288 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



LOcT. 6, 1892. 



A CAMPER'S DIARY.— V. 



Camp on the Forks, Aug. 39.— There's a weather- 

 beaten board nailed to the -white birch that leans from 

 the bluff and overhangs the canoes at moorings, and the 

 letters, getting obliterated, still spell Camp Indepen- 

 dence, so I suppose our mail should be so addressed. 

 Sam and Mack are gone off. Valentine and I are keep- 

 ing camp. The sun's out hot over everything and all the 

 available rocks and bushes are disguised under blankets 

 and clothing. The camp is swept and garnished. 



Trouble commenced this morning after breakfast with 

 Sam lingering so long over the pi-ovision box. As a rule, 

 his hand goes knowingly among a promiscuous lot of 

 cans, bottles and jars till a deft shake identifies the con- 

 tents, but to-day he looks up and says "A sugar famine!" 

 Then petulantly," You needn't look at me about it, either, 

 look at him. You heard me tell him forty times not to 

 use so much 'n' you all heard what he said. Said he liked 

 to hear it crunch. Hm'mh!" 



We all looked at Mack, but Mack didn'fc look at any- 

 one in particular. You could see by the expression that 

 he was about to say four or Ave things at once, but the 

 result was he said nothing. Finally the expedition was 

 organized to go down the trail to Parmachenee and try 

 the camp for sugar; so Sam went to the river to scrub 

 his teeth, and Mack went inside to fix up. Sam was loath 

 to go "on account of Private Camp. Have to burn a signal 

 on the shore or fire a gun for them to come down with a 

 boat," but I told him my Guide of the Knapsack had left 

 his boat somewhere near the carry and take that. When 

 we looked in the tent Mack was seated tailorwise on the 

 boughs with his pants in his lap and a big needle. He 

 was whistling and beating time with the big needle. 



Aug. 30. —Evening, by candle light. After the expedi- 

 tion had moved yesterday, Valentine said he knew where 

 Sam had got that string of fish, the very spot, just round 

 the bend a few paddles from camp, so he built up his rod 

 and got out the flies. Valentine never handled a rod till 

 this trip, but you wouldn't suspect it fx'om the way he 

 pored over that book, pondering and rejecting. Finally 

 I said: "What fly you looking for, Val?" He took plenty 

 of time in answering, and said "I'm looking for the one 

 that seems the least indigestible." So he disappeared 

 round the bend in the Birch Bark, He hadn't been gone 

 long when I heard a sound 



Sept. 6. — At home. The last three or four days of 

 camping were too crowded for diary keeping, so these 

 thoughts now will be rpcoUections that come back. 



That "sound" 1 heard came from the direction of the 

 spot where Valentine was invisible on the river. I lis- 

 tened intently, but it wasn't repeated, and I decided it 

 was about the kind of a noise I should make if 1 were 

 tipping over a canoe and splashing, so I moved up the 

 bank to a point where I could look off— and saw a man's 

 head above the surface of one of the deepest pools in the 

 cold, placid Little Magrallo way. It came out afterward, 

 the rod rolled overboard and sunk while he was di-opping 

 the anchor, and he looked over the side where she went. 

 He says, "That Birch Bark's meaner than the devil's 

 wife." 



The boys came back that night with sugar, and Mack 

 was full of enthusiasm. "Beautiful lake. Fine camp. 

 Danforth building a house boat to take to Florida this 

 winter and run up in the rivers and shoot game. Take 

 boarders, you know." Val says: "Any petticoats on 

 the piazza, Mack?" Mack looked reproof. "Don't say 

 petticoats, Val. Ask me if I saw any does. Yes, one. 

 And a big guide with a glass and a long range gun. 

 Lucky .Jeff didn't get up there with his bait." 



