Dec. 19, 1908.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
969 
boo. The fish were smaller than at Mount Pleas¬ 
ant, but the lightness of the rod made catching 
them great sport, and when after a sturdy fight 
a 9^-inch rainbow slipped into the net I was 
more than satisfied. 
I was on the stream very early next morning 
and caught only two trout, but the scenery was 
so beautiful that whether the fish bit or not was 
of small moment. 
As there was a long, hard day ahead for the 
pony, I returned to breakfast and was in the 
saddle by half-past seven. For the first few 
miles, or until the settlement of Slide Mountain 
was reached, the traveling was easy, the rise 
being but four hundred feet. The road ascends 
in the next two and a half miles from an alti¬ 
tude of 1,665 feet to one of 2,664. With an 
average rise of four hundred feet to the mile 
the reader can picture the steeper places. The 
He came back all right. He brought a club mem¬ 
ber—Mr. H.—and suddenly I realized that I had 
very narrowly escaped tipping a guest of the 
club. It would have been an embarrassing, but 
at any rate, an amusing experience. 
After lunch Mr. H. would not hear of my 
going without fishing in the lake, which is well 
stocked with large trout. The wind, sun and 
time of day all combined to make my efforts 
fruitless, and an hour’s fishing resulted in only 
one rise. 
There is a good road from the lodge right to 
Clarvville along the West Branch of the Never- 
sink. Mr. Reuf, who owns this stream, does 
not allow strangers to fish. The only thing to 
do, therefore, was to go right on up Slide Moun¬ 
tain to an altitude of three thousand feet, where 
the trail goes through a notch and then descends 
to the East Branch of the Neversink. Before 
“Why, I thought Joe Ertz was in Denning,” 
I said, surprised. 
“This is Denning.” 
“Where?” I couldn’t help asking, and pinched 
myself to make sure I was awake. 
“Right here,” he answered quietly and pointed 
to the house and barn. 
There were two charming men staying at the 
house. One was a little old Englishman, a man 
who had had enough of actual fishing, but who 
still loves to talk about it and to watch others 
fish ; the other a healthy outdoor Westerner who 
had fished for bass and trout all over the coun¬ 
try and expects to do so for many years to 
come. 
We spent a jolly evening and fished together 
the next morning, finding the fish very small, but 
plentiful. I left at three that afternoon with 
pleasant recollections of the hospitable Ertz 
“disappearing amid the trees.” 
THE TRAIL. 
pony could have carried me up without much 
trouble, but it was very hot, so, on one occas¬ 
ion, having dismounted to tighten girths and 
‘breathe’’ him, I walked up a particularly bad 
place for about a hundred yards. Except for 
hat one little stretch, the pony carried me every 
foot of the entire trip. 
According to the map, at the highest point 
i 'eached by the road crossing Slide Mountain 
ind going down along the West Branch of the 
Meversink, there is a place called Winnisook 
-odge. Expecting to find a typical Catskill 
>oarding house, I suited my pace so as to arrive 
here for lunch and went confidently ahead. In- 
tead, I saw a number of small but very attrac- 
ive rustic bungalos on the shore of an artificial 
ake fully a quarter of a mile long, the overflow 
>f which is the beginning of the Esopus. 
While enjoying the view and trying to under¬ 
hand the situation, a man happened along, 
Iressed about as unconventionally as was I. In 
eplv to my questioning he said Winnisook 
-odge was a private club whose existence dated 
>ack thirty years. He told me it was his first 
ear there. He very kindly conducted me to 
he stable, and having seen to my pony’s feed- 
1 ng, suddenly left me. I had a quarter in my 
! and for him, but counted on his coming back. 
beginning the descent I had a birdseye view of 
the entire valley of the West Branch, which 
amply compensated me for not being permitted 
to fish the stream. My advice to anyone taking 
this trip on any but an unusually sure-footed 
horse is to stick to the West Branch. I found 
the bridges all down and the trail looking as 
if it had not been used in years. My pony will 
travel almost anywhere that man can go, and 
he came through all right, but there were times 
when the stones turned under his feet and the 
cold, swift waters seemed painfully near. 
At about 5 o’clock, according to the Slide 
Mountain quadrangle of the topographic map 
of the United States, I was near the town of 
Denning. However, as I had no dinner or 
theatre engagement in Denning, a little farm 
house directly ahead appeared good enough for 
the night, especially as there was a comfortable 
looking barn. 
A man stood by a wagon in front of the house. 
I asked him if he thought the proprietor could 
put me up for the night. “I’m the proprietor,” 
he answered; “glad to accommodate you,” for 
which I thanked him and remarked that I had 
been advised to look up a hotel kept by Joe 
Ertz. 
“That’s me.” 
family and their guests, and a good laugh at 
the Westerner, who very gravely asked if I 
wanted “any more ornaments to hang on the 
pony.” 
The published Government maps of this re¬ 
gion do not include the country west of Den¬ 
ning, so there were only the so-called automo¬ 
bile maps to depend upon. As the roads I in¬ 
tended to take from here on were in anything 
but automobile country, the maps were worse 
than useless, but by asking the way from time 
to time, it was possible to get along. 
Claryville is only about six miles from Den¬ 
ning, so after the pony was attended to there 
was plenty of time to fish. An hour of careful 
casting had netted me but one half-hearted rise, 
when right under the bank, and well covered by 
an overhanging tree, a small, deep pocket ar¬ 
rested my attention. As it was getting late it 
seemed like the last chance to escape being 
“skunked,” so I tested the leader and attached 
my favorite fly for brown trout—a pink-bodied 
Abbey. Since this was right in the midst of a 
thickly populated district it was a fair guess 
that there were educated trout to deal with. So 
keeping fifty feet below the home of the hypo¬ 
thetical fish, I lengthened the line in the air, 
and at the proper instant a very gentle sweep 
