Aug. 4, 18§1:1 



FOHEST AND STREAM. 



98 



DAYS WITH CANADIAN TROUT. 



I HAD lonff been anticipating a trout fishing expedition 

 to tlie Canadian lakes and rivers north of Quebec, when 

 on the fifteenth of June last I received a note from my 

 good friend and fellow sportsman, Mr. A. L , of Quebec, 

 saying that he had learned from parties just in from the 

 woods that the trout were taking the fly well and were of 

 large size, and that I had better n'oin him at once. I im- 

 mediately made my plans to leave New York on the fol- 

 lowing Saturday, overhaul my fly-book, rods and tackle, 

 and on Saturday evening took the night train for Montreal. 



Monday wag' clear and beautiful, and as I had never 

 seen the quaint old city of Quebec, L. iosisted that I must 

 remain there that day, at least, which was spent in driv- 

 ing about the most unique city on the Western Continent, 

 completing our preparations for our trip and in conferr- 

 ing with N. Tacbe. the Comraiasioner of Crown Lands 

 for the Province of Quebec, regarding the large number 

 of lease-hold properties acquired by Americams during 

 the past few years in the Pmvinc* of Quebec for shooting 

 and fishing purposes. N. Tache, who has held his pres- 

 ent position for many years and whom I found a most 

 courteous and cultivated gentleman, informed me that it 



are the largest in L.'s preserve, although it contains 

 altogether about 100 lakes. But, "Man proposes, etc.," 

 the rain again began, and on overhauling our traps we 

 found, as we supposed, that the fresh meat had gone on 

 in the train to Lake Sfc John, sixty or seventy miles away. 

 There was nothing to do but pitch the tent, send Martel 

 on a long and weary tramp of fourteen miles up the rail- 

 road to the nearest telegraph station, at Lake Ed ward, 

 where he could wire to L'lke St. John and have the meat 

 brought back on the train when it returned that night. 



While old Marasse pitched the tent and kindled the 

 fire, L. and I covered our faces and hands with a good 

 glaze of tar and pennyroyal, for the rain made the flies 

 troublesome, and taking my light rod I put on a cast 

 especially prepared for L, by our good friend Wakeman 

 Holberton, a yellow fly whose name I do not know, a 

 Parmachenee-belle and a silver doctor, and despite the 

 rain I stood on the bank of the river which just below 

 our camp flowed quietly by after a long rapid, and made 

 a cast. My flies had no sooner touched the water than I 

 had a fine strike, and brought in two half-pound trout, 

 one on the silver doctor and one on the yellow fly. I 

 fished the remainder of the afternoon right in the same 

 spot, and rarely if ever failed to bring in one trout and 



the intensely blue sky and moderated the excessive heat 

 of the sun. The lakes seemed like emeralds set in still 

 darker emerald frames, and there was no sound save the 

 mocking laugh of the loon. As the sun was too hot for 

 fishing on the lakes, we camped for an hour or more on a 

 grassy point, while Marasse cooked us a delightful lunch. 

 This over, an hour's paddling brought us to the beautiful 

 rapids where the Lake of the Three Caribou and the Lac 

 du Biscuit discharged into Lao de la Croix. Here I left 

 the canoe, and putting on a small piece of pork in the 

 place of the silver-doctor, but retaining the Parmachenee 

 and yellow-fly, I cast in the roughest part of the rapids, 

 A three-quarter-pounder rewarded my first cast, and for 

 an hour 1 had superb sport. L., seated in his canoe on 

 the opposite side of the rapids, looked on approvingly, 

 every now and then reeling: in a large fish himself while 

 Martel and Abelard handled the landing-net for me, and 

 old Marasse and his companion, for a new guide, Pierre 

 Jean, had joined us, looked on with suppressed excite- 

 ment. The lengthening shadows at last told us we must 

 start for home, but we found we had over 30 magnificent 

 fish, and this compensated us for the disappointments of 

 the preceding days. 

