440 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Nov, 18, 1898 



Secretaries of canoe clubs are requested to send to Torbst and 

 Stream their addresses, with name, membership, signal, etc.. of their 

 clubs, and also notices in advance or meetings and races, and report of 

 the same. Canoeists and all interested in canoeing are requested to 

 forward to Foebst and Stream their addresses, with logs of cruises, 

 maps, and Information concerning their local waters, drawings or 

 descriptions of boats and fittings, and all items relating to the sport. 



The annual meeting of the A. C. A. executive committee was marked 

 by a rather more businesslike mode of procedure than is usually the 

 case, and the work of the committee was carried out very thoroughly 

 and completely. Each matter which was brought up was very thor- 

 oughly discussed before final action was taken, all present being per- 

 mitted to express their views. Apart from the various changes in 

 the rules, the present condition and the prospects of the Association 

 were discussed at length, the question of a semi-permanent camp 

 receiviog a good deal of attention. 



This same question is likely to become a vital issue in the near 

 future, as many old members hold that the moving from place to 

 place each year, while not realizing the theoretical benefits expected 

 from it, involves a very large annual expenditure and also an amount 

 of labor on the part of the officers which would be greatly lessened if 

 the meets were held for a period of years in the same place. On the 

 other hand, many uphold the present system as fairer to each locality 

 and as bringing new members into the Division in which the meet 

 happens to be held. As far as the question of membership Is involved, 

 we are of the opinion that the transient gain in the shape of men who 

 join for one meet and are not heard of again, will be more than offset 

 by the men who will join because the Association is strong, vigorous 

 and active, and who will come to meets wherever they may be held 

 because they are good meets and make a most enjoyable outl 

 ing at a small expense. Besides this class of new members, a 

 meet in the same place for several years is likely to attract ihe 

 old members by Its convenience and low cost, thus retaining as active 

 participators in each meet many who have found the annual expedition 

 from place to place to be entirely too expensive. One leading feature 

 of the fixed camp would be the construction of two or three necessary 

 buildings, kitchen, mess shed and ice house, by the Association, and 

 the use of one of these for the storage of members' effects, tents, 

 tent fioors, cots and perhaps an open canoe, from year to year, thus 

 doing away with one of the most troublesome and expensive items of 

 transportation. Many a man who now hesitates about going to a 

 meet on account of past experience of the great expense and trouble, 

 would decide in a moment if he knew that his tent, tent floor and cot 

 were already on the ground and could be made ready within an hour 

 after his arrival. 



It goes without saying that one radical feature of this plan would 

 be the prohibition of all cottages and wooden buildings, and the rigid 

 enforcement of the rule that tents only would he allowed on the 

 property. Against the scheme is urged the experiences of the West- 

 ern Canoe Association at Ballast Island, but the cases are by no means 

 parallel. Ballast Island is a small summer settlement of cottages, ex. 

 isting as such long before the Western Canoe Association was formed. 

 On the island there is no room for camping or camp life, and the 

 neighboring islands offer the attractions of summer hotels and large 

 ballrooms. In the event of the selection of a permanent or semi- 

 permanent site for an A. C. A. camp, every precaution would be taken 

 to secure an isolated locality, apart from hotels and aottages, 'and to 

 preserve this isolation as long as possible. If it should be decided to 

 purchase instead of leasing the property, then any improvement in 

 the neighborhood which would make it too public for a camp would 

 almost of necessity be accompanied by an increase of value in the 

 land, which might be sold, and a new and more distant site purchased. 



A balance in the A. C. A. treasury is a novelty that is likely to be 

 fully appreciated by the members, as it is some years since anything 

 of the kind has been seen. The very expensive meets of the Atlantic 

 and Eastern Divisions in 1890-91 left a heavy debt which was only 

 wiped out by the strenuous exertions of Com. Winne in 1893, leaving 

 an empty treasury to the incoming administration. In resigning their 

 offices. Com. Cotton and Sec'ty-Treas. Burns turn over to their succes- 

 sors a sum of nearly S.300, with some assets which makes the real 

 balance still greater. A meet near New York is likely to be more 

 than ordinarily expensive, but we hope that the financial report for 

 1894 will show at least an equal balance. The work of the officers 

 this year is a matter for general congratulation, and we hope that it 

 may be many years before a deficit is again met with. 



Our Trip Down the Grand. 



