214 
FOREST AND STREAM 
[Sept, g, 1905. 
A Fishing Trip to Cumberland River 
One bright, sunny morning in August I left the sum- 
mer resort of Rockcastle Springs in Pulaski county, Ky., 
for a fishing trip to Cumberland River. My companions 
for the trip were Joe Thomas and Frank Hall, two com- 
mercial travelers from Cincinnati, O., who had been so- 
journing at the Springs during their “off” season, and 
Will and George Goodwin, broad-chested mountaineers, 
who had been hired to do duty as oarsmen. Thomas was 
a new hand in the field of angling, while Hall had in the 
parlance of his section, captured “quite a few” of the 
finny tribe in his time. _ ^ 
We took no provisions with us for the three days trip 
we had arranged, outside the customary flask to recuper- 
ate the waning strength of the boatman after the days 
exhaustive tire, expecting to spend the intervening nights 
in the comfortable log cabins of the natives residing along 
the banks of the river. Their hospitality was vouched 
for by the boatman and others, of whom we made in- 
quiries. We found the reports absolutely true in every 
respect, attested by the fact that in numerous similar trips 
over Cumberland and Rockcastle rivers we were never re- 
fused a night’s lodging, except in one instance where the 
wife of the owner of the house was seriously ill. Never, 
on asking for the amount of my bill for a night’s lodging 
was a charge ever volunteered with one solitary exception. 
The exception was at the mouth of Rockcastle River, 
where my boatman and I slept one night in a cabin of one 
room in company with six other occupants, and for meals 
and lodging were charged a not unreasonable sum. But 
that was twenty years ago, before the natives had become 
acquainted with the wicked and wild fellows who claim 
to be fishermen to the great scandal of the honest craft. 
We were told that this wicked set were hilarious and 
rude, no respecters’ of persons or property, and as a conse- 
quence the natives are less hospitable, and when the free- 
dom of the cabin is extended the proprietors have learned 
how to charge. 
Two stout, flat bottomed skiffs had been engaged for 
the party, and as George Goodwin and I, taking the lead, 
pushed off from the shore into the placid pool near the 
famous spring. The others were expected to follow at 
once, when 3. yell from Thomas split the morning air be- 
fore three oar strokes were taken. 
“Hold on! Hold on!” said he, frantically. Where s 
my rubber wading boots?” 
Now, Thomas was an amateur whose knowledge of 
fishing was limited to the Miami, and a few inland creeks 
and shallow mud ponds, while Hall was an old-timer on 
the Cumberland. , tt n 
“D— n your rubber boots!” savagely exclaimed Hail, 
who did not often swear, but when he did it was with 
force and meaning. .“Do you suppose we are going to 
wade the Miami for goggle-eyes and snapping cats? Did 
you never troll from a boat?” 
This apostrophe to his ignorance silenced Thoma.s, for 
if there was anything he despised it was to be considered 
ignorant on the matter of fishing. One day he was fishing 
with Kelpie, one of the old Kingfisher gang. Kelpie was 
catching fish and he wasn’t. , t, 
“How in the world do you catch fish when 1 can t ? ne 
inquired. 
“Oh!” responded Kelpie, “that’s easy enough. It’s by 
the simple twist of the wrist.” And he gaye his wrist a 
quick turn. Thomas accepted the information without a 
murmur. The rubber boots were left behind. 
It was a six-mile row to the mouth of Rockcastle over 
stretches of deep, transparent pools so clear the rocks at 
the bottom seemed within reach of the hand, and over 
rocky shoals and rapids where the natural channel in the 
low stage of water had been widened intO' zig-zag open- 
ings to permit the passage even of small rowboats. Down 
these narrow channels the boats rushed and grated 
beat and bumped, guided by the oar blades in lusty hands 
until the deep, still waters at the foot were reached. 
On either side the tall and craggy cliffs_ covered with 
virgin forest or clinging shrubbery, or rising into bold, 
bare rocks against the blue sky formed a gorge of pictur- 
esque grandeur for the passage of the beautiful river. 
