FOREST AND STREAM. 
[July g, 1898. 
tarn; there are too many camps in this region. The 
same remarks aoply to Machias and Masungun lakes. 
The best hunting grounds are far off the line of travel. 
To endure the hardships of such a trip the sportsman 
must be in the prime of life, or, Avhat amounts to the 
same thing, a young old man. Be sure and take in 
plenty of provisions, as the public camps refuse to 
supply the camper out. Ashland is the best place to out- 
fit for the Big Fish and Machias regions. See that your 
guide has a tent; always give the local guides the 
preference. They naturally know the best places. Here 
is a list of good guides: % O. and Lyman Hunt, Nor- 
cross; Joe Francis, Oldtown; Chas. Hale and brothers, 
Millonocket Station; Fred McNally, Ira McKay, Henry 
Rafford, Ashland; Wm. Atkins, Clarence Peavey, Ox- 
how. The sportsman must be hard to please who is not 
satisfied with northeastern Maine. A region that com- 
bines so many attractions is difficult to discover in these 
modern days. Artist. 
On the McCloud. 
Auburn, Cal. — Last October I took a ten-days' trip 
to the McCloud Rive.r, at the base of Mt Shasta, and 
after my, return so pleased was I with the outing that 
all the following months I was constantly "writing it up 
in my mind for the columns of dear old Forest and 
Stream. But I never got so far as to put my pen at 
work until the 23d of May had arrived, when I found it 
imperative to at once go back and verify some data as 
to numbers and weight of trout still remaining in the 
ri'ver, before beginning my task. I returned a few days 
ago with all the facts and figures, and will now proceed 
to give your readers the whole business. 
Old Marcus Aurelius has said, "Be not as one that hath 
(en thousand years to live; death is nigh at hand; 
while thou livest, while thou hast time, be good," to 
which I would add, "and go a-fishing." To this good 
advise I would like to add the. following apothegm: Al- 
ways make convenience wait an opportunity if you want 
to go fishing. 
My opportunity came along in May, as before stated, 
and I embraced it as ardently as I would have done 
forty years ago, had it come then in the shape of sweet 
sixteen, all clad in pink and white, with a most alluring 
pout on its red lips — and nobody looking. 
And this is how it came. You know it is said that 
"it is always the unexpected that happens." My old fish- 
ing partner B.. who has held me company in all my 
trips for the past twenty years, threw off on me last 
October and left me to go alone. This spring we had 
our trip all planned again, when suddenly he came to 
the conclusion that he must transpose my apothegm, and 
make opportunity wait on convenience, and I had given 
up all hopes of a trip, when one day B. called me on 
the telephone, and this is the sweet song he sang in my 
listening ear: 
"Hello, Arefar!" 
"Hello, B." 
"Do you want to go to the McCloud a-fishing to- 
morrow night? I'm going!" 
"Why, you said you couldn't go this spring, and I had 
given up the notion, and here I am unprepared, and you 
spring this thing on me mow like a dynamite bomb." 
"Well, I know it's a little sudden, but I just got a let- 
ter from C. (this was his son) saying that he was on the 
upper Sacramento, and that the trout were biting finely, 
and that he wants us to come up and go with him over 
to the McCloud." 
"All right, that settles it. You go along to-morrow 
night and I Avill follow in tfr^e, days. If the trout are 
biting in the Sacramento it means that the dry winter 
has made an early season, and sport on the McCloud will 
be glorious." 
And so it went. I had to arrange my business for a 
few days' absence; get a few flies; make up some new 
leaders, and on Monday, May 23, I was off after him. 
You see it was a case of 
"Just wlrastle an' I'll come to you, my lad, 
Though father an' mither an' a' sud gang mad, 
Just whustle an' I'll come to you, my lad." 
In the afternoon I took the train for Sacramento, 
where I await the Oregon express, which leaves that 
place at midnight. I tried to secure a whole section in 
the sleeper for myself, but could not, and with my usual 
luck I had a fat man over my head sawing wood all 
night. 
"0, sleep, O, gentle sleep, 
Nature's soft nurse, this snoring frighted thee, 
That thou 110 more wilt weigh mine eyelids down, 
And steep my senses in forgetfulneSs." 
(Shakespeare, with alterations.) 
At 6 A. M. I give up and crawl out of my 
berth, and retire to the smoking room, defeated. Of 
course the poor man could not help it, but why do such 
men travel? Why don't they stay at home and snore, 
where their associates are accustomed to them? 
