64 
FOREST AND STREAM 
February, 1921 
OLD ALBERT OF CHEMUNG LAKE 
PART TWO OF A STORY OF A TRIP THROUGH THE BURLEIGH LAKE REGION 
OF ONTARIO AND SOME LEGENDS TOLD BY AN OJIBWAY INDIAN 
By CHARLES MEAKINS 
S UN-UP saw old Albert and me all 
ready for the paddle and, slipping 
the canoe over the dam, we started 
through the short reach to the canyon- 
like entrance into Long Lake. It may be 
well to digress here and speak of the 
unusual formation of these lakes which 
is so apparent at this spot. 
Geologists have said that Lake Onta- 
rio in ages past was the crater of a huge 
volcano. This may or may not be so — 
science alone can prove that — but these 
lakes a hundred miles north of Lake On- 
tario certainly show volcanic origin or 
upheaval. This is more noticeable in 
Long Lake than in any of the others. 
This lake is twelve miles long and at its 
widest point not more than two hundred 
yards wide. It is simply a rift in the 
rock surface of the earth. The sides are 
sheer and vary from fifty to two hun- 
dred feet in height and in its entire 
length only affords one or two possible 
landings for a canoe and those only con- 
sist of a shelf of rock jutting out of the 
wall-like sides. 
The depths of the lake are unknown. 
Lumbermen years ago while rafting logs 
down the lake, tried to anchor their log- 
ging chains but were unable to reach 
bottom and when looking at the steep 
walls that seemingly reach to the sky, 
one wonders just how deep the lake 
must be. 
The trout fishing here is excellent but 
during the summer the fish are in the 
deep and colder waters and can only be 
taken with a copper line. I prefer the 
copper line to the heavily “leaded” silk 
one as the former allows one to play the 
fish without being hampered by the 
heavy weight necessary to take the silk 
line deep enough. Care must be taken 
with the copper line to avoid “kinking” 
it when letting 
out or reeling in; 
— one kink and 
line and fish are 
well at the bot- 
tom of the lake. 
We spent the 
morning with the 
trout, which to 
most fishermen is 
the king sport of 
fresh-water fish- 
ing. We shore- 
dinnered mid way 
down the lake at 
Trout Lake por- 
tage — a fissure in 
the south shore, 
which breaks 
through the mas- 
sive wall. Trout 
Lake is also a 
long narrow one, 
extend ing due 
south from Long 
Lake, and of very 
much the same 
f o r m a t i on but 
with a less rugged and steep shore- 
line and shallower waters. The trout 
here are more easily caught but not 
so large as those in Long Lake. 
We spent the afternoon here and made 
our night camp at the Trout Lake end 
of the portage. 
It was an awesome day, this day on the 
Long and Trout; the greatness of the 
surroundings and the impressiveness of 
these huge rocky shores had a tendency 
to make one quiet. Little was said be- 
tween us until the camp was snug for 
the night and the pipes were lit. Old 
Albert, buried in thought, watched the 
weird and fantastic shadows of the fire 
for a long while, then said : “Some of the 
old stories are strange and no one knows 
where they came from. I think they 
came from the different peoples of the 
land and from their mingling we at last 
received the message. There is one very 
old tale of the Water Indians, of the 
Mother of Chibia’bos and his nativity. — 
Many years after the flood of the Evil 
Spirits, their came a rending of the 
earth and the people were sore afraid. 
The Nee-ba-naw’-baigs (Water Spir- 
its) threw the water of Gitchi-Gu’mee 
(Lake Superior) to the heavens. The 
wise councillors of the people knew not 
what to do, till Oweenee, a beautiful 
maiden, told the councillors her dream. 
‘Last night,’ she said, ‘I dreamed a 
dream; Mahug (the Loon) came to me 
and said: ‘Oh, one of little strength, 
have the people put thee in thy canoe 
and go thou on the waters. I will send 
Owais’sa (the Blue Bird) with thee, — 
and thou wilt save our people.’ ” 
So they placed her in the canoe, — 
Gitchi-Gu’mee bore her up until it was 
thought the canoe would perish; it was 
thrown to the four corners of the heavens 
till at last it rested on the shore again 
and the Annemee’kee (Great Thunder) 
ceased and the waters were stilled. Then 
Oweenee looked upon the earth but the 
people were gone — all the people were 
gone. Then the maiden thought “how 
can I bear children and make a new peo- 
ple”? She went up into the mountains 
before sunrise and lay there alone. 
Then the daylight came and the beams 
of the sun shone warm upon the maiden 
and the water dripped from the crag; 
in this way she conceived and bore a 
daughter. When the child was grown to 
maidenhood, the mother said to her: “Do ' 
you know, my daughter, how you came ' 
oo be?” The maiden answered," No!” 
“I will show you,” said the mother. So 
she led the daughter up into the moun- 
tains and bade her lie as she had lain. 
The maiden lay on the mountain all day. 
Next morning before the sun rose, the 
mother went to her daughter and told 
her to look upon the first ray of the 
sun. In this way the maiden conceived 
of the sun and the child she bore was 
Chibia’bos, the Savior of the people, the 
Mouth of Gitchi Manito, the Master of 
Life. This is an old tale and from 
whence it came I do not know.” 
D AWN found us astir and breaking 
camp. We started the portage 
back to Long Lake which we 
reached just as the sun was edging over 
the granite hills. We did not fish on the 
paddle up Long Lake, through the nar- 
rows or across Louckes Lake but, skirt- 
ing the northern shore all the way, we 
were intent on finding the entrance to 
Lynx Lake Creek, as Old Albert knew 
the entrance to be narrow and change- 
able. This was caused by a huge cran- j 
berry swamp which extended a mile 
along the shore 
and while the en- 
ti ance to the 
creek is plainly 
discernible from 
the lake by the 
cleft in the gran- 
ite rock walls, 
the changing 
growth of the 
swamp makes the 
choosing of just 
the right opening 
to the stream 
difficult. With 
consummate cun- 
ning, Old Albert 
turned the bow 
with a sharp 
“swish” into what 
seemed to be a 
blank tangle of 
cranberry bushes 
standing five feet 
high, apparently 
in all directions 
but, as we neared 
the brush, a 
Deer Bay Creek above the fifth portage 