 The paddle home of fifteen miles was simply delightful. 



was the policy of the Canadian G-overnment to encourage 

 the formation of sportsmen's clubs in northeastern 

 Canada, that the 0-overnment were convinced these clubs 

 protected the game, and brought a desirable class of 

 people into the territory, many of whom became inves- 

 tors, and that while no long leases could be granted, 

 those that are now in force would always be renewed or 

 payment made for all improvements that the clubs had 

 made during their term 'of occupancy. A delightful 

 lunch at the Garrison Club was also one of the features 

 of the day. 



Monday morning dawned cold and gloomy with a 

 strong northeast wind and every sign of rain, but we 

 started off gaily at 8 A. M. on the day train on the Quebec 

 & Lake St. John Railway. We had with us two tents, an 

 abundance, as we thought, of provisions, including an 

 assortment of sekcted fresh meat and a small retriever 

 spaniel. Our objective point was a little spot known as 

 "The Bakery," on the railroad, about a hundred miles 

 north of Quebec, and the four hours' ride to this point 

 was one of the most beautiful railway rides I have ever 

 taken. We passed the village of Indian Lorette, where 

 a hundred descendants of the Huron tribe live, and it 

 was interesting to see the numerous moose and caribou 

 skins, which these Indians tan, hung out in rows on poles 

 around each little house. At the French-Canadian village 

 of St, Raymond, forty-five miles from Quebec, we took 

 on the train one of our guides — Martel. From this point 

 the railroad runs almost due north along the bank of the 

 Batiscan River, one of the wildest and most picturesque 

 of mountain streams imaginable, and although the long- 

 threatening rain had now begun to descend in torrents, 

 we enjoyed the scenery, wild beyond expression, to the 

 fullest extent. Suddenly the train stopped. I could see 

 nothing but woods around and an abandoned log hut on 

 one side of the track. 



"Here we are at the Bakery," said L., and we alighted, 

 our traps were put off, and with calls of farewell from 

 passengers and train crew the train moved off and left 

 us in the wilderness. An old French Canadian and a 

 young boy now came up and greeted us. These were 

 Jean Marasse, known through the country side as one of 

 the best bush cooks and an expert guide, and little 

 Abelard, the fourteen-year-old son of Martel, who had 

 joined us at St. Raymond. The rain had now ceased for 

 awhile, and shouldering our traps we plunged into the 

 woods, and after a short walk of a quarter of a mile 

 reached the bank of the Batiscan River, where we found 

 two birch-bark canoes and where we had intended start- 

 ing at once in these canoes for the great lakes Des Passes 

 and Batiscan, about ten miles to the eastward, and which 



'•STEADY! " 

 From a Photogp.aph bt Mb. O. E, H. Brislspohd, 

 (Forest and Stream Amateur Photography Competitioa.) 



more often two at each cast. Toward the sunset hour, 

 although it was still raining heavily, I had Jean Marasse 

 paddle me in a canoe to the foot of the rapids above men- 

 tioned, where, although I was wet to the skin in the 

 almost tropical rain, I forgot it all in the excitement of 

 the sport, as I killed at least ten or twelve large trout. 

 Returning to camp I found L. awaiting me with a steam- 

 ing cup of tea, some good salt pork and some of the trout 

 I had caught in the afternoon. 