Sept. 7. — This comes to me. On the way down the 

 carry from Aziscohos Falls toward Flint's, stumbling 

 down the mountain road behind the wagon, we met my 

 Guide of the Knapsack coming back. We had hand shak- 

 ing and introductions till the mountain wagon got small 

 in the distance, and then I said "good bye," and said I 

 should see him again sometime, and Mack gave him a 

 grip and a smile and said, "Good-bye, old man; see 

 y'again next year," and Sammy said, "Good-bye. old 

 man," also, and said he should see him again, and Valen- 

 tine stepped up more cordially than I ever had seen him. 

 Valentine's apt to be rather impressed, and he sm iled, too, 

 and said: "Well, good-bye my dear boy, you'll never see 

 me again." 



Sepd. iO.— Met a mutual friend on the street to-day. 

 He looked quizzical and said he'd been talking to Valen- 

 tine about camping. Valentine told him he had read 

 about camping, and there was a glamor on it, but he said 

 the glamor was all worn off. He said the worst of it was 

 in the tent at night, jumbled up with other fellows, ill- 

 bred, they were, though he used to think differently. 

 There was too much confusion, he said, with everybody 

 wanting some one else to tie up the tent and put out the 

 candle, and to take his feet off their blanket, and to lean 

 on his own supper, and all that sort of thing. He said 

 the thermometer fell twenty-five degrees every night, 

 and in the morning his shoes were extremely cold. And 

 when he went outside to look for breakfast there was 

 nothing but cold stones and a cold mist rolling off the 

 river, and cold dew on the bushes, and on the grass, and 

 on his shoes. And generally the fellow whose turn it 

 was came out mumbling and grumbling about somebody 

 getting some wood, and said he couldn't do it "all," It 

 was then he made the remark about the glamor being 

 gone. 



* * * * Mack started in with a supply of toothpicks 

 captured at the last hotel, but they gave out, and he nest 

 appeared with a slirer with a good thick handle like a 

 marlin spike. Each day the point was whittled again 

 and it went back to his pocket. 



* * * * The camp was not devoid of objects of interest. 

 Valentine led us out one day and showed us, first, a rasp- 

 berry bush in full bearing, growing from a decaying 

 stump as from a flower pot, Then he took us to the edge 

 of the bluff and pointed over the river to a great dead 

 tree that loomed far above the woods, with a few gaunt 

 branches arranged against the sky in spirited fashion. 

 It was classical, he said, and the topmost branches were 

 statuary. We all guessed, but no one could see till he 

 told xiB, and then it was plain enough. Mercury on tip- 

 toe. He said there was one more; so he took us back a 

 little through the woods and stopped, A big boulder had 

 been riven in ancient times into thre* slabs tha t now stood 



leaning against each other in confusion. A mountain 

 ash had taken life in a sod on top and sent its roots down 

 a tortuous way among the rocks looking for earth. The 

 sapling grew lusty and the roots got strong and held the 

 rooks bound tight. That was all we saw until Valentine 

 said "Laocoon," and then we could see the three Greeks 

 being crushed in lithe, soft, strong, supple, python folds. 



* * * * Well, this is what I think of cam^jing: A man 

 lives in town awhile, where the ground is concreted to 

 the tread, and his friends are gloved to the touch and 

 everything coated with varnish, and at last there is a 

 vacation and he takes to the woods. He rejects a cedar 

 boat, it must be a birch bark, weather beaten and well 

 mended, and tbe paddle must be water worn. He makes 

 a fire and eats food that works his jaws hard and taates 

 of grit. He wants his clothes to get wet and dry on him, 

 and have weeds and sand in his trousers where they turn 

 up at the bottom. He cleans fish and swings an ax and 

 gets pitch and blisters on his hands. He wears no socks 

 and gets some small excitement watching the vicissi- 

 tudes of his shoes, soaking by day and toasting by night, 

 to crack and curl up and let his toes be visible. The first 

 day out he wets a toot and it passes for a calamity, but 

 afterward he gets acquainted with the rain and river and 

 takes note of the spirit of evolution that was latent. He 

 becomes amphibious. By and by he realized there is no 

 post-office and no mail; thei'e are no sounds of discontent 

 from the outside world at his absence, and he gets jealous 

 and goes home. 



