90 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Feb. a, 1901. 
Notice. 
All communications intended for Forest and Stkeau should 
always be addressed to the Forest and Stream Publishing Co., and 
not to any individual connected with the paper. 
Proprietors of fishing resorts will find it profitable to advertise 
them in Forest and Stream. 
The Log of a Bicycle Fishing 
Trip. — n. 
Thfoagh the Mountains of Virpinia and West Virginia. 
Edited from the Diary of Mr, George N. Beall 
by the Commodore^ F. R. Webb. 
(Contiiiued from page T2.) 
Bright and early I turned out Monday morning, and 
went below to breakfast; and then — equipped with rod, 
creel, landing net and fly-book — up the old familiar trail, 
with senses keenly alive to the beautiful wilderness sur- 
roundings and the anticipated morning's sport. I passed 
Camp Cooke, which looked lonely without the familiar 
tents, crossed the creek and climbed the shoulder of the 
mountain, and fared briskly along the old trail through the 
woods, with the sun glinting through the tree trunks, 
and the amber tinted waters of the river sparkling up- 
ward from far below. On past Blairville, as we were 
wont to denominate the log cabin and outbuildings 
occupied by old man Blair and his household; up and 
on through the primeval forest, which looks exactly as 
it might have looked centuries ago, and where, appar- 
ently, the foot of man never treads. Finally I splashed 
knee deep into the cold stream, and with my first cast 
began my day's sport, for this cast resulted in the capture 
of a 9-inch trout. The Greenbrier is a typical mountain 
trout stream— clear, swift and full of deep pools and 
glassy shallows; overarched with great trees and tower- 
ing blufJs, and its banks lined with thickets of laurel and 
rhododendron, through which it is difficult to make one's 
way. After several hours wading and casting, I finally 
climbed the fence back of the house— having rapidly 
worked down the stream to my starting point — wet, tired 
and ready for dinner, and after unslinging my creel I 
counted twenty-four fine fish as my morning's catch, and 
was ready to pronounce rny morning as one of the most 
enjoyable I had ever spent on a stream. 
After a rest of an hour or so after dinner, during which 
I took occasion to write some letters, I again took to 
the stream for a short afternoon's outing, and returned 
in a couple of hours with seven more trout, all of good 
weight and size; which, with as many more small ones, 
caught and returned to the water, made up a good enough 
day's sport for anybody. At least I was satisfied. 
How I did enjoy that supper! The day's idle rest aiid 
rccreaticn after the steady drive since leaving home, over 
dusty roads and under hot midday sun, had made a new 
man of me. If the evening a plan was hatched up 
whereby Mr. Arbogast's clever little nephew Clyde and 
I would go to the Far Prong next day and fish for 
bass below the junction of that stream with the Near 
Prong, on which stream I . was located. These two 
quaint' names in local parlance refer to the East and 
West Forks of the Greenbrier— the West Fork being 
the Far Prong. , 
Bright and early next morning we made a stai't, with 
Clyde on the gray nag and Chynx on his bicycle. A 
ride of six miles and we reached the foot of Cheat Moun- 
tain, where the pike crosses the Far Prong. After a walk 
of half a mile down the latter we took to the water at 
the confluence of the two streams. Fishing with the 
fly about two miles of the river placed to my credit four 
bass and three horned chubs, while Clyde, although he 
handled his tackle with skill, raised but one fish, and 
failed to land even that. 
After a weary walk back up the river we reached our 
steeds. There is a country store at this point— the only 
one for miles around — and we found quite a little con- 
course of people very busily engaged in loafing here. 
Great interest was displayed in the bicycle — the first that 
most of them had ever seen — and many eyes watched 
my mount and my display of speed up the road. Round- 
ing a turn in the road, out of sight of my admiring 
audience, I settled down to a more moderate gait, which 
was more in keeping with the set of my tired muscles — 
to say nothing of the old gray nag. 
I found the next day a good one in which to loaf 
around and rest up, to drink in plenty of good mouwtain 
air, and be lazily comfortable as well as comfortably 
lazy. The morning was occupied in a thorough over- 
hauling of my bicycle; the front wheel having been a little 
under the weather ever since my fall the first day out. 
I proceeded by careful experiment to adjust the nipples 
and true up the rim. A satisfactory job was presently in 
evidence, and the machine was again in apple pie order. 
