Fly Fisher - American Museum Of Fly Fishing

The
American
Fly Fisher
An Open Letter to the Membership
Our progress o v a the past seven years has been remarkable in the receipt of hundreds
of items donated by fly fishers from all over the country. These welcome gifts, for the
most part have been related to fishing tackle. Their value is unquestioned. I wish to point
out, however, that quite often the favorite fly rod of a famous fly fisher cannot be given
the Museum or any of his other well loved items of tackle. The circumstance often ends
on this note and there is a very good chance that other memorabilia which is equally precious and desirable will eventually be lost because they have not been considered.
It should be emphasized, when talking with a potential donor, we are not only interested in fly fishing tackle, books and prints, art works and things related but we also
have a place for the personal memento.
These help round out the personality and humanness of our celebrated fly fishers and
are of extreme interest to the general public. Joe Brooks' fishing hat may not have the
greatest of monetary values but visitors identify as much with his hat as with his fly rod.
The same applies to Arnold Gingrich's fishing vest which is now on display. Too often,
the personal item is forgotten, in the end to eventually disappear.
The following article by Grover Cleveland is of historical interest. It also highlights the
fact that one of Daniel Webster's personal possessions of much more than passing interest
has been either mislaid or has disappeared with but little chance of recovery. We do have
the book, from which his extract is taken in our Presidential showcase.
Mr. Webster9sRemarks to a Fish
by Grover Cleveland
Daniel Webster, too, was a fisherman - always in good and
regular standing. In marshaling the proof which his great life
furnishes of the benefits of the fishing propensity, I approach
the task with a feeling of awe quite natural to one who has slept
in the room occupied by the great expounder during his fishing
campaigns on Cape Cod and along the shores of Mashpee Pond
and its adjacent streams. This distinguished member of our fraternity was an industrious and attentive fisherman. He was besides a wonderful orator - and largely so because he was a fiiherman. He himself confessed to the aid he received from a fishing
environment in the preparation of his best oratorical efforts;
and other irrefutable testimony to the same effect is at hand.
It is not deemed necessary to cite in proof of such aid more
than a single incident. Perhaps none of Mr. Webster's orations
was more notable, or added more to his lasting fame, than that
delivered at the laying of the cornerstone of the Bunker Hill
Monument. Beginning with the words "Venerable men," this
thrilling oratorical flight was composed and elaborated by Mr.
Webster while wading waist deep and casting his fly in Mashpee
waters. He himself afterward often referred to this circumstance;
and one who was his companion on this particular occasion has
recorded the fact noticing laxity in fishing action on Mr. Webster's part, he approached him and in the exact words of this
witness "he seemed to be gazing at the overhanging trees, and
presently advancing one foot forward and extending his right
hand, he commenced t o speak, 'Venerable men'."
Though this should be enough to support conclusively the
contention that incidents of Mr. Webster's great achievements
prove the close relationship between fishing and the loftiest attainments of mankind, this branch of our subject ought not to
be dismissed without reference to a comversation I once had
with old John Attaquin, then a patriarch among the few survivors of the Mashpee Indians. He had often been Mr. Webster's
guide and companion on his fishing trips and remembered clearly many of their happenings. It was with a glow of love and admiration amounting almost to worship that he related how this
great fisherman, after landing a great trout on the banks of the
stream, "talked mighty fine and strong to that fish and told him
what a mistake he had made, and what a fool he was to take
that fly, and that he would have been all right if he had let it
alone . . ." Who can doubt that patient search would disclose,
somewhere in Mr. Websta's speeches and writings the elaboration and high intent, of that"'mighty strong and fine" talk addressed to the fish at Mashpee?
The impressive story of this simple, truthful old Indian was
delightfully continued when with the enthusiasm of an untutored mind remembering pleasant sensations, the narrator had told
how the great fisherman and orator having concluded his
"strong, fine talk," would frequently suit the action to the word,
when he turned to his guide and proposed a fitting libation in
recognition of his catch. This part of the story is not here repeated on account of its superior value as an addition to the evidence, but I am thus given the opportunity to speak of the emotion which fascinated me as the story proceeded, and as I recalled how precisely a certain souvenir called "the Webster flask,"
carefully hoarded among my valued possessions, was fitted to
the situation described.
Several years past, the Museum contacted Mr. James Cleveland, son of the President, relative to the possibility of obtaining
one of the President's fishing rods. Regretably, all had been donated to the Smithsonian. Later I made a personal effort in regard to the flask but that appeared hopelessly lost. Several years
of "patient search" have been without results although I did discover at the Boston Public Library an astonishing Silver Cup, at
least two feet in height, lavishly scrolled, engraved and once belonging to Daniel Webster, presented by the citizens of Boston.
The collection for the Museum of rare and desirable memorabilia is always a now proposition for the members.
A. S. Hogan, Curator
The American Fly Fisher
Published by The Muscum of American Fly Fishing
for the pleasure o f the mcnibership.
SPRING 1977
Vol. 4 No. 2
TABLE O F CONTENTS
ADVISORY BOARD
Dr. Alvin Grove
Statc Collcgc, Pa.
Baird Hall
Hyde Park, Vt.
Dr. David R. Ledlie
Middlebury, Vt.
J o h n T. Orrelle
Sherwood, Oregon
Leigh H. Perkins
Manchester, Vt.
An Open Letter t o t h e Membership
Mr. Webster's Remarks b y Grover Cleveland
Rudyard Kipling and American Fly Fishing
b y Paul Schullery
IFC
3
Ceylon Rivers b y Philip K. Crowe
Annual Meeting
Fishing in New Hampshire
12
The Golden Trout of Sunapee - Color Plate
13
The Sportsman Tourist
Grayling Fishing in Alaska
Trout Flies - Color Plate
Bass Flies - Color Plate
6
10
14
16
17
Ledge Fishing f o r Ouinaniche
19
Steve Raymond
Seattlc, Washington
Gibbs' Striper - Color Plate
20
A n Adirondack Excursion
21
Mrs. Anne Secor
Arlington, Vt.
