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

The only fishing on the Miramichi is above Boiestown, and to reach it you leave St. John in the night or day boat for Fredericton, arriving there in eight hours at an expense of one dollar and a half. The night boat runs three times a week. The best house in Fredericton is the Barker House, kept by Mr. Fairweather, and in this city you must get your supplies for the woods. The stage leaves every Tuesday and Friday for Boiestown, nominally at ten A.M., and reaches that collection of huts nominally at six P.M. The fare is two dollars and a half, and the ordinary charge for an extra is ten dollars, but remember the stage proprietor is Kelley. The best tavern in Boiestown is kept by Avery, but about five miles up the river, at Campbelltown, is a nice house owned by William Wilson, and the true plan is either to write to him to meet you at Fredericton, or drive over to his place. He will engage your men, aid you with the supplies, provide you with bread, besides making you generally comfortable, and you have gained so much in the ascent of the river. The stage from Boiestown runs to Chatham, and by that means you may continue to the Nipisiquit, but there is no reliance to be placed on it, and an extra from Fredericton to Chatham, one hundred and ten miles, costs thirty dollars. The stage fare is seven, and there is no telegraph to Boiestown.

One of the most interesting ways of reaching the various rivers of New Brunswick is by portaging from the head-waters of one into those of another. For instance, a steamboat leaves Fredericton semi-weekly, when the water is not too low, for the Grand Falls on the St. John; a few miles above, the Grand River debouches, from the head-waters of which a short portage of a few miles takes you into the Waugan, one of the branches of the Restigouche, or you may stop below the Falls and ascend the Tobique, a noble river, full of salmon, but which, strange to say, will not take the fly, and from Lake Nictou, the source of the Tobique, you can readily portage into Lake Nipisiquit, and by ascending the main forks of the latter, a short portage puts you on the Upsalquitch, a branch of the Restigouche, and abounding in salmon. Another confluent of the St. John, the Shiktahauk, is crossed at its head by the Royal Road, where a wagon can be had to convey your baggage to a branch of the Southwest Miramichi, and from Newcastle, at the mouth of the latter river, you can ascend the Northwest Miramichi and strike the Nipisiquit near the Grand Falls. These are but a few of the simplest voyages that may be made, but a glance at the map, or a talk with any old Indian guide, will reveal many others. [13]

CHAPTER VI.
NEW BRUNSWICK.

One bright moonlight night in the early part of Summer, a heavy wagon, drawn by two powerful horses, was bowling along one of the dreary level roads of the province of New Brunswick. It was loaded down with trunks on the rack, barrels under the seats, that were built on springs above the sides for that purpose, and bundles and bags innumerable in the bottom, and two long leathern cases that suggested salmon rods. It carried three men; the driver, tall and spare, with a shrewd eye, and long, curly, black hair, was turned half-way round in the seat, assuming an attitude that combined comfort with facility of conversation. On the back seat, a middle aged gentleman, whose hair and beard were silvered o’er, but whose eye was bright as in his earliest youth, and a younger man of stout build with brownish hair and beard. Their talk was of the forest, and many thrilling tales of danger, or exciting ones of the chase, were told; vivid descriptions of how the moose, the caribou, the red deer, met his fate; stories of the tiger, the wild boar, the rhinoceros and unwieldy elephant; or peaceful description of killing the beautiful trout, the fierce, striped bass, or the voracious mascallonge. The time wore pleasantly away as they passed along between the sombre lines of spruce and hemlock and juniper, as they ran into the deep shade or emerged into the open moonlight till they came in sight of the Nashwaak, seaming the dark earth like a vein of silver, when a glorious view presented itself to their attention. Far away as the eye could reach, stretched the valley of Nashwaak, silent as the repose of death; not a sound but the rattle of the wheels broke the still air, while the moon bathed the rocks, the earth, the trees, with its uncertain light, formed weird shapes out of the foliage, or cast strange shadows across the road. Still on, however, scarcely pausing—as every true sportsman must pause before the beauties of nature—the party were soon lost in the shady descent that led toward the bank of the stream, whose course they followed some miles, crossing it beyond, over a high, substantial bridge. The road then branched off, traversing the unbroken wilderness, where for miles not a habitation was visible, till midnight found them amid a heavy shower at McCloud’s, the half-way house from Fredericton to Boiestown.

The horses under the shed, a sound thumping on the door brought out the host, who attended to the wants of man and beast, and sent them on their way rejoicing, as soon as the storm had abated. There was little variety in the scene; the road was mostly level and good, the forest was of the same dull character, with many dead trunks towering up amid it; there were few houses and no settlements, and the country was principally one vast plain. As the morning light began to streak the east with grey, they came in sight of the peaceful Miramichi, and turning off from the main road across the Taxes River, followed the course of the larger stream, till, nearly opposite a beautiful spring, where they had stopped to water their horses, they turned into a barway, and in a moment more reached Wilson’s, their prospective head-quarters.

Wilson’s habitation was a quaint-looking log house, perched on the edge of a bank overhanging what is called the interval, or fruitful stretch of level land lying between the river and the hills, and its evident antiquity bore testimony that it had belonged to one of the earliest settlers.

A well-stocked garden, an extensive barn, a large drove of sheep and cows, suggested what an industrious and comely wife and daughter confirmed, that Wilson’s was a well-to-do family.

As a general thing, the people of this region are of the most short-sighted possible character; they live for the present, and an easy way of making a dollar is irresistible, though it may entail the final loss of ten. The country is slowly going back to a savage condition; farmers, instead of attending to their farms, speculate in lumber, because it enriches one man in fifty; mortgage their farms, which are sold under foreclosures to strangers and allowed to grow up with weeds and bushes. Tens of thousands of acres are in this condition, and are being fast rendered irreclaimable. Instead of encouraging fishermen to come and spend money among them, although they admit it is about the only money they see, they annoy and overcharge at such a rate that they have driven away all but a few from Fredericton. Instead of preserving and increasing the fish, they obstruct the channel entirely with nets, striving by one grand haul to destroy the supply forever. To this general rule Wilson is the only exception, and may be relied on, not only to do whatever in reason is required of him, but to do it at a moderate price. His only extravagant charge is for driving to Fredericton to meet his guests.

The guides were waiting for us, and after making the requisite preparations and passing a comfortable night in the old log house, we started next day on our journey toward the head-waters of the Miramichi. Our canoes were made of the log of a tree, and familiarly called dug-outs, and were admirably adapted to the purpose. Being extremely long, sometimes thirty feet, and narrow, they offer every convenience for poling, draw but little water, and are not injured by contact with a rock, that would pierce the thin bark of the delicate birch canoe, and will hold their way better against a strong rapid. They are made of the trunk of some towering branchless pine-tree that the adventurous woodsman has marked during the winter for his own, and which, after being cut down, is transported to a convenient place, where it is hewn into the shape of the outside of the boat. Augur holes are bored in the bottom, and pegs, two inches long, are driven, to answer for guides as to thickness. The inside is then roughly hewn away, till the pegs are reached, when it is smoothed off, being left two inches thick at the bottom, and a half inch at the gunwale. Slender knees are introduced at proper distances to prevent its warping under the sun; a brace is fastened across from gunwale to gunwale, near the stem and stern, and the boat is complete. It is worth about twelve dollars, and having neither braces nor thwarts, but an open space its entire length, is convenient for holding a long rod, and being steadier under foot, offers many advantages over the birch canoe. It is particularly excellent in descending a shallow river, where occasional contact with rocks is inevitable; but is too heavy to portage comfortably. For rapid travel, either up or down stream, it is invaluable.