mealy it is to 

 the extent of almost falling apart in a powder when its 

 "jacket" is removed, and so sweet and delicate! No other 

 potato can compare with the "burned land" potato. 



After disposing of our substantial and abundant break- 

 fast, a smoke was of course the first thing to be attended 

 to. Ah! what a comfort one takes with bis pipe or cigar 

 after a hearty meal in the woods! Could anything be 

 accepted as a substitute for it? Could anything replace 

 it? I doubt it. 



Vpry soon Frere was busying himself in overhauling 

 his fly-book, and arranging his flies, taking such comfort 

 out of the operation as only your enthusiastic angler can 

 find. At length he arose from his recumbent position, 

 exclaiming, "Well, Doctor, this is not business," and 

 taking his rod he proceeded to the pool, where I soon 

 joined him. 



The mists that had hung low above the river had been 

 dispelled, and the sun was shining brightly through the 

 patches of blue which showed now and then through the 

 golden and roseate clouds that were drifting away to the 

 east. 



A light breeze was moving, just strong enough to ripple 

 the surface of the pool to that degree which one so much 

 desires, and the indications were good for a satisfactory 

 day's sport. 



Frere began casting about midway from the head of 

 the pool, and getting out a long line was soon reaching 

 well over to the further shore. 



I took a seat upon an old log on the crest of the beach 

 and watched my friend at his work; for next to casting 

 the fly myself, I love to see another engaged in the fas- 

 cinating recreation. 



How gracefully, and with what a true and even sweep 

 the line rolled along on the surface of the water, uncoil- 

 ing itself, as it were, with an uniform motion, the casting 

 line or leader taking up the same sweep, until the fly 

 dropped upon the water as lightly as would the living 

 insect. 



It is a great acqnirernent t9 cast the fly as Frere did, 



and I have seen but few who attained to equal proficiency. 

 I have fished with scores of different anglers in my time, 

 and after watching their work, varied as it has been, I 

 have come to the conclusion that adepts at fly- casting 

 with the two-handed rod are "few and far between." 



There is an indescribable motion of the rod, which is 

 made in the forward stroke or delivery, that acts upon 

 the line in such a way that it seems to be but a continua- 

 tion of the rod itself, and the same bends and curve of 

 the rod are followed by the whole length of the line, 

 which, as it falls upon the water, seems to unroll itself 

 its whole length, permitting the fly to drop softly and 

 noiselessly. 



In a number of casts I can get this motion a few times, 

 but I am not always certain of it, and my experience ex- 

 tends over thirty years. 



I can get out and handle as good a length of line as 

 the average, and can drop a fairish neat fly, but despair 

 of being an expert in making what I call a rolling cast.* 

 A very great deal depends upon the exact balance of the 

 rod and line. 



In every book on fishing that I have read, and I have 

 quite a number of them in my library, are given instruc- 

 tions, more or less elaborate, in casting; but I have never 

 read any yet that supplied information which would en- 

 able a novice to become even a passable fisherman. 



Practice, much practice, is a requisite, but no practice 

 in my opinion can compare with that which one has on 

 the pool where he knows the fish are lying. 



Some writers recommend practicing on the lawn, but 

 this is of very little value except in familiarizing one with 

 the action of his rod. 



To lay out a line neatly and smoothly on the water 

 and recover it in good style is one. thing; it is quite an- 

 other to do it on a grass plot. 



Frere continued at his work, covering all the water 

 as he moved toward the foot of the pool. 



Gradually he drew nearer and nearer to the eddy on 

 the other side; that from which the salmon had leaped 

 when my sea trout created such a commotion. 



At length his fly dropped in a curl of the water near 

 a rock that showed faintly beneath the surface; motion- 

 less it remained an instant, then sinking an inch or two 

 was just on the point of receiving the fi rst motion or drag 

 from the rod. Avhen a swirl, a faint splash, and then the 

 scream of the reel announced that a salmon had been 

 hooked. 



Scarcely had the fish felt the barb when, with the 

 speed almost of lightning, he darted to the head of the 

 pool, and then back in an instant to the deep water in 

 the middle, thus securing a dangerous bight in the line, 

 which only the greatest activity at the reel could over- 

 come in time, and Frere but just succeeded in getting 

 his line straightened before the salmon repeated his per- 

 formance, this time bis run being broken by three leaps 

 in quick succession, all of them being at least three feet 

 in the air. 



He then returned to his former position, and Frere 

 began giving him the strain of the rod, for the runs in 

 quick succession and the leaps had sobered the fish, and 

 if the fight were now forced, it was evident it would be a 

 short one. The tactics which the salmon now adopted 

 were such as every one who has been "fast" to one of 

 these noble fish is acquainted with. 



Now he was apparently standing on his head in the 

 water, evidently rubbing his nose on the rocks on the 

 bottom of the pool to free himself from the barbed steel. 

 Finding this unavailing he would shake his head savagely 

 like a terrier worrying a rat. This also proving ineffect- 

 ual, he would endeavor to wind the casting line about 

 one of the rocks in the water, by which a purchase could 

 be obtained, so that the hook could be twisted from its 

 hold. All in vain, however, Frere kept his steady strain 

 on the rod, keenly watching every movement of the fish, 

 and meeting, with a sportsman's skill, all its rises and 

 attempts to escape, 



At length the tension of the line proved too great for 

 the fish, and it began to show unmistakable signs of 

 fatigue. 



Perceiving this, Frere commenced reeling in the line, 

 all the time keeping the strain upon it. 



Suddenly, without any warning, the salmon gave a 

 magnificent leap, and then plunging to the bottom, darted 

 to the shoal water down to the foot of the pool. 



"Oh, give him the butt, give him the butt!" we all 

 shouted to Frere, but too late, Frere was doing all that 

 the rod could stand, but, passing like a flash down into 

 the stream, running out the line in a way that made the 

 reel wildly whistle, the fish glided between two rocks in 

 the bed of the stream, turned across the shoals, and then 

 sped back up the swift water and around another rock, 

 securing leverage, and he was free. 



"Too bad, too bad!" I exclaimed. Frere made no reply 

 but began reeling in his line which the fish had carried 

 out to the extent of at least one hundred yards. 



"Confound it all," exclaimed Hiram. "He was a wide- 

 awake divil suru!" 



"Yes, a fresh-run fish," added William, "and full of 

 life." 



"Life! any amount, sure," replied Hiram, who, now 

 that the fight was over, was quietly filling his pipe and 

 preparing for a smoke. 



Did you ever notice that your guide, if a smoker, and 

 he almost always is one, invariably lights his pipe when 

 a big fish is landed or lost? If not, watch him when you 

 are next out. I never knew 7 it fail to happen. 



When Frere had reeled in his line so that the leader 

 could be reached, I took it in my band and examined it. 

 It had parted at one of the knots, and evidently had been 

 carelessly fastened. 



"The knot was a poor one," said Frere, examining the 

 gut, "but if it had been perfect it would not have held 

 that fiah." 



"No, no gut was ever made that would hold him," said 

 Hiram. "Nor line neither," assented William, "unlesB it 

 was a cod line." 



Frere quietly removed the portion of the gut that was 

 left, and placing it in his fly-book, selected another new 

 leader, and putting it in the water and anchoring it with 

 a pebble, left it to soak and become pliable. He bore his 

 disappointment and loss philosophically, and gave no 

 sign that he felt it even as much as we did. 



The sun was now shining brightly, the fleecy clouds 

 having been entirely dispelled. The breeze had also sub- 

 sided, and the surface of the pool was as smooth as glass, 



* The "Spey" of writers, 