Dyeing Fishing Lines
T h e Fun of Angling Literature b y Joseph S. Beck
Western Americana
Rainbow Trout of t h e McCIoud
23
24
Concerning t h e Dolly Varden
28
George Dawson
The Sportsman Tourist
Florida Fishing - T h e Angler in Nicaragua - Sport in t h e Far West
29
Donald Zahner
Dorset, Vt.
Austin S. Hogan
Cambridge, Mass.
Research & Liaison
Museum Information
Sawdust in Trout Streams
THE AMERICAN FLY FISHER, the magazine of THE MUSEUM O F AMERICAN FLY FIStIING, is published quarterly by the MUSEUM a t Manchester, Vermont 0 5 2 5 4 . Subscription is free with payment o f
membership dues. All correspondence, letters, manuscripts, photographs and materials should b e forwarded
care of the Curator. The MUSEUM and MAGAZINE are not responsible for unsolicited manuscripts, drawings, photographs, materials o r memorabilia. T h e Museum cannot accept responsibility for statements and
interpretations which are wholly the author's. Unsolicited manuscripts cannot b e returned unless postage is
provided. Contributions t o THE AMERICAN FLY FISHER are t o be considered gratuitous and become t h e
property of t h e Museum unless otherwise requested b y the contributor. Publication dates arc January,
April, July and October. Entered as Second Class matter a t t h e U. S. Post Office, Manchestcr, Vermont.
@ Copyright 1976, THE AMERICAN FLY FISHER, Manchester, Vermont 0 5 2 5 4 . Original material appearing may not be reprinted without prior permission.
CREDITS:
Museum photos b y David B. Ledlie. Drawings b y Austin S. Hogan, Curator.
Printing by Thompson, Inc., Manchestcr Center, Vermont
26
30
32
IBC
Lower Falls o f the Yellowstone River as it appeared in Kipling's day. About a mile
above the falls "a two pound trout came up also and we slew him among the rocks, nearly
tumbling into that wild river."
Courtesy of Yellowstone Park Files
Photo by the famed William Henry Jackson - 1880's
Rudyard Kipling
and
American Fly Fishing
by Paul Schullery
"I live very largely alone and m y wants are limited t o a new
fly rod and some flies."
Rudyard Kipling to his editor, 1890
Rudyard Kipling's most enduring contribution to angling literature was his immensely entertaining "On Dry-Cow Fishing as
a Fine Art." It appeared in The Fishing Gazette in December of
1890 and told of his snagging a cow with his backcast while fishing a small English stream. Though his tackle was not orthodox
fly-fishing gear, his familiarity with the niceties of fly-angling
was obvious. He was evidently using a fly rod, for his lure was a
"quill minnow . . . the tacklemaker said that it could be thrown
as a fly." After explaining how his "peculiar, and hitherto unpublished, methods of fly throwing" resulted in minor personal
injuries, he concluded that "fly fishing is a very gory amusement."l
As we shall see, Kipling rarely wrote about fishing. The DryCow story was an exception and is discussed here only to prepare the way for an examination of his American angling adventures.
Rudyard Kipling first visited America in 1889. He was in his
early twenties and was traveling west to east, from India to England, where his career as a writer would soon flourish. His account of the American tour was published serially in an Indian
newspaper and later gathered into a book, From Sea t o Sea:
Letters of TraveL2
He landed in San Francisco and after a short stay in that city
he headed north by rail. His angling enthusiams quickly surfaced :
A nameless ruffian backed me into a corner and began telling me about the resources of the country, and what it would
eventually become. All I remember of his lecture was that
you could catch trout in the Sacramento River -- the stream
that we followed so faithfullv.
Then rose a tough and wiry old man with grizzled hair
and made inquiries about the trout. To him was added the
secretary of a life-insurance company. I fancy he was travelling to rake in the dead that the train killed. But he, too, was
a fisherman, and the two turned to meward . . . The old man
was on a holiday in search of fish. When he discovered a
brother-loafer he proposed a confederation of rods. Quoth
the insurance-agent, "I'm not staying any time in Portland,
but I will introduce you to a man there who'll tell you about
fi~hing."~
Rudyard Kipling, "On Dry-Cow Fishing as a Fine Art," in Fisherman's Bounty, ed. Nick Lyons (New York: Crown Publishers, Inc.,
1970), pp. 357-361.
Rudyard Kipling, From Sea t o Sea: Letters of Travel (New York:
Doubleday & McClure Company, 1899). Many biographies of Rudyard Kipling are available. The general biographical information in
this paper was gathered from three: Philip Mason, Kipling, The Gloss,
The Shadoui and The Fire (London: Johathan Cape, 1975); C. E. Carrington, The Life of Rudyard Kipling (Garden City: Doubleday &
Company, Inc., 1956); Howard C. Rice, Rudyard Kipling in New
England (Brattleboro, Vermont: The Book Cellar, 1951).
Rudyard Kipling, From Sea t o Sea: Letters of Travel (New York:
Doubleday & McClure Company, 1899), pp. 2 1 , 2 2 .
In Kipling's narrative his two companions, the old man and
the Portlander, became simply "California" and "Portland." As
they proceeded up the Columbia River by steamer, Kipling
learned more of his quarry:
"You'll see the salmon-wheels 'fore long," said a man who
lived "way back on the Washoogle," and whose hat was spangled with trout flies. "Those Chinook salmon never rise to
the fly. The canneries take them by the wheeLW4
~ i ~ l saw
i nenough
~
of the canner; operations to be appalled
bv their crude wastefulness. He also saw enough of the salmon
t o excite him about fishing for them. Eventually his little group
arrived on the banks of the Clackamas River, a tributary of the
Williamette in northwestern Oregon. Here he provided us with
his most detailed account of ~ m e r i c a nangling.
I was getting my rod together when I heard the joyous
shriek of the reel and the yells of California, and three feet
of living silver leaped into the air far across the water. The
forces were engaged. The salmon tore up the stream, the
tense line cutting the water like a tide-rip behind him, and
the light bamboo bowed to breaking.5
As California landed an 11 l/z pounder, Kipling took his turn:
I went into that icy-cold river and made my cast just
above a weir, and all but foul-hooked a blue and black watersnake with a coral mouth who coiled herself on a stone and
hissed maledictions. The next cast - ah, the pride of it, the
regal splendour of it! the thrill that ran down from finger-tip
to toe! The water boiled. He broke for the fly and got it!