Soon the train enters the canon of the Sacramento, 
where it winds up into the depths of the Siskiyou Moun- 
tains, and one's eyes are charmed with the passing 
views. In and out of the bends, twisting and turning 
like a huge snake, goes the train; now with the river on 
the left hand and now on the right; shooting through 
tunnels where the angles are too sharp; clattering over 
bridges, spanning the river seemingly at every mile; it 
is a bewildering ride. And always, either upon the right 
hand or upon the left, the beautiful river is in view; with 
its rapids and boiling pools; its swirls and eddies; all 
looking fishy, and appealing to the angler's senses. On 
and on, past the "Tavern of Castle Crags"; past Mass- 
brae, Shasta Soda Springs, where the train stops five 
minutes for every one that so desires to get a glass of 
natural ice-cold soda water, fresh from nature's own 
fountain; till noon finds us at Sissons, 3,700ft. above sea 
level, with grand old Mt. Shasta towering to the skies 
a few miles away, and dominating and dwarfing all the 
surrounding landscape. 
Every one has at least heard of Mt. Shasta. Tt is one 
of the world's celebrated mountains, and one of the 
most beautiful. Tt is a mountain with twin peaks; an ex- 
tinct volcano. It rears its mighty crest 14,440ft. above 
sea level, clothed in eternal snow, with living glaciers 
crawling down its steeps. Its majestic beauties have 
been so often and so well described that I will say no 
more. 
Here at Sissons, or rather at a little saw mill station 
a mile and a half beyond, I leave the main line, and 
take my place in a car on a switchback lumber rail- 
way for a thirteen-mile ride to McCloud, a little saw- 
mill town in McCloud Valley, seven miles from my des- 
tination. Here a stage awaits the arrival of the train, and 
at 4 P. M. I am landed at Sissons Camp, on the Mc- 
Cloud River, and am shaking B.'s hand. 
"How is the fishing, and what luck have you had?" 
I demanded. 
"Rather indifferent as to both," hv; replied. "It has 
been dry all winter, and has now begun to rain, just 
when we want to fish. My son and self went up. to Big 
Springs and only got five trout, it was so cold and 
wet, and yesterday he had to return to San Francisco. 
To-day I caught seven medium-sized ones, and the 
other guests here have done even worse, with the excep- 
tion of one man, and he fishes with fly, with bait, with 
spoon or any other old thing that will catch a trout." 
This was rather discouraging for a starter, but next 
morning it was worse. It was raining again; a good 
steady downpour. About noon the skies cleared, and 
after giving the bushes time to dry off we started down 
the river, one on each side. The trout were not rising 
well, but I had coaxed three nice ones out, and had 
reached a beautiful bit of water, where I expected more. 
I stepped on a rock which was slightly submerged, made 
a cast, hooked a fine trout, and stepped on a young juicy 
saxifrage plant, slipped and sat down with all my weight 
on the rock, and "the subsequent proceedings interested 
me no more." 
By and by I crawled out, clinging to my rod, but 
minus my trout and temper. I was wet to my waist, my 
wading boots were full of water, and was so crippled and 
sore that I could hardly stand, and couldn't sit down. 
"This is nice for starter No. 2," thinks I to myself. 
"Go home to camp, you blamed old fool, and give up 
stream fishing. You're getting too old and clumsy 
'for that kind of work, anyhow." I meekly took my own 
advice as to going to camp, and got there after a painful 
walk, and went to bed. That evening and next day I 
took my meals at the mantelpiece, and spent the rest of 
the time in bed. It rained all the time, however, so I 
missed nothing. 
The next day it rained again, and B. was disgusted, 
and said he was going home — had to, in fact, as he had 
left his business in too great a hurry. Said he, "We are 
back numbers, you and I. We are getting too old for 
this kind of fishing, and I'll never come here again. 
Why, there is Mr. C. (one of the other guests), who 
went out at the same time we did the other day, and 
he caught twenty-eight, while you got three and I only 
five. We're back numbers, and we may as well acknowl- 
edge it." 
"Well," I answered, "it does look that way, but you 
must remember that Mr. C. stayed out till dark and 
fished with all kinds of devices, flies, spoons, salmon roe. 
fish pins, grasshoppers, grubs, and everything else he 
could lay his hands on. .Of course if he likes that kind 
of fishing he will catch trout when we cannot, but he 
is welcome to them. I don't wish to criticise that style 
of fishing. . It is all right for the pot, and if he finds 
pleasure in it I've nothing to say, but if he will con- 
fine himself to the fly I'll be dinged if I don't believe 
that you and I can keep up to him any day in the year, 
if we are back numbers." 
