Forest and 
Vol. LXXXIII. 
ream 
o\\\an histitijf ’ 
October 3, 1914 V No. 14 
('oct e 19 M , 
A Winter in Michigan 
The First Instalment of What Genenally is Considered the Best Work of America’s Greatest Outdoor Writer 
Some 280 miles west of New York City stands 
the village of Corning, at which point the Corn¬ 
ing & Blossburg Railroad intersects with the Erie 
Railway. Suppose, reader, if you be a dweller 
in Gotham and have a hankering for fresh woods 
mold and a natural carpet of gold and crimson 
—if you have a taste for the rifle and can man 
the breech end of one effectually—suppose, I say, 
you leave your ledger for a week and come to 
the forest with me; it is likely you may not only 
find pleasure, but ultimately profit thereby. 
An all-night ride shall take us from Jersey City 
to Corning, and here we lay off just long enough 
for a royal breakfast. We leave Corning on the 
Blossburg cars and have an exceedingly pleasant 
ride of twenty-five miles, the country rapidly get¬ 
ting more mountainous and woodsy; also, it be¬ 
gins to wear a look decidedly suggestive of veni¬ 
son. 
The last twenty-five miles has brought us to 
Berry’s Bridge, and here we bid adieu to rail¬ 
roads, taking the “covered conveniency’’ called a 
stage, and making the next seventeen miles over 
a very decent plank road, to Wellsboro. Here 
we may as well decide on taking it easy. For 
the last twelve miles our road has followed a 
winding valley inclosed on either side by steep 
hills, and the face of the country has rapidly 
grown wilder, until, as we approach within three 
miles of Wellsboro, you may look off your course 
to the right, and see, stretching away to the west¬ 
ward for miles, the sharp, pine-crested ridges 
which inclose the valley of Marsh Creek, or, as 
the chart has it, “Third Fork.” We are now in 
a game region. There is not a ridge or point in 
sight on which a man may not find fresh deer 
sign, but we will not desert the slow-going con¬ 
veniency yet. Three miles further and we are 
in Wellsboro, a clean, quiet country village of 
wide streets and many shade trees. Here, as the 
stage goes no further, we may as well clamber 
out, have a wholesome dinner, and a cigar, after 
which we will make speedy preparation for the 
woods, 
As for me, my knapsack is always at hand with 
a miscellaneous assortment of small stores ready 
packed, and yours—you have none? Let me tell 
you how to make and pack one in fifteen minutes. 
All country stores have grain bags for sale; buy 
one, and holding it perpendicularly, drop a small 
apple or potato into the lower corner of the bag 
directly under the stout strings which are fastened 
above; now bring the upper and lower corners 
of the bag together, tying the strings firmly 
around the latter, and you have just as good a 
knapsack as a hunter need carry, with this rec- 
By Nessmuk (Written about 1890.) 
ommendation, that it may be gotten up on five 
minutes notice, including the time spent in pur¬ 
chase, and we have need to hurry. Already it is 
past one, and the Cedar Run “mud-jerker” starts 
at two with the mail and as many passengers as 
choose to risk the dug roads between here and 
Jersey shore. 
As it will save us several miles of tedious walk¬ 
ing we will chance the “mud-jerker” and the dug- 
roads; and now for the packing, and first of all 
the small stores. First, 4 oz. best green tea, 8 
oz. best sweet cavendish, three or four short¬ 
stemmed clays, 1 lb. butter, a broad tin cup hold¬ 
ing three half-pints, some salt, a compass, a small 
towel and a bit of hard soap, match-safe, toma¬ 
hawk and a light, well-made knife, 6 lbs. bread- 
stuffs of some kind—rye is best in the woods, 
but anything in the bread line will answer—your 
ammunition, blanket, and an extra flannel shirt, 
a flour sack which you may buy for a dime, with 
a yard of cotton flannel completes the outfit, and 
should enable you to keep the woods for a month. 
Envelop the butter in a wet cloth, press it firmly 
into the tin cup, wrap the cotton flannel around 
it, and drop it with the other small stores into 
the bottom of the knapsack. The lower part of 
your blanket should be double and sewed up like 
a bag as high as your armpits, leaving the upper 
portion free to be wrapped about your head and 
shoulders as convenience or the weather may 
dictate. If it be made thus, put your bread in 
the flour sack and the sack in the bag part of the 
blanket, wrap the latter snugly together and put 
it in the knapsack; now don the latter by putting 
your head and right arm through in such a man¬ 
ner as -to bring the mouth of the bag in front, 
with the weight mostly bearing on the left shoul¬ 
der. Not a bad impromptu knapsack, you will 
admit, and it weighs with its contents less than 12 
lbs., which, with the addition of a 10 lb. rifle, is 
as much as an ordinary man cares to tote on a 
forest tramp. 
But “Hi” is waiting for us, so placing our camp 
impedimenta in the mail wagon we jump aboard, 
Hi touches up the ready team and we are head¬ 
ing for camp at a rattling pace. The pace only 
holds for some five miles,- however, when it be¬ 
comes, for the horses, a weary, muddy drag. We 
are on Wilson’s Creek, going due south down a 
narrow valley with a high mountain ridge on 
either side. The ridge on our right separates 
Wilson’s Creek from Stony Fork, while the steep 
mountainous ridge on our left divides Wilson’s 
Creek from Second Fork or Beaver Creek. 
As we pass the last vestige of a clearing and 
enter the narrow hemlock-shaded valley it be¬ 
comes evident that walking is easier than riding, 
and we take to our feet accordingly, leaving Hi 
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