Aside from other features was noted, as we swept 
swiftly on, the deep pool of the Gulf, guarded by im- 
mense irregular blocks of limestone, twenty to forty feet 
in height above the water, as if some giant Titan had de- 
tached them from the adjacent cliffs and hurled them into 
the stream to block its path. This pool was said to be 
lOO feet in depth. ■ , , 
Next we course in sight of a rustic mill with the pro- 
prietor in full view feeding the hopper. The mill dam 
was composed of a wall of rough stones piled together, 
reaching diagonally down stream from either bank to a 
flood gate composed of two boards above a base log, held 
in place by parallel posts at each end. The water stage 
was thus raised about two feet to supply power to the 
mill. The latter was composed of a hopper, two mill 
stones and a shute into a box from which the meal was 
scooped into the waiting bag. This was strictly a low 
water mill, as at high tide the dam was washed out, ]the 
stones of the mill submerged and the mill was abolished 
till the next year, when a new dam was built, a new 
frame erected around the stones, and the good work re- 
sumed. . , , , 
Emerging from the mouth of the river into the broader 
waters of the Cumberland, the boats were drawn together 
and preparations for sport began. Thomas pulled out his 
cigar box in which he had concealed from view with 
jealous care, “his rigging,” as he called it. Revealed to 
light this consisted of a dozen or so of “bobs” of all sizes, 
from an ordinary bottle cork to the “stoppers” of a fruit 
jar, and as vari-colored as the rainbow._ His lines were 
of cotton or twisted linen, his reel a single barrel “rat- 
tler,” and his hooks varied from sunfish size to those suit- 
able for soagging. Joe, as we familiarly call^ him, saj4 
our smiles were out of order, as he always went prepared 
for anything that might turn up. 
Hall exhibited a line that was new to me, made of 
braided silk, water-soaked, not too flexible, small and 
strong and free of that perplexing fault — a liability to 
kink. It was made, he said, by a workman in a Connec- 
ticut silk factory. I was so pleased with the work of this 
line that I later ordered and used nO' others, introducing 
them into the old Kingfisher Club, who patronized the 
maker to such an extent that they were afterward put on 
the market as the “Kingfisher” line, with a cut of the well 
known bird as a trade-mark. I may add, however, that 
the later lines do not appear to have the smoothness and 
finish of those originally manufactured, being a little too 
“sticky.” 
My own tackle was a No. 2 and a No. 3 Milan reel, 
with two of Abbie & Imbrie’s best enameled water-proof 
braided silk lines and a couple of Mississippi cane rods. 
I had not then become acquainted with the elastic, strong 
and beautiful jointed Bristol steel rods. 
Three kinds of fish are principally taken from the Cum- 
berland — the wary small-mouth black bass, the salmon or 
wall-eyed pike, and the blue cat. The salmon, as they 
are commonly called, are of three varieties — the golden, 
the hickory and the lead colored. The blue cat was abun- 
dant but not desirable. 
Our purpose was to ascend the stream, and it was 
agreed that each boat was to fish at will. Joe and Hall 
chose the right bank and I took the left, using both rods 
in trolling, resting the butt of one with click set on a 
board across the sides of the boat in front of me, and 
holding the other rod in hand ready for a strike. We 
trolled slowly, and if I had an alarm on the set rod I 
exchanged it for the one in hand and played the fish to 
a finish. Sometimes I had two captives to handle at the 
same time, in which event I put the drag on the reel in 
hand, laid the rod down, took up the other, hooked and 
landed the fish at the proper time and reeled both in in 
due succession, provided their valiant lordships did not 
bid me a disappointing good-by. There may be something 
of the “fish hog” in this style of fishing, but this was in 
the primitive days, and we had not read the Forest and 
Stream much. 
I was rounding a rocky point when a sudden yell from 
Joe attracted my attention. He was standing up in the 
boat, bare-headed and going through a series of contor- 
tions, jerking his rod from side tO' side, while Hall was 
swearing and shouting directions to him in Russian 
dialect. Thomas’ antics evidently threatened tO' upset the 
boat. Joe was oblivious to all else except a vigorous turn- 
ing of his “single multiplier” in the struggle to quickly 
get his fish on board. Wearying of turning the crank he 
finally yanked his fish on board with a powerful jerk of 
his rod. As it lay flapping on the bottom Joe shrieked out 
with both hands uplifted : “Come and learn of me, ye 
ignorant Waltonians, and I’ll teach you how to catch fish 
by the simple twist of the wrist.” Then he began to 
lecture Hall on the art of angling with the proper bait 
and the proper tackle. 
