Golf, tennis, walks, boating, etc., are the chief amusements, and children find plenty of occupation playing on the fronting sand beach, or in climbing the rocks and hills. There is a pleasant promenade in front of the principal hotel. It faces south-east, commands one of the noblest prospects ever seen, and is immediately above the beach and open to the cool summer breeze. Summer houses or pergolas dot the walk on the top of the cliff, and there is no lack of pleasant walks in many directions. There are places where the first thought on arrival is, “how can I occupy my time?” The thought that immediately comes to mind here is, “how can I see what is to be seen here in a few days—a week—or a month?”
The display of the Aurora Borealis is often magnificent in this region. The Indians call this the reflection of the Camp Fires in the Happy Hunting-Grounds. On a night when the sky is cloudless, and brilliant with stars, it is a joyous experience to camp out. Possibly there is just enough of a breeze to fan the flickering flame of the camp fire. The broad expanse of the St. Lawrence is unruffled by a single ripple, and as the gaze follows its surface the glorious stars are mirrored like shining jewels. Looking to the mountains, great rays of white shoot upward from behind their far-away heights. Stupendous arches of purple mount into the blue sky, transient, evanescent; for soon the dream-like fabric crumbles and disappears, to be followed by red or crimson flames and a suffused glow as of some cosmic conflagration in far-off space.
The white porpoise is hunted with harpoons on the Saguenay and St. Lawrence rivers. A length of fifteen feet for this fish is not uncommon. They are not unlike the whale in appearance and are often mistaken for their more unwieldy brother. Much art is used to draw sufficiently near to make a good ‘strike.’ A boat with a white bottom has been used for this purpose, with a wooden porpoise, or decoy, painted slate-color in imitation of the young fish. Fenced enclosures, formed like a trap, are quite common in many parts of the river. The fish enter, become confused in seeking an outlet, and are easily caught when the tide lowers. Seals are also caught in this locality, and even small whales are harpooned at times.
A broad sand-bank reaches out into the St. Lawrence just a short distance above the Saguenay. It is related that here a whale was pursued by a swordfish. The fish, provided by nature with its sharp weapon of offence, was chasing the unlucky whale, which moved with great rapidity in the direction of the shore, making huge leaps out of the water and giving out loud bellowing sounds as it sped along. The whale was all of forty feet in length, and its enemy was fully grown and must have measured twenty feet over all.
Confused by the near approach of its dread enemy, the whale went too close to the sand-bar and was soon floundering about in only ten feet of water. The swordfish now made off, possibly alarmed by the tremendous splashing and the too-near approach to land. As the tide was rapidly going out—it falls some eighteen feet here—there was danger for the whale in being stranded high and dry. It lashed out with its tail and churned the water with billowing foam. At last after repeated rolls towards deep water it got off, and soon its joyful spouting could be seen in the distance as it escaped and made its way down the Gulf.
Seals are also caught with the harpoon. To get near them unperceived, Indians have made holes in the sands at low tide. Here they hide under a blanket and imitate the cry of the seal. The seals down by the water’s edge are attracted from their native element, and gradually draw near. They make very slow progress on the land, and when too far away to escape back to the water the Indians pounce out and kill dozens with blows from their hatchets.
The Saguenay River is possibly the chief tributary of the St. Lawrence. In every way it is remarkable. Deep, bold, and with headlands of awful height, a trip over its waters from Tadousac to Chicoutimi is an unique experience; for nowhere else can similar scenes be found. The source of the river is in those streams that empty into the head waters of Pikouagami, or Lake St. John, the principal of which are the Peribonka and Mistassini rivers. The Metabetchouan, an important stream, also flows into Lake St. John; and these rivers with the Chicoutimi, Marguerite, Ha-Ha, and numerous smaller rivers, all unite to swell the great flood of the almost bottomless Saguenay. There are numerous lakes north and south of the river, and, almost needless to state, the whole district abounds in mountain, gorge, and waterfall scenery of the wildest kind. Tumultuous rapids are everywhere; and the awful contrast with them of cloud-capped mountain and the silent, still and deep, unfathomable water below is almost overpowering.
It has been said of the Saguenay that it is not properly a river. It is a tremendous chasm like that of the Jordan Valley and the Dead Sea, cleft for sixty miles almost in a straight line through the heart of a mountain wilderness. There is not a part of the river that does not impress one with its grandeur and sublimity. The Indians, in their usual direct nomenclature, called the river Saggishsekuss, ‘a river whose banks are precipitous’; and from that name the more pronounceable Saguenay has been derived. Jacques Cartier and Champlain both sailed on this river, and tradition has it that Roberval penetrated far inland and never returned.