160 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Aug. 36, 1893. 



MIDSUMMER ON THE MOLALLA. 



"Lazyin' long the grassy bank, 

 Wher' the crick has made 

 . Turnin's in an' out agMn, 

 Huntin' fer the shade; 

 All the sunny afternoon, 



Ef I had my wish, 

 I would never do a lick 

 'Cept ter fish." 



— TT'. J. Lampion in Detroit Free Press. 



The pleasure of absolute indolence is appreciated by 

 none more than by the angler who, for a fortnight of the 

 heated term, lives in llie foj-ests of remote mountains 

 where trout are plenty and where the rules of camp for- 

 bid catching more than can be used. 



My friend Judge Cheney, in a receJit letter, writing of 

 hig outing at Sunapee Lake, said: "I fished, loafed and 

 rested. Did not read a newspaper or write a letter except 

 to my daughter in Europe, and it was as near paradise as. 

 one gets in this world." Kow, the whole angling world 

 knows that Judge Cheney is absolute authority on all 

 mattere pertaining to true angling, and that if there is an 

 anglers' heaven on earth, he can come about as near 

 describing it as the next fellow. These outings are for 

 reci-eation, and if one expects recreation pure and unal- 

 loyed he must d iainiss business, forget his troubles and 

 throw all care to the winds. Artistic fly-casting may, by 

 the exercise of too much energy, shade into a sort of 

 scientific labor, and thereby lose much of its poetry and 

 many of its charms. There's little poetry in perspii-ation 

 and no sentiment in wet stockings. 



Imbued with tliese sentiments our crowd went to the 

 Molalla — the men for trout, the women for berries, and 

 all for a season of quiet camp life and listless inactivity, 

 spiced with just enough trout and berries to keep us good- 

 natured. Tiiere was to be no labor except that which 

 might be necessaiy to meet the demands and fill the re- 

 quirements of a well-regulated mountain camp. We have 

 returned. And now, impartially reviewing the trip, its 

 incidents and results, I feel constrained to say that, as a 

 whole, it was a brilliant illustration of the superiority of 

 man's will power over that of woman's. 



We men, particularly Billy, scarcely deviated a hair's 

 breadth from the original programme, while my wife and 

 her mother gathered and preserved over sixty quarts of 

 berries, besides those necessary for camp, "whicli were no 

 small item, for both Billy and Mead dearly love fresh ber- 

 ries wnth cream and sugar, as well as berry pies. Such an 

 exhibition of energy on such a trip, in the face of those 

 solemn af?severations about rest and recuperation, is dis- 

 agreeable and offensive and should be rebuked. My 

 reason for reproaching her through the columns of FOREST 

 AND Stream, instead of speaking to her privately about 

 the matter, emanate from a philantlii'opic desire to avoid 

 renewing some of 'the scenes in camp which transpired 

 when she returned from the hot berry patch to find us of 

 the sterner sex asleep in the liammocks under the whis- 

 pering firs by the murmuring stream, with no wood in 

 camp. 



I have said that we men kept our lazy lines weU, but 

 that I may not be misunderstood, I would like to add 

 that, of all men of ray acquaintance, Mr. J. Roberts Mead, 

 my accomplice on this occasion, loves to fish the best. 

 As Judge Cheney once said, it is a mild sort of mania 

 with him. The Molalla was never in better condition, 

 the trout were never finer, nor were the environments 

 ever more pleasing and encouraging. Under these cir- 

 cumstances it is an easy matter to imagine how difficult 

 it was for Mead to behave himself and stay in camp after 

 securing all the trout we could use or give away. I wish 

 that "Podgers" could have been with us instead of out on 

 that dry stream "away back in the mountains" in Sonoma 

 county, California, about which he has manifested so 

 much distress in your issue of Aug. 5. "Podgers" is en- 

 titled to better treatment, and I shall never be satisfied 

 until I take him a-Hshin' on some of the pretty mountain 

 streams of Oregon, notwithstanding his prejudices. 



Well, as I was saying, the Molalla was just lovely. Its 

 riffles were barely passable, with a two to one chance that 

 the tumultuous waters would take one's feet from under 

 him, which said condition of said river occasioned many 

 mishaps and ludicrous incidents, very pleasing and enter- 

 taining to him who Avitnessed but did not suffer them. 



For but three or four days did we fish for all there was 

 in it. Even so, and although everybody in camp was re- 

 quired to eat fish, and all the neighboring ranchers were 

 made to feel our generosity to a nauseating extent, we 

 were forced to feed a few nice trout to the hogs. You 

 anglers all know how hard it is to listen to the admo- 

 nitions of conscience when the trout are rising well to the 

 fly. Billy abhors long, tedious trips, and, as a natural 

 consequence, the circumstances afforded him ample op- 

 portunity for berating us for our prodigality, while excus- 

 ing his own indolence and claiming credit for a frugality 

 born of constitutional inertia and consummate laziness. 

