I found we had eight loads, which meant double journeys as far as Hungry Grove Pond, so I started off Joe and John Denny with two packs, while Steve and I took a light camp up to Mitchell's Point, where the river ran into the head of the Long Harbour and from which I was assured I could get some good sea trout fishing. We had camp pitched and our midday meal over by 3 o'clock, so started up the river for the sea trout on which we depended for dinner. It was a rough journey along the river bank or in its bed, and although all the water looked tempting it was 5 o'clock before we reached the pool in which the fish were supposed to be.
Long Harbour River is one of the biggest rivers in the south and in the early summer a large number of salmon and sea trout run up, but like most Newfoundland rivers that I saw, the pools alternated with long shallow runs, where no fish would lie. There were certainly some beautiful pools, so it was a disappointment, more especially as regards dinner, that I only rose one fish and hooked another which broke away. Steve unfortunately cut his foot with the small axe in making camp. It looked nothing, but on his way up the river the wound opened and bled rather freely. I fixed him up with a pad and a bandage, and dressed it on our return to camp with 1/1000 corrosive sublimate solution made from tabloids, without which I never travel.
We had only about half-an-hour to fish if we would get back to camp, some four miles away, before dark, so we really did not give the water a fair chance. We did not get into camp till about 8.30. Steve declared he was first-rate at slapjacks, so while I prepared a square of Lazenby's soup he set to work on the slapjacks. After using half a tin of butter he produced a sodden mass of dough, on which and the soup we made a poor meal.
The flies and mosquitoes were very troublesome, but Farlow's "dope" was fairly successful.
Our camping ground was too near the river and on rather low ground. A very heavy dew fell during the night and everything was soaking in the morning. As the fishing was not likely to prove a success we decided to return to Ryan's and push on after our men. Getting away about 12 o'clock, for I had sent Steve back to Ryan's on foot to borrow their dory which brought our camp up, we stopped to boil the kettle and have lunch near a settler's place just beyond the mouth of the river. He was a hardy old man, by name Joe Riggs, and though he had recently undergone several operations in the hospital at St. John's to remove some diseased ribs, he was working away all alone getting in his hay. He was very lonely and sad for he had only recently lost his wife, and the way he spoke about her was very touching. In winter, however, he went down to Anderson's Cove, a small settlement at the mouth of Long Harbour, where a married daughter lived. Among the solitary settlers I met, of whom Joe Riggs was a type, it was remarkable how the spot they had selected for settling on was the very finest to be found, and to poor old Joe, Long Harbour was a sort of earthly Paradise which he would not exchange for any other part of Newfoundland.
On reaching Ryan's, where I was ashamed to trespass once more on his hospitality for the night, I found John Denny and Joe had taken two packs on about eleven miles, to a spot about three miles from Hungry Grove Pond and returned for more loads.
I took another Indian, Micky John by name, to help and the three men started off about 3 o'clock. Two were to return the next day, while John Denny was to make a double trip down to Hungry Grove Pond.