It's medicinal and there's just hardship enough so that 

 the clerk or sedentary man, sullen with his lot, goes back 

 as if to a life of ease. His two weeks' vacation seemed 

 like four. He wanted to come, he would like to stay, and 

 yet he's willing to go home. Jefferson Scribe, 



THE FULTON CHAIN. 



The collection of lakes in northern New York known 

 as the Fulton Chain, are included in the old "Brown 

 Tract," and are part and parcel of the Adirondack sys- 

 tem. For a long period this region has been a favorite 

 hunting and fishing ground to numbers of sportsmen, 

 but it is not as generally known as other parts of the 

 Adirondacks, as the former difficulties which existed of 

 visiting it have deterred many from making the attempt. 

 By the recent construction by Dr. Webb of the Adiron- 

 dack Railroad, this beautiful portion of our State is now 

 rendered easy of access not only to the sportsmen but 

 also to the earnest seeker of health, or the eager searcher 

 of the charms of nature. 



The old wooden railway which ran from Booneville, and 

 once afforded the means of access to the tract, is now 

 relegated to the past, and its fast decaying tracks now 

 serve DO other purpose, save by their presence to bear 

 silent witness that they were once active factors and per- 

 formed their part in this busy age. 



The journey to the Fulton Chain will be a very pleas- 

 ant one when the new road gets fairly in working order, 

 and some degree of system inaugurated, but at present 

 the management are merely wasting money in printing 

 time tables since there is not the slightest effort made to 

 run the trains on schedule time, and everything is con- 

 ducted in a happy go lucky manner. The passengers 

 get on the cars ac Herkimer, and drift with more or less 

 — generally more — stoppages, until in course of time they 

 finally find themselves lodged high and dry at Fulton 

 Chain, 



Notwithstanding these drawbacks, however, our party 

 of three, which made the journey in August last, found 

 our tedious way enlivened by many interesting features. 

 The night was well advanced when we finally left Rem- 

 sen, the point of transfer for all passengers bound on the 

 Adirondack Railroad, and as we crawled along through 

 the darkness we passed many railroad camps which were 

 still occupied, the ruddy glare of whose camp-fires, with 

 the forms of the inmates forming silhouettes against the 

 light, were picturesque in the extreme, while the black 

 forests whicli seemed to enfold us in their embrace sug- 

 gested strongly the remoteness of civilization. Occa- 

 sionally the headlight of the engine would suddenly glint 

 upon the surface of some gloomy tarn, or softly murmur- 

 ing stream, all of which added to the wild, romantic 

 beauty of the scene we were passing through, and did 

 much to atone for the vexatious and apparently intermin- 

 able delays we were subjected to. By daylight this route 

 presents also many charming features, since the natural 

 attractions of the region traversed by this road are very 

 striking, and as the train plunges into the dense forests, 

 slowly climbs the steep mountains, follows the course of 

 laughing, rippling streams, or runs through deeply 

 wooded glens, the traveler never loses interest in the 

 scenes presented to his eye, but is afforded a constant and 

 varied aspect of nature in all her charming or solemn 

 moods, which create unalloyed wonder or delight. 



We arrived at the station named Fulton Chain some- 

 where toward midnight, where we left the train and 

 staged it, a mile or so, to the Forge House, on First Lake, 

 the first of tbe Fulton Chain. "Here we found a well- 

 built, comfortable-appearing and commodious hostelry, 

 where we fondly hoped to find peace and comfort. In 

 this we were grievously disappointed. The situation of 

 this hotel is admii-able and possesses many natural attrac- 

 tions, which would inevitably make it a favorite resort 

 and command a most lucrative custom were it not for the 

 fact that the hotel is badly managed. 