We had been preparing for the trip and thlnlcing about it and talking 

 it over at morning, noon and night, until our respective wives were 

 nearly frantic, and we suspect looked forward to the auspicious day 

 witli almost as much eagerness as ourselves, although prompted by 

 different feelings. They longed for the respite from our incessant 

 boat, river and camp talk, while we looked eagerly forward to the 

 anticipation of our dream. 



During the fall of 1893 we bought a couple of canoe yawls, 20ft x46in 

 with 9ft. cockpit, a boat made by a party at Traverse City. Mich who 

 has lived aU his life on the shores of Lake Jlichigan and wlio has 

 studied and experimented until his boats are as near perfection for 

 cruising these waters as it seems possible to make thera. Our plans 

 now being to invite a couple of friends and take our boats from our 

 busy Western city of Grand Rapids, down the Grand River to Grand 

 Haven, and thence to the small body of water known as Black Lake 

 some twenty-five miles south of Grand Haven, and which sets in some 

 six miles from Lake Michigan. Ye Scribe is the happy owner of a 

 small summer cottage situated on the south shore of the lake and 

 known in these parts as "The Bandbox." ' 



What a cold, mean, disagreeable, wet spring we have had here this 

 year to be sure, for weeks the sun never showing his welcome face 

 until we almost begin to despair of its ever getting warm. However 

 in desperation, we at length set it down that May 90 would certainly 

 find us afloat on the raging Grand, even if we had to wear our arctic 

 overshoes and ear muffs; and so we will pass over the time inter- 

 vening until the appointed morning arrived, bright, pleasant and 

 springlike. 



The two large canoes had been stored through the wint«r in a dry 

 warm room, and they had not been in the water many minutes before 

 the unwelcome fact became evident that they both leaked, and leaked 

 pretty bad, too. A short trip to an adjacent tin shop supplied us 

 with a couple of dippers, and, after carefully stowing our manv bas- 

 kets of provisions and bundles of blankets, etc., so as to take the least 

 possible damage from the watery element, we shoved off, and in a 

 moment we were swiftly rushing down with the current under one of 

 the different bridges which span the river— a score or more of specta- 

 tors waving us bon voyage from the railing. 



Fifteen minutes of this swift current brings us well down toward 

 the lower part of the city, and we soon steer both craft in to the shore 

 of Robang Island, where we bale out, set sails, mamsail and mizzen on 

 each boat, and again push out, and the hands of the town clock point 

 to 9:80 A. M. 



Oh, what a time we did have for the next three hours! What with 

 leaking boats and the very meanest wind which ever blew, coming 

 from fully three points of the compass in as manv minutes (it is per 

 haps quite unnecessary to state that none of these points were over 

 the stern of our craft) we felt a little discouraged, and at l o'clock ran 

 the bows of our boats ashore below a httle patch of willows up on to 

 a green bank and just where a pretty little stream came tumbling 



down from the higher hills beyond. We discover one bundle of blankets 

 are soaked, also some of the provisions, and we very soon have them 

 spread out on the fence drying (not the provisions, but the blankets"). 



We then proceed to punish a varied assortment of eatables in triie 

 camper's style, after which we wait under the trees for a lull in the 

 wind. Ye Amateur Photographer takes one or two views, and at 3 

 P. M. our boats are again pointed down the river. How far have M'e 

 proceeded on our way, do I hear some one ask? Well, really that is a 

 rather ticklish question; but if yon must know, we are just five miles 

 from our starting point, and we expect to reach Black Lake to-mor- 

 row night. The wind is not as vexatious now, it blows from one direc- 

 tion at a time for several minutes, so that during the next hour a 

 number of miles are reeled off. The boats are not leaking quite as 

 badly, although very far from dry yet. 



The early evening finds us some two miles above the village of La- 

 ment, which is about twenty miles from our starting place. We hold 

 a council of war under a shady hill as to whether to go into camp at 

 once or to proceed toward Lament. 



About a week before our start ye Scribe had evolved a stunning 

 plan for a canoe tent, his idea being to set this tent over the 9 foot 

 cockpit, and thus form a very snug little berth for two on the floor of 

 the boat. The tent had been finished at the last moment, at a consid- 

 erable expense, and safely stowed under the after deck; but when the 

 "leaking business" commenced was transferred to the top of the deck, 

 from whence, during some of the morning buffeting with wind and 

 wave, it had no doubt slipped off, unobserved, into the river, as it now 

 was very painfully conspicuous by its absence. 