There remained enough sense in me to give him all he wanted
when he jumped not once but twenty times before the upstream flight that ran my line out to the last half-dozen turns
and I saw the nickled reel-bar glitter under the thinning green
coils. My thumb was burned deep when I strove t o stopper
the Line, but I did not feel it till later, for my soul was out in
the dancing water praying for him to turn ere he took my
tackle away. The prayer was heard. As I bowed back, the
butt of the rod on my left hipbone and the top joint dipping
like unto a weeping willow, he turned, and I accepted each
-
'
Ibid., p 28. The reluctance of the Pacific salmons t o take the fly was
a great disappointment t o many anglers, but by Kipling's time it was
known that fly fishing for them could be quite rewarding. See, for example, Charles Hallock, The Sportsman's Gazetteer and General
Guide (New York: Forest and Stream Publishing Company, 1887), pp
364-365, and C. H. Townsend and H. M. Smith, "The Pacific Salmons,'' in Dean Sage et. al., Salmon and Trout (New Yo&: The MacMillan Company, 1904), p. 178. Both references give specifics of
those occasions when salmon may be taken o n the fly. Though the
fishing is far from reliable, efforts t o find a consistent method for
catching Pacific Salmon o n a fly have continued t o the present, with
just enough success t o disprove t h e blanket contention that it is impossible. Weighted flies and lead-core lines have challenged traditional
definitions of the sport, but two modern accounts of fly fishing for
chinooks are Roderick Haig-Brown, Fisherman's Fall (New York:
Crown Publishers, 1975), pp. 70-75, and Russell Chatham, The
Angler's Coast (Garden City: Doubleday & Company, 1976).
Kipling, From Sea t o Sea, p. 38.
Page 3
inch of slack that I could b y any means get in as a favor from
o n High. There be several sorts of success in this world that
taste well in the moment of enjoyment, b u t I question
whether t h e stealthy theft of line from an able-bodied salmon who knows exactly what you are doing and why you are
doing it is not sweeter than a n y other victory within human
scope. Like California's fish, he ran a t me head o n and leaped
against t h e line, but the Lord gave me two hundred and fifty
pairs of fingers in that hour. The banks and t h e pine trees
danced dizzily round me, b u t I continued t o give him the
butt while he sulked in a pool. California was farther u p t h e
reach, and with the corner of my eye I could see him casting
with long casts and much skill. Then h e struck, and my fish
broke for the weir in t h e same instant, and down t h e reach
we came, California and 1; reel answering reel even as the
morning stars sung together.
The first wild enthusiasm of capture had died away. We
were both at work now in deadly earnest t o prevent t h e lines
fouling, to stall off a downstream rush for deep water just above the weir, and a t t h e same time t o get t h e fish into t h e
shallow bay downstream that gave t h e best practicable landing. Portland bade us both b e of good heart, and volunteered
t o take the rod from m y hands. I would rather have died
among the pebbles than surrender m y right t o plan and land
my first salmon, weight unknown, o n a n eight-ounce rod. I
heard California, at m y ear it seemed, gasping: "He's a fighter from Fightersville sure!" as his fish made a fresh break
across the stream. I saw Portland fall off a log fence, break
the overhanging bank, and clatter down t o t h e pebbles, all
sand and landing-net, and I dropped o n a log t o rest for a moment. As I drew breath t h e weary hands slackened their hold,
and I forgot t o give him t h e butt. A wild scutter in the water,
a plunge and a break for the headwaters of t h e Clackamas
was my reward, and the hot toil of reeling-in with one eye
under the water and the other o n t h e t o p joint of t h e rod,
was renewed. Worst of all, I was blocking California's path t o
the little landing-bay aforesaid, and h e had t o halt and tire
his prize where he was. "The Father of all Salmon!" he
shouted. "For the love of Heaven, get your trout to bank,
Johnny Bull." But I could n o more. Even t h e insult failed t o
move me. The rest of t h e game was with the salmon. He suffered himself t o be drawn, skipping with pretended delight a t
getting t o the haven where I would fain have him. Yet n o
sooner did he feel shoal water under his ponderous belly than
he backed like a torpedo-boat, and t h e snarl of t h e reel told
me that m y labour was in vain. A dozen times a t least this
happened ere the line hinted he had given u p t h e battle and
would be towed in. He was towed. The landing-net was useless for one of his size, and I would not have him gaffed. I
stepped into the shallows and heaved him o u t with a respectful hand under t h e gill, f o r which kindness he battered
me about t h e legs with his tail, and I felt t h e strength of him
and was proud. California had taken my place in t h e shallows
his fish hard held. I was up t h e bank lying full length on the
sweet-scented grass, and gasping in company with my first
salmon caught, played and landed o n a n eight-ounce rod. My
hands were cut and bleeding. I was dripping with sweat,
spangled like harlequin with scales, wet from the waist down,
nose-peeled b y the sun, b u t utterly, supremely, and consummately happy. He, t h e beauty, t h e darling, the daisy, my Salmon Bahadur, weighed twelve pounds, and I had been seven
and thirty minutes bringing him t o bank! He had been lightly
hooked o n t h e angle of the right jaw, and t h e hook had not
i
I sat among princes and crowned
wearied him. ~ h a hour
heads -- greater than them a1L6
Kipling and his companion caught several other fish but of
course the first was his favorite. The most tantalizing element in
this account is t h e mention of his "fly." That he was a confirmed fly fisher will become clear later, but if h e did indeed take
the salmon o n a fly it was a notable event for those times. We
3
.
Ibid., pp. 38-41.
cannot be certain he did so, for later in t h e same day's fishing he
mentioned losing a spoon. We must also question exactly what
it was h e was catching. Considering the general ignorance of the
local populace concerning t h e various anadromous fishes, and
taking into account t h e size (all t h e fish were between six and
fifteen pounds) and behavior of the fish described, there is the
distinct possibility Kipling was actually catching coho salmon
or ~teelhead.~
After his salmon experience, Kipling continued north to
Victoria, where he reported "70 brook trout, lying in a creel,
fresh drawn from Harrison Hot S ~ r i n g s . " ~
His wanderings then led him back t o t h e states, to the infant recreational mecca, Yellgwstone National Park. In Montana, a few miles north of the Park, h e encountered a legendary
local figure, "Yankee Jim," "a picturesque old man with a tale n t for yarns that Ananias might have envied."
