FOREST AND STREAM, 



[JAN. 98, 188S. 



TROUTING IN THE CASCADES —VII. 



THE MOLALLA COUNTRY. 



FOUR o'clock found us at the falls of Milk Creek. The 

 falls were at the foot of tbe long riffle mentioned in 

 my last paper, and seemed a fitting termination of so in- 

 teresting a part of the stream. We were at least two 

 miles from camp as the crow flies, but at the point on the 

 creek nearest Frank's cabin. 



He decided to quit. 1 could fish on down to camp if I 

 desired; but considering the fact that I would have to run 

 most of the way to reach camp before dark, I concluded 

 that I would not take the chances in a region of which I 

 had so little knowledge. My creel, ditty-bag and coat 

 were heavy with fisb. besides some big fellows that I car- 

 ried Strang on a willow; and I was tired, I did not care 

 for any more fish; in fact, I did not care for those I had, 

 and only my intemperate love of nature and that 

 wretched disposition to investigate could have induced 

 me to go on down the creek, even with Frank for guide 

 and company. 



As a lover of nature, I had had ample opportunity to 

 court her in her most pleasing mood, and I felt that I had 

 done both myself and her ample justice for one day. So 

 we closed the day's sport and sat down on the moss to 

 count our fisb. Together we had taken tweuty-two 

 dozen less one, but I will never tell you which of us won 

 on the count. That ''less one" did not suit me, so I 

 picked up my rod and cast out into the deep pool below 

 the falls. Instantly I hooked two fine fellows and landed 

 both. The fates were evidently against an even number, 

 so I wound up my line aad un jointed my rod. I am sat- 

 isfied that I could have taken two dozen fine trout out of 

 that pool in as many minutes: but T do abhor a fish hog, 

 and it began to look as. if I, myself, belonged to a rather 

 inferior breed of swine. 



We lit our pipes and stretched ourselves upon the moss 

 for a good rest before starting for home. Frank told me 

 much about the country. He had wandered through 

 these mountains more or less for nearly three years, and 

 probably knew more about Cailon Creek and the huckle- 

 berry patch than any other living: person. I observed that 

 he frequently mentioned the ''big burn." In answer to 

 my question respecting it he told me that, as near as he 

 could learn, the big burn extended several hundred miles 

 along the crest of the Cascades. So I, myself, had. seen 

 the big burn many times. It ssems that before the whites 

 settled this country a great fire swept the upper mountains 

 of tbe Oregon portion of the range. Tne effects are 

 plainly observable wherever I have struck the crest of 

 the range in this State. "Look! there's a deer !'" exclaimed 

 Frank. Sure enough, a fine doe was crossing the stream 

 about a hundred yards below, but she soon disappeared in 

 the brush, apparently without having observed us. Once, 

 when Frank was up at the huckleberry patch (which is 

 almost synonymous with the big burn) he had got lost, 

 and came out on the North Fork of the Molalla. He was 

 for three days without food, except huckleberries. "Talk 

 about falls and trout," said Frank, "you ouajht to see the 

 falls of the North Fork of the Molalla. They are about 

 80ft. high, and the trout below them are so thick that 

 they crawl over each other." Of course I resolved, then 

 and there, to see the falls of the North Fork some day; 

 and I hope I may. 



Frank's talk was very interesting to me and we might 

 have reclined there on that lovely bed of moss until night 

 had it not been for a little incident. I was gazing list- 

 lessly down the stream and listening attentively to Frank's 

 description of scenes and happenings in the mountains. 

 An old dead tree was lying across the creek just below 

 where the deer had crossed, and as luck would have it, I 

 was looking squarely at that log, when out upon it walked 

 a great tawny crea,ture with a long tail. I guess I was 

 hypnotized or something worse, for my eyes were riveted 

 upon his royal highness and I was dumb as a stone. I 

 did not seem" to realize what the animal was. The beast 

 had reached the middle of the creek and paused to survey 

 the surroundings before I found my tongue. "What's 

 that'?" I asked in a whisper. "A cougar, by thunder!" 

 ejaculated Frank under his breath. There, then, was the 

 "varmint" I had longed to see in his native wilds, but 

 now that I had seen him I felt, somehow, that I could 

 very well dispense with this part of the circu?. The 

 beast looked down the creek, then up, and finally at us. 