Shortly after dinner I discovered a swarm of bees 
down by the barn, and giving the alarm at the 
inner door, an infernal din was soon permeating the 
atmosphere. The bees having "settled" on the topmost 
branch of the nearest apple tree, the hiving was rather 
a difficult undertaking; but a platform was built in the 
tree, and the limb cut off and carefully lowered to the 
"gum," and the bees were secured and safely hived. 
Late in the afternoon I shouldered my rod and leisurely 
took to the river. The stream, a little swollen by the 
rain which had fallen the previous night, gave promise 
of but little sport, but on coming in I found seven nice 
trout in my creel. My stock of flies, although embrac- 
ing a fine variety, show plainly that age has begun to 
tell on the quality, for I lost several fine fish by the 
snoods breaking short off next the fly. 
Thursday was a day of rain, fog and general dampness, 
and nothing could be done but lie around and kill time 
as best I could with pipe and book. About 4 o'clock the 
sun struggled through the clouds, and T took my rod 
and .strolled down to the river, but it was no go — the 
Sj^re^im was too much swollen for fishing, sp I g^y? it up, 
and was forced to be content at home, and read myself 
to sleep. 
Friday being clear, and the water in the river being 
still too high and discolored for fly fishing, I decided 
on a trip up Little River — a small stream that heads 
among the outlying spurs of the Alleghany Mountain 
and falls into the Greenbrier a short distance above Mr. 
Arbogast's house. Starting leisurely I went as far as the 
Second Ford, and got into the stream about 9:30; 
fishing down to the Greenbrier by noon with bait, and 
scored sixteen beauties, one of them close on to 12 
inches long. 
Daring the afternoon a plan was made to make a trip 
with Mr. Arbogast on horseback next day to the top of 
Claeat Mountain, the gigantic range lying next west of 
the Greenbrier and the Alleghany Mountain; so bright 
and early next morning, which was Saturday, the two old 
gjfays were made ready and we set oflf. The trip w'as 
thoroughly enjoyed by rae, for by reason of my new mode 
of progression I had time and opportunity to look 
around me and enjoy the scenery without having to keep 
loo much attention on the handle bars. This part of the 
country was new hi me, for on my annual trips out here 
with the Greenbrier Club heretofore we have never been 
further west than ihe banks of the Far Prong, at the 
loot of Cheat. My friend Arbogast pointed out the 
different landmarks and various points of interest that 
presented themselves from the open points at the various 
turns of the road, and the various historic features of 
the famous old pike were brought up for my edification, 
and I was made familiar with the past as well as with the 
present. 
A short two miles over the summit and we reached 
Cheat River, spanned by a picturesque old covered 
bridge, now entirely obsolete, as modern bridge con- 
struction goes, and the only bridge which the ravages 
of war left standing in this mountain region. This 
river, running as it does along the very top of the moun- 
tain, has a general northerly course, and helps to swell 
the volume of the Monongahela; and the surrounding 
country has the dead, deserted appearance ot all lumber 
regions. The old bridge possessed an additional in- 
terest because of the names rudely carved on its beams. 
Those who stood sentry there during the war have left 
these weather-beaten evidences of their identity, and we 
found North and South alike represented there. 
We stabled our horses in the bridge, and walked a mile 
up the river to the club house. This is a striicture of 
well hewn logs, about 30x60 feet, and two-stories high, 
containing two large rooms on the lower floor, with 
numerous cuddyhole bedrooms opening on a large hall 
upstairs. The main sitting room is fitted with all the 
comforts of home; a billiard table occupies the left center 
and an enormous fireplace the back wall. Strewn around 
are tables, sofas, easy chairs, etc., while on the walls are 
paintings of sporting life, and sundry collections of a 
similar character. A well stored pantry, kitchen, ice 
house, barn, etc., go to make up an ideal mountain home. 
A party of Wheeling and Pittsburg men, numbering some 
sixty or seventy, have leased the surrounding land close 
to the stream — about 50,000 acres — and make this a sum- 
mer headquarters for their families and friends. We met 
with a cordial reception, . and for the time being were 
guests of the club, with full rights and privileges to all 
benefits, particularly those of a spiritual character. 
