July 21, 1906.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
99 
WHALE RUSHING INTO THE NET. 
companied and characterized by an “awesome 
stink.” 
But you see, they do catch whales with nets 
in New Zealand. 
Trout Fishing at Lake Edward. 
The brook trout attains his greatest size and 
vigor in the cold waters of the far North, Ontario 
and Quebec, monopolizing the best of the sport. 
The conditions that confront the votaries of the 
rod and gun, are somewhat complex and exas¬ 
perating. The visiting sportsman who proposes 
to hunt in the Province of Quebec a week or so, 
is mulcted for a season's license. Clubs are 
■stormily protesting against the alleged invasion of 
their rights and privileges; meanwhile trap¬ 
pers and other nondescript characters penetrate 
the preserve in late fall and winter to harry the 
yarding moose and commit other depredations. 
The small staff of wardens being incapable 
of supervising the interminable network of 
lakes and streams. To invade the wilds of 
Lake Jacques Cartier will test the physical 
prowess of the sportsman. This lake and 
Batiscan, situated in the very heart of the 
Laurentides, are haunted by great speckled trout, 
while moose and caribou await the advent of the 
daring nimrod. Clubs control the headwaters of 
the Batiscan, Jeanotte and most of the available 
points in the Province for fly-casting, but have 
made little impression on that vast system of 
forests, lakes and rivers, extending far beyond 
Temagami on the west and north to Labrador. 
This region has untold charms for those that re¬ 
joice in the wild, rough life of the forest. But 
all this is a vain dream to that class labeled sport¬ 
ing tourists, that throng the line of travel be¬ 
tween Quebec and Chicoutimi in the height of 
the season, comprising men of affairs whose 
sedentary lives unfit them to wrestle with the 
elements and privations inseparable from a wild¬ 
erness jaunt. 
Fortunately for the clubless sportsman, there 
are two resorts along the line that still present a 
defiant front to the destructive influences that 
have sapped the resources of that loveliest of 
trout rivers, the lower Batiscan. Lakes Edward 
and St. John are respectively the headwaters of 
trout and ouananiche. Sport with the ouananiche 
can be enjoyed amid the most luxurious sur¬ 
roundings, but the best angling must be sought 
for in rivers that head far back in the wilderness. 
The landlocked is but a puny rival compared to 
those great trout that throng Lake Edward and 
the wild sequestered lakes of the Government pre¬ 
serve. Lake Edward is supplemented by a large 
strip of territory abutting on the Government 
land, reserved exclusively for the delectation of 
that numerous class of sportsmen that prefer to 
keep in touch with civilization while enjoying a 
modicum of wild life. To all such, a pleasant 
outing is assured on Rowley’s preserve. The pro¬ 
prietor of the Laurentides House furnishes com¬ 
plete camping outfits, including steam launch. 
Good guides are at a premium in August and 
September. This tip along with the comfortable 
camps located near choice trolling, will please the 
old anglers whose camping days are over. Troll¬ 
ing with chub or minnow is the vogue, the deep 
waters of the lake precluding fly-fishing. Quebec 
is the nearest point for angle worms, but chubs 
are always procurable. Rat River and some of 
the lesser tributaries, abound with small and 
medium sized trout. Willing captives to the wiles 
of the Parmachenee-belle, or most any bright 
hued conception, but the lake is emphatically the 
paradise of the troller and still fisher. Strong tackle 
is obligatory, as giant trout haunt its depths. I know 
of no public waters that yield such large returns. 
Considering its accessibility, it fairly rivals the 
Nepigon. The beauty of Lake Edward is sadly 
marred by fire blasted woods. Fortunately the 
greater portion of the preserve was spared this 
hideous blight. 
Many beautiful ponds and lakes are hidden in 
the depths of the forest, but none can compare 
with Algonquin Lake, a lovely gem set amid de¬ 
lectable mountain scenery. This charming trout 
water is linked to Lake Edward by two pretty 
lakelets, Eugene, Des Boquets, and a tiny pond. 
There is a camp on Lac Des Bouquets close to a 
cold brook that augurs well for summer angling. 
These lakes seldom produce large fontinalis, but 
the magnetism of their beauty annually draws a 
host of admirers. A trifling portage connects 
Algonquin with that charming midget of a lake 
Stanislaus, that mirrors stately forests unmarred 
by ax or fire, lacking only the presence of noble 
game to enthuse the sportsman’s heart. A stream 
barely navigable, leads into Lost Lake, whose 
suggestive appellation harmonizes with the dreamy 
beauty of the forest lakelet. A snug camp near 
the outlet detracts much from its wilderness and 
solitude. The miniature rapids and falls at the 
outlet of this handsome lake, are thronged with 
speckled jumpers that take kindly to feathers. 
The trout of this forest brook are exquisitely 
flavored and tinted. Considering the charming 
environment of these dainty water sprites, a trout 
creeled amid 'the rippling music of glancing 
waters, will cause the angler’s heart to thrill 
with a satisfaction unknown to the wielder of the 
minnow gang. 
The stream below the quick-water, meanders 
through beautiful woods untouched by fire. Its 
winding course is frequently enlivened by the 
dashing refrain of mimic falls and rapids, the 
blissful abode of crimson spots, eventually com¬ 
mingling its bright waters with Lake Eveline. 
Some two miles below Lost Lake, a rude trail 
shuffles off through dense woods to the Lake of 
the Caribous. I hunted around this lake in Sep¬ 
tember, 1904, but failed to sight a single head 
of game. The woods and waters appeared de¬ 
serted. A few stray grouse and ducks made up 
a discouraging total. The man that comes in on 
a good tracking snow and hunts on the edge of 
the Government preserve, is wise. Luck oc¬ 
casionally intervenes. I encountered two sports¬ 
men on their way out, the jubilant possessors of a 
fine set of antlers. An old bull caribou had 
blundered into their camp and promptly received 
a leaden blessing. The meat was abominably 
tough and stringy and partially avenged his un¬ 
seemly taking off. The roving bands of anglers 
and fledgling sportsmen that throng the woods 
during the height of the fishing season, stampede 
the larger game and frequently render farcical 
efforts to secure the coveted shot. A few parties 
displayed some insignificant trophy, but the 
majority drew blank. The hunter’s chances of 
securing the coveted prize would be quadrupled 
on the Government preserve, even in September, 
as the combination of high license and tough go¬ 
ing fends off the crowd. A light rifle helps vary 
the camp menu, but the premier attraction from 
June to October is the speckled trout. The wildest 
portion of Rowley’s preserve lies between Cari¬ 
bou Lake and Edward. Beautiful ponds gleam 
from out the forest depth. The stillness of the 
woods is supreme, but even in this remote section 
the hunter’s quest is vain. The scenic beauties 
of this route amply compensate the lover of the 
wilds for the dearth of large game. 
The best of the fly-fishing is controlled by a 
PULLING UP TO GIVE THE LANCE THRUST. 