 W r hen I came to appreciate the fact that his gaze was 

 centered upon us I confess that I felt a disagreeable sen- 

 sation at the roots of every hair, Frank and I were 

 silent and the cougar took his own time to move on. He 

 was in no hurry and seemed disposed to take a good ob- 

 servation while the conditions were favorable. He stood 

 there like a statue and gazed at us for what seemed to me 

 to be about a week. Finally he stealthily left the log, 

 stopping to take another impression just before entering 

 the brush. He had crossed to our side of the creek. 

 Really I do not know whether I am a coward or not. I 

 am always wishing to experience earthquakes, see griz- 

 zlies, cougars, etc., but someway when my prayers are 

 answered I weaken. "He's prob'bly follerin' thet deer," 

 said Frank. It was a question in my mind whether he 

 wanted venison or fisherman, and I suggested that we 

 proceed to find, our way out. X believe that Frank him- 

 self was a little nervous as he struck into the brush on a 

 dim trail that angled toward the cougar's apparent course. 

 I made the dog walk behind me, which was additional 

 evidence that I was a coward. 



However, I could not help reasoning that, in front, the 

 cougar would meet Frank first, while behind, he would 

 have to go over the dog to get at my precious carcass. I 

 must confess chat 1 felt much easier and braver when we 

 arrived at the broader trail that led down to the camp. 



Frank insisted that I should take all the trout as he 

 did not care for them. I tried to explain that I had no 

 earthly use for them, but he was determined. His were 

 in a gunny sack and he said he would bring them down 

 after supper. One of two reasons may explain Frank's 

 generosity — either he desired to manifest his gratitude to 

 me for flies and other favors, or else he was willing to 

 give up his day's catch for just one chance look at Amy. 

 Love will assert itself ev^n though it costs every trout in 

 the creek. I may be judging Frank wrongly, but the 

 sequel is almost conclusive evidence of the correctness of 

 my theory. During the autumn this same apparition 

 startled me in my own office at Portland where he called 

 for my assistance to aid him in getting over into Wash- 

 ington with his young bade, away from pursuing par- 

 ents. My recollection of the argument between Hall 

 and his wife that night at the camp fire convinced me 



I 



that if Hall was following them at all it must be solely 

 in the interest of peace and harmony at home, and onlv 

 at the earnest solicitation of his better half; and that if 

 the old gentleman found an opportunity to aid the young 

 elopers on the sly, in a way that, by no possibility, could 

 ever come to the knowledge of Mrs. Hall, he would do it 

 in a minute. It is almost unnecessary to add that an 

 early reconciliation followed the elopement, and I guess 

 that everybody connected with the Hall household is sat- 

 isfied, happy and prosperous now. S. H. Greene. 

 Portland, Ore. 



FLY-FISHING ON THE SUSQUEHANNA. 



REPORTS had come several times to this city during 

 the past two or three years of some exceedingly 

 successful catches of bass made with the fly in the Sus- 

 quehanna River near Middletown, a village nine or ten 

 miles east of this place. Now, I have often caught bass 

 with the fly in the Susquehanna and Juniata rivers, and 

 also in the Conodoguiuet Creek, all, however, north and 

 west of Harrisburg, often going out early in the morn- 

 ing opposite the city, catching a mess and getting home 

 with them in time for an early breakfast. Fly-fishing 

 for fall chubs and sunfish along the shore within the con- 

 fines of the city has been a favorite amusement for years 

 past, in early morning and sometimes in the evening 

 about sundown; twenty to thirty chub3 and a few bass 

 has been the general catch without wading, sometimes, 

 however, when the fish were on the feed further out from 

 the shore than we could cast, wading was a necessity. 