After an excellent dinner and a careful inspection of 
the house and grounds we swung ourselves into ouf 
saddles and slowly journeyed back. When I rose to my 
seat in my saddle I found that all was not gold that 
glitters, and that perhaps the bicycle had its advantages 
after all. At any rate I can safely assert that riding 
thirty miles on horseback will all but wear out the crown 
of one's hat. Miles and miles before we reached home 
1 had tried every possible experiment with that saddle, 
and had shifted my anatomy around thereon in every 
possible manner. The interesting and historic features 
of the road interested me no longer, and I could only 
see far in the distance visions of home and sofa cushions. 
However, after home and supper were reached I didn't 
mind the toll after such a good time and dinner as I had 
enjoyed, and had nothing to regret that time will not 
heal. 
The next day, Sunday, I set about preparations for my 
return trip on Monday, but an evening stroll to the river 
put into my head the idea to go "way up," and have one 
more day on the old stream with the trout, and my kind 
hostess was induced to bestir herself early in the morn- 
ing, and put me off in good season. 
Another four mile walk through the woods over the 
well-known path! The trail seems never to have been 
touched by human foot, and as I sank deeper into the 
primeval forest which surrounded me I had to look sharp 
for the trail or get lost. At last I reached the "burnt 
camp" and unlimbered my tackle for business. The 
water was a little flush, and a fog hung rather heavily 
close around me, and things seemed chilly and damp, and 
altogether not promising. I first tried bait and then the 
fly, but with but indifferent success with either. Muttered 
thunder in the north gave warning of an aproaching 
storm, and soon big drops began to patter on the leaves 
overhead and on the surface of the water, so I said good- 
by to the fishing and hunted for shelter. Hastily putting 
on my gossamer cape, constructed for just such emer- 
gencies, I stood out the worst of the storm under a 
spreading beech; but finally I knocked down my rod 
and struck for home, where I arrived too late for dinner, 
but having eaten my lunch on the stream I made out to 
get along until supper without difficulty. Sixteen trout 
all told was my catch, and a nice lot of fish they proved 
to be. A general rehash of mv effects and a getting 
ready to leave in the morning filled in the evenjng. 
The household was astir soon after daybreak on Tues- 
day morning, and I gathered my belongings and made 
ready for an early start. Good-bys and good wishes on 
all =;ides were uttered, and I led off bv a two mile walk 
lo Travelers' Reoose. where T leave the stony little side 
road and reach the pike. Swinging mvself into the saddle 
T pushed off up the gentle grade which is the prelude to 
the nine mile climb up old Alleghany, until warned by 
the rapid beating of my heart that the heat and the 
grade together are becoming too much for me T dis- 
mounted and walked awhile. Walking, however, is no 
hardship, and I enloyed if a§ an pltprPiifion to climb- 
ing — ^particularly on so large a scale. The close, hot air 
proved to be a forerunner of thunder storms, and at 
intervals I ran into the track of a shower, where my 
wheel piled high with mud to the serious detriment of 
my easy going; consequently I hunted the grassy margins 
along the roadside as industriously as possible. The 
woods seemed to be alive with squirrels, and the ctirious 
little fellows stretched their necks to see the combination 
go by, and barked out their surprise, and, I hope, their 
admiration, T topped the mountain at 11 o'clock, and after 
pedaling leisurely over the six or seven miles of road 
on its summit I turned things loose for the miles and 
miles of downhill before me. It was scarce i o'clock 
when I rounded up at Gum's, in Hightown, where I 
spent a night on my way out, and seeing through the 
open door the family at dinner 1 was tempted to give 
my lunch the go-by and stop. I hesitated and was lost, 
and ray "horse" was soon tied to the fence and myself 
seated at table among my friends of a few days before. 
Dinner over I felt ready to push on down the valley, but 
the roll of thunder and the patter of rain drops on the 
roof admonished me to tarry awhile longer, with the 
result that I found myself stormbound, and spent the 
night in my old room, managing to put in the rainy 
afternoon as best I could. 
' George N. Beall. 
ANGLING NOTES. 
Tomcats and Boll Pups. 
