The Game Fish, of the Northern States and British Provinces / With an account of the salmon and sea-trout fishing of Canada and New Brunswick, together with simple directions for tying artificial flies, etc., etc.

by Robert Barnwell Roosevelt

I was glad, therefore, at every opportunity to quit the canoe, and clambering as fast as I could over the slippery rocks, post myself ahead upon the point of some batture or ledge of rocks, and cast the fly till the canoe came toiling painfully along. Great was my success, beautiful the dark pools, ever varying the limpid water. The treacherous banks of clay, so slippery that it was scarce possible to stand on them; the dark pines casting a gloomy shadow upon the water, the sombre depths where the current had worn away a cavern for the naiads of the watery realm, made together a picture never to be forgotten. While the innumerable trout were enough to gladden the heart of any true sportsman.

The day was passed and yet our journey not half done; we halted for the night as “The shades of eve came slowly down,” and Walton joined me with his rod while the tent was being pitched and the fire lighted. Glorious was our sport; many a brave fish rose and sunk, and rose to sink no more; either in that region the parent trout had not learned the infant song that in civilized localities they are accustomed to teach their children, or else the mothers did not know the latter were out; for certainly they were not aware of the concealment of the cruel hook under the seeming insect. They showed no fear and we no pity, till the call of “supper” found us with over a hundred fish, averaging a pound and a half.

In conscious innocence and happiness we retired; the fire was bright, the night was warm, the woods were still, the sand was soft, but oh! the sand flies. They came down upon us more innumerable than the locusts in Egypt, and if Pharaoh had only been tormented with them, he would have given up in one night. I tossed and turned and rolled about, hid my head under the blanket, and covered it up with my handkerchief. All to no use; they would still find some means of entrance, the little, invisible things; and they bit till my face seemed on fire. Their bite does not itch like a mosquito’s, but burns, and I never again shall despise a thing because it is small. Compelled to surrender all hope of sleep, I gathered the dying embers of the fire, and adding fuel, drove away the pests, while, at the same time, with infinite relish, I scorched our men, who, to my previous disgust, had been sleeping during my sufferings as though they were in paradise.

By the earliest dawn I had waded into the river and made the discovery that fish, unlike the proverbial birds, will not take the fly too early. Just before the sunlight tinged the mountain-tops, they, thinking to provide their own breakfasts, provided me with mine, so that, when the time came to leave off, I had taken twenty fish weighing over forty pounds.

Immediately after the meal was over, we continued our ascent as rapidly as possible, dreading another experience such as we had endured the previous night, and hurried on to reach our regular camping-ground and pitch a proper tent. On the way, I only had time to catch fifteen, weighing thirty-seven pounds, the largest being of three pounds and a half, and late in the afternoon hailed with pleasure the information that at last we had reached the spot that was to be to us for some time our home. It was a beautiful location; the stream, by a sudden bend, forming a low, long point of land, nearly level, which had been, by previous camping parties, entirely denuded of underbrush and partly of trees. In front, midway in the river, was a large flat rock, beyond which, extending to the further shore, and just fairly within casting distance, lay a deep, black pool. A dead tree leaned over this rock from our side of the river, forming a perilous swinging bridge by which one could reach it dry-shod. Directly across a cool spring brook entered the La Val at a place where the shore was a mass of overhanging underbrush. A pathway had been cut through the woods by some previous salmon fishers to the pools above and below; and with the poles, benches, boards and other insignificant but useful articles left by our predecessors, our camping-ground combined every requisite with many luxuries. At five o’clock the tent was pitched, our necessary part of the arrangements, the head-work done, and Walton and myself commenced fishing. We stood side by side upon the rock already mentioned, and before dark had taken fifty-three trout, weighing one hundred and twenty pounds. They were most vigorous fish, and many a time did their continued runs almost exhaust our lines. We had fished at Sault de Cochon with three flies; on ascending the river had diminished them to two, and now the fish themselves coolly reduced them to one. Almost invariably, if we struck two fish at a time, no matter what pains we took, one broke away with the hook. After a short time, we did not pretend to use more than one, and then had to take great pains in removing it from the mouth to avoid its being destroyed, so tough were the lips and strong the teeth of these noble fish. Indeed, it was soon effectually proved that any fly with the hackle wound from the shoulder to the bend was worthless, the first fish biting away the hackle, which should have been only wound close to the head. Heretofore the destruction of my fly had been a minor consideration, but now I found that I must look to myself, or, although provided with over thirty dozen, there might be danger of my falling short. As it was, the fish destroyed in the course of my trip at least ten dozen.