The fish was a 2-pound bass, and Hall, though 
chagrined at the success of the amateur, was content in 
escaping an upset. A few moments later, while passing 
a rocky point, I felt a nibble, and giving line, saw the 
cork go under. Goodwin saw the bite and ceased rowing. 
The line slowly ran off the reel, then slackened, and 
winding in the slack, I felt a slight tug, gave it to him, 
and as he went out of the water the struggle began. His 
lair was evidently among the boulders close to shore, for 
he headed that way, and under the restraint of the bend- 
ing rod he twisted and turned in and out among the rocky 
channels. Thwarted in this direction he darted toward 
deeper water. Yielding more line, but with tighter grip, 
he soon came to the top, leaping out and shaking his 
mouth to eject the hook, and then his strength waned, 
and with little effort he was led to the side of the boat 
and lifted in by Goodwin, a 2^-pounder. 
Hall was also busy, landing at intervals, several bass, 
running from Yz to 2 pounds each. Going in behind 
some big rocks that obstructed the current in a narrow 
neck of the river, I got a strong bite, and after a short 
battle landed a golden salmon of 4 pounds. These fish 
are poor fighters in comparison with the gamy, bright- 
eyed black bass. 
Trolling slowly up the river, trying a promising place 
here and there, and increasing our string with catches of 
bass of varying size of from i to- 3 pounds, and an occa- 
sional salmon, we finally reached the long, deep pool at 
the foot of the salt shoals. 
By this time the day was well spent, the sun hanging 
low over the hills, and the matter of finding lodging for 
the night very suggestive. Across the bottom near the 
hills a house was seen, and the boatmen having vouched 
for the hospitality of the owner, the boats were drawn up 
on a gravel bar near the shore, and George Goodwin dis- 
patched for information. He soon returned saying it was 
all right. ' 
Unloading our traps and fastening the boats securely 
for the night, and leaving the fish to be cleaned by the 
guides, we mounted the bank, and following a beaten path, 
soon reached the house. The owner — a plain, kindly- 
faced mountaineer of sinewy build — responded to our in- 
quiry with, “I ain’t got much, and my child is sick, but if 
you can stand it you are welcome.” 
The house was a long log cabin, divided into two rooms 
by a thin board partititon reaching up to the square. One 
of these roorns was occupied by the owner, his wife and 
the sick child, and the other was set apart for our use. 
The fare consisted of corn pone, coffee, beans, roasting 
ears and potatoes, with fried fish as a centerpiece. We 
ate heartily, for we were_ hungry. After supper we sat 
by the big log fire and discussed the day’s events. Our 
host listened with eagerness, especially when the talk 
touched on matters in the outside world. 
Joe -yi^as sad, He had caught only the single bass that 
had provoked his early hilarity. All day long he had 
been compelled to sit and see Hall taking them in, and 
his minnows were untouched, and there was no oppor- 
tunity to exercise “that simple twist of the wrist.” 
We retired early, but not to sleep. That sick child had 
an extra touch of cramps and cried and cried and cried, 
as hour after hour rolled on. We turned in bed, we 
twisted, and as the wailing sound came over the partition 
and down among us, we wished for paregoric, and lauda- 
num, and soothing syrup, and even for a chance to stuff 
its mouth with cotton. 
Joe whispered that he could do the business by a simple 
“twist of the wrist.” On and on through the night that 
wailing infantile cry went on, until about 3 A. M., when 
it suddenly hushed. How sweet ! Then came sleep— oh, 
no! for just as the wailing ceased, a big rooster under 
the cabin began to crow and brazenly continued till day 
had fully dawned. 
We rose next morning in no amiable mood. We were 
sorry for the child, but would have let Thomas cut that 
rooster’s head off without shedding a tear. The breakfast 
was a duplicate of the supper of the night before, and our 
appetites as sharp as the edge of the brisk morning air of 
the mountains. Preparing to leave, we inquired the 
amount of our bill. 
“You don’t owe' me nuthin’,” was the host’s reply. “I 
don’t keep tavern, and if you are satisfied, I am.” 
We would not have it that way, and after some parley- 
iiig, our host finally accepted a fair allowance for the 
night’s lodging, with apologies for doing so. 
As we walked down the path to the river Joe said he 
would have felt real mean if we had not paid for the 
music that child gave us ; “beat a hand organ and a mon- 
key,” he added. 
