430 
FOREST AND STREAM 
August, 1920 
A likely place for bass 
A reflector baker in action 
Floating logs on the St. Croix 
CANOEING DOWN THE NEMEKAGON 
THE SECOND PART OF A NARRATIVE DEPICTING THE EXPERIENCES OF TWO 
ENTHUSIASTIC FISHERMEN-VOYAGERS ON ONE OF WISCONSIN’S FAMOUS STREAMS 
W E were up be-times in the morn- 
ing, for it was Saturday, and we 
wanted to find a good camp for 
over Sunday. Our breakfast, of hot 
mu.sh, toast and coffee, was quickly dis- 
posed of, and we were on the river while 
yet the thick mists hung lower over the 
surface of the water. It was chilly out 
in the shrouding mists but we knew that 
such a thick vapor rising from the sur- 
face of the river betokened a hot day to 
come. Shortly after leaving our camp, 
we ran into a long, shallow rapid and 
because of the vapor were unable to select 
the best route, experiencing considerable 
trouble before we made our way into 
deep water. Bass were rising every- 
where along the shore, indicating that 
the river was little fished. Come to 
think of it, we did not see a single fisher- 
man from Hayward to the St. Croix. 
We were not disappointed in our ex- 
pectations of a hot day and by eleven 
o’clock were glad to turn in to a high 
bank upon the left for dinner. There 
was a boxed-in spring at the foot of the 
bank with pure running water, but no 
immediate sign of habitation. Paren- 
thetically: from that time on there- was 
no lack of good drinking water, for a 
spring could be found at the foot of al- 
most every high bank; a hole scooped in 
the sand would soon fill with deliciously 
cold water. While I fried bacon and pre- 
pared the potatoes, George played with 
a bass at the foot of the bank, and 
though he had him on several times, was 
compelled to come to dinner fishless, much 
to his chagrin. The fish would take the 
plug gingerly, as though he had been 
there before, without hooking himself. 
Naturally I thought that I could hook 
him but upon an attempt did not even 
get a rise, much to George’s satisfaction, 
I imagine. We did not hurry dinner, in- 
deed we seldom hurried, for we were out 
for a good time, but were back on the 
river at one o’clock. We agreed that the 
first ideal camp-site would be our Sun- 
day home, and examined every elevation 
with that thought in mind. 
Shortly after dinner we passed a com- 
pany of workmen busy constructing an 
By 0. W. SMITH 
iron bridge, at the left hand end of which 
v/e found a big spring. Our inevitable 
question regarding a trout stream elicited 
iittle information, save that there were 
several back in the country. Glad to 
leave our uncommunicative acquaintances, 
we pushed off. Gradually, almost imper- 
ceptibly, the stream had widened out, 
losing some of its current; now islands 
began to appear and it was an open ques- 
tion as to which side to take. There 
were plenty of fish, wall-eyes and bass. 
A few casts brought in a pair of pound 
wall-eyes, enough for supper. I saw one 
large bass rise close under a marshy 
bank, so large in fact that we went back 
and cast for some rods faithfully but to 
no purpose. I shall always have a mental 
photograph of that fish as he hung there 
in the bright sunlight for the briefest 
fraction of a second, gleaming, radiant, 
his body set in a gentle curve; there is 
no question in my mind but that he would 
have weighed at least four pounds, per- 
haps more; I doubt if he were a small- 
mouth, his color was too light. 
At about three o’clock we passed quite 
a large island, the largest thus far, and 
some moments later swung out into an 
enlarged river, for at the right the Toto- 
patic tumbled in its rapid flood. About a 
quarter of a mile below the mouth of the 
latter river we came to a level bank 
upon the left some eight feet above the 
Nemekagon, well sheltered with oak 
trees; to the right, still lower down, was 
a well preserved log cabin — one could 
never miss it. It was an ideal camp- 
site, and we pulled our canoe up with 
alacrity. We found indisputable evi- 
dence of former occupancy in numerous 
tins and empty bottles, though how the 
spot could be reached save by river is 
something of an enigma; still the em- 
bers of many fires indicated that it was 
a frequented place. Soon the sounds of 
our axes broke the deep silence, and in 
a jiffy the tent was up, bedding provided 
and supper well under way. Take it 
from me — consider this in parenthesis 
if you wish— there are no better fresh 
water fish of pan size than small wall- 
eyes and no fancy dressing is needed. 
A FTER supper we assembled our rods, 
and with a light line and careful 
selection of lures, set out up the To- 
ropatic for an evening’s sport. We found 
the stream so swift that it needed both 
out paddles to force the canoe against 
the current, but one man could of course 
guide it down again. That evening was 
one of the most wonderful that I ever 
put in with short rod and multiplying 
reel. Rises and strikes were numerous; 
pike, or as I prefer to call them in order 
to save confusion, wall-eyes, and bass 
were numerous. We agreed that any- 
thing under five pounds in weight was to 
be liberated as we desired a large fish 
to bake for Sunday dinner. Once I 
hooked a bass that I think would have 
filled the bill but he got off just as 
George was about to slip the landing-net 
under him. Finally I took a 23-inch 
wall-eye and he was voted large enough; 
however, we fished until dusk, liberating 
numberless fish after playing them to 
exhaustion and giving them every chance 
to escape. 
Hurrying camp-ward in the rapidly 
gathering night, we were both surprised 
and not a little frightened, to have a 
deer plunge into the water upon our 
right, and with great bounds, which sent 
the water splashing in every direction, 
leap for the opposite shore. As soon as 
the animal reached deep water it was 
of course compelled to swim, which it did 
in a distance-eliminating manner. The 
current helping us, we were all but upon 
the beast before it gained its objective, 
in fact we could have caught up with 
it had we so desired, but a memory of 
Martin’s experience trying to hold a deer 
by the tail, as told by W. H. H. Murray 
in “Adventures in the Wilderness”, pre- 
vented my undertaking the feat or even 
suggesting it to George. The unusual- 
ness of the incident was highly gratify- 
ing and gave us subject for numberless 
conversations. 
We had planned to sleep late the next 
morning — Sunday — but the tent was so 
pitched that the morning sun sneaked 
under the oak branches and b^hed the 
silk with glory, turning the interior into 