The architecture of my handwriting has been vari 
ously described by my friends who have suffered from it 
as Gothic, in spots, Moresque, mediaeval (or evil, b 
those who think they speak the frozen truth), with 
touch here and there of Chinese, and suspicions of dea 
and forgotten style. One friend, brutally frank, said my 
writing was so bad that he could not even read my tele- 
grams, but I forgave him when he said he could gener- 
ally read the date line of my letters, for it was printed 
on my letter heads. Only last week Hon. Edward 
Thompson, lately Shellfish Commissioner of New York, 
wrote to ask where a friend of his could buy some trout, 
and added, "P. S. — Dictate the answer to your stenog 
rapher and have him write it on the typewriter, for 1 
do not wish to take up your time, and my friend really 
wishes to know where he can buy the trout." These little 
side lights will show that if on occasions curious words, 
foreign to the subject, appear in my "Angling Notes" it 
is not the fault of the compositor, for I have no reason 
to doubt, poor man, that he does the best that he can 
with what he has to do with. Last evening I dined at 
my club late, and was smoking in the library, when a 
friend said to me, "I see that the Fish Commission is to 
distribute tomcats." Apparently he was in his right 
mind, but not knowing the answer I simply exclaimed, 
"Tomcats!" and looked around the room for an explana- 
tion, and every man in the room had a smile on his face 
and was looking at me. The first inquisitor gravely 
handed me a copy of Forest and Stream folded to ex- 
pose page 472 of the issue of Dec. 15, and under the 
caption "New Fish Applications" I read, "The same 
blanks are used for tomcats, smelt, Adirondack frost- 
fish and other fish;" and my name was printed under- 
neath. "It is to laugh," but I did more than that. Be- 
fore I went to bed I was thankful that there was not an 
jnitial T in my name, for I know what it would be made 
to stand for in that club. 
The New York Commissioners are friends of mine, and 
I feel that it will save them some trouble and embarrass- 
ment perhaps if Forest and Stream will announce that 
the crop of tomcats was very light this year, much smaller 
in fact than that of "other fish," and so far as I know 
all have been distributed for this year, next year and last 
year, but if tomcods will answer for tomcats one of those 
new' applications filled out for tomcods will get them 
in large measure, and they may serve until the catch of 
tomcats is greater tlian at present. Even with this warn- 
ing I shall not be surprised if I hear that some angler is 
actually suffering for a few thousands of tomcat fry and 
■nsists upon applying for them on those fish applica- 
^ons. 
That reminds me. Once I was fishing in Brant Lake, 
N. Y., for black bass, and my companion in the boat was 
the Bishop of Louisiana. Bishop Sessums was not an 
enthusiastic angler, but he could read a book in a boat 
as well as on land, and he was a most companionable 
man on land or on sea. I was using crickets for bait, and 
late in the afternoon a bullhead took my hook. The 
Bishop looked curiously at the fish and asked what it 
was. I told him it was a bullpout, and he resumed his 
reading. As the black bass appeared to have departed 
for the night, and their places had been taken by the 
bullheads, I told the boatman to row ashore at the hotel 
landing. The third member of our party, Mr. W. D. 
Cleveland, was at the hotel when Bishop Sessums walked 
up to the veranda, while I remained behind to put up 
my sail, and he asked, "What did Cheney get?" Slowly 
the answer came, "Several black bass and two bull pups." 
"Bull pups!" "Yes; at least that it what he said they 
were." 
All of which goes to prove that my speech is some- 
times as indistinct as my handwriting, but I do hope 
that tomcods will not remain, with me. tomcats, as long 
as bullpouts have been bull pixps — if I have to supply 
the bait. 
Record Yellowtail. 
Rather mechanically I read a marked item in a Cali- 
fornia paper of a 40>^-pound yellowtail which -wras 
mounted at Catalina. Later, my indifference changed to 
surprise when a younger brother wrote that it was his 
fish. He says, "I caught the fish on rod and reel. 21- 
strand line, after thirty minutes from the strike. It was 
a record yellowtail for rod and reel, and my first and 
only attempt." How luck wdl strike some men when 
they are not looking for it, and really care little whether 
it hits them or not! I never before knew that George had 
fish rod, and he never would listen to me when I 
(Iked about fishing, and I returned the compliment when 
ne talked about canoes and sails and models, as if canoe- 
ing and saiHng were the only recreations that the Ameri- 
can p€Ople }ndV5l^?4 in. Anot.her, s|ill yoynger, lirptti^x 