But it was of no use, he refused to be comforted, and 
when stage time came he left for home. I would have 
gone with him had it not been for my "os coccyx," 
which was still too sore to stand a stage ride of seven 
miles. 
On the 28th it cleared up in the afternoon, and I had 
so far recovered from the effects of my accident as to 
be able to go out for three hours, getting thirteen 
beautiful trout, the largest weighing ijHilbs. On the 29th 
I had about three hours' fishing and got nineteen, which 
filled my 2olb. basket. The largest weiehed 2}41bs. and 
measured 17m. in length. He was a perfect beauty. The 
smallest weighed over z A\b. 
On the 30th it rained again in the forenoon, but in the 
afternoon I got seventeen trout, the largest weighing 
i241bs., but all beautiful fish. After that it started in for 
a steady downpour, and it was still raining at noon on 
the 2d of June, when I left. 
On the summit, between McCloud and Sissons, where 
the switchback road crosses a buttress of Mt. Shasta, we 
ran into a snowstorm, and I had the pleasure of seeing 
the ground covered with a 4in. coating of new snow- 
But I did not come out of that happy valley feeling 
that I was feeling as much of a back number as B. did. 
Oh, no, indeed! The old man held up his end with the 
best of them— and perhaps a little more — as to my credit 
fell the largest fish caught this season up to my de- 
parture. 
But I have now reached a stage in life when I can 
see my score surpassed with perfect equanimity, and I 
will not try to swell it by any means but the fly. Un- 
less the pot absolutely demands fish, I'll stoop to no 
other device to lure a noble trout. 
The McCloud River is an ideal home for trout. Born 
at once of a great spring gushing out of the foot of Mt. 
Shasta, it has absolutely pure water and maintains a 
constant temperature. Summer and winter the thermom- 
eter indicates 45 degrees at the Big Springs, and only 
a rise of 2 degrees eight miles below. The water is 
so clear and pure that it has a blueness in it, like the 
blue of the sky. It is torrential in its current, and varies 
but little in its volume of water, being Dut little in- 
fluenced by freshets in its first fifteen miles. There is no 
mud in its bed, and but little sand; its bottom is covered 
with rocks and gravel beds. It carries a great volume of 
water, about as much, if I remember rightly, as the 
Saranac just above Plattsburg, in the middle of June of 
an ordinary season. 
It is a hard stream to fish, the current being so 
swift, and the banks so brushy. The stream is wide, and 
the trout, especially the large ones, lie well out in the 
middle, and a cast of from 40 to 70ft. is needed to teach 
them. . 
But, oh, how they fight when you hook one. In and 
out of the water, back and forth across the current, and 
up and down the stream they go; their sides flashing 
the brightest prismatic colors as their agile bodies dart 
through the crystal pure water, and only yielding at last 
to patient skill and the most careful handling. Truly it 
is the pdfetry of fishing. 
And the surroundings, how grand! Old Shasta dom- 
inates all the country. The cation of the river is clothed, 
from water's edge to summit, with noble pines and firs. 
Under their shade is a dense green tangle of hazel and 
dogwood, the blossoms of the latter making banks of 
white in the springtime, and the Foliage wrapping the 
mountain side in an autumnal cloak of scarlet. 
Large trout are to be had in the McCloud. On one. 
occasion I saw one caught that weighed 4^1bs., but the 
largest that fell victim to my own rod was 2541bs. 
Monsters weighing 8 to I2lbs. have been caught, how- 
ever, and many larger still have been seen. Strange to 
say, the large ones are always caught on a fly, and never 
on bait. Only the spring - and autumn fly-fishing is good. 
In the latter part of June the salmon begin to run up and 
spawn, and no more fly-fishing is to be had until about 
Oct. 1, when the salmon have spawned out and have 
died off. 
Along from the 1st to the 10th of June the first salmon, 
always males, begin to come up into the upper reaches of 
the river, and can be seen leaping at all hours. Later 
come the females, and about the 20th spawning com- 
mences. The spawning female is surrounded by fighting 
males until spawned out, when the males at once desert 
her for another. After the act of spawning is completed 
the female is so exhausted that she dies, and by the 
time that all the females have spawned the males that 
have still survived the shock of many battles die also, 
and the river becomes unsightly with dead and dying 
fish. They do not become offensive, however, as the 
cold water prevents putrefaction, and thev simply lodge 
against obstructions, and gradually seften and wear 
away in the current, apparently without contaminating 
the water in the slightest appreciable degree. 
