Sport in Vancouver and Newfoundland. Sir John Godfrey Rogers
part of it can in my opinion compare with that of the line from Lucerne to Milan via the St. Gothard, and what a difference in the engineering of the line and the speed of the trains. Accidents by derailing of ballast trains seemed fairly common. We saw one on our way across, and two engines which had toppled over the embankment marked the site of at least one other.
As regards the Rockies, it must be admitted that the effect of their real height is taken away by the gradual rise in level as one crosses the plains.
Calgary, where the mountains are first approached, stands at 3,428 feet above sea-level.
All things come to an end, and the morning of July 24th found us steaming into the city of Vancouver, glad that the weary journey was at last over.
The town of Vancouver is beautifully situated on the Mainland overlooking the Straits of Georgia.
I am glad, after my criticisms of the Canadian Pacific Railway, to testify to the comfort and moderate charges of the Canadian Pacific Railway Hotel at Vancouver.
A charming bedroom with bathroom attached cost only 5 dollars, all meals included. Excellent beer, locally brewed, was cheap, and a bottle of Californian Chianti, quite a drinkable wine, cost only a dollar, so there was nothing to complain of.
My waiter happened to be an Irishman, and he took quite a personal interest in my comfort, whispering into my ear in the most confidential manner the dishes of the day that he recommended as the best.
On a day's acquaintance, claiming me as a countryman, he confided to me his story. His father had been manager of a bank in Ireland, and he was sent abroad to settle in Canada.
Starting on a farm, and, according to his own story, doing well, a fire destroyed his house and farm implements. Drifting through various stages, he arrived at his present position, with which he seemed quite content. He was married, and lived outside the hotel. Fishing was his passion, and every spare moment was devoted to it.
He was really a most entertaining companion, with a keen sense of humour, and he made the meal-time pass very pleasantly, for he never ceased chatting.
A run by steamer to Seattle to see some friends, gave me a glimpse of Victoria and the exquisite scenery of the trip from Vancouver to Seattle.
At Vancouver I had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of Mr. Bryan Williams, the Provincial Game Warden of British Columbia, with whom I had been already in correspondence, and to whom I was indebted for much valuable assistance and advice.
A true sportsman, his heart is in his job, and if he only be given a free hand and adequate funds, the preservation of game in British Columbia will be in safe hands.
The licence, 100 dollars, is not a heavy one, but I think it might with justice be graduated, fixing one sum, say 50 dollars, for Vancouver Island, where only wapiti, an occasional bear and deer are found, and imposing the higher licence for the Mainland, to include moose, mountain sheep, goat, caribou and grizzly bear.
One would have thought that in the city of Vancouver, the centre of a great angling country, every requirement of the fisherman would have been found. The contrary was the case.
Fortunately I had brought my own fishing-tackle, for in the best sporting shop in the town I could not obtain a suitable spare fishing-line.
Rods, reels, lines, flies and baits were inferior in workmanship as compared to what one is accustomed at home.
I therefore strongly recommend any fisherman to bring all his tackle from home. In the case of rods, reels and lines, New York may have better, as I shall show when I come to discuss the question of tackle later on.
From the manager of the Bank of Montreal, to whom I had a letter of introduction, I met with great courtesy financially as well as socially, and I became free of the excellent Vancouver Club, so charmingly situated, and only regretted that my short stay prevented my availing myself more of its hospitality.
VANCOUVER TO THE CAMPBELL RIVER
CHAPTER II
VANCOUVER TO THE CAMPBELL RIVER
The morning of July 29th found me on board the Queen City, the small but most comfortable steamer of the Canadian Pacific Railway running north to the Campbell River and beyond.
The Captain was a delightful companion, patriotic to a degree, and regretting what he considered the neglect shown by the Old Country to the Dominion of Canada, when American and Canadian interests were at issue.
The steamer was well found and well managed, while the Captain's skill in approaching our various stopping-places, often dangerous coves with no lights, at any time of the night and in any weather, was to me a continual source of admiration. I travelled with him three times, and never wish for a more charming host or a Captain that inspired more confidence as a navigator.
We arrived at the Campbell River Pier at the unearthly hour of 1 a.m. The proprietor, however, was on the pier waiting with lanterns to show us the way up to the Willows Hotel, where I was to spend a happy month.
The Willows Hotel, beautifully situated on the Valdez Straits within a few yards of the sea, is all that a sportsman could desire. Clean, well-furnished bedrooms, a bathroom and quite a decent table, all for the moderate sum of 2 dollars a day.
The proprietor did not quite realize the fact that the majority of the guests came for the fishing, and not for the food.
The lady who directed the establishment seemed to think the latter the more important.
The breakfast bell rang at 6 a.m., and breakfast was served from 6 to 8 a.m. Lunch or dinner from 12 to 2 p.m., and supper from 6 to 8 p.m.
Woe betide the guest who broke the rules of the house as regards the hours, for he was expected to lose his meal.
In those glorious autumn evenings when it was light up to 10 o'clock, the manageress forgot that a keen fisherman might stay out till 9 or even 10, if the fish were taking.
Dinner he could not expect, but a cold supper, if ordered beforehand, might have been laid out in the dining-room. Nor could attendance be looked for; servants were few and overworked, and it was but natural they should like to go to bed at 10 o'clock, or be free to wander in the woods or along the foreshore with the special young man of the moment.
By making love to the manageress and the Chinese cook, I generally succeeded in finding something to eat if I was late, but I often had to forage for myself in the kitchen, and on one occasion came back to find a plate of very indifferent sandwiches laid out for supper.
Morning tea in one's bedroom was prohibited. I should therefore advise any one addicted to the habit of early morning tea, to provide himself with a "Thermos" bottle, and fill it overnight—besides which, if very enthusiastic, a start might sometimes be made at 4 a.m., when a cup of hot tea and a biscuit make all the difference to one's feelings of comfort.
The hotel was a strange mixture of civilization and discomfort.
We had written menus of which I give a specimen below, but I had to grease my own boots and wash my own clothes, until I found an Indian squaw in the adjoining village who for an exorbitant charge relieved me of my washing, though I greased my boots till the end of my stay.
THE WILLOWS HOTEL.
Menu. Dinner.
Soup. Purée of Split Pea. Fish. Baked Salmon (Spanish). Boiled Cod. Lobster Sauce. Entrées. Beef Hot Pot. Pig's Head à la Printanière. Macaroni au Gratin. Boiled. Boiled Ox Tongue. Kipper Sauce. Boiled Ham. Roast.