The State has a well managed hatchery at Old Forge, 

 where many thousands of fry are annually turned out. 

 The courteous superintendent, Mr. Marks, is always will- 

 ing to impart all information desired, and show the vis- 

 itors around his well appointed quarters, and exhibit to 

 them his lusty and large spawners, which are kept in a 

 fine spring a short distance from the main hatchery. 



We hare spoken of the natural attractions possessed by 

 Old Forge. Not the least of these is the central position 

 it occupies in regard to the fishing or hunting grounds, 

 and also from its situation, it is the starting point for the 

 various routes by which one may penetrate this region. 

 Then a most delightful trip, and one which will linger 

 pleasantly in the memory, can be made in the little 

 steamer which makes a daily run from First Lake to the 

 head of Fourth Lake and return. The boat leaves Old 

 Forge about 10 o'clock, and as it passes from lake to lake 

 rounds the cover and bays, or winds in and out some 

 narrow inlet, the eye at one moment drinks in all the 

 effects produced by the primeval grandness of the scenery, 

 and in another there breaks upon tbe vision one of those 

 pretty camps, with campers grouped around, which are 



here and there scattered along the route, on the shores or 

 islands. All of which goes to produce a grand panorama, 

 which is spread out before the visitor in all its charming 

 variation of nature and art, civilization and wildiess, at 

 every turn. The voyage ends at the head of Fourth 

 Lake, where a stop of an hour or so is made, during 

 which an opportunity is afforded of partaking of a most 

 excellent dinner at a bouse newly built, where fine trout 

 capitally cooked and served, with all the table appoint- 

 ments neat as wax, are by no means the least attractive 

 features of the bill of fare. This is also an excellent 

 objective point for the fisherman, as in the spring trout 

 without number can be taken with the fly within a stone s 

 throw of the house, and at all seasons a fair creel cah be 

 obtained from waters in the immediate vicinity. 



After a pipe or two and pleasant ramble through the 

 forest to aid digestion, the whistle signals all aboard, and 

 Old Forge is again reached about 4 in the afternoon. 



Next season a larger and speedier vessel will supplant 

 the one in use at present on the lakes, and arrangements 

 perfected whereby a thoroughfare will be opened up from 

 First Lake to Raquette Lake. Repairs will be made on 

 all the "carries" between Fourth Lake and Fifth, Fifth 

 and Sixth, Sixth and Seventh, Seventh and Eighth lakes, 

 and between Eighth Lake and the Raquette River, so 

 that all baggage may be easily transported: while it is 

 also contemplated to place steamers on the smaller lakes 

 of the chain, to add to the comfort and increase the facili- 

 ties of the route. By these means an easy way will be 

 afforded to all to enjoy a delightful trip through the 

 entire beautiful Fulton Chain and then down to Raquette 

 Lake. 



During our stay we found some excelleht fishing for 

 that late season of the year. One morning Phil, Mac and 

 I started down the Middle Moose, and after rowing about 

 a quarter of a mile, beached our boat and made a mile 

 and a half carry over to the North Branch of the Moose. 

 We fished down this stream to the confluence of tbe two 

 branches, carefully whipping each spring hole and the 

 point of inlet of all tributary streams. As the day was 

 very clear, we found about noon that the trout were no 

 longer disposed to investigate feathers, and so we ascended 

 tiie Middle Moose again and repaired to the Forge House 

 for dinner. We had made a very fair creel of trout, 

 averaging a little less than one-half a pound, and though 

 we possessed no large record breakers, yet considering the 

 day and the lateness of the season, we were perfectly con- 

 tented with our morning's work, and felt at peace with 

 God and men. In the spring or early summer, and with 

 the water in proper condition, the sport upon the famous 

 Moose must be good indeed. 



