CHAPTER IV
Next morning, the weather being cooler and the wind favorable, we took our departure, after having captured some fine fish at the falls pool, for the Batchawaung River. It was but a short journey round a sandspit that projected into the bay, where we took a single trout, and we were soon in the mouth of the deep dark river. The banks were low and of course covered with trees, most of which were of the deciduous character; the water was sluggish, and the interval between the bay and distant mountain extended several miles.
We passed an Indian paddling a canoe loaded with bark, the sole occupant besides ourselves of the quiet stream, and our guides conversed fluently with him in the musical Indian tongue. Occasionally a brood of ducks, alarmed at our approach, broke the oppressive silence with their vigorous efforts to escape, and Don, trolling with Buel’s spoon for black bass, struck and landed a small ill-favored pickerel—esox boreus—of some four pounds weight.
The Batchawaung is the favorite resort for anglers who visit the north shore, and being within easy access of the Sault—not more than a day’s sail with favorable weather—is fished to excess. It is a large stream, filled with rapids and pools, and usually crowded with trout of immense size; but the water is dark and easily heated, so that the fish often desert it for the lake. There is a sameness about the Batchawaung, and a want of picturesque effect, that is altogether different from the Harmony; we missed the noise of the falling water, the sight of the pretty cascade, when we came to pitch our tent about four miles from the mouth, at the first shallow rapids, and throughout our whole trip we never saw the equal of the romantic Harmony.
There are but two rivers emptying into Batchawaung Bay that are generally laid down on the maps—the Batchawaung and the Chippewa—but the guides assured us there were four fine streams. The location usually given to the Chippewa applies well to the Harmony, and it may be they are the same river under different names. Our ordinary maps of the northern shore of Lake Superior are altogether imperfect, and even the charts of the Hudson’s Bay Company are not entirely accurate.
Anxious to explore the stream, no sooner was our camp pitched and dinner over than we embarked and continued the ascent, being poled against the current by the two guides, and trying every promising spot as we passed. Fish, however, were nowhere to be found, and disgusted with the heat that not only annoyed ourselves but had destroyed our sport, we were about giving up, when Frank stopped the boat over against the mouth of a little murmuring tributary brook. There were a quantity of small stones and large rocks where the rivulet joined the river, and the cast being a long one, I extended my line and dropped the fly just where the two currents met. It was taken instantly by a fish that, after fifteen minutes’ vigorous play, was landed and found to weigh two and a half pounds.
That inaugurated our sport, and was followed by the capture of at least two dozen magnificent trout, that were not only immense in size, averaging nearly three pounds, but were extremely beautiful and uncommonly vigorous. Their tints were rich and dark, differing as greatly from the lake fish as the trout of the Canadian rivers differ from those of the salt water. They fought with great courage and perseverance, requiring skill and patience to land; and anxious as we were to take a large one, that is to say, one of over four pounds, those of two and three pounds were so numerous and voracious that we could not effect our object.
We landed some by hand and threw many back into the water, but, notwithstanding, soon had more than we could possibly use. There being no reason for our taking any more, and Don having complained that the cast was inconveniently long on account of the imperfections of his rod, I assured him I could cast entirely across the pool, and to prove it, lengthened my line, and at the first cast hooked fast in the rock beyond. Not caring to break the line, we dropped the boat across the stream, and while passing over the pool, beheld the bottom literally black with fish. If we had been inclined to wanton destruction, we could doubtless have killed a hundred; but having no means to pot or souse them, and knowing that they are comparatively worthless salted or smoked, we had resolved not to kill more than we could eat.
On the way back to camp we took a long, lean, poor, sickly fish, that, if in good order, would have reached six pounds, but in its unhealthy state only weighed two and a half.