In one point did h e speak t h e truth -- as regarded the
merits of that particular reach of t h e Yellowstone. He said
it was alive with trout. It was. I fished it from noon till twilight, and t h e fish bit at t h e brown hook as though never a
fat trout-fly had fallen o n t h e water. From pebbly reaches,
quivering in t h e heat-haze where t h e foot caught o n stumps
cut four-square b y t h e chisel-tooth of t h e beaver; past the
fringe of the watersnakes; over t h e drifted timber to the
grateful shadow of big trees that darkened t h e holes where
t h e fattest fish lay, I worked for seven hours. T h e mountain
flanks o n either side of t h e valley gave back t h e heat as the
desert gives it, and t h e dry sand b y t h e railway tract, where I
found a rattlesnake, was hot-iron t o t h e touch. But the trout
did not care for t h e heat. They breasted t h e boiling river for
m y fly and they got it. I simply dare n o t give m y bag. At the
fortieth trout I gave u p counting, and I had reached the fortieth in less than two hours. They were small fish, - not one
over two pounds, - b u t they fought like small tigers, and I
lost three flies before I could understand their methods of
escape. Ye gods! That was fishing, though it peeled t h e skin
from m y nose in strips9
Unfortunately, Kipling mentioned t h e fish in t h e Park only
briefly. His description of the Firehole as a "warm and deadly
river wherein no fish breed" will bring a smile t o anyone who
has fished that stream. Major stocking of Park waters was not
yet underway in 1889 -- many streams now famous for quality
angling were barren at that time. He fished t h e Yellowstone in
its magnificent canyon, where "the round moon came u p and
turned the cliffs and pines t o silver: a two pound trout came up
also and we slew him among the rocks, nearly tumbling into
that wild river."1°
From Yellowstone h e found his way t o western Colorado,
where after a harrowing train ride through t h e Black Canyon of
t h e Gunnison, he saw t h a t river "split itself into a dozen silver
threads o n a breezy upland," and become a n "innocent trout
beck."'
He again had t h e fortune t o meet a like-minded native, and
they "foregathered o n t h e question of flies."
He talked politics and trout-flies all o n e sultry day as we
wandered u p and down t h e shallows of t h e stream aforesaid.
Little fish are sweet. I spent two hours whipping a ripple for
In the late nineteenth century the process of defining salmon species
was still going on -- many more than the five we now recognize were
then described, and the jumble of terminology we now struggle with
was probably even worse. Even today terms like "jack salmon" or
"spring salmon" are frequently misused. As to the fish's behavior,
Chinook salmon are commonly known for their powerful fight rather
than for the acrobatics which make coho and steelhead so well-loved.
Kipling, From Sea t o Sea, p. 51. Though the technology existed for a
transcontinental transplant of the fish we now call the brook trout
(Sal~~elinus
Fontinalis) in 1889 from the east to British Columbia, it is
morp likely Kipling was catching some native trout -another case of
word usage -- one of the more common subspecific forms of Pacific
coast native trouts recognized at that time was Salmo iridrus masoni,
popularly known as "the brook trout of western Oregon."
Kipling, t'rom Sea t o Sea, p. 65.
Ibid., pp. 84, 104.
l 1 Ibid. p. 131.
a fish that I knew was there, and in t h e pasture-scented dusk
caught a three-pounder o n a ragged old brown hackle and
landed him after ten minutes excited argument. He was a
beauty. If ever any man works t h e Western trout-streams, he
would d o well t o bring o u t with him t h e dingiest flies he possesses. T h e natives laugh a t t h e tiny English hooks, but they
hold, and duns and drabs and sober greys seem t o tickle t h e
aesthetic tastes of the trout. For salmon (but don't say that I
told you) use t h e spoon -- gold o n one side, silver o n t h e
other. It is as killing as is a similar article with fish of another
calibre. T h e natives seem t o use much too coarse tack1e.l
At last, Kipling provided some specifics of his sport, even revealing t h e sensitivity that there is, in certain circles, shame in using spoons rather than flies for salmon. The first readers of
Fronl Sea t o Sea who expected more discussions of American
trout-fishing were t o b e disappointed, though, for Kipling said
nothing else o n t h e subject. We can only wonder what streams
he fished while in t h e east.
Three years after his first visit Kipling returned t o America.
He took a n American wife in 1892 and spent most of t h e following four years in Brattleboro, Vermont. During this time, he
produced some of his most famous works, including t h e J ~ i n g l e
Hooks and Captains Courageous, b u t left little o r n o record of
fishing.
We know for certain that his interest in fishing did not wane:
Captains Courageous involved him in extensive research about
fishing and fishing fleets. Evidence of his o w n angling is frustratingly slim. He traveled, perhaps more than once, to Gaspe,
where he fished for salmon. It may not be t o o presumptuous t o
imagine he used a fly. At least t h e Canadian experience bore
literary fruit, as it was there he wrote t h e following lines in
"The Feet of t h e Young Men."
Now t h e Four-way Lodge is opened,
now the Hunting Winds are loose -Now t h e Smokes of Spring go u p t o clear t h e brain;
Now t h e Young Men's hearts are troubled
for t h e whisper of t h e Trues,
Now t h e Red Gods make their medicine again!
Who hath seen t h e beaver busied?
Who hath watched t h e blacktail mating?
Who hath lain alone t o hear t h e wildgoose cry?
Who hath worked t h e chosen water
where t h e ouananiche is waiting,
Or t h e sea-trout's jumping crazy for t h e fly?
and, later in t h e same work:
Do you know the blackened timber d o you know that racing stream
With the raw, right-angled log-jam a t t h e end;
And the bar of sun-warnled shingle
where a man may bask and dream
T o t h e click of shod canoe-poles round t h e bend?
It is there that we arc going
with our rods and reels and traces,
T o a silent, smoky Indian that we know T o a couch of new-pulled hemlock,
with t h e starlight o n our faces,
For the Red Gods call us o u t and we must go!'