Adding this disaster to the wet boats and the wet bed clothes, we 



CAMP AT LAMONT. 



decided to push on down the river, and just before dusk our two boats 

 are on the bank at Lament. The inevitable youngster appeared ten 

 seconds after our landing, and to our inquiry as to whether there was 

 a hotel nearj answered in the affirmative. Ye Scribe and his first mate 

 at once started off under the leadership of the youthful inhabitant, 

 and after walking in our wet shoes what seemed an interminable dis- 

 tance we had the "hotel" pointed out to us— a neat white building set 

 well back from the street and surrounded by a number of apple trees, 

 a porch, or as lit would be termed in the South, a "gallery," ran the 

 entire length of the house. 



We mounted the steps, and looking through the screen door, a cosy 

 and comfortable looking room, lighted by a kerosene lamp, met our 

 view. Our repeated knockings, however, met with no response. 

 "Blamed funny hotel," remarked the First Mate. Ye Scribe, who was 

 cold and wet and hungry, said, "Yep, very funny." First Mate 

 shinned aroimd the house to a large barn, but not a sign of a proprie- 

 tor. "Well, gee whiz," again remarked First Mate, "this is the fun- 

 niest deal I ever struck. What shall we do?" I had thought I heard 

 voices over across the street, and I started in that direction, leaving 

 the First Mate to capture the landlord if he appeared during my ab- 

 sence. A short walk brought me across the yard and the wide street, 

 where down a short distance I found three or four old men sitting on 



"those ONE-MINUTE TASKS." 



the ground with theirTbacks against the fence, evidently engaged in 

 some weighty discussion. 



I at once inquired if they could inform me as to who ran the "hotel' 

 across the way. 



"Why yes," answered an old man at the end of the row, "an old 



covey by the name of keeps it." 



"Ah, does he live very near here?" I inquired. 



"Why yes," came the reply, "fact is I'm him; thought the old 

 woman was over there," and getting on to his feet, we trudged across 

 the street, making arrangements as we went for supper and accommo- 

 dation for four weary travelers through the night. 



By this time it was about dark, so we made as quick time as pos- 

 sible back to the landing, only to find our companions had decided to 

 row across the river and camp out for the night. We tried to per- 

 suade them to take up their abode at "the hotel, ' but, as their boat 

 had not leaked as badly as ours, and as they had managed to keep 

 their bedclothes dry, they determined to try the camp; so we turned 

 our own boat over to them for protection and trudged back to the 

 hotel, stopping on the way long enough to buy a couple pair of dry 

 socks, of which we stood sadly in need. 



We at length reached our haven and before many minutes, with 

 well washed faces and hands and our feet encased in warm drv socks, 

 we drew our chairs up to a truly welcome repast. Hot tea, good 

 bread and butter, cold corned beef, plum sauce, cheese and cake soon 

 played their part so well that our hard day's work with wind and 

 weather and leaky boats passed into the land of "the things that were" 

 and we felt serenely happy. 



The landlord and his wife, with a boy, their grandson, appeared to 

 be the entire houseiiold, and we soon discovered the landlord to be 

 quite a character in his way. He had moved into this neighborhood, 

 so he told us, in '46, and was evidently a walking encyclopaedia of the 

 surrounding country. I asked him if he was in Lamout when the 

 bridge was built across the river. 



"Oh. yes," he replied, "it was built in '68." 



1 told him my father-in-law was the contractor who built the bridge, 

 "What, Mr. B.f" he asked. 



"Yes," I answered, "did you know him?" 



"No," he said, "I dare say I have spoken to him when the bridge 

 was being built, but I would not know him now." 



After musing a few minutes be remarked, "That puts me in mind. 

 There's an old fellow lives just a little way down the street— odd old 

 fellow, deaf as a door-post now— makes guns— rifles— never sells any 

 that I ever heard of, he's got a lot of 'em'now. They are heavy rifles 

 — carry a four ounce ball — about such guns as the fellers use who go 

 to kill elephants and tigers and lions down in Africa. Can't imagine 

 what he makes sich guns for, but I guess he is 'a little cracked in the 

 upper story.' I asked him once what in thtnider he was going to do 

 with his guns? He told me he guessed some day he would take 'em 

 up to Duluth or Minneapolis and see if he couldn't sell 'em. I told him 

 there wasn't any elephants around Duluth to kill— but about the 

 bridge — 



"About the time the bridge was begun tliis same old feller started 

 off to git married, he was going to marry some girl down in Ohio. 