The second day’s fishing was without notable incident 
save the trip through the salt shoals. After skirting the 
edges of the long pool at the base and picking up half a 
dozen bass ranging in size from ^ to pounds, we 
touched the foot of the shoals. The river at this point is 
quite wide and shallow for half a mile, and the main chan- 
nel in low water a narrow, tortuous current, through which 
a rowboat has trouble in finding its way. The inexperi- 
enced navigator is often capsized and forced to wade out. 
Interspersed over the shoals are pockets of deeper water, 
where the hungry bass lies in wait for its prey. These 
scattered feeding grounds were frlorious spots to delight 
the angler, for anchoring his boat in the shallow water 
beyond alarm distance, he could cast his minnow into the 
pocket and almost immediately find it seized by a raven- 
ous small-mouth, and then the fight was on. 
The surprised bass would dash into* the shallow water 
and across to other pockets in its frantic struggle to es- 
cape, leaping above the surface and shaking its head as a 
dog would a rat in the effort to disgorge the wicked barb. 
There were no great rocks, and no sunken snags tO' give 
trouble, but an open field and a fair fight. No need to 
hurry, no need to fear unseen dangers, but if the hook 
held and the tackle was reliant, the battle was sure to 
end favorably to the skillful handler of the rod. In fish- 
ing these delightful places several hours were spent, and 
our strings grew heavy with the captives. Heavier laden, 
the skiff of Hall and Thomas occasionally became fast- 
ened on a ledge or in a bend of the current, and the guide 
was compelled to take to water to dislodge it. 
Joe grew happier, for his luck to-day was better. When 
his red “bob” would go under he at first would lift a 
blood-curdling yell, until Hall threatened to throw him 
overboard. Then he compromised by postponing the 
■whoop till the fish was in the boat. “You are not my 
friend,” he said to Hall, “if you won’t allow me sO' trifl- 
ing an exultation as that.” And Hall allowed it, for the 
opportunities for celebration were few. 
Above the shoals the water was smoother and deeper, 
but we found the fishing better along shore or in the shal- 
lower places. At one point, a broad ledge of rocks pro- 
jected from the left bank well into the stream, making a 
narrow channel with sw'ift current. Tired of the narrow 
confines of the boats we stepped ashore on this ledge. 
Hall and I dropped our minnows in the swift water along 
the outer edge of the rocks, while Joe leisurely stretched 
his limbs on the ledge “to restore,” as he said, “his equi- 
librium.” The half hour temptation was fruitless of re- 
sults, for not, a fin disturbed our bait. 
Late in the afternoon we reached the mouth of Laurel 
River. Our guides pointed out a road close by that led 
up the mountain side, saying that 'at the top we would 
find our night’s lodging. It was a steep climb of a mile, 
the air sultry, and we were happy enough when the top 
was reached and Mr. Bunce’s capacious cabin came in 
sight. 
Mr. Bunce is a genuine down-East Yankee of the in- 
quisitive type, and such a talker. Great Heavens! once 
set in motion it was down grade ninety miles an hour, 
track greased and no sidetracks or opposition trains al-, 
lowed. Joe said he w^as a “sextuple multiplier, without . 
drag or click, and warranted to run on forever.” 
^ Bunce rnet us at the gate. “Come in, gentlemen, come 
m,” he said, “make yerselves ter hum ; nice day, fine luck, . 
I see fish bite well; quite a few this year. Come from th^ 
Springs, I guess ; lots of people there this year. Keep ’ 
good Gravelly and Virginny twist at the Springs— got 
any? How’s trade in the settlements,” and he was' 
going on, end without end, in this disconnected way when 
Joe interrupted him. 
' “Trade’s fine, fine,” he. said, “day before I left I sold two 
yoke of oxen, a cow and calf, ..a blind horse, and would 
have sold a sow and ten, pigs but fellow only wanted 
sow and nine pigs; sale broke off.” This was uttered with 
all the solemnity of a mule waiting a chance to kick. 
Hall and I glanced at each other nuizzically, the two 
guides grinned broadly, and Bunce, glancing .suspiciously 
at joe, in a modulated tone, exclaimed: “Du tell, du tell, 
mister; be you a farmer?” . ’ ’ 
“No,” responded Joe, “I sell saws an^ axes, knives and 