On these rare occasions when Kipling mentioned fishing, he
exhibited such enthusiasm that we can only wonder he did not
write more. Even while in England, where he fished both fresh
and salt water, he was rarely moved to discuss t h e sport. His reluctance was surely our loss, f o r his few accounts of fly fishing
in this country were both animated and instructive. Besides the
passages quoted so far there are also brief references in his writings to tarpon-fishing in Florida and sturgeon-fishing o n the
Columbia River (though neither hints that h e personally participated). In his autobiography he described a "select fishing
club" in England, of which h e was a member. He remarked,
rather regretfully, that the rest of t h e membership were mostly
"keen o n roach, dace and such."14 T h e evidence from both his
British and his American books is great enough for us to assume
he was a devoted angler. It is hoped that perhaps other material
has been overlooked in this study -- the angling literature of
both countries will certainly be t h e richer for his contributions.
l 2 Ibid., p. 132-133.
l3 Rudyard Kipling, The Five Notions (New York: Doubleday, Page &
Company, 1903), pp. 3840. Ouananiche, also known as ouininnish
and winninish in the nineteenth century, were landlocked salmon.
l4 Rudyard Kipling, Something of Myself (Garden City: Doubleday,
Doran& Company, Inc., 1937), p. 155.
Below:
T h e F i e h o l e River in t h e 1870's . described b y Kipliig as a
"warm and deadly river wherein n o fish breed."
Courtesy Yellowstone Park Files
Photo b y William Henry Jackson
..
Ceylon Rivers
(Trout and Mahseer in Ceylon)
by Philip I<. Crowe
The late Ambassador Philip K. Crowe was born in New York City in 1908. His varied career included an education at the University of Virginia, a reporter for the "New
York Evening Post" and 0. S. S. during World War 11. He entered the diplomatic
service in 1948 and became Ambassador to Ceylon, 1953 and Ambassador to the
Union o f South Africa in 1959. He was an ardent fisher and hunter and wrote several
books relating to his adventures with the rod and gun. He became a Museum Trustee
just prior to his death in 1975.
Rudyard Kipling would be quite a t home in the Hill Club at
Nuwara Eliya in the tea-covered mountains of Ceylon. He would
gaze appreciatively at the antlered heads in the billiard room,
and sip his port before an open fire in the library. He would also
be at home with many of the members. In the club secretary,
Colonel Newton-King, late of His Majesty's Bombay Grenadiers,
he would find a kindred soul with whom he could discuss bygone race meets and old friends. They might be joined by
Colonel R. C. Wall, former commander of the 8 t h Ghurkas, and
the talk would swing north to skirmishes on the Frontier and
stone forts guarding remote passes under the snows of the Himalayas.
Perhaps because I was brought up on Kipling, the Club had
infinite appeal for me. I liked to talk to old Perera, the chief
butler who has been with the Club thirty-three years and remembered hearing his father tell of the legendary planter, A. W.
Plate, who, in the year of grace, 1903, took from Lake Gregory
a ten-pound-nine-ounce record trout and then beat himself by
landing a fourteen-pound-four-ounce leviathan a few weeks
later. Perera once led me t o the dim recesses of the billiard room
where he proudly showed me a faded photograph of both
history-making fish.
Then there is the Complaint Book, a yellowed volume in
which members have been voicing their just anger for the past
eighty years. On September 20, 1891, Mr. Bagot, the sporting
planter, M. F. H., and father of my friend, Charles Bagot, wrote
"nothing to eat for early tea. ~ s k e dfor herring and was told
none. Asked for bacon and sausages and was told chief clerk had
gone out with key to store room. Breakfast and dinner also inferior - even pepper and toothpicks musty." Proper dress was
also the subject of a tart item in the Complaint Book: "It looks
very bad," said an irate member in 1900, "to see members dining in golfing kit without collars." On the express request of the
secretary, I will omit certain references t o fleas in the billiard
room. Suffice it to say, they were evidently not so numerous as
t o impede the balls.
Kipling would not feel out of place in the dining rooms
either. There is the men's dining room where ancient planters
and I used to eat alone much in the manner of crusty lions. The
waiters, o r keepers, from long experience know better than to
talk t o us. They put the food in front of us, stood silently at attention until it was consumed, and then removed the plates at
the exact moment the last morsel of food vanished from the
plate. Book rests, supporting worn issues of Blackwoods Magazine or T h e Field, adorn every table and, except for the occasional turning of a page or the grinding of teeth, nothing breaks
the pristine peace of the men's dining room.
The mixed dining room presents a far gayer picture. Planters
and their wives, in from the outstations for the weekend, do
their very best to enjoy themselves and with the help of liquid
refreshment, often succeed. Another volume of Plain Tales
From the Hills could be drawn from life in this hill station.
Similarity with the Indian hill station of Simla, which is also
about 6,000 feet high, is quite marked and sometimes I forgot
I was o n an island only eight degrees north of the equator and
instinctively glanced upward to where the snow peaks should
be.
Aside from golf and bridge, which I don't play, there are advantages in both resorts. Simla has miles of bridle paths and
some good hill shooting, while Nuwara Eliya has fishing. Back at
the turn of the century, Scots tea planters a t great cost and
greater effort, imported rainbow trout over from California and
today the Ceylon Fishing Club stocks some fifty miles of
streams and lakes. The fish are wild and the going is often tough
but the sport is first class.
I remember particularly a day on the Bula Ella in 1957 with
Abdul, the old Malay watcher who has been with the Fishing
Club 44 years and knows more about trout than many trout do
about themselves. He met me at the path down from his house
in the clear cold dawn and we drove along the Kandapola road
till we turned right on the private road of Pedro Estate. Tamil
girls were gathering for the early muster and we smelled the
sweet smell of fermenting tea as we passed the factory. Then by
a series of hairpin turns we dropped a thousand feet to the
"Rest and Be Thankful" patnas, the grass meadows of the Ceylonese uplands, and at the foot of the patnas arrived at the dark
line of the jungle and the headwaters of the Bula Ella.