A delicious night’s rest was the reward of our efforts at arranging a proper camp, and in fact, henceforth there was no trouble from flies, mosquitoes, or any insect, except to a slight degree during the day-time; an annoyance that a segar would effectually dispel. From a quarter before seven to a quarter past eight next morning I alone took twelve fish averaging over two pounds, and during the day, while ascending the river for a short distance to investigate what now became to us a serious question, the depth of water, Walton and myself together caught twelve, and in the afternoon twenty-eight more. In the course of this day we established a rule to throw back all fish weighing under two pounds, a rule we adhered to till our last day in the river. The water proved to be very low, and although at night we occasionally heard the rush of a large fish up the rapids, the salmon had passed above and were probably on their spawning grounds, whither it now began to be very doubtful whether we could follow them. It was late in the season, as we knew, for salmon, although we had come prepared for them, and wished to catch at least a few.

We had picked up at Sault de Cochon, as a super-numerary, a boy of about eighteen, who was one of the most remarkable beings the sun ever shone upon. He would sit for hours with his mouth open and his hands before him, and, unless told, would hardly have sense to eat enough to keep himself from starvation. After dark, our men, with a hook and line and the entrails of a trout for bait, caught some eels, and he, emulous of their success, took the line after they had finished, and concluded he would try his luck. Although he had been watching their proceedings for an hour with the deepest interest, he had no idea what they used for bait, and was forced to inquire. They, with peals of laughter, suggested alternately “a cup of tea, a bit of biscuit, a little ale, a lump of sugar,” and such other anomalous baits. Although he at last succeeded in ascertaining from them what they used, it was not to be supposed that he would catch anything; in fact, it is highly probable he fell asleep over his rod and slept till morning.

The next day we prepared for a portage of five miles to the Lake la Val, a pond of some two miles in length by one in breadth, formed by the river’s spreading out and filling a valley in the hills. Walton donned a heavy basket, Joe, our chief canoeman, took the canoe, while François, the lazy boy, carried a bundle of bedding. We crossed the river, and striking directly into the woods, followed an Indian trail that had probably been there before this continent was discovered by Columbus. The mode of carrying the canoe was truly original; it was reversed and mounted on Joe’s shoulders, and his head being entirely concealed, he steadied it by holding to one of the cross pieces, and, at a distance, looked like some strange animal with a huge trunk, supported by two little legs. It was surprising how he managed it through the trees and among the underbrush, and even ascended places where we were compelled to give our legs the aid of our hands, not, however, without strenuous exertion, and the perspiration streamed from him when, after accomplishing about a mile, he leaned it upon a fallen log and slipped from beneath. Then the warning my friend had so often given me never to wet the bottom of the canoe, because it augmented its weight so terribly, came forcibly to mind. Fortunately François waked up, and having volunteered to carry the canoe over the next stretch, and it being ascertained, to every one’s astonishment, that he knew how, proved himself for the first time of any value, and shortened our journey considerably. During the portage we saw our first game, a spruce grouse so tame that no efforts we made could induce him to fly. He escaped death, primarily because we had no gun, and secondarily because it was out of season. At last, after a trying journey for our men, we passed a deserted lumbermen’s shanty, and found ourselves upon the sandy shore of the lovely Lake la Val.

This beautiful sheet of water, lying amid high sterile hills far from the abodes of man, has remained, and will continue for centuries, unvisited except by the native Indian or the adventurous sportsman. Romantic in its location and appearance, it is remarkable for the number and apparently irreconcilable character of the fish that inhabit its waters. While the voracious northern pickerel and giant mascallonge inhabit the upper part, and the fierce, greedy and powerful salmon have appropriated the outlet, shad or mullet and lake trout, both comparatively inoffensive, dwell in the centre, and doubtless prove an easy prey and grateful food to their natural enemies on either hand. Along the upper margin, weeds grow, and the bottom is in places soft and muddy, while the residue of the shore and bottom is firm white sand. The lake looked, in its broad expanse with the sun dancing on its rippled surface, lovely to us whose eyes had for a time been confined to a narrow gorge or the blue sky above.

Hastily launching the canoe, we descended the outlet, where the water poured over huge bowlders covered with a long, weedy grass, the seeds of which had been washed from the lake. Walton was standing in the bow of the canoe, and shouted with delight, and waved his paddle enthusiastically in air as salmon after salmon flashed up through the water, and shot by, rapid as light. The sight made our nerves tingle, but it was useless to try for them; the water was too clear, and they were dark and long run from the sea. At one point he frantically shouted to stop, and hastily explained that he had seen five salmon and numerous large trout in one deep hole. In vain, however, did we cast our flies, they had been frightened, and probably rushed down the stream, for we could not stir a fin. Descending a short distance further, we halted for dinner, after which, taking advantage of a resting spell, I waded back to the same spot.