 He didn't though— no— cum back without her. He said the girl 

 wanted him to be married by a Catholic priest and he didn't want to 

 be married by a Catholic priest, and besides he said if he 'give in' to 

 her the first thing he would have to give in right along, an' so they 

 didn't splice, and he came back here and settled down right over 

 where he is now, fooling along making guns. Well, about tivelve 

 years after that I was over talking to him one day and something 

 wuz said about the bridge, when he told me he never see the bridge. 

 'Never see the bridge,' says I, 'why what you been doing here these 

 twelve years?' 



with our host that the man was probably "a little cracked." 



I cannot take the space to tell all the History our landlord gave us, 

 but at length we grew sleepy listening to how he built a lumber wagon 

 one winter which he used for two or three years and then sold, and it 

 had been running right along for thirty -.six years, and for all he could 

 see it would last thirty-six years more— "looked pretty tough— wheels 

 were dished some " but "it was a might good wagon yet," etc. 



We had promised to put in an appearence at the landing at 6 A. M. 

 the next day, and just one minute after that time found us hustling 

 our boats down the steep bank where lay the boats all in ship shape, 

 the leaks evidently swelled up and our companions waiting for us. 

 They had erected a tent, using the mainsail of one of the boats, lash- 

 ing together the handles of two pair of oars, spreading apart the 

 blades in the dry grass and laying the boom across the crossed han- 

 dles with the head of the sail sloping back to the ground, the ends 

 filled in with brush, etc.— a good camp-fire right in front, which, re- 

 flecting its heat from the sail down on to the weary campers, they 

 slept like lords— warm and dry. Several juvenile inhabitants crossed 

 the river in boats and paid them a visit, lured no doubt by the fire. 

 Boys, bonfires and boats have a natural affinity, and are drawn toward 

 each other as naturally as the magnet draws the needle. 



Again we are on the move. A light breeze comes fitfidly from the 

 way we are going, but we depend on an "ashen" or rather a "spruce" 

 breeze for the first hour, then the breeze gradually freshens, we take 

 in the oai-s and begin the rather discouraging task of "beating" down 

 the river. However, our boats prove themselves flyers and we do not 

 despair of reaching our destination, Black Lake, by nightfall. What 

 a glorious morning it was— the trees just freshly clad in their spring 

 suit of vivid green, tlie banks and fields stretching away back from 

 the river; great green pal;ches of velvet grass, the spring flowers show- 

 ing along the banks— cowslips and honeysuckle, and I remember sail- 

 ing along a stretch of at least half a mile where the bank rose abruptly 

 from the river perhaps 7 or 8ft., and along the top the entire distance 

 shone among the green grass thousands upon thousands of the pretty 

 white "wake robin" or trilllum. 



And the birds, the birds, the birds 1 It seemed as though every tree 

 held a congregation. The robins with their gurgling notes; thephcebe 

 bird with his phaibe-phcvbe ascending and descending note; occasion- 

 ally the brilliant oriole with his full, deep song; and the catbird with 

 his querulous, genuine mockingbird palaver. It seems to me when 

 I listen to this mockingbird of the North that he is always just "get- 

 ting ready" to sing— tuning up. as it were. Whenever we passed the 

 low-lying meadows we would find the bobolinks in countless numbers, 

 and yet some pessimist wiU ask, "Is hfe worth living?" To such an 

 one we say, "Go out into the woods on a bright spring morning and get 

 your answer from the trees and the flowers and the birds." 



By 9 o'clock our breeze is pretty steady and strong, although dead 

 against us Along the river on either side are fishermen and fisher- 

 women and flshergirls, all intent on capturing the finny denizens. 

 Even if we had the time, there is not one in our party who can lay 

 claim to even being a passably good fisherman; to use the phrase of 

 the street gamin, the fish are all evidently "dead on to us," and our 

 bad luck to a man is proverbial. 



Our companions are perhaps half a mile ahead, and we all at once 

 notice as they near the shore that they are holding a short talk with a 

 large, roughly-dressed man, who is standing on a low dock at the edge 

 of the river. He shouts something after them in German as they come 

 about and recede from the shore, and a moment later begins to dance 

 around on the dock and sing some rollicking German air in a rich, 

 melodiotis baritone voice. We at once decide him to be, as our host 

 at Lament would say, "a little cracked," and so are not surprised at 

 his actions or conversation as we direct our helm so as to bring our 

 boatxlose in to where he is still clumsily pirouetting around the dock. 

 As we approach he stops his dancing and asks earnestly, "Where you 

 go, ah?" 



