532 
FOREST AND STREAM 
September, 1918 
We found fine sport and caught many black bass in a lake where only twelve white men had ever been 
VACATION DAYS ON TEMAGAMI WATERS 
THE CALL OF THE CANADIAN WILDS IS HEARD AND HEEDED EVEN IN THE HEART 
OF THE CAPITOL CITY AND A BUSY WORKER SEEKS FOR SPORT AND FINDS IT 
O NE warm afternoon in early June 
while sitting at my office desk puz¬ 
zling over a rather complicated mat¬ 
ter—a Western Union messenger handed 
me a telegram from my brother Luther. 
It was addressed to me at Washington, 
D. C., and read something like this: 
“Newk, Doc and I leave tomorrow for 
Temagami, Ontario. Can you join us?” 
“Luther.” The thought of speckled beau¬ 
ties in cold, swift streams, of black bass 
bending your rod double in his struggle 
against your skill, and many other thoughts 
akin to them, quite overpowered any 
thought of rejecting the invitation. I 
wired my acceptance, boarded a train in 
record time, and the next morning I was 
in the company of the men who were to 
be my campmates on the Canadian trip. 
Newk and his brother own a thoroughly 
equipped sportsman’s lodge located on an 
island seventeen miles from Temagami 
Station, Ontario, and this was our destina¬ 
tion, planned to be the starting-place of 
our trip. Our party was composed of 
Newk, Doc, my brother Luther, and my¬ 
self. Newk was the commanding general 
of the party. Doc is a bred-in-the-bone 
fly fisherman, who knew a Brown Hackle 
from a Coachman before he could read. 
After Newk had received a wire from his 
Ojibwa Indian guide that the ice was out 
of the streams, we started one June morn¬ 
ing for the Temagami Country. 
We arrived at Temagami Station after 
a twelve-hour ride from Toronto on the 
Grand Trunk. Here we boarded a launch 
for Bear Island, and the Hudson Bay 
Company there for food supplies. Our 
guides, three Ojibwa Indians and a 
Frenchman, met us at Newk’s lodge. Later 
we called on ’Arry Woods, the Hudson 
Bay Company’s agent, located on Bear 
Island. Harry was born in London, and 
had come to Temagami perhaps to be 
nearer Nature. We also called on Mrs. 
White Bear, of White Bear Lake, a typical 
example of the kindly, old Indian house¬ 
wife, with a rather stolid exterior until 
she had properly sized you up. Bear 
Island society afforded variety. We ar¬ 
rived at Newk’s Island, guides and all, 
and found there everything a sportsman 
of most fastidious taste could desire. 
On the day following our arrival at the 
lodge Luth and I were up at daybreak 
By RUFUS S. DAY 
for a try at the big lake trout, so many 
of which make Temagami waters their 
home. Doc and Newk spent the day in 
preparation for the canoeing trip to the 
lakes and streams north of us. 
Luth and I with our French guide trav¬ 
eled about three miles in a canoe before 
we struck the place where lake trout were 
supposed to be most plentiful, and they 
were. Later on in the year sportsmen fish 
for the lake trout with lines of copper 
wire, this because these fish prefer to live 
in quite deep water then. But in early 
June in this region, when the ice has only 
recently disappeared, it is not necessary 
to use anything but the ordinary silk line 
and a No. 8 spoon, in fact we found that 
a No. 4 spoon was equally as effective and 
more merciful. We caught a fine string 
of lake trout, and as many know, a pret¬ 
tier fish cannot be found in fresh water 
lakes. Gamer than a pike, except the 
wall-eyed variety, but much less game than 
a black bass, this fellow affords good sport, 
and reaches a large size, sometimes as 
heavy as thirty pounds. When they strike 
they rush for deeper water, and there is 
a constant tug on your line with a steady 
pull downward until the fish is landed. 
O UR guides were very efficient and 
resourceful. One evening on the 
water near sunset the desire to sing 
became overpowering. We yielded to it. 
The Frenchman became quite excited at 
our near harmony, and on frequent occa¬ 
sions thereafter he asked us to sing for 
him “his little song.” He was indeed “a 
simple, guileless, childlike man content to 
live where life began.” 
The next morning we started on a forty- 
mile canoe trip into the most beautiful ex¬ 
panse of inland scenery I have ever be¬ 
held. “Small Boy,” an Ojibwa, and a 
grandson of the venerable Mr. Cat, who 
was christened “Tom,” piloted Doc’s canoe. 
Presque, a very intelligent fellow, was 
Newk’s guide. Newk had known him for 
years, and had the greatest confidence in 
his loyalty and skill. Tom, who piloted 
our canoe, besides being an excellent guide, 
was the most skilled man in a canoe I had 
ever seen; he had won in canoeing com¬ 
petition at Montreal. Our canoe was a 
large one called “The Yellow Boy.” 
As we passed into and out of numerous 
lakes and streams I was impressed with 
the thought that many of the finest things 
God ever made only a few ever see. To 
me an eagle, perched on the topmost branch 
of a Norway pine, silhouetted against a 
golden-gray sky at sunset, is far more ap¬ 
pealing to the soul than a million eagles 
stamped on silver dollars. 
One night we camped on the banks of 
Lake Lady Evelyn. The lady for whom 
this lake was named should feel justly 
proud; perhaps it was the Lady in the 
Moon. Doubtless there are spots as beau¬ 
tiful, there are none more so. 
It would weary you to read in detail 
about the many lakes and streams which 
we fished in on our trip. The variety in 
the catch which some of these lakes af¬ 
forded is really worthy of comment. One 
of my first strikes was from a wall-eyed 
pike. Caught in cold water, and weighing 
seven pounds, he afforded very pleasant 
pastime indeed. Almost the same instant 
Luth was occupied completely with .a large 
small-mouthed black bass. The sport kept 
us working over time, and at noon when 
we gathered for lunch our party had a 
fine catch of black bass, wall-eyed pike, 
and lake trout. Then in the afternoon we 
packed our canoes and journeyed farther 
to the northward. 
I shall never forget the sport we had at 
Ferguson Falls. I never want to. Right 
at the foot of these beautiful, cooling falls, 
within an hour of sunset, and after an 
all-day paddle, we tackled the brook trout. 
Big fellows, weighing from a pound to 
three, pounced on our flies with all the 
strength and speed that only a brook trout 
is capable of; he indeed is the king of them 
all. How they tasted when served-up at 
camp, near the glowing fire, defies descrip¬ 
tion—you know that as well as I do. 
Incidentally, we saw several moose and 
deer on this trip, and at close range. They 
were unmolested as it was during the 
closed season. One night after supper, 
while hidden behind a huge rock, I watched 
a big bull moose who stood motionless at 
the edge of a pond for fully ten minutes. 
I have since regretted that I did not have 
my camera with me, he was a monster, 
with full-grown horns, and a very wise¬ 
looking citizen to behold under such fa¬ 
vorable circumstances. I believe he knew 
when the moose season in Ontario was to 
