Nipissing. Françoise Noël
to return to fish the Amable du Fond. In his account, Campbell noted the lumbermen’s presence and the problems this created for them, but without complaint, emphasizing instead their delight with the trout fishing and their enjoyment of a few days of rugged outdoor living.
Unlike the voyageurs who had known every rapid and every portage of the Mattawa to North Bay route in intimate detail, the sportsmen who canoed this route for the first time experienced it as a novel adventure, one in which, they too, could overcome hardships. They took their encounters with the lumberman at work, and evidence of his recent presence in their stride, as one more challenge to deal with.
The French River District
As Algonquin Park and the Temagami Forest Reserve gained in popularity, the French River District maintained the distinction of being less well known, but all the more special because of that. It was the place to go for muskellunge, a fish that would test the sportsman to the fullest. Not only was the muskie crafty and capable of snagging your line on a sunken log, the river muskie was strong and had a “kick to the tail that would put a man’s eye out.”[17] Under titles such as “In Search of the Big One,” “A ’Lunge for a ’Lunge,” “A Big Maskinonge from the French River,” and “The ’Lunge of French River,”[18] sportsmen recounted the stories of their battles to outwit this fish, a fight that seldom lasted less than thirty minutes, and did not always end in success. “He who after a fair fight lands a big ’lunge has performed a feat that he will probably tell to his children’s children.”[19] A photograph to prove that this was not just a fish story was essential as well. Pike, pickerel, bass, and other game fish were enticing, but they did not have the cachet of the ’lunge.
To understand the sportman’s idea of a perfect getaway on the French River, one has only to read Matthew Hoover’s account of a fishing vacation by members of the Cataract Club of Niagara County, New York, as recounted in his book Wild Ginger.[20] Hoover describes an idyllic vacation in which several friends wander through the wilderness with the help of their trusty native guides, meeting interesting characters, such as the fire ranger Hayes, who had only his dog Nixie for company; observing wild life and fauna in its natural setting; fishing during the day; and relaxing around the campfire at night. To reach their camp, located north of the main channel of the French River about twelve miles from the Big Chaudière, they travelled via the Grand Trunk railway to North Bay, then by steamer to the French. The portage from the Upper to the Lower French was philosophically put down to “that which preserves the wilderness, and the sauce which heightens the enjoyment thereof.” Fishing for ’lunge was the highlight of their two-week vacation and Hoover happily reported that they caught twenty-four in that time. They fished with little concern for the quantity caught as any fish that was not eaten was donated to the natives who smoked them for winter use. With four canoes and guides, the party often explored different locations, enhancing their sense of being alone in the wilderness. They ate well. A shore lunch at “Delmonico’s rock” featured frog legs, fish, partridge, venison, bacon, potatoes, blueberries, raspberries, and coffee. At Cardinal or Blue Flag Lake they saw masses of these flowers in bloom. At Fivemile Rapids, the bass fishing below the second rapid was so excellent they called the spot the “Banquet Hall of the Fishes.” Their longest trip was a two-day excursion to the Masog-Masing, of interest as the home of the “great black-bodied, red-headed woodpecker [the pileated], who has no song, but a raucous cackle that can be heard a mile.” They saw forty-two deer and met a party of native people from the reserve along the way. Around the campfire at night the cook and the guides entertained them with stories of the north. Their woes were limited to the fish that got away. Theirs was the perfect vacation, the French a sportsman’s paradise.
Paul Haworth’s trip to the French was more challenging, although equally satisfying. This could be because ascending the French from Georgian Bay was more difficult, or because as a historian as well as a fiction writer he omitted fewer of the environmental details.[21] His companions, four professionals from Indiana, were known for the duration only as the Publisher, the Rare Book Man, the Dr. of Philosophy, and the Treasurer. Two guides and a cook completed the party as it travelled up the French in three rowboats. Logging activities impeded their progress; after the first rapid, they faced thousands of logs floating in the water from camps near Lake Nipissing. The guides had to reconnoitre by running along the loose logs — not difficult, but dangerous work. “For two days, trolling from time to time and catching many bass and pike, we battled against logs and current.” The difficulty of the trip, Haworth noted, “partly accounts for the fact that so few sportsmen visit these waters — unsurpassed though they are both for fishing and for natural beauty.” A forest fire had ravaged one section of the river, leaving behind “blasted trunks standing amidst the blackened stumps and prostrate bodies of comrades half consumed,” and his photograph of the Wolseley Bay area shows small second-growth trees along the shore. Despite this, he wrote: “We were passing through a primeval wilderness which changed but little in the three hundred years since Champlain, the Father of New France, passed through it.” Sightings of lynx, porcupine, deer, and loons supported his conclusion that wildlife was abundant.
This photograph of an excursion up the “Masog-Masing” by a party from Matt Hoover’s camp gives the sense that they are exploring unknown territory.
Matt Hoover, Wild Ginger, Wood Sorrel and Sweet Cicely (New York: Broadway Publishing, 1909), 227.
The search for ’lunge began in earnest at Récollet Falls. A morning spent trolling with “number five spinners baited with six inches of white pike-gut” produced many pike and bass, which were released; a ’lunge that got away; and one 26.5 pound female ’lunge that was landed after a thirty minute “battle royal,” in which twenty years of angling experience was pitted against the “weight and cunning” of the ’lunge. They had a similar success the next day on a wide bay past Fivemile Rapids. The third day, the ’lunge seemed everywhere. The fact that two railways had recently been built across the French, making the area more accessible, could certainly have changed this, as would the projected ship canal to Ottawa if it was built, but, he felt, “the region in general will always remain a labyrinthine wilderness of innumerable rocky islands, hills, bays, rivers, and lakes, a paradise for the sportsman and the nature lover.” Haworth concluded: “For other purposes than sport the country is comparatively worthless.”
For every published account of fishing on the French, many more were told around the campfire or in the clubhouse back home. Friends were aware that the fish got bigger the further from the lake you got. One thing, however, was clear: the French River district had acquired a reputation as a fishing paradise.
South of Lake Nipissing
Early in the twentieth century (just as today), the woods of northern Ontario were not a safe place to be in the fall, particularly if you were a deer or could be mistaken for one, as hunters from near and far invaded the northland. Among them were many farmers from southern Ontario, “many of whom,” Superintendent Tinsley reported in 1908:
have enjoyed these annual outings for forty or fifty years. One grand old man in particular, in his eightieth year, said it was only the anticipation of going the next season that kept him alive from year to year. As a rule, by the first of November farmers have completed their fall work, enabling thousands of them to enjoy their annual deer hunt, and looking forward to it with each recurring year as one of the most enjoyable events of their lives.[22]
Little had changed in 1928 when the “throng flocking to the north,” according to a Windsor newspaper, was “comprised of farmers, artisans, professional and business men and men from practically every walk of life.”[23]
Récollet Falls was one of the spots on the French River favoured by fishermen. It is therefore not surprising that Reuben Sallows used this image as a postcard.
“Recollet Falls, French River,” photograph by Reuben Sallows, Image number 0009-rrs-ogoh-ph, the Reuben R. Sallows Gallery.
The habitat of Ontario’s deer, an area that extended south of the CPR main line