Abdul selected a small Alexander from my fly case and tied
it carefully t o a 3X leader, remarking while he worked that peafowl made the best Alexanders and that I must send him the
tailfeathers of the next one I shot. He also appropriated my reel
and net and led me down a jungle path to one of the most difficult stretches of water it has ever been my pleasure and trouble
t o fish. The Bula Ella is not a big stream, but it runs through the
dense matted jungle whose prickly creepers seem to reach out
to snag one's fly. It can be waded in places, but the bottom is
mainly mud and a cloud of dirty water is apt to result. Fishing
from the banks is equally difficult for they are almost all rotten and the fisherman is either precipitated into the drink or
bogged to his thighs.
There is some fast water where the stream drops over boulders but most of the fish lie in long glassy pools where they can
survey the landscape with ease and smile at one's efforts to drop
a fly near them. I am a pretty good fly fisherman in America,
Canada, England, Kasmir and Alaska, but the rainbows of Ceylon put me in my place. The same cast that would tempt a monster on the Test o r the Liddar, only amuses the denizens of the
Bula Ella. Abdul finally came to my rescue and explained that
Author with tiger fish caught in Zalnbesi River in Caprivi Strip,
South Africa.
only a rapidly worked fly had any chance of success. He asked
me t o cast straight across t h e long pools, let the fly sink and
then retrieve it b y quick jerks. Such a flogging of the water,
which would p u t down trout in the more sophisticated streams
of the west, proved immediately effective. I caught three nice
ten-inch trout and lost a good two-pounder.
On t h e bank of t h e Elbow Pool we rested and Abdul told me
something of his life. He went to work for t h e Fishing Club in
1914 when R. H. Festing was t h e Government Agent of the
Central Province. Those were the days of horses and Abdul remembered planters riding o u t t o the streams with their rods
carried like lances. He told of the great fishermen of those
heroic days; o f t h e six-pounder caught in a Nuwara Eliya
stream in 1907 b y a hero whose name even Abdul had forgotten; and many other great fishing planters who have passed on.
1 saw t h e droppings of otter, and Abdul showed me the
bones o f fish and crabs in them. He said t h e otter kill many
trout and he traps them. Poaching, the bane of the Fishing
Club's fifty-odd miles of water, is not a factor o n the Bula Ella.
The Boy Scouts, who have a camp o n t h e stream, undoubtedly
catch a few tiddlers with worms but no one would deny them
this pleasure, and there is always t h e chance that they will
grow into fly fishermen.
My favorite stream is the Ambewella, a cold, clear brook
which meanders through t h e high patnas at above t h e 6,000foot level and provides almost every kind of fishing from t h e
easy stretches near t h e watcher's shack t o the jungle reaches
where the going is almost as tough as the Bula Ella. But the
stream provides many pleasures besides t h e fish. Rounding a
clump of blossoming rhododendron, I saw a leopardess and her
two cubs not fifty feet away. The wind was away from them t o
m e and t h e murmur of t h e stream must have muffled t h e sounds
of my approach for I watched them for several minutes before
t h e young lady and her children finished their drink and melted
into the jungle.
Farther down the stream where it enters t h e jungle, a family
of wanderoo monkeys swung through t h e upper terraces of t h e
trees. Handsome gray-bearded simians, these big hill monkeys
look like sedate old clubmen. They form t h e main diet of the
hill leopards and are always o n t h e alert for t h e spotted marauders. Sambhur deer also frequent t h e patnas and I have often seen
their slot marks in t h e sand of t h e banks. A hundred years ago,
Sir Samuel Baker used t o hunt sambhur with hounds o n these
grasslands, b u t today the hill sambhur are protected and there
are some fine stags in t h e area.
The weather is usually perfect. Brilliant sunshine, high white
clouds, and cool winds,-b"t it can b e as cold and dou'as Scotland. There was the evening when t h e southwest monsoon with
its rainy burden from the Bay of Bengal rolled like a damp
blanket over t h e mountains and clothed t h e serried rows of tea
bushes with a mantle of mist. It was not a good evening for fishing and when I left the open fire of my snug room in the Hill
Club t o try and tempt the big trout of Portswood, I was full of
misgivings. These became magnified o n the chill drive to Court
Lodge Estate some six miles away o n the Kandapola road. Portswood Dam, a set of three small ponds totaling only a few acres
in extent, lies in a bowl of t h e hills high o n t h e estate, and by
t h e time I had driven up t o it, t h e rain was falling so hard that I
could barely see where t h e line of t h e tea melted into the gray
.
blackness of the heavens.
Despite t h e inclement weather, a small group of Tamils were
gathered in the lee of t h e fishing shed and told my servant that
o n e of their number had drowned himself in one of the ponds
and t h e body, after lying submerged for about a week, had been
retrieved only that afternoon. Carefully avoiding that particular
pond, I tied o n a coachman and began whipping the wind-lashed
water. No fish were rising and I was beginning t o shiver and
think longingly of my waiting bath and whiskey and soda when
there was a heavy surge behind my fly and I felt t h e sucking
strike of a big trout. Tightening my line, I put pressure o n the
fish and was just about t o begin t o feel him o u t when he rose
from the water, turned over like a sinking gunboat and threw
my fly. It was twilight but I saw the fish clearly and estimated
its weight at least five pounds. Soon afterwards, complete darkness came and I left the unlucky ponds for t h e warm cheeriness
of the Hill Club bar where t h e size of t h e fish I had lost grew
many pounds in the telling.
T h e Hill Club, t h e trout, and Nuwara Eliya itself all illustrate
t h e ability of t h e British to fashion a little bit of England on
alien soil, but nowhere is their stamp more apparent than in the
Golf Club. This venerable institution, which was begun b y the
officers of t h e Gordon Highlands in the late years of the last
century, is still the favorite of t h e ancient regime.
Take H. J . G. Marley, a spry gentleman of eighty who plays
his eighteen holes, smokes his pipe and drinks t h e excellent produce of Scotland. Born in Somerset, where he used t o hunt with
t h e Devon and Somerset Stag Hounds, Mr. Marley came t o Ceylon as a tea planter sixty years ago and went t o the Boer War
with t h e first contingent of t h e Ceylon volunteers. And despite
the changes of more than half a century, h e surveys the brave
new world with appreciation and humor. It is, in fact, this ability t o cope with t h e times that stands t h e British in good stead
in every country of their erstwhile empire. Men like the
Colonels at the Hill Club and t h e Planters a t the Golf Club did a
good deal for t h e East, and, in their way, are still doing it.