 But William is pretty smooth just the same. He would 

 sneak out of camp silently, just as the sun was sinking 

 behind the. western mountains, and then bob up serenely 

 after dark with a half dozen or more 12 or 15in. mountain 

 trout, and as many more 18in. yarns about bloody battles 

 with certain other mountain trout that still remained in 

 certain neighboring pools. But then it takes all this and 

 these to make a happy camp. 



However, in justice to Billy, I must confess that on 

 several occasions we actually caught him in the truth 

 about some of the monsters of the Molalla depths. One 

 night in particular his earnestness and apparent chagrin 

 about the loss of the larger of two giants hooked at one 

 and the same time in the deep pool just below camp, 

 induced Mead to agree to go at dusk the succeeding 

 evening and assist in the capture. The contract, as I 

 remember it, was that Mead should do the fancy work, 

 while Billy was to be the reserve force, supporting the 

 landing net. Imagine my surprise, when on the follow- 

 ing evening they returned to camp just as I was about to re- 

 tire, with a genuine mountain trout weighing nearly Slbs. , 

 besides several other fine fish. My surprise vexed Bill. 



Billy had ten good reasons for not taking any long 

 trips. I remember but two of them; first, it wasn't'neces- 

 sary; tenth, he didn't want to. So it devolved upon Mead 

 and myself to do the artistic work and suffer those hard 

 ships necessary to a proper recognition of the require 

 ments of a camp on the Molalla, while BiUy got up Avood 

 and water- and left the dignity and reputation of the camp 

 to take care of themselves, 



Wednesday of the last week of July Mead and I took a 

 tramp up the South Fork, fished diligently, were re- 

 warded with ten dozen beautiful trout, and were back at 

 camp in time for an early supper. Of course this was no 

 great catch, but the trout were of fair size for mountain 

 trout, and w^efe of -extremely fine quality. There is a 

 dullness and languor about the trout of lakes and sluggish 

 streams, which is never observable in the fish of these cold 

 mountain streams. This is certainly ti'ue with the trout 

 of this west coast. The fish we caught that day would 

 probably average something more than lOin. in length, 

 many of them over a foot; and they all seemed to be 

 bundles of muscle and nerve, affording as good sport and 

 as fine play as any of double the size in sluggish waters. 

 We were forced on several occasions to follow our fish 

 to the second and even the third pool before attempting 

 to land them. The Molalla trout are energy personified, 

 and they are always very hard-meated and most beautiful 

 in color and proportion. 



As an instance of their strength and vigor I must tell 

 one on Mead. He had hooked a 15in. trout, played him 

 out af the pool and back again, felt that he had him, 

 and felt that he had lost him a half dozen times (we were 

 not bothering with landmg nets), and finally got him up 

 on the rocks safely. We measured him, admired him, 

 and Mearl put him in the basket without taking the pre- 

 caution to break his neck. 



Knowing the Molalla ti-out pretty well, I had frequently 

 admonished him to look out for the hole in the top of the 

 basket and keep his elbow over it if nothing more. Well, 

 he proudly put his trout in the basket and stooped down 

 to wash his hands. Presently I observed a sort of spotted 

 agitation on the rocks, over a"t his basket side. "Look at 

 your fish," I yelled. He turned just in time to see Mr. 

 Blackspot on the last rock near the water's edge, and 

 made a vicious grab for him. The trout slipped through 

 his fingers, of couree, and made another flop. As Mead 

 made a lunge for him the trout made another lunge for 

 the deepest part of the pool, and for a moment it was a 

 question in my mind which would get there first. In a 

 twinkling the trout was lost to sight, and presently 

 Mead emerged from the pool, a wetter and a wiser man. 

 He looked at me with a ghastly sort of smile and remarked, 

 "Well I'll be darned." That was the only time lever 

 heard him swear, and I felt that, under the circumstances, 

 he was excusable. 



But the circumstance proved a hoodoo to him. He had 

 no more luck that day. It was one continued string of 

 misfortunes for him until he got back to camp. He be- 

 came morose and a bit ugly. He declined to talk and made 

 his casts in a mechanical sort of way that was offensive to 

 even the fingerlings. Presently he" came to two boulders 

 sitting well out in the turbulent .stream with their bases 

 close together and their crests wide apart, the interspace 

 forming an exaggerated letter V, and the wdiole nearly 

 buried in the foaming w-aters. Nothing would do but that 

 he must perch himself on one of these boulders. Doubtless 

 it was foreordained that he should, for he was out of luck. 

 No sooner had he planted his feet on the smooth, slippery 

 top than his heels flew up and down he went between the 

 two pretty boulders, with his heels on one and his head on 

 the other. 



