58 
[July 9, 1910. 
of regret he came back to the present and said: 
“Those were great days, but Lord, it’s all 
changed now. Of course they run a few rafts 
down every year, but they’re not a circumstance 
to what they used to be.” 
Canoeing in the rain is likely to be rather poor 
fun, but after spending a couple of days at Bas¬ 
ket Creek we broke camp early in the morning 
and with ponchos laid over our outfit, started 
down the river in the face of the southerly 
storm, which had come up during the night. 
Little of note occurred that morning, for the 
rifts were all easy, and we pushed rapidly on to 
Cochecton where a stop was made for provis¬ 
ions. We were' both pretty well chilled and a 
bit disgusted with the weather, and when Arch 
espied a little hotel up in the village, we made 
for it and sat down to a very good dinner, while 
the proprietor told fish stories which filled us 
with astonishment. To hear him talk one would 
have thought that every trout in the stream 
rushed up to be caught whenever he went fish¬ 
ing, and his “fourteen-foot pole and four-foot 
o’ line” apparently had fine tackle beaten to a 
standstill. We learned here that Cochecton 
Falls, where we intended to camp, were only 
two or three miles further on, so after restock¬ 
ing the provision bag, we paddled down to look 
them over. It proved to be a rather discourag¬ 
ing looking spot for two greenhorns at rapid 
shooting, and deciding that discretion was once 
again the better part of valor, we ignominiously 
lined through to the evident disappointment of 
some people on the bank, who had probably ex¬ 
pected to see something spectacular. 
Two little bungalows had been built on a high 
hemlock-covered bank at the foot of the rift, 
and their occupants readily gave permission to 
camp near by. While Archie set off to locate 
some fresh milk, I made things shipshape, and 
by dark we had cooked and eaten supper and 
were smoking the pipe of contentment, watching 
the sparks eddying upward from the brightly 
burning fire. The rain had ceased for a time 
and the two fifteen-year-old boys from the farm 
house came down to visit with us, bringing a 
very welcome addition to our larder in the shape 
of a quart or so of fresh peas. Those two boys 
afforded us no end of entertainment during the 
time we stayed at the falls. Their interest in 
the camp and everything connected with it was ■ 
intense, and we soon became fast friends. All 
the time they could spare from their chores was 
spent with us, and in the evenings we would sit 
about the fire and talk till one of them would 
sigh regretfully that he was afraid they would 
have to go, and with sleepy good nights they 
would stumble away up the dark path through 
the woods. 
How it rained that first night under the hem¬ 
locks! There was no wind, but about 11 o’clock 
a steady, monotonous downpour set in which 
sounded mighty good to us as we lay rolled in 
our blankets, for it meant more water in the 
river and probably also the extinguishing of the 
forest fires which had been disagreeably numer¬ 
ous along the way. Twice later I half wakened 
to hear the steady patter of drops on the canvas 
of the tent, and asMay brok^, a little verse came 
to mind: 
“Now Dawn her gray-green mantle weaves 
To the lilt of a low refrain; 
The drip, drip, drip of the lush green leaves 
After a night of rain.” 
The river had risen considerably, but the 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
weather was still threatening, so we stayed over 
another day in hope of better conditions, start¬ 
ing on again Saturday, the 24th. The boys came 
down to see us off, and with promises to stop 
and see them if we came down the river again, 
we pushed off before the rising north wind, 
f hat day s paddle might justly be termed, strenu¬ 
ous. The high wind made the canoe hard to 
handle at times, and ruffled the water so that 
except in the heavy rifts it was almost impos¬ 
sible to see the dangerous rocks. Just below the 
railroad bridge at Tusten we struck a rough 
rapid and shipped considerable water, and again 
in Westcolang rift we had some exciting- 
moments. This latter is considered one of the 
worst spots along the upper river, and certainly 
with that stage of water it required lively work 
to get through in safety. By mid afternoon we 
were at Lackawaxen and walked out along the 
big bridge to get a look at the rapid below the 
dam. This bridge, "by the way, is quite a curi¬ 
osity, for the old canal used to cross on it. It 
seems strange to think of one stream of water 
crossing another on a bridge. 
The water proved too low to admit of our 
going over the spillway of the dam, so we 
crossed to the east side and picked out a tortu¬ 
ous passage among the rocks, shooting past the 
big stone abutment of the bridge so close that 
it almost scared us. Camp was made a mile or 
so below the village on a sandy willow-shaded 
bank whence we could watch the river dancing 
by and the cloud shadows chasing each other 
across the wooded mountain slopes beyond. A 
pi omising looking brook came down from the 
hills to the eastward and the following day was 
spent in investigating it. A few good rainbow 
trout rewarded our efforts,_ and we tramped 
campward in the dusk with that satisfied feel¬ 
ing which comes after a beautiful day on a good 
stream. 
