Don’s appetite had been sharpened by open air and exercise, and he expatiated at length upon disappointed hopes of fried ham, broiled ham, ham omelets, ham plain, and ham and eggs, and suggested many new and doubtless excellent dishes, of which ham was to be the principal part. His advice was valuable, but somewhat late.
Being already tired of the to me uninteresting Batchawaung and its one pool of numberless trout, and having a strong and favorable breeze, we broke up camp, descended the river, killing a duck on the way, and once out in the open water, headed for the Point of Mamainse, which is Chippewa for sturgeon. The wind, however, soon came out ahead, increased to a gale, and drove us into L’anse aux crêpes, or Pancake Bay, where we were detained that day and night.
L’anse aux crêpes is at the mouth of a little rivulet that tumbles over scattered boulders, and occasionally contains some nice trout; but the water was low, and although we caught enough small fish for supper, we did better with young ducks, happening to get a shot into a brood, and killing with the two discharges seven plump, luscious, well-grown little fellows, which replenished the gridiron finely.
The temperature fell to thirty-seven degrees, and with it the mosquitoes—a delightful change from the oppressive heat and hungry hordes that had tormented us. We camped for the night at the mouth of the rivulet, and continuing our voyage early next morning, soon reached the bold, imposing promontory called by the Indian name Mamainse. The shore is rocky and precipitous to such an extent, that the fisherman finds difficulty in casting the fly, or even pursuing his way along the steep cliffs.
The water is filled with broken rocks, as at other parts of the coast, and where these project above the surface a good stand is obtained. At one spot the waves had worn out a deep cavern, where a dozen men could sleep, protected from the air, and often under foot could be heard the smothered rumbling of the water as it rushed into deep holes out of sight. Above the bare rocks, which are often fifty feet perpendicular, stretch the sparse underbrush, the stunted evergreens, and the moss-covered granite of the mountains, till they reach an elevation of a thousand feet. Frowning down upon the water stands the Point of Mamainse, a rallying-spot for the summer fogs and winter storms, a landmark to the voyageur, a barrier to the fiercest commotion of the lake, and the upper boundary of Tequamenon Bay, as the confined portion of Lake Superior near its outlet is called.
It is an extensive promontory, and point after point presented itself to our wearied eyes; we landed, rose, and lost some fine fish, and killed several of good size; but as the wind was adverse, we could not afford to waste time, and pursued our journey till nightfall.
Next morning we tasted a Batchawaung trout that Frank had salted and smoked by hanging near the fire; inasmuch as it was green and had not lost its original flavor altogether, it was quite appetizing; but a smoked trout that has been dried sufficiently to keep, is about as hard, unpalatable, and indigestible a morsel as man can put in his mouth. It has neither the flavor of the mackerel nor the richness of the cod, and not the slightest pretence to the delicacy of the salmon. Slightly salted and smoked, however, it will remain good for several weeks, and furnish a variety to the woodsman’s Spartan fare.
Unfortunately there is no way of preserving trout; these fish, so delicate fresh, are almost worthless pickled, soused, salted, or smoked; while those of a size to be worth catching are too large to preserve by potting, in which way alone can their flavor be preserved. They are pickled by being immersed in water that has had sugar and salt boiled in it; they are soused by being cooked and preserved in vinegar and allspice; they are smoked by being salted for a night and hung in a smoke-house or near the fire; they are kippered by being rubbed with salt and a little pepper, and hung in the sun; they are potted by being cooked and packed tightly in jars, and having hot lard or butter with spices run in and over them. Only when prepared in the latter way are they eatable, and then only when they are small.
This day we had our first really favorable wind that bellied out our sail, and relieving the men from the labor at the oars, drove us along at a famous rate, enabling us to push boldly out into the lake that was alive with the dancing, foam-crested waves, and urging us onward famously in a direct course.
When far from shore and miles from the habitations of a civilized being, we espied approaching another barge similar to our own, and which proved also to be carrying a party of fishermen.