I was out on the bank and enjoyed the exhibition as 

 much as was consistent with the solemnity of the occa- 

 sion, and without giving vent to any undue hilarity. No 

 one could help him; he couldn't help himself to any great 

 extent. All he could do was to work himself around 

 lengthwise in the trough, turn over on his face and get up 

 as a man should, head first. His six-shootegr, hunting- 

 knife and fly-book were all "in it" along with him, and 

 doubtless the romance of the situation was all lost to him. 

 He had several falls before we reached tbe horses, and 

 then, to add to his misery, his wet clothes proved offensive 

 to his bare-backed cayuse and she was skittish all the way 

 to camp and galled him badly. On this trip we started a 

 bear and saw innumerable tracks of deer and other game 

 but made no attempt to get any. 



Saturday afternoon before our return to Portland we 

 took a trip up the North Fork and captured about eight 

 dozen very fine trout. They were nearly all black-spotted 

 or mountain trout with a sprinkling of rainbows, and 

 would probably .average nearly or quite a foot in length. 

 They were as fine a lot for the number and kind as it has 

 ever been my pleasure to participate in catching. The 

 caddis-worms in both Forks had not yet hatched and 

 were very plentiful, which condition undoubtedly had 

 much to do with the trout abstemiously dechning our 

 pretty flies and seductive casts. They gorge themselves 

 and grow very fat on these case-worms, liusk and all. 

 But we had our baskets full to overflowing, and more, 

 for this afternoon's work. The North Fork is the smaller 

 of the two streams, and the trout had evidently com- 

 menced to drop back from their mountain retreats to the 

 deeper waters of the main stream. We took our outing 

 this year nearly a month too early, for the spring and 

 early summer were very backward and cold, and the 

 Molalla was yet rather full and almost icy cold. How- 

 ever, I have never known its waters to be warm enough 

 to bathe in. Whether in midsummer or midwinter, I 

 have never observed any material variation in its temper- 

 ature. Nevertheless we had a delightful time and saw- 

 more grouse, pheasant and quail than I have ever seen 

 any season heretofore for ten years. 



Circumstances over which we had no control required 

 our return to Portland just as the shooting season opened. 

 We had only part of one day's shooting, but, as far as it 

 went, it was eminently satisfactory. By the way, I must 

 record a very neat double made' by my wife with her 

 little 16-gauge on a brace of superb gi-ouse that gave her 

 a quartering shot. And by the way too, I must tell yoti 

 that she potted three young raccoons out of a tree, where 

 Fritz, our German friend's small boy, had treed them; 

 and almost cried because the old ones escaped. 

 Bef oi-e closing this rambling letter I would like you to 



ington for a dozen years or more. The Molalla River is 

 the prettiest stream I ever saw. Many beautiful streams 

 have been spoiled by the logger. The Molalla will prob- 

 ably never be logged. A log, started down either Fork, 

 would be converted into match-wood before it could 

 reach the main river. There is a wild recklessness about 

 its rapids that is fascinating; a weird ghostliness about its 

 pools that is enchanting. The gloomy mountains, the 

 rushing waters, the solemn boulders, the ghastly fissm-es, 

 the dreamy caiions, the tilted strata and the all-pervad- 

 ing loneliness charm the beholder — hypnotize him as it 

 were. One seems to lose his personality and become only 

 an inert factor of the charming phantasmagoria which 

 nature here wantonly exhibits; the plaything: of some 

 occult, unintelligible power. 



But to the incident. The side of a moimtain had fallen 

 into the river, w^hich in seeking its way had divided into 

 four good sized streams; three of which had gone out 

 through the forest on their own hook, to join the parent 

 stream again a mile or more below. One of these seemed 

 particularly attractive to Brother Mead and me. Its 

 course was dark and shadowy, and oh! such lovely, deep 

 pools and foaming rapids. Well, we fished that branch 

 part of the way, and neither of us seem yet fully to 

 undei-stand why we did not fish it clear through. I was 

 just below an abrupt bend of a deep, lovely pool. Mead 

 was just above. Neither could see the other and neither 

 was armed. I was busily engaged with flies and fish 

 when a suspicious sound in the brush behind me caused 

 me to turn. The noise ceased, and I fished again. Pres- 

 ently I heard it again, but could see nothing. Somehow 

 the shadows seemed to become deeper and the loneliness 

 more intensified; and I thought I would quietly move up 

 and join Mead, just to be sociable, you know. There was 

 nothing about the snapping of a few twigs to alarm any 

 body, but the ghostly surroundings made a fellow feel 

 that he would like company, particularly when good 

 society could be had just around the bend," where fishing 

 was just as good. Mead had moved on and I moved after 

 him about half a mile, rather rapidly and without wetting 

 a fly, before I overtook him on the open river. We both 

 proceeded to fish along up the stream just as if we had 

 not skipped a half mile of good water. Nobody let on, for 

 neither had any idea that the other fellow was "on to" 

 anything in particular. 