"Oh," we reply," we are going to Grand Haven." 



He says nothing in reply until we have come about and are leaving 

 him, then he shouts witn strong German accent: 



"Gotag to Grand Haven, eh, veil. Grand Haven ish a pritty blace, 

 ha, ha, ha," and he goes off into hearty laugh. Then suddenly he 

 shouts after us, "Who vas der richest man, eh?" 



My companion cries back, ",ray Gould !" and the reply comes back: 



"Shay Glould? Nein. Jesus Christ vas der richest man," and he 

 stands silently watching UK until we are out of sight. Poor fellow. 

 We wonder if he enjoys with his clouded mind the glorious sunshine 

 and the green fields and trees and birds as we do this lovely morning. 



The river grows deeper as we proceed, the wind stiffens until, timing 

 our boat in her reaches, we find in the narrower portions of the river 

 we make the tack from bank to bank in just a minute. It goes with- 

 out saying that at these points we are kejjt pretty busy and have little 

 time in wlbich to admire the scenery. Further on, however, when 

 nearing Spring Lake, we come to some long, wide turns, which give 

 us two or three long reaches of perhaps a mile or more each. We 

 pass several abandoned saw miUs \vhere our Western lumber barons 

 have piled uj) theii' big round dollars, even as their workmen have 

 piled up the big stacks of pine lumber oh the many docks which here 

 line the shores. 



About 1 P. M. we land on one of the slab docks and eat a hurried 

 lunch. We are nearing Lake Michigan. The breeze is stiff, and we 

 are anxious to get away on our lake trip of twenty-three miles from 

 Grand Haven to Black Lake. We find, on again taking to the boats, 

 that the breeze has grown yet stronger. M'e are delayed a few min- 

 utes to wait for the swinging of the bridge to enable us to pass, but 

 are soon rapidly nearing the huge sand dunes which stretch along the 

 shore of Lake Michigan. We now meet and pass many boats of every 

 description, from the simple row boat to the huge lumber barge whose 

 bow cuts the waters of all our chain of lakes. The wind is now steady 

 and strong, and we sing out to the other boat, asking if it would not 

 be well to reef before getting out into the big lake. They think, how- 

 ever, we can do it jnst as well when we reach the piers which form 

 the Government Channel, and so we fly along toward the channel, 

 through the city of Grand Haven. 



As we near the channel, however, the very unwelcome fact becomes 

 apparent that our steady breeze which we enjoyed on the river is 

 evidentlv a land breeze, as Old Lake Michigan lies beyond the harbor 



Eeaceful and glittering under the warm sun, and we are actually ob- 

 ged to resort to the oars to get our boats beyond the piers. As Koko 

 says in "The Mikado," "Here is a pretty state of things." 



Our boats idly toss on the sun-kissed waves, and aU that, but at 

 present we are in no mood to be "idly tossing." Here we are twenty- 

 three miles from our haven, time 2:W P. M. We are all business men 

 and have made arrangements to be back in Grand Rapids before noon 

 to-morrow, and so for want of any better occupation we stiU "idly 

 toss." 



We "scratch the mast" and "whistle" for a breeze, but all to no 

 purpose, and across from the other boat comes the request, ' Isn't It 

 time to reef?" 



We at length decide to land, and as we have drifted and paddled 

 perhaps a couple of miles down the beach, we turn our boats shore- 

 ward and slowly paddle in to the hard white sand. We hold a consul- 

 tation and decide that as we have considerable time and pi-o visions on 

 hand we might get up a good dinner, and if a breeze should spring up 

 in the evening we could then be in good physical condition to take ad- 

 vantage of it, and as it would be a moonlight night could continue on 

 our way. So very soon a coffee pot is simmering over a beach fire, 

 while just below a layer of hot sand with a bed of coals on top repose 

 several "Murphys," while a table is improvised from slabs and drift- 

 wood, on it; are placed our stock of eatables — bread and butter, black- 

 berry jam, bologna, beans, bananas, corned beef, cake, crackers, eggs 

 (hard-boiled), sardines, water. We have not been able so far co gain 

 any believers to our statement as to carrying the latter article, but 

 nevertheless it is a fact. Of cotu*se you know as well as we do that 

 the sun coming down on the water does burn a person's nose terribly, 

 but it seems as though all our relatives and friends have forgottien 

 this fact. Well, there is no use in talking, we did have a great dinner. 



"Oh, who can clog the hungry edge of appetite 

 By bare imagination of a feast?" 