 To catch these fall chubs we generally used a fly tied on 

 a No. 10 or 12 Sproat hook. I have often taken them 

 weighing a pound, 12 to 13tn. long, and bass the same 

 size with a fly or midge tied on a No. 1(5 hook Opposite 

 South street there is a chain of rocks extending out into 

 the river about 60yds., ending in a large oblong rock 

 commonly designated as "Big Rack;" beyond "Big 

 Rock" and about 15yds. is a smaller boulder which never 

 shows its head above the surface unless the water is at 

 its lowest stage. 



One morning several years ago I was fishing for fall 

 chubs, using midges and wading and walking along the 

 shore in the vicinity of these rocks, the water being very 

 calm, I could see out beyond and above Big Rjck that 

 some pretty big chubs were feeding in the deep water. I 

 went out along thei'ocks, partly wading in the waters and 

 at other times stepping from rock to rock until I had 

 reached the extreme point of the big rock; the water was 

 very swift, and about 4ft. deep. After making several 

 casts and getting my line out far or long enough to reach 

 the ripple made over the boulder outside and seeing 

 several rises above the ripple, I made a long cast and in- 

 stantly fastened to two chubs, one on the stretcher and 

 one on the hand fly. When they found that something 

 was wrong with that kind of food one started up the river, 

 the other had urgent business over in Cumberland county, 

 a mile away. They were both good fighters and both 

 appeared to be very cross. I had a drawn gut leader 9ft. 

 long, and had to handle them tenderly in that swift water, 

 but after a five or six minutes' fight landed them both on 

 the rock. They were 14in. long each, and would weigh 

 both together about 2|lb3. These fall chubs are not satis- 

 factory to a great many people as food: being very full of 

 bones, they beat a shad badly. I always distribute tbe 

 ones 1 catch among my neighbors if they relish such food 

 and have time to pick out the bones; the flash is sweet, 

 especially in the early spriug and late fall. That kind of 

 angling, however, has ended. During the last three years 

 the culm from the coal mines in our county and the mines 

 near the river in counties above the city has been poured 

 into the river and there is so much of it that the water 

 is black along our shore and the fish have all disappeared, 

 going over toward the other shore. All the same, how- 

 ever, we are drinking the water the same as we used to 

 do, but cant call it pure Susquehanna River water as 

 formerly. 



Now to get at what I started with. After hearing these 

 reports from different sources that good fly-fishing for 

 bass was to be had near Middletown Ferry, a station on 

 the N. C. R. W., and having seen some that my friend 

 Horace had caught there, or at least said he had, I be- 

 lieved him and concluded to try a fly down there, and 

 about the last week in October, 1891, one pretty cold 

 morning, I left Harrisburg at 6:40 A. M. on the N. C. 

 R. W. ; found two other parties consisting of four men 

 each, with their rods, creels, lunch and bait pails, all 

 bound in the same direction. Found out later that they 

 intended to fish at Goldsboro, two miles below tbe station 

 I intended stopping at; and they were after baSB also. 

 Some snow had fallen in this locality a few days before; 

 the air was pretty cold, and I was afraid my autumn fly- 

 fishing would not be a success; besides, I did not know 

 the ground, never having fished there or in that vicinity. 

 Horace had told me where to go and where to fish, and I 

 depended on his information to find the spot. I never 

 had gone out fly-fishing so lite in the autumn, especially 

 when the nuts were falling, as I had an idea tnat the 

 frost would make the water too cold for bass to rise well. 

 After a 30 minute ride and the cars stopping at the sta- 

 tion, I alighted, put my rod together, hung my line and 

 arranged a cast — two bass flies on a six-foot leader. 



