FOREST AND STREAM 
443 
Fishing in the Wilderness 
A Nova Scotia Canoe Trip Is Great Sport—This Writer Tells All About Togs and Tackle—Guides 
and Grub—What it Costs 
C ANOE trips in Nova Scotia may be made 
from the beginning of May to the end of 
October, or even a little later, but since 
most visitors will wish to enjoy the excellent 
brook trout fishing of this province, the spring 
season may be said to last from the beginning of 
May to the end of June, and the autumn from 
the last week in August until October first. 
The first two weeks in May means high water, 
cold nights, the fishing not so good as a little 
later, but no black flies or other insects; and 
those properly initiated know what that means. 
The high water also means that there will be 
plenty of rapid-running, a most exhilarating pas¬ 
time, and by no means devoid of danger, which 
is, for a sportsman, one of the delights of wilder¬ 
ness canoeing. About the middle of May comes 
similium molestum, and then gloves are neces¬ 
sary, and veils of black silk over the head, and 
quantities of “dope,” a concoction brewed, ac¬ 
cording to individual taste, of tar, pennyroyal, 
vaseline, camphor, sweet oil, and other ingredi¬ 
ents. 
It goes without saying that the fishing im¬ 
proves on the appearance of the flies, though the 
brook trout—the only trout in Nova Scotia, ex¬ 
cept in a few of the lakes—will rise well to the 
artificial fly before any insects have appeared on 
the water. Of course, seasons differ. I have 
known Mays without flies, but I have also seen 
the black flies so thick that it was really no sport 
at all to fish, except in a breeze. About June 1st 
they become less bothersome, and it must be said 
these flies are of respectable habits and go to 
bed soon after sundown. Only the mosquito 
does not cease from troubling, and he is negligible 
in Nova Scotia, except on a few sultry days. I 
did not very often dispute the possession of the 
woods with the black flies, and having made my 
first spring trip in early May, preferring a sur¬ 
cease of itching and a luxurious hugging of the 
cosy and romantic camp-fire of logs—one of the 
glories of camping, when the voyager lies on his 
bough or blanket bed, with his feet to the blaz¬ 
ing logs, and sees the smoke from his pipe float 
upward and mingle with the pine and spruce and 
hemlock tops far above the tent. 
Let us say you land in the historic little town 
of Annapolis Royal, the oldest in North America, 
excepting St. Augustine in Florida. You have 
been careful to write ahead—the longer the bet¬ 
ter—to the chief guide of some place, say South 
Milford, a small hamlet on the very outskirts 
of the real wilderness. 
A fifteen-mile drive takes you there, and your 
guides, canoes, outfits, tent and provisions al¬ 
ready await you. I put guides in the plural be¬ 
cause, though one man and a guide can have lots 
of enjoyment, the ideal party consists of two 
sportsmen, each sharing a canoe with a good 
guide. There are some good guides in Nova 
Scotia, fine chaps, with whom it is a pleasure to 
By W. R. Gilbert 
paddle a canoe, share a tent, or smoke a pipe and 
“swap lies.” They are not obsequious or servile, 
they know their own value as men and wood¬ 
men, but they are respectful, and usually hard¬ 
working and cheerful. The first-class guide of 
the north woods of British antecedents, either 
in Maine, New Brunswick or Nova Scotia, is 
about as fine a specimen of the genus homo as 
Each Sharing a Canoe With a Good Guide. 
one can find in the world, judging him by his 
character and his chances for education. 
Of Indians it is hard to speak. Some sports¬ 
men prefer them on account of their picturesque¬ 
ness, and they certainly are canoe men and hunt¬ 
ers of the first water, but—well, let it go at that. 
I have known some fine Indian guides, and I 
have known many with whom I would not care to 
camp. 
The morning after your arrival the guides are 
holding the canoes ready to step in, and occupy 
the bow seats, where you will find just room for 
your legs; for the little crafts are loaded pretty 
deeply. You will not have a chance to replenish 
your stock of provisions for two weeks, and you 
are more than likely to see nobody until you turn 
your bows homeward again. That is one of the 
great charms of this country. You are in the real 
wilderness, and barring a trapper or a lumber 
cruiser once in a while, and less often another 
canoe full of tourists, you share the forest only 
with the moose, the bear, the deer, the otter, 
mink, the owl, the heron, the ruffed grouse, the 
woodcock, and all the other wild and fascinating 
denizens of the Arcadian woods. There are no 
“camps” where you can get a warm dinner and a 
bed; you are self-dependent now, like the primi¬ 
tive savages. Only, it must be confessed, your 
outfit cannot strictly be called primitive. 
The tent, made of the lightest and toughest 
cotton duck water-proofed (commercially called 
balloon silk), may be big enough to hold four. 
But the ideal thing is for the sportsmen and the 
guides to have one each, the two pitched opposite 
each other, with the camp-fire between. The 
form of the tents should be lean-to, or shed, 
quite open in front, but provided with a front 
that can be laced down tight if the wind should 
change and a storm blow into the tent. Other¬ 
wise it is used as an awning. Do not use wall 
tents. They are either hot or cold, according to 
season. A lean-to is open to the fire in front, and 
you are sleeping really out-of-doors, which is as 
it should be. If mosquitoes bother, have a 
square yard of bobbinet to spread over head and 
shoulders. 
Now for beds. A couple of thick blankets, 
plus a larger but light-weight rubber blanket, 
make a good bed when laid on a carefully made 
bank of boughs, the poncho being spread over 
the boughs. This is the usual forest bed, but 
there is something much better—the air bed. One 
or more other blankets are added, according to 
taste. The secret lies in the thinness of the bed, 
as the air within is not of too great bulk to be 
thoroughly warmed by the heat of the body. The 
result is a warm and comfortable bed, its only 
disadvantages, as a wag said, being that it seems 
ridiculously nice for forest use. It may be noted 
that though, of course, the outfit is limited to the 
capacity of the canoes, many things may yet be 
taken that would have to be left at home if every¬ 
thing were “toted” on the back. This is the case 
with the above mentioned bed, which, though 
ideal on a pack horse or in a canoe, is too heavy 
to carry all the time. 
Unless you are lucky enough to possess your 
cooking kit—in which case it will be a neat nest¬ 
ing set of aluminum, which is not only very 
light, but lasts for years—the guides will look 
after the kettles and frying pans and tin cups and 
miscellaneous requirements, not forgetting the 
axes. And how the north woods guides can use 
those axes! What strength, what deftness, what 
accuracy they display in felling a medium-sized 
birch, lopping off the limbs, dragging the trunk 
to the fire, and there splitting it up. If you are a 
tenderfoot you will marvel; if an old-timer, you 
will admire. A good axeman can metaphorically 
cut a toothpick or fell an oak with the same axe, 
the one as easily as the other. 
But we have forgotten your own personal out¬ 
fit and clothing. Here all is common sense and 
experience, with possibly a touch of the pic¬ 
turesque here and there, if you are inclined that 
