August, 1918 
FOREST A N D STREAM 
461 
As soon as the last load reached the 
brookside and we had had a good smoke 
we loaded one of the largest canoes and 
started down stream. Just below where I 
had been fishing there is a Stillwater of 
about a half mile, and half way down is 
the first of the permanent camps that Ned 
has erected. This is an “open end” camp, 
with log walls about four feet high and 
a roof of planks. Bunks are arranged on 
a trestle, and mattresses suspended from 
a rope attached to the ridge pole. Our 
covering we always carry along with us. 
With a big log fire in front it is extremely 
comfortable. 
Here we landed, made tea and after eat¬ 
ing, rested an hour or so, we then pro¬ 
ceeded down stream for about four or five 
miles. This stretch is largely still water 
with some few rapids on the way, all of 
which have to be carried round as the ob¬ 
structions to canoeing are many. One can 
wade through them, however, and have 
great sport in the pools that abound, but 
as there is so much chance for good fish¬ 
ing everywhere and much opener for cast- 
The Doctor was democracy personified 
ing, I hardly ever do so. At the foot of 
each rapid is always to be found a fine 
pool with the hungriest of trout waiting 
for you. 
A short description of the country we 
are about to go through would not be 
out of the way here and will enable the 
reader to better understand our move¬ 
ments. The Clyde River as it reaches the 
higher hills, amongst which it takes its 
rise, divides itself into innumerable 
branches along each of which are strung, 
like beads, lakes and ponds. The country 
being very uneven with short sharp hills, 
these branches subdivide themselves into 
yet other branches, so that in running 
them in a canoe it is easy to run down one 
branch till it flows into another, then by 
running up that and carrying across a 
short distance to still another branch one 
can go on from day to day zigzagging 
clear across country till you strike the 
headwater system of another large river. 
In fact the country seems to be very much 
all water with just enough land between 
to make good trout streams. All of this 
means that you need not fish over the same 
water twice, unless you so desire, until the 
return trip, and not even then unless you 
We stayed over night in a little camp overlooking Big Frog Pond Lake 
Little Frog Pond Lake—tradition says never fished but once before 
want to. The land between branches not 
being very high, the carries are not very 
laborious, except that in the absence of 
roads (unknown) and game trails one 
finds dragging himself through the low 
scrubby brush, that is everywhere, very 
tiring, and to throw yourself down on the 
springy gorse and smoke the pipe of peace, 
is grateful to say the least. 
As we glide quietly through the long 
reaches of still water we find fish every¬ 
where. Ned knew the whereabouts of 
every “spring brook” that made its way 
under the tangled growth of bog myrtle 
that looked like a broad greenish brown 
lake on every side of us and at each and 
every such spot I would pick up some fine 
trout. We did not tarry much along here, 
as we still had a long trip before us be¬ 
fore we reached camp for the night and 
the afternoon was getting along. 
After running this branch down for 
about four or five miles we came to the 
first road (so-called) that we had seen 
since our start. This is a rough trail used 
by the French settlers from the coast who 
come back into this country in search of 
“hackmatack knees,” which they sell at 
about five dollars each to shipbuilders for 
use as brackets between the ribs and decks 
of vessels. I might mention here that an 
occasional such Frenchman is the only liv¬ 
ing soul you are likely to see till you get 
back to “Main Camp,” so you see what a 
“Fisherman’s Paradise” you are in. 
We landed at this road and carrying 
over it not more than two hundred yards 
put our canoe into an entirely new branch, 
of which later. A short paddle of about 
one-eighth of a mile up stream brought us 
to a fork in the river. Taking the right 
or eastern fork we landed at a steep bluff 
where a bold little brook came rushing 
through a belt of trees. Here we pick up 
more trout and carrying over the bluff 
found ourselves on the shore of the beau¬ 
tiful Moose Lake, almost round in shape 
and about a mile and a half across. As 
the sun was getting low and a threatening 
rain squall was making up to the north, 
we lost no time in crossing the lake. Here 
we left the canoe, to be brought over early 
next day by Ned, and shouldering our 
loads struck into a blind trail, marked at 
long intervals with small cairns of stones, 
and after crushing through what had re¬ 
cently been a beautiful pine thicket, but 
now alas! reduced by fire to a lot of black¬ 
ened stumps, we reached camp “Look Out” 
on a high bluff overlooking a lovely round 
lake which on a former trip I had named 
(continued on page 498) 