The station of Middletown Ferry is in the woods near 

 the river bank; the town consists of one very small two- 

 story frame dwelling house. Al Stoner and his wife, 

 with two kids, two ducks (they did have three one time; 

 Al blames the railroad for killing the other one): they 

 also bad seven chickens. These all reside at Middletown 

 Ferry. Al is agent, station keeper, porter and assistant 

 ferryman. His wire assists him, and also keeps a store 

 for the sale of cigars and stick candy, gathers chestnuts 

 and hickory nuts, scolds the kids, pitches into Al, and 

 from what we could learn makes things so hot about the 

 station that a stove or a fire is useless. The next house is 

 about a mile away across the mountain, and tbe moun- 

 tain begins within 30 ft. of the house. Al is a good fisher- 

 man, and may good luck go with him. 



After getting things into shape, giving the wading 

 boots an extra bitch, I started east along the shore, at 

 tbe same time taking in the surroundings. I was then in 

 York county, Pa. Hill Island was off to my left, about 

 300yds. away; this island is only an island when the water 

 in the river is 4 or 5ft. above low-water mark. When the 

 water is low, as it was that day, the island is connected 

 with the York county shore on its west side for a mile or 

 more by ridges of shelving rocks and boulders of granite, 

 ! limestone, slate, etc. Pools of water are scattered here 

 ' and there in the low places, some 30yds. across, others 



3ft., and there is only enough water trickling through 

 and among these rocks to keep the pools from becoming 

 stagnant: in fact these rocks and shelving are a dam from 

 the shore to the island, and there is all the time two rocks 

 to one water all the way down for a mile, Now, H. had 

 said that it was in these pools he had caught the bass, 

 and some very large sunfish, that is, large sunfish for tbis 

 section of the country. Soon after getting among the 

 pools I began casting (always believe in keeping my line 

 wet), and soon had arise; it proved to be a baby bass, and. 

 unhooking him carefully, 1 dropped him back, bade him 

 good bye, advised him to grow large quickly, and started 

 for another pool. Well, I traveled on. sometimes wading, 

 sometimes walking on dry rocks, casting here and there, 

 and in nearly all the pools would catch two or three small 

 bass 6 or 8in. long; once in a large pool I caught two sun- 

 fish; one was too wee to keep, tho other was a dandy, 

 about tlb. in weight, and, as I am fond of sunfish fried, 

 I dropped that fellow in my creel. The walking among, 

 over and about the boulders was very tiresome, and a 

 long-handled landing net which I carried came in good 

 play frequently to prevent a fall. I had to look out for 

 sharp-pointed shelvings, as they are death to gum boots. 



After a long walk I came to a place where there were 

 signs of an opening, that is, two waters to one rock, and 

 couid see below and further down the river and that 

 several channels and open water led among the boulders 

 and grass patches to the main water below. Then Hill 

 Island began to look as if it really were an island; above 

 it looked like part of the mainland. Looking over this 

 water I came to the conclusion that here if any place the 

 bass were lying, but even then had poor hopes of enticing 

 any of tbem out of their lurking places. The sun was 

 shining, but there was a cool northwest wind blowing on 

 my back. I waded in the water going south, looking 

 out for deep holes and casting right and left as I ad- 

 vanced; had. several rises, hung a few sunfish and small 

 bass within a distance of 40yds., dropped all but one sun- 

 fish back again, cautioning each one to be careful with 

 the next fly he attempted to take. Soon I came to a grass 

 patch, or rather a mud patch, the gra33 was all dead, 

 went over it about 30ft. to the lower edge, took in 

 the surroundings again, and then began to scold H, It 

 was a good thing for him that he was not there. I rather 

 think his ear burned him about that time. I believe now 

 that I thought pretty loud that any fellow who said there 

 were bass to be caught at Hill Island didn't know enough 

 about fishing to bait a hook. Twenty minutes after I 

 thought those thoughts out loud, as it were, I took them 

 all back and thought (out loud again) yes, he does, he 

 knows enough to bait two hooks. 