'xhat night by the camp-fire Mead suddenly broke the 

 silence by asking me point-blank whether I noticed any- 

 thing peculiar that afternoon in the brush back of that 

 dark pool. I looked him in the eye and answered him 

 Yankee fashion with the querie: "Did you?" "Yes," said 

 he, "I did; and I saw a thundering big bear track be- 

 sides, and thinking that, possibly, you had cut across to 

 the main river I thought I would move along-and catch 

 up with you just to be sociable, you know." So it seems 

 that we both concluded to be sociable about the same 

 time; and that tiie promptings were so strong that we 

 actually chased each other like two jack-o'-lanterns, while 

 Mr. Bruin, or whoever or -whatever his royal nibs may 

 have been, is probably even yet in blissful ignorance of 

 the fact that he was at any time in such close proximity 

 to so much of a social nature. While we sat there by the 

 smouldering camp-fire thinking about the circumstance 

 and silently estimating each other's characteristics and 

 noble attributes, I imagined I heard a plaintive murmur 

 from the direction of Billy's tent that sounded something 

 like: "The wicked flee when no man pursueth, but the 

 righteous are bold as a lion." But someway those dismal 

 canons of the upper Molalla do set a fellow to thinking 

 solemn thoughts; and often, I presume, remind a fellow 

 of more mean things than he has really been guilty of. 

 Portland, Oregon, Aug, 10. S. H. GJiEENE, 



IN THE ROCKIES. 



for had he not told us almost the exact size and dimen- | accord me space for the relation of a little North Fork 

 sions of the trout the previous evening? Of course my , incident illustrative of some men's innate cowardice, 

 humiliation was complete when he reproachfully called ; The upper Molalla is a weird sort of place. I have seen 

 my attention to his Reuben-Wood still in the trout s mouth many streams in many countries. I have hunted the 

 from the previous evening's experience. I mountains and fished the streams of Oregon and Wash- 



Readino a recent article on ruffed grouse in the Forest 

 AND Stream recalled to mind many pleasant days spent 

 in the New England woods, and in strong contrast to 

 those green shades and babbling brooks arise the scenes 

 of later years. 



Here in the heart of the Rockies, at an altitude of 7,000 

 jfeet, one may easily reach the two extremes, the high 

 lands and the low. 



Going up the valley, facing the snow-covered peaks 

 which rise to an altitude of nearly 14,000ft. and close in 

 the valley, both to the north and east, one quickly passes 

 through the pinones and sage brush and reaches the 

 timber lands. Here is the primeval forest, as yet 

 untouched by man's devastating liand, grand and solenm, 

 but different in every way from the woods of the East. 

 Here are only towering pines, with no deciduons trees 

 intermixed to lend varietj' to trunk and shade. Free 

 from undergrowth, these trees stand far apart, upon a 

 carpet of mountain bunch graes, no intertwining of 

 branches, no loving embrace of trunks; but each — suffi- 

 cient unto himst if— -stands aloof from his fellows, and 

 drawing about him a mantle of pride lives out his solitary 

 life unapproached by any of his kind. 



And yet, lacking all those graceful elements of under- 

 growth and changing greens, these forests, or parks — ^for 

 they are more like parks, are very beautiful — stretching 

 away for miles and miles along some flat table-liie 

 plateau. 



Ht re wanders the black-tailed deer and now and then 

 a stately elk in parks of royal dimensions, but the elk are 

 few and yearly becoming fewer, ruthlessly slaughtered 

 b}' our "red brother." Soon they will be gone, for though 

 it is an offense for a white man to kill one of these noble 

 creatures the Indians are free to slay as many as they 

 please and go unpunished. As one moves on through 

 this park-like expanse, he may occasionally hear the 

 quit, quit of that grandest of all feathered game birds, 

 the wild turkey. Moving cautiously along to the rise of 

 ground ahead you see a flock of these large birds running 

 swiftly; and then with a thunder of wings they safl. away 

 across the deep canon that yawns before you. 



Going on, always up and up, one passes out from under 

 the pines and into the quaking asps — always shivering 

 wnth some unknown dread, their leaves ever restless and 

 continually rustling. Intermingled is the tail tapering 

 spruce. 



Here is the summer home of the deer; they live on the 

 luxuriant mountam grass and wild oats during the warm 

 months, I'anging clear up to timber line. Here too one 

 finds the blue grouse, the snow-shoe rabbit and the ptar- 

 migan, now dull in color; but when the winter's snowB 

 fill the gorges they array themselves in spotless white. 

 Here one may find the mountain lion, the lynx and the 