In the afternoon we bade farewell to the Old Forge, 

 and packing up our duflie once more embarked upon 

 river and directed our course toward Wheeler's, some 

 eight miles down on the Moose. Although we faithfully, 

 whipped each likely and unlikely spot on our way, yet no. 

 success rewarded our efforts after leaving the point of 

 junction of the two branches of the Moose. I am per- 

 suaded that the poorest fishing on the river is the vicinity 

 of Wheeler's, due entirely, in my opinion, to the fact that 

 for some miles the river has been raised considerably by 

 a dam, erected in the time <)f the wooden road, for the 

 purpose of making that part of the stream navigable for 

 the old red propeller which carried passengers from 

 Moose River, the terminus of the road, to the point of de- 

 barkation for the Fulton Chain. 



Wheeler's is in the highest degree primitive, and 

 although he does the best with the means at hif command 

 to make his guests comfortablCj yet a stay there is most 

 thoroughly "roughing it." It is undoubtedly a capital 

 headquarters in the hunting season, but from our experi- 

 ences there I do not .believe it to be a good locality for 

 trout. 



The red-letter day of our sojourn in the woods was our 

 last, and Nick's Lake, of pious memory, was the author 

 of all our pleasure. This lake, which is the property of a 

 Mrs. .Julia DeCamp, is reached by a carry of a mile and a 

 half from the Moose, and is a perfect gem of beauty. On 

 all sides the heavy forest comes down to the water's edge 

 and seems to enfold it in its embrace as if fearing lest 

 stranger eyes should gaze upon its virgin beauty. The 

 pretty islands, numberless coves, wooded headlands and 

 broad bays all add to the attractiveness of the scene, and 

 cause the visitant to feast his eyes in rapture upon the 

 picture spread out before him, whose "builder and maker 

 was God." 



We did not arrive on the lake until nearly 10 o'clock, 

 and although the sky was clear, yet during the few 

 hours spent in fishing, we landed at least 300 trout, all of 

 which except some thirty of the largest, reserved for sup- 

 per and breakfast at Herkimer, were returned alive to 

 the water. So wildly beautiful was that sparkling lake, 

 embowered among the grim old Adirondack forest, and 

 so delightful were the hours spent along its shores that 

 we unanimously determined to put in a week's camping 

 on its borders next year. But the old adage that "man 

 proposes," etc., has again come true in this case, for we 

 understand that the owner has posted the premises, and 

 the fishing will be no longer free. As Mrs. DeCamp has 

 hitherto been very kind in throwing open her property 

 to the sportsmen, her present unexpected action is proba- 

 bly due to some abuse of privilege, and thus the inno- 

 cent must suffer for the acts of the guilty. It has been 

 said "'tis better to have loved and lost than never to have 

 loved at all." and so we all feel that it is better for us to 

 have seen Nick's Lake, although it is now lost to us, than 

 never to have gazed upon its limpid waters. 



The flies we found most successful were the Proctor, 

 split-ibis, brown-hackle, Reuben-Wood and the black-fly. 

 The Adirondack region is the only section I have ever 

 fished where the same fly can be depended upon for kill- 

 ing qualities year after year. Twenty years ago, on my 

 first visit to those woods, the brown-hackle was an all- 

 around favorite, and each succeeding visit finds it still 

 holding its supremacy. Flies may come and flies may 

 go, but the brown-hackle lives on forever. 



The chances for good sport with the deer, in the Ful- 

 ton Chain and vicinity, should be excellent this season, 

 since their fresh tracks were often seen upon the sandy 

 shores of lake and stream, and late one afternoon during 

 our stay at the Forge House, in fuU view of all the 

 guests, a deer stole safely from the forest glades, and 

 for nearly half an hour fearlessly waded and fed along 

 the margin of the lake. It was, indeed, a scene fit for 

 the brush of a painter. There stretched away the lake, 

 with its waters smooth as glass, shimmering "in the sun's 

 departing beams, and mirroring on its surface the moun- 



