998 
FOREST AND STREAM 
THROUGH THE LAKELANDS OF QUEBEC 
A JOURNEY INTO A REGION SELDOM VISITED FROM THE OUTSIDE AND WHERE THE WILDER¬ 
NESS IS STILL PRIMEVAL—THE POETRY OF PORTAGE HERE BECOMES AN EVERY DAY REALITY 
By B. C. Cobb. 
This is the second and concluding installment of an account of a canoe trip starting in the 
Gatineau region, about 125 miles north of Ottawa, and terminating at the Lake Kagcbonga Post of 
the Hudson Bay Company, at the Height of Land. It involved a journey of more than 300 miles by 
•water, with many portages, and took the pany through a country that is seldom visited from the 
outside. — Ed.] 
Monday, September 13.—Made two more por¬ 
tages on the Seize River; then up Grasshopper 
Creek into Grasshopper Lake, which does not 
amount to much. . I tried for trout but caught 
instead one shovelnose pike. After crossing 
Grasshopper Lake we portaged again one mile 
into the Gen de Terre River. This is a real 
river of considerable breadth and with many 
falls and rapids. We ran two rapids success¬ 
fully. About twelve miles down we reached the 
Lepine Farm, of the Edwards Lumber Company. 
There we met Jack Reynolds, the keep-over man, 
who was quite an interesting character. He 
looked like a western cowboy and we found that 
he was an American and had served three and 
one-half years in the United States Regular 
Army. He had fought in the Spanish-American 
War in Cuba and had served in the Philippines 
and also was in China during the Boxer up¬ 
risings. He said he had been in Canada ten 
years and with the lumber company four or five. 
He is a man of considerable ability and well in¬ 
formed. He had quite a library and spoke in¬ 
telligently on many subjects. 
We spent about an hour with Reynolds and 
at 3:15 P. M. started on down the Gen de Terre. 
Frank and Sam were ahead and when they had 
gone about seven miles they sighted a big black 
bear swimming across the river. He was too 
far away for a shot but they paddled fast and 
just as they were getting within range the bear 
reached the shore and disappeared into the 
woods. They landed the canoe and Frank got 
out, rifle in hand, and went into the woods after 
the bear. The place he landed happened to be a 
point around which the river took a sharp bend. 
Frank could hear the bear going through the 
bush ahead of him. He called to Sam to bring 
the canoe over, which Sam did with considerable 
speed. Just as Frank and Sam got the canoe 
into the water the bear appeared on the point at 
the bend in the river. He was about a thousand 
feet away and Frank did not dare to shoot for 
fear of hitting Paddy and Joe in the second 
canoe. The bear did not stay on the point long 
but instead jumped into the water and started to 
swim for the opposite shore. Frank and Sam 
launched the canoe and paddled fast and just 
as the bear came out of the water and was 
climbing up the bank Frank shot twice but missed 
him. It was an exciting chase without result. 
We camped at this point for the night. It 
rained a little during the afternoon and just as 
camp was being prepared it came down hard. It 
is very nasty in camp when it rains, particularly 
when it rains hard. We had been having very 
good weather most of the time, so no one did 
any kicking. We traveled about twenty-five 
miles and were still eating pork and beans, which 
were our mainstay throughout the trip. We had 
shot few birds and had not stopped to do much 
fishing. 
Tuesday, September 14.—The morning was 
sultry with fog and mist and millions of black 
flies, which was rather unusual for that time of 
the year. They stung and bit just the same, much 
to our annoyance. Dave and I started out ahead, 
and after paddling down stream for about three 
miles we sighted a moose peering through the 
bushes at a bend in the river ahead of us. This 
was the sixth or seventh moose we had seen but 
he like the rest made off very quickly. 
At two o’clock we reached the Cojean Rapids 
located about a mile above where the river emp¬ 
ties into the Gatineau. These rapids are the 
worst on the river and no one essayed to run 
them except Joe and Dave. They took their 
bags out and started down with empty canoes. 
Joe had the big canoe and therefore the advan¬ 
tage. He made the trip all right, but shipped 
considerable water. Then came Dave, with one 
of the light canoes. He got along splendidly until 
he reached the lower, and by far the worst rap¬ 
ids, when the canoe caught in a swirl and over 
it went. Dave and the canoe disappeared from 
sight in the rushing waters, but only momen¬ 
tarily—I should say for about half a minute— 
when up they came, old Dave on top of the 
canoe, which was bottom side up. The only thing 
Dave lost was his axe and his hat. The hat we 
later recovered below the rapids, along with my 
pipe, which I dropped out of my mouth in my 
excitement. Dave, aside from the wetting, was 
unhurt, which was very lucky. As usual, he 
took the incident in a good natured way. 
We reached the Gatineau River at three o’clock 
and paddled down stream about six miles and 
at 4:30 pitched camp for the night. During the 
afternoon it cleared with the sun very hot and 
the flies awful. We used no tents this night, for 
the stars were alight and the moon, which was 
Looking Up Wolf Lake, Rarely Visited by White Men—Brook Trout in the Bras Coupe Lake Country—Home Again—The Author’s Cabin on Bras 
Coupe Lake. 