Well, I must not get ahead of my story. After stand- 

 ing on the lower edge of the weed patch for a few min- 

 utes, almost willing to give up the battle, hesitating to 

 start in to wade, as the water looked deep and uninviting. 

 The water was open for fully 300yds. below, only about a 

 dozen boulders with their heads out of water, bunches of 

 dead grass and moss sticking out of the water and lying 

 on top, no current to speak of, and a general desolate 

 look. But at last I started in, going slow, avoiding the 

 too deep places, tiptoeing at times across others; did not 

 want the water to run into the upper end of my boots; a 

 wetting that day would have been very unpleasant. I 

 made my way down, casting in front, to the right and left, 

 until I had gone about four rods, and was standing near 

 a large square and flat rock on top: it was on my right. I 

 had turned to cast over this rock and. dropped my flies 

 beyond it and at the edge of some dead grass, near what 

 I supposed was some deeper water, when— zip! swish! a 

 vicious rush was made out of the grass by some big fish: 

 but he missed the stretcher at which he had taken offense. 

 On, ho! I thought (yes, I guess I thought out loud again. 

 Fisherman reader, did you ever catch yourself talking 

 to the only fellow that was about when you were alone? 

 That was my fix that time), here is the place Horace 

 meant. I also thought, here they are, or at least one of 

 them, and here I stay until I get that daisy in my creel. 



To give him a rest the next cast I made was further to 

 my left, and my flies had hardly struck the water when, 

 swish, bang, boom, two, three, may be six, I don't know 

 how many bass rose and tried to get those two flies; the 

 water boiled, and when the steam from the boiling water 

 had evaporated, or at least blown away, I found I 

 had my hands full; two bass had succeeded in bang- 

 ing themselves, one on each fly, and I believe if I had put 

 six flies on the leader six bass would have hung there. 

 Each of these two had a different notion as to where he 

 ought to go to get rid of his fly. It wasn't thefly as much 

 as the hook that had been concealed under those gaudy 

 feathers and silk. The bottom was mossy and full of de- 

 cayed grass; they buried their Jtoses in the grass, jumped 

 out of the water, and had quite an acrobatic performance, 

 their companions and myself being the audience, and I 

 can assure you that I had a little circus of my own before 

 getting them into the landing net. They weighed 1-Jlbs. 

 each by my pocket scales before placing them in the 

 creel. I was using a 7oz. split bamboo, which made the 

 fight so much more interesting than if I had used a 

 heavier rod . 



Getting my line stretched out again I cist over that 

 hole again, and took another right away; two rose, but 

 only one got the fly. 1 took six or eight out of that hole, 

 one time catching two at once. Notwithstanding that 

 the first fellow who had made that vicious rush when 1 

 first cast into the pool had sufficient rest, I made a cast 

 right over where he was likely to be lurking, and sure 

 enough he had been waiting on the gaudy fly all the time, 

 and he rose again, just acting as he did before and missed; 

 I did not feel him strike. Recovering the line quickly 

 and casting again about tbe same place the rascal made 

 such a rush for the dropper that after getting the fly in 

 his mouth he came out of the water toward me fully a 

 foot, falling in the dead grass, going to the bottom in 

 about 3ft. of water, and you bet I had a time to get him 

 out. I was using an automatic reel and recovered the 

 slack at once, but had to pull him out of the grass by 

 main force; but he was well hooked. He weighed there 

 and then two ounces less than 21bs., and was a beauty. 

 I then mounted the rock, the top being about Sin. above 

 the water, and contiuupd casting from there. In a little 

 while I had packed my creel full, several times catching 

 two at once and landing botb. Several times, however, 

 one would get off, and several times I would miss the 

 fish after getting them almost into the net. After the 

 creel was full I waded back to the mud patch, emptied 

 the creel and put the fish;on a Btringer. I had a stringer 

 in the creel, but the fish being on top of it and no place 