The trout streams of the high tea country d o not furnish all
t h e sporting possibilities in Ceylon. There are also the low
country rivers where t h e mahseer, the "salmon of the East,"
lurks in the deep pools. Although of t h e lowly carp family, the
mahseer has nothing in common with goldfish. Endowed with
more fin and tail areas in proportion to his body than most
game fish, the mahseer is capable of great speed and has a firm
desire to remain in his river. In India, mahseer reach two hundred pounds but in Ceylon a twenty-five pounder would merit
an honored stuffing. Furthermore, these handsome fish are
much rarer on the Island than they are on the Sub-continent.
The Ceylon rivers are smaller, are easier to poison and dynamite,
with the result that, except in the remote stretches of the jungle
rivers, they are almost extinct.
The Menik Ganga, the river of gems, is among the loveliest in
Ceylon. Rising on the tea-girt hills of the Province of Uva, it
flows for a hundred meandering miles to empty at last among
the yellow sand dunes of Yala into the blue waters of the Indian
Ocean. Much of its course flows through virgin jungle where its
clear waters sustain the wild life. During the time of the drought
one can see many species of the big and small game of the Island.
We camped on the bank of the river in the Galge district and
a prettier sight would be hard to find. Great kumbukkan trees
spread their branches in a cathedral arch above us; and the
breeze, which running water seems to generate, cooled us; and
always there was the murmur of the stream as it tumbled over
the rocks. In the dawn and the evening the shama sang us his
sweet song and bronze wing, green and imperial pigeons held
bright discourse in the trees. We saw white-necked storks and
white-breasted king-fishers and a host of other birds, while in
the quick tropic evenings, graceful spotted deer stole across the
sands to drink within a hundred yards of the camp. Once an old
cow elephant spotted my wife sketching and padded gravely in
her direction. At night, other animals called and in the shadows
beyond the camp fires, we heard the staccato bell of a sambhur
stag and the sawing sound of a hunting leopard.
Gems have been found in the sands of the Menik Ganga,
since the days of the Sinhalese kings. Sapphires, garnets, aquamarines, cats eyes, topazes, moonstones, tourmalines and other
jewels are picked up in their pale opaque form by licensed gemmers and a host of illegal collectors. But gems are not the only
precious things to be found under the waters of the famous
streams; there are also fish, and 1 wanted a mahseer, which, during my three years on the Island, I tried without success to
catch. Then on my f i s t afternoon's stroll along the bank, I
sighted the silver shadow of my dream fish. I hadcaught many
of these battlers in India but this was the first one I had seen in
Ceylon. My tackle was back at camp but Fernando had a few
rusty hooks and a length of string which I hastily tied to a willow pole. Baiting with a fresh-water shrimp, I dropped the contraption in a swirl where the water cascaded over some rocks.
There was a rush, a tug and the mahseer took off with a shrimp,
hook, and two feet of the string. The fish could not have weighed two pounds, but if 1 had caught it, I would have mounted it
on a silver plaque.
My companions were all knowledgeable jungle men. Bill Phillips, author of M a m m a l s of Ceylon, the standard work, and
Birds of Ceylon, a delightful set of prints and descriptive matter
for the beginner, had spent forty-five years in the Island as a
planter and, in my opinion, knew more about the jungles than
any other European. It was the last jungle trip for us both, as
Bill was retiring and going to the Maldive Islands to make studies of the fauna of that little-known archipelago, and I was
about to conclude my tour of duty as American Ambassador to
Ceylon. There was William Abeysekera, chief engineer of the
Government Factory, President of the Ceylon Hunting Club,
and the man who first showed me the Island's jungles. He and
his wife, Loi, had accompanied my wife, Irene, and me on many
of our expeditions into the bush and the Menik Ganga trip took
place on the third anniversary of our first shoot at Wilpattu in
the fall of 1953. Eric Fernando, a leading taxidermist, was the
fifth member of the party.
The professional staff was headed by Babun Appu, a grizzled
game watcher of the Wild Life Department, who had begun life
as a poacher and as a result had the finest possible experience
for catching these shady gentlemen. As Babun had been kicked
in the face by a wounded deer and lost virtually all his teeth, he
learned to laugh tight-lipped. The camp staff was commanded
by Ponniah, my excellent cook, and my chauffeur, Ernest Kotelawala, handled the jeep transport,
Looking over my diary of those jungle days, I find that I
fished early every morning and most evenings without another
strike. The pools were clear and twice more I saw the gleam of
a mahseer as it vanished in the depths, yet they would not hit
my plug. The same imitation chub that had hooked and landed
mahseer in the great rivers of Kashmir and Mysore proved nothing. But the best part of fishing is not always the catching, and
as I waded the Menik Ganga, I read in the sands the tale of the
animals that had come to drink.
Tracks of leopard were everywhere and a blind had been constructed out of driftwood at a place in the river where they were
particularly evident. Bill, Fernando and I, with a brace of.trackers, made ourselves as comfortable as we could in the sand and
waited. Scarcely had we settled down when a barking deer buck
stepped daintily from the forest and picked his way across the
sand to the river. He was followed soon afterward by a big spotted buck and his harem of four does. I noted that these deer usually send one of their wives to reconnoiter the terrain before
venturing out themselves.
The sun was setting and we were just about to start home
when we heard a strange, eerie cry. Babun said "Ulama," which
Bill translated as devil bird, but added that the cry was probably
made by the Ceylon hawk eagle sitting near by on a dead tree;
and I noted the black and white crest which, according to the
Sinhalese folk tale is the comb of the distraught woman who
discovered that her husband had cooked.and eaten their child.
In the morning we returned to the blind to find that a big
male leopard had jumped into it and possibly used it as a hiding place in which t o wait for deer.
Abey shot a wild pig, a large sow, and noticing a pungent
smell, investigated the nearby underbrush where he found the
remains of a spotted deer, which a leopard had killed the previous night and which the sow had been eating. A hide had
been built and in the late afternoon I sat up over the remains.