The celebrated Dolly Varden trout was first discovered 
in this river, It is a fresh-water shark, and abhorred by 
all anglers. It never rises to a fly, but when it cannot 
get salmon spawn to live on,, preys upon the rainbow 
trout, and destroys an incalculable number in the course 
of a season. He is a slimy, ill-looking rascal, with a 
tremendous gape and well armed jaws, and is the black 
sheep of an aristocratic family. No other fishes inhabit 
these waters besides the three species named, rainbows, 
Dollies and salmon, therefore the Dollies have no other 
food saving fish roe, young salmon, and trout. A case 
of a ij/db. Dolly being caught with a pound rainbow in 
its throat has been recorded. 
Sissons' McCloud River Camp has been a well-known 
anglers' resort for years, and has been offering its hos- 
pitality to all since i88t. Many -of the celebrated anglers 
of the continent have been its guests. But henceforth, 
alas, it is to be shut to the fraternity. The whole of the 
river, from its source to the U. S. Fish Hatchery at 
Baird, near its junction with the Pitt River, has been 
taken up by wealthy men-, who will strictly preserve it 
for their own pleasure. It seems a pity, but I don't 
blame the parties at all that now own it. 1 only envy 
them. Had I been a rich man I would have owned a 
piece of it myself, after my first visit. 
So good-bye, McCloud! I will probably never sec you 
again, but my memories of you will be ever pleasant, to- 
gether with those connected with all your surroundings! 
Arefar. 
New England Fishing. 
Boston, July 1. — Mr. C. H. Fairbanks has recently 
returned from an extended fishing trip to the Megantic 
Club's preserve. With Mrs. Fairbanks he went via 
Megantic, and had good fishing at Spider Lake. Much 
of the trip was entirely new to both of them, and the en- 
joyment was all the more bright. They went down 
the preserve to Big Island Pond, where they greatly 
enjoyed the landlocked salmon fishing. Mr. .Fairbanks 
is surprised at the size and gaminess of these fish, con- 
sidering that the pond has been stocked with them only 
a few years, and that there were none in that pond till 
put there. None are kept, however; the invariable rule 
is to return all salmon to the water. This will be 
kept up until it is considered safe, so far as the supply 
is concerned, to take salmon for food. Mr. and Mrs. 
Fairbanks saw a great many deer on their trip; a very 
no.vel sight to them. Mr. F. succeeded in getting a very 
fair picture of a live deer with his camera, though the 
snap shot was not made when quite as near as he 
would like to have been. He is so much pleased with 
the trip that he has applied for club membership, and 
been elected. 
Mr. D. J. Flanders and Mr. Howard Marston, o? 
Boston, are out from a most enjoyable fishing trip to the 
Megantic Club preserve. They had fair fishing at Big 
Island Pond and at other points, but were the most 
pleased with the fishing in the West Branch of the Dead 
River. They came down in canoes nearly to Eustis. 
The water was just high enough, and they struck the 
trout just right,. The stream is closed after the first of 
July, but they were there before that time, and such fly- 
fishing! Mr. Flanders says, "Never in my life did I 
have such fun fishing. In the swift water we caught 
hundreds of trout. We threw them in and threw them 
in. The water seemed to be alive with them. Often w. 
would have three on at once — one on each fly." 
Mr. Archibald Mitchell, of Norwich, Conn., a most 
thorough devotee of the salmon angle, has just re- 
turned from the Rcstigouche, where he had very good 
success. Gorham Peters, of Boston, and Robert Bacon, 
of J. B. Morgan & Co., New York, have gone to Mr. 
Barnes' salmon river, the Grand Cascapedia. At this 
river success has been good this season, Miss Barnes 
having taken a very large salmon, already noted in the 
Forest and Stream. 
July 4. — Mr. Walter B. Farmer, of Arlington, Mass., 
has returned from his annual fishing trip to the Rangeley 
waters, where, with Mrs. Farmer and friends, he had a 
fine outing. He is credited with several salmon and trout 
at Rangeley Lake. Mr. G. C. Graves has taken salmon 
latelv in the same lake of 6& 6 and 4ySlbs. Miss Mildred 
G. Sears has taken a trout of 61bs. at the same place. 
Mr. Frederick Skinner, of Boston, reports^nne luck at 
Rangeley. He invariably puts back all the fish he takes. 
At the Upper Dam fishing holds out remarkably well, 
though the weather is hot Mrs. J. S. Doane, of Boston, 
