Superior Fishing. Robert Barnwell Roosevelt
head of the canal, where our new men and their barge were to meet us early on the morrow. We parted with Joe, who, however, that evening and next morning heaped coals of fire on our heads by doing us innumerable little favors in the way of suggestions, advice, and physical aid.
The day following, as the last article was placed upon the cart, we were informed that neither eggs nor bread was to be had in the village. Our horror, or rather mine—for Don little knew what a dearth of eggs implied—can only be appreciated by an experienced cook; bread was a minor matter, as we had ship-biscuit, but eggs were indispensable. It appeared on inquiry that the baker had been heating his own coppers, as the fast men express it, instead of his oven, and was now sleeping off the effects of his debauch; and hens, feeling their importance in that desolate country, only lay on special occasions.
While we were in a condition bordering upon despair, uncertain whether to proceed, the steamer Illinois hove in sight. Never was an arrival more opportune, for one of the numerous ventures of the bar-keepers on these vessels is to supply the country with eggs, and recollections of the baskets full that we had seen hanging from the cross-beams of the City of Cleveland came vividly to our minds. Leaving Don to purchase the eggs, I pushed on with the baggage. The former boarded the steamer as soon as she touched the dock, and, rushing to the bar-keeper, demanded eight dozen eggs. He was informed, however, that they were sold by the basket, which contained fifteen dozen, and he could have no less. Then it was that Don rose to the importance of the occasion. Others might have doubted, hesitated, or failed to make the purchase at all; but he, without a pause, grasped the basket, laid down the money, and started for the head of the canal. Fifteen dozen eggs were a perfect mine of comfort; in their golden bosoms lay undeveloped numberless egg-noggs, delicious cakes, and appetizing omelets, and Don’s character was established for ever.
The wind, strong and contrary, was dashing foam-crested waves against the piers of the canal, threatening to make our journey a slow one; our goods and chattels were safely and carefully stowed, filling the barge as nearly as was desirable; we had even cast off and commenced our voyage, when through the canal we saw approaching a tug-boat. She was called the Bacchus, and, like her jolly prototype, willingly lent us her aid; and giving us a tow, made our old boat, for that occasion at least, a fast one. She tore her way along, crushing the waves with her high bow, throwing a mass of white water from her propeller, and carrying us in fine style past Pointe aux Pins, nearly ten miles of our route.
Having left her, as our course now lay more to the northward, we managed with hard rowing, very different from our previous gallant progress, to reach Pointe aux Chênes or Oak Point, in time for dinner. Looming up at the distance of about six miles, rose abruptly to the height of five hundred feet the bold promontory of Gros Cap, its round head enveloped in driving fog. A scanty verdure of pines and firs covering its sides, it stood out a bold landmark, being the first high land of the northern shore.
About half-way between Pointe aux Chênes and Gros Cap lies a low and narrow island, covered with small trees and underbrush, furnishing an admirable camping-ground; and the wind increasing as the fog descended, crawling slowly down the mountain sides, we could advance no further.
All day long canoes filled with Indians, taking advantage of the to them favorable wind, passed us on their way to a grand council at Mitane. It was wonderful where they could all come from; the men seemed to carry their wives, papooses, and household gods, and were accompanied by numberless dogs that ran along the shore; one party consisted of a squaw seated at the bow to paddle, another in the stern to steer, and a brave amidships fast asleep; the canoe was propelled by a blanket, used as a sail. The Indians exhibit great skill in sailing so unsteady a boat as a canoe; although to ordinary mortals it is difficult to stand up in one, they manage to sail them in heavy winds and over a rough sea. This art appears to be peculiar to them, for I have never known it attempted by the Canadian voyageurs, nor even by the half-breeds.
The fogs rising from the cold waters of Lake Superior are frequent and dense; on this occasion the moisture settled upon the bushes, fell from the leaves in large drops, and dampened the boughs of which our bed was to be composed. For this latter purpose, as there was no sapin on the island, we were compelled to use oak sprouts, a substitute that Don at first, attracted by its beauty and apparent comfort, approved, but which, when before morning the leaves were pressed flat and the stems made unpleasantly prominent, he anathematized vigorously.
After supper we wandered along the shore, picking up the queerly shaped and oddly colored stones that abound on the Canadian side of the lake. No agates nor amethysts, and none of the really beautiful pebbles, are to be obtained south of Michipicotten, but everywhere are curious specimens to be found. Carried, as it is supposed, by the ice-drift of former ages from their natural beds, crushed by the moving mass, and rounded by the beating waves, the hardest only survive, while the strangest and most incongruous varieties are collected together. Meeting with novel specimens at every step, we were continually rejecting what we had just selected, till we hardly knew which were really the most remarkable.
Next morning broke with the weather the same, but towards mid-day the wind fell. Don had been gratified with his meals thus far, but on being offered rice for breakfast, said that it reminded him of his European experience, where rice was not considered fit to eat without being filled with raisins and having goose-gravy for sauce. In fact, he did not think he could eat it without these accompaniments. Before the trip was over, however, he found that in spite of European authority and the absence of goose-gravy, rice was quite palatable.
By hard work we reached the camping-ground at Gros Cap, a small island almost adjoining the main land, which is too rocky and precipitous to locate a tent, and having arranged our camp amid the driving fog, essayed the fishing off the point. Fortune did not smile upon us; and having killed one fish for supper, we were glad to escape from the cold, damp air, and return to the warmth of the fire.
The appearance of the rocks in this region is remarkable. Not only are they veined with metal and quartz, running in long seams, but they are cut up by deep furrows, at the bottom of which are strewn broken and pounded stones. The origin of the furrows, or scratches as the geologists term them, has been differently explained; some writers attributing them to the action of water, and others, with probably the correct theory, alleging they were made by the ice-drift of former ages. The ice-drift was the accumulation of snow and ice in the neighborhood of the north pole, its increasing masses forcing their way towards warmer latitudes, and carrying with them immense rocks and boulders. The drift formerly extended far beyond its present limits, pouring into the deep water of Lake Superior, and must have crushed and riven whatever lay in its course—cutting deep furrows whenever the boulders it was carrying came in contact with the unyielding native rock. The character of the rifts, which do not resemble the effects of water, their uniformity of direction, and the pounded character of the stones, confirm this view.
Whatever may have been their origin, they are troublesome to cross, forming as they do abrupt gullies running from high up the hills into the deep water, and occurring at every few hundred feet. But where they pass below the surface, they and the natural caverns worn by the waves form admirable retreats for the timid trout. For the whole length of the shore, the broken rocks lie piled up in the water, and at some places extend far out; as they furnish the best locality for sport, although generally the angler has but a short distance to cast, occasionally a long stretch has to be made. The wind is frequently adverse or across his line, and as he must reach a particular spot in spite of all obstacles, his capabilities are often put to the severest test.
To encounter and overcome difficulty is the true sportsman’s delight, almost as much so as to see the silver-sided beauties of the lake rise suddenly from their fairy caverns and seize his fly, to feel them struggling and fighting for their liberty, jumping again and again, and finally to watch their fading brilliancy enveloped in the fatal net. The trout of this region resemble the sea-trout of the Gulf of St. Lawrence in their habits and appearance. They have the same pearly whiteness on their sides and bellies, heightened by the minute specks of carmine; the same vigor and dauntless courage, the same savage voracity, and the same way of springing out of water when they are on the line. They rise unexpectedly with a rapidity resembling fury, grasp their object with determination, and on being struck, fight bravely. Their flesh,