The night was a dreary one; as it rained constantly we 

 were glad when the morning dawned, although it only 

 brought gray skies and Martel, who had returned to say 

 that the meat was not on the train. After breakfast I 

 fished a rapid lower down the Batiscan with good suc- 

 cess, but as the rain still continued , and as we knew it 

 would take half a day to reach the Big Lakes, and I had 

 to be back to New York on Saturday, we struck camp at 

 3, and returning to the railroad boarded a freight train 

 which took us, traps, canoes and all, three miles further 

 north to the little station known as Skr Oder's Mill, where 

 we found a neat little frame house, clean as wax, and a 

 thrifty little housekeeper, the wife of Section Master 

 Colombe, who gave us good cheer and good beds, Thurs- 

 day, the last day of my stay, dawned clear and beautiful, 

 and at 4.30 A. M. I started with Martel and Abelard to 

 portage over the mountain opposite Skroder's to the almost 

 unknown Lac des Cotaux. A short paddle across the 

 river to the opposite bank from Skroder's, a carry of half 

 a mile up the mountain on one side and half a mile down 

 on the other, brought us to the lake— one of the most 

 beautiful sheets of water I ever saw. It was about five 

 miles long by an average of half a mile in breadth, sur- 

 rounded by hills, thickly covered with hemlock and stud- 

 ded with little islands, and best evidence of its remote- 

 ness, these islands were covered with the nests of wild 

 ducks and sea gulls, who flew shrilly calling around our 

 heads, fearful lest we should disturb their setting mates. 

 We paddled the whole length of the lake and back, but 

 the morning was too hot, and the trout would not rise to 

 my casts, nor would they take trolling a small piece of 

 pork cut in shape of a minnow. Two lovely twin islands 

 at the head of the lake I named Abelard and Heloise, for 

 my young companion. 



Carrying over the portages again to Skroder's we found 

 that L. had left two hours earlier for the waters of Lac 

 de la Croix, where he expected us to join him. After a 

 short rest we started, and after two short portages and a 

 long, delightful paddle up the Batiscan River, through 

 the Lac du Riviere into the Lac de la Croix, we reached 

 ifcs upper end and found L. awaiting us. The day was 

 superb. Great masses of white, fleecy clouds rolled over 



Long reaches of river and crystal lakes succeeded eacn 

 other. We shot the rapids that we had portaged over in 

 going up and reached Skroder's at nine o'clock P. M. , 

 wearied in body but joyful in spirit. At midnight we 

 took the train for Quebec, reaching there early Friday 

 morning, Saturday morning saw me in Montreal and 

 Saturday night in New York, making a week filled with 

 delightful incidents and one which will ever dwell in my 

 memory from the sport it afforded me and the delightful 

 hospitality that I received. 



My experience and my trip showed me conclusively 

 these lakes and streams between Quebec and the head 

 waters of the Saguenay at Lake Sfc. John are the Adiron- 

 dacks of the future. The soil of the country does not per- 

 mit of successful cultivation, and all the section for hun- 

 dreds of miles is now taken up by clubs, who are obliged, 

 under their leases, to properly protect their holdings from 

 poachers. The tract belonging to L., which I fished and 

 which is called the Grande Batiscan, is for instance, 

 twenty-five miles long by thirty wide, and is a virgin 

 wilderness. As can be seen from my experience, its 

 waters team with large brook trout (Salrno fontindlis) 

 only, while in its pathless woods the moose and caribou 

 roam in good numbers. I can see no reason why the 

 ouaniniche or landlocked salmon of Lake St, John, only 

 sixty miles north, cannot be propagated in the rapid 

 waters of this and the other tracts surrounding it, and 

 Mr. Greenough, of Boston, who has made a study of the 

 matter, tells me that they can. To the west of the Batis- 

 can lies the St. Maurice Club, at Lake Edward on its 

 northwestern boundary is the Paradise Fin and Feather 

 Club, while the Metabetchuan Club bounds it on the east. 

 This whole region, through the new Quebec and Lake St. 

 John railway can now be reached within fi-om twenty- 

 four to twenty-six hours from New York city, and I ad- 

 vise any of my fellow readers of Forest and Stream who 

 are fond of and want to be sure of good trout fishing and 

 deer shooting, to get into one of these clubs of the 

 Province of Quebec as soon as possible. As I have before 

 said, the territory is the Adirondacks of the future, and I 

 may add, in my opinion, of the near future. 



James B. Townsend, 



A Lobster of Record. 



A LOBSTER said to weigh 481bs. was exhibited at Camp- 

 obello. New Brunswick, July 21, 



Shad have been very abundant in Bass River, Notl^ 

 Scotia J 2,800 were caught on a single tide. 



