July, 1921 
FOREST AND STREAM 
297 
Taking dories up the Humber River, Newfoundland 
T HE first rapids were about three 
hundred yards long 'at a point 
where the river was scarcely sixty 
yards wide. Hence, an enormous vol- 
ume of water was cramped into a nar- 
row runway, which was littered with 
huge boulders and crossed with jagged, 
irregular, and treacherous ledges hav- 
ing deep holes on the lower side. Wad- 
ing carefully along near the right hand 
bank and pushing or pulling our boats 
and dories, we tried to make headway 
against the foaming, swirling current. 
For about fifty yards we advanced 
safely, but then found it necessary 
to double crews and take one dory 
at a time. Shorty, a man over six feet 
tall and weighing close to two hundred 
pounds, heaved at the stem. Pete, 
Sandy, Morse, and Pat struggled at the 
side, while Jud and I hauled on the 
painter. 
“Heave her all!” grunted Shorty and 
up she went, though we could barely 
stand against the force of the swift 
water. 
“Yay ! Look — a — Pete!” spluttered 
Morse with his mouth full of water. 
“Don’t "lose your grip on the gun- 
wale!” sang out Sandy. 
“As an imitation of floating sea-weed, 
you’re a wonder,” muttered Jud, as he 
struggled with the painter. “Get your 
feet down on bottom and help a fellow. 
We’re not going to haul you up this 
blasted stream too.” 
At it we went again, though with 
many a jest and laugh as one or another 
barked his shins or fell over a rock up 
to his neck in the water. The whole 
process of progression was very slow 
and tiring, our advance at times seem- 
ing to be only a matter of inches. For- 
tunately the water was of a comforta- 
ble temperature. 
Above these rapids were a few miles 
of steady water, where we could row, 
then a constant succession of rapids 
for nine long miles. If any of you have 
waded against a current, you know 
what that means. That evening around 
the fire our spirits and strength began 
to revive, though there was many an 
unspoken word of thanks that the day 
was done. Just then there was nothing 
on earth quite so enticing as bed, even 
though we had to place our spruce 
boughs over a veritable quagmire. 
A cheery breakfast in the morning 
sunshine put another aspect on things. 
The worst was over, regardless of four- 
teen more miles of rapids. The water 
became more shallow and less turbulent, 
though rowing was impossible. 
F OR two more days we plodded cheer- 
fully forward. When would we 
reach the Big Falls and see the 
salmon we were after? Rapids, rapids, 
more rapids! Many a long stretch had 
we patiently traversed with ears 
straining to catch the roar of the falls, 
and thrilling with eager hope that the 
next bend would bring us to them. Had 
we made a mistake in our calculations? 
Were we on the wrong — 
“Look! The Falls! Oh, look at 
that!” 
For a moment there was an awed and 
impressive silence as every eye swept 
in the glorious scene. 
Straight across the river was a 
gleaming white band sparkling in the 
sunlight. 
With a hoarse and triumphant shout, 
Amos fairly howled, 
“Will you look at those salmon jump- 
ing!” 
Sure enough, the silvery, quivering 
forms of the gamiest fish in inland 
waters were flashing up out of the boil 
to rise fifteen feet and drop on top of 
the falls, or missing, to plunge back be- 
low. Four, five, six were jumping to 
the minute. 
Gradually we took in the rest of the 
scene. In the immediate foreground 
was the river bed filled with many big 
rocks and ledges barely protruding 
through the water’s surface, with many 
small pools filled with white foam, the 
whole about a hundred yards wide. On 
both sides were cliffs rising a hundred 
feet or so, covered with birch or spruce 
till they approached the falls, where 
they showed black or grey. 
On top of the left hand cliff, about 
forty yards from the falls, we found 
an excellent camping site. There we put 
up our tents where we could look down 
on both falls and river. Feverishly we 
worked, carrying boxes of provisions 
and duffle bags up the narrow and steep 
zigzag path. While Shorty and I 
worked over the coming supper, Amos, 
Jud, Peter, and Pat got out their Jock 
Scots, rods, and reels, and went to try 
their luck. Four, seven or eight-pound 
grilse was the net result of a half hour’s 
fishing. A couple of these we boiled 
and for them prepared a sauce from egg 
powder. You who have tasted fresh 
salmon just taken from water, can ap- 
preciate the delicacy of that evening 
meal. They were grilse that we ate that 
night, but it wasn’t long before a twen- 
ty-three pound salmon graced our hum- 
ble board. 
A S we lay around a crackling fire in 
the darkness of early evening, 
and the corncob pipes were glow- 
ing, a supreme contentment settled over 
us all. We were at peace with the world 
and happy beyond measure. Had we not 
reached our goal without accident and 
feasted our eyes on the glorious sight? 
Had we not caught salmon and eaten 
them? Had we not taken dories where 
dories had never been before? 
The moon was just showing full and 
round over the opposite cliff. Far down 
below, amidst a muffled roar, the beauti- 
ful Big Falls glistened in the pale and 
subdued light, through a misty, glit- 
tering veil of spray. 
Salmon jumping in the Falls of the Humber 