Monday dawned clear and pleasant, and pack¬ 
ing up early, we started on what proved to be 
the most exciting and enjoyable day of the trip. 
I 1 or the Delaware from Lackawaxen down to 
Mill Rift, a distance of some eighteen miles, is 
well supplied with rapids. Shohola, the Stair¬ 
case—so-called from a curious rock formation 
beside it—Mongaup and numerous others all 
contribute their share of white water and rocks, 
and when the river decides to rest a while and 
deepens into a great quiet pool, you look about 
and see the rolling green-clad hills and pastures 
with here and there a white farm house or a 
golden field of ripening grain. The sun is bright 
and warm and you drift along in blissful con¬ 
tentment till presently the subdued murmur of 
a rift grows louder, and it is time to look ahead 
and see which way the quickening current sets. 
Yes, we enjoyed it all thoroughly, and when 
Mongaup, with its muscle-taxing dash across the 
current to avoid the three big waves in the cen¬ 
ter had been successfully run, we beached the 
canoe and eased our sunburned arms in a de¬ 
lightful swim. Then a camping place was found 
close by where the Mongaup River joins the 
main stream, and we set out to find the post- 
office and our expected mail. A half mile walk 
located both in a funny little “general store” 
presided over by an exceedingly lean and dys¬ 
peptic looking individual who seemed rather 
grieved at having the even tenor of his ways 
disturbed by such an unusual thing as a request 
for mail. Archie wanted to send out some 
letters, and upon asking when the next mail 
would leave, was told that it might go “to-mor¬ 
row if anybody happened along to take it.” For 
anyone who is suffering from nervous prostra¬ 
tion or any other malady that demands absolute 
rest and quiet, Mongaup village is the place. 
Even the flies there seem to be affected by the 
general air of laziness and buzz around in a 
listless sort of way. Lest anyone think this last 
statement a bit improbable, I leave it to the 
nature fakirs if a fly has not got intelligence 
enough to realize when his victim lacks energy 
even to slap at him quickly. 
Our leave of absence was nearing its close, 
and after a day spent in loafing about camp and 
a last night under canvas, we loaded the canoe 
once more and paddled down the few remain¬ 
ing miles to Port Jervis, there to take the train 
back to the city with its stiff formalities of liv¬ 
ing in houses and wearing good clothes. 
Far away seem those summer days along 
the Delaware, but their remembrance is clear 
and pleasant, and we hope to repeat them some 
time, and to see the river’s changing lights and 
shades and hear the sound of its white water, 
now loud as the breeze freshens, then dying 
away to the faintest of whispers. 
Robert S. Lemmon. 
New Orleans Anglers. 
New Orleans, La., June 29. —Editor Forest 
and Stream: Fishing at Lake Catherine has 
been excellent. J. S.- Guenard had the good 
luck one day to land an eighteen-pound redfish 
which he shipped to Lake Providence as a sam¬ 
ple of the kind of fish to be found in the waters 
near New Orleans. A large party at Chef 
Menteur caught 500 fish of all varieties. Green 
trout were plentiful. Those at Dunbar, the Rigo- 
lets and Lookout recently report fine luck in 
catching reds, croakers, flounders and sheeps- 
head. A number of speckled trout were also 
landed. While the fish were biting well at the 
places on the gulf coast, there was some com¬ 
plaint of the scarcity of good bait, especially in 
shrimp. Those who are well posted on the sub¬ 
ject say that should the present weather condi¬ 
tions prevail with about two or three good show¬ 
ers, the fishing will be ideal for some time. The 
various clubs at the fishing resorts entertained 
scores of fishermen from New Orleans and else¬ 
where last Sunday. F. G. G. 
Goodly Brown Trout. 
Owego, N. Y., June ?s .—Editor Forest and 
Stream: Two brown trout—one weighing 3 
pounds and 14 ounces, and the other 2% pounds 
—were caught on June 11 in Owego Creek, near 
Flemingville, by Wilson Hyde, of North Owego. 
The trout were brought to this village late in 
the afternoon and after they were shown on 
the street for some time to successive groups of 
excited and envious sportsmen and others, were 
placed on exhibition. The trout were two of 
the largest specimens of brown trout ever taken 
in this vicinity. The catch has vindicated the 
many anglers who have been in the habit of re¬ 
turning from fruitless excursions to the north 
with stories of how the grandfather of all trout 
had been hooked, but not landed. The big one 
in this case really exists, but it took a native 
fisherman to bring it safely to dry land. 
E. D. Coburn. 
