FOREST 
AND 
STREAM 
Looking Down the Gatineau River-Hundreds of Miles 
From the North It Rolls, to Pour Its Flood Into 
the Ottawa. 
nearly in its first quarter, was shining 
brightly. We traveled about twenty-five 
miles. 
Wednesday, September 15. — Paddled 
down the Gatineau four miles to the mouth 
of the Mina-Mang Creek; then up the 
creek for a mile into a small lake called 
the Abitabe, where Frank got a fine mal¬ 
lard duck. We crossed the Abitabe and at 
9:30 Joe started across country for Mike 
Heafey’s shanty to get a team to haul our 
dunnage across to the Desert River. At 
three o’clock Joe got back, but not with 
Heafey’s team. Heafey said the road was 
so bad he would not put his horses on it 
and I guess he was right insofar as the 
condition of the road was concerned. Joe 
had, however, gotten another team from 
Martel’s shanty, so we started out. It 
took us two hours and thirty-five minutes 
to get to Martel’s. The road was a terror, 
up over a burnt mountain grown over 
thickly with second growth. The moun¬ 
tain seemed literally infested with bears 
by the signs we saw. Arrived at Martel’s 
at 5:35. Joe said it was only four miles. 
I will bet, if a speedometer was put on it, 
it would register between eight and nine. 
We had traveled twenty miles. 
Thursday, September 16.—We left Mar¬ 
tel’s at seven o’clock and got the canoes 
into the river at 7:30; then down the 
Desert for fourteen miles to the mouth 
of Bras Coupe Creek. We paddled, poled 
and waded up the creek eight miles to 
Little Bras Coupe Lake, which is a lake 
at the lower end of the Bras Coupe 
Hunting and Fishing Club Preserve. The 
Bras Coupe Creek is a mountain 
stream, rapid running and full of falls 
and rapids. It is a trout stream, 
but a terror to navigate. It took us five and 
one-half hours to get up the creek and the por¬ 
tages were so many we did not count tnem. To 
add to our misery it began to rain about three 
o’clock and kept it up hard until after six o’clock. 
Everyone was soaked, not only by the rain, but 
from wading the stream. 
Coming up Bras Coupe Creek we picked up 
half a dozen partridges, which went very nicely 
the next day with the mallard duck we had got¬ 
ten the day before. There were deer tracks 
without number all along the creek and Dave 
and I, who were ahead, saw two, one a doe which 
came out of the woods only about two hundred 
feet ahead of us. She stood and looked at us 
in amazement. I raised my hand, at which the 
beautiful creature was off with a bound with 
her white flag bobbing. Traveled twenty-three 
miles. 
Friday, September 17.—During the night the 
wind shifted to the north and the morning broke 
clear and cold. We fished Little Bras Coupe 
Lake in the morning and picked up a few bass 
for supper. We had not as yet had any frost, 
not since the latter part of August, but the 
leaves were beginning to turn, mostly the birch 
and maple. In the afternoon Paddy and I went 
trout fishing in Bras Coupe Creek. We caught 
enough for breakfast, and this was all we wanted. 
This was the best thing I found on our trip, for 
it gives us on our preserve, in addition to lake 
fishing, a beautiful rapid running stream full of 
999 
trout. Camped for the second night on 
Little Bras Coupe Lake, with moon and 
stars shining brightly. 
Saturday, September 18.—We paddled 
across Five Mile Lake, one of the prettiest 
lakes of the Bras Coupe Club’s preserves 
and then went on to Bras Coupe Lake 
proper, arriving at my cabin on Bras 
Coupe Lake at 1:30 o’clock. We had a 
remarkably pleasant trip. We saw a great 
country, although we did not see much 
game and did little fishing. The game 
season, however, was just beginning and 
we made such fast time and so few stops 
that we could not have expected anything 
very different. We found exerything in 
the cabin O. K., and it looked mighty com¬ 
fortable. We were well content to eat our 
supper there that night and to turn in 
early into the comfortable little bunks 
against the wall. 
Our story would not be complete with¬ 
out a little description of our men: 
Good old Dave Howe, our head guide, 
was, as usual, fine, thoughtful and care¬ 
taking. No job was too hard for him and 
his cooking kept us going strong three 
times a day. Dave is American born, 
raised from good old stock in Maine. He 
knows the woods thoroughly, is a crack 
shot, a good fisherman, and an all around 
man. 
Paddy Ryan, a fine type of Canadian 
Irishman, was also splendid. Paddy was 
born and raised in Maniwaki, where he 
and his brothers own a large farm. Paddy 
has, however, spent considerable time on 
exploration and surveying trips with Gov¬ 
ernment and railway officials. He has 
also been a gold prospector in the porcu¬ 
pine country. He knows the woods thor¬ 
oughly, was capable and agreeable in every way. 
Joe Fraser, a half-breed, with Scotch father 
and Indian mother, was a big fine looking fellow. 
Joe stood at least six feet two and weighed two 
hundred and twenty-five pounds. He could lug 
a good load and did. 
Sam Dumont, a full blooded Algonquin Indian, 
was also O. K. Sam had worked for me several 
times before and was, as usual, quiet and atten¬ 
tive all the time. 
We traveled altogether approximately one 
hundred and forty-four miles on the trip north 
and two hundred miles coming down, a grand 
total of three hundred and forty-four miles. We 
crossed twenty lakes and navigated five rivers 
and streams. 