Soon after I took up my vigil a tribe of wanderoos, the gray
Langur monkeys, settled in the satin trees around us. The
afternoon waned and, at six o'clock, a pair of sloth bears
came shambling down the dry brook which separated us from
the kill. The male, a fierce-looking old brute, sniffed the bait,
and mounting the bank to the ledge where it was tied, started to
eat. The light was fading and my gun arm cramped from long
disuse: I missed and the bear with a deep grunt went tearing off
into the jungle.
The sun had set and we walked back three miles to camp
along the river. Twilight heightened the giant trees and threw
long shadows across the pools. A herd of wild buffalo emerged
with a crash from the shallows, stood sniffing the breeze, and
vanished silently like great black ghosts. Even more silent was
the elephant we sighted as we rounded a corner. A bull, with the
sunken head of age, he failed to see us until we were quite close
and only when we shouted did he amble off, driftink through
the dense jungle of wait-a-bit thorns as if they were silken.
The same evening, Abey sat up on the rocks at Vihara Pudana and fired both barrels at a huge leopard which he failed to
hit. Perhaps the beauty of the location affected his aim, for the
view from the old ruined d a g b a which crowns the rocks is
worth going a long way to see. To the north, blue in the distance, lies the Haputale range and on the south, the seven hills
of Kataragama, while on all sides, like a green tide, stretches the
jungle. The water hole at Vihara Pudana consists of a deep green
pool imbedded like a pouch in the rounded flank of the fast
whale-backed rock. When he first approached it, Abey found an
eight-foot crocodile sunning itself beside the pool, but, before
he could shoot, it vanished in the water. The croc was fat with
the deer that had come to the water hole.
Galge is on the trail by which pilgrims walk to the Kataragama temple and there are tales of old people dying in the
jungle and being eaten by leopards. This may be true, as many
thousands of all ages walk hundreds of miles to worship at the
shrine of this ancient Hindu deity and for much of the way they
-
-
must camp in the wilds. Be this as it may, there are few authenticated stories of leopards attacking live people in the area and
the average Ceylon leopard, unless wounded, will do all in his
power toascape coming to grips with man. Of course, there are
exceptions. Twenty-five years ago, R. S. Agar, a planter, shot a
man-eater credited with fourteen persons in the Eastern Province. Fernando mounted the beast and told me that there was
no physical defect which might cause it to turn on man. A fouryear-old male about six feet long and in excellent health, the
leopard bit its victims in the neck, dragged them in the jungle,
and ate them a t his leisure. Agar shot it over its last kill, a young
postal runner. All the victims were men.
Sitting around the camp fire talking of leopards and leopard
shooting, Fernando told us of a bad time he had had in 1927.
He was shooting in Yala a t a time when the pilgrim trail ran
through that area and several corpses of partly consumed persons had been found. Fernando heard monkeys, and immediately recognizing their cries as denoting the presence of a leopard,
he set o u t t o stalk the beast. He found it in the scrub and shot
it, hitting it low on its right side with a bullet from a .375Mannlicker. It was getting dark, and not wishing t o make the followup in such poor light, he returned t o camp. The following morning, he returned with two men to retrieve his kill. But instead of
finding a dead animal, they faced one very much alive. The leopard charged Fernando who fired at him and missed. Then with
the leopard a t his feet, Fernando tried t o fire again, only t o find
his gun was empty. Springing aside, Fernando evaded the leopard who was weak from loss of blood and ran away. Fernando
then reloaded and tracked the leopard but never found it.
We saw seven elephants during our five days on the Menik
Ganga and heard many more. Three of the elephants were cows
with calves a t heel, an encouraging sign, for the elephant is harried b y the march of civilization and his breeding is said t o be
adverselv affected. Few calves are born of cavtive ele~hants.No
one knows what the remaining elephant population of Ceylon
is, but the informed guesses range from 800 to 1,000. I lean toward the latter figure for no survey has ever been taken and
there is always a tendency to be pessimistic on such guesses. I
had always heard that the Nilgiri wild goat was virtually extinct,
but on a trip t o Ootocamund was told that at least four hundred had been counted on the high ranges of the Western Ghats.
There was also ample evidence that bear and leopard are
holding their own in the Kataragama jungles. At every rock,
water hole, and jungle pool, we found their tracks. Both may
survive a long time, as poachers have no use for the bears; they
cannot sell their flesh or skins. While there is a fairly good market for leopard skins, the hunting of the big cats is uncertain
and pays nothing like the dividends derived from the illicit
slaughter and subsequent sale of spotted deer and sambhur
meat.
The few deer we saw were thin and harried; for drought lay
on the forest and there was little t o eat. As John Still vividly
painted it in Jungle Tide: "When the scorching wind rushes
through the woods for months on end, and the papery leaves
rustle harshly o n wiry twigs; when every footfall in the forest is
betrayed by the crunching of its parched carpet; when soil in
hollows that once were ponds grows brick hard, and deep cracks
chequer the baked mud where the footprints of the last beasts
t o seak water there remain cast as though in cement until again
dissolved by the rains . . ."
This dryness made stalking, the most challenging manner of
hunting, even more difficult than it usually is. We heard a leopard while waiting in a blind above the river at midday and I decided to try and find it by heeding the danger signals of the animals and the birds. There were many deer near the river and we
could easily follow the leopard's path by their warning barks.
When these died out, the gray langur monkeys took up the tale;
when their shrill danger calls ceased, we had to rely on the telltale twitter of the birds.
We turned inland from the river, and, trudging up the soft
white sand of a dry feeder stream, followed it for perhaps a
quarter of a mile. The leopard also used it and three times we
came on the fresh pad marks of a big male. We came to a great
mee tree, overturned by lightning, and found under its octopuslike roots a dark cave. It w a s high noon and just the placL to
tempt a leopard to curl up t o avoid the heat. Cautiously we approached the entrance and Babun threw a stone in while I covered the black hole with my shotgun. (A rifle is fine for long shots
from a blind but a shotgun loaded with slugs is a far more effective weapon for close work.) The cave was empty and.the
only moment that might have given us high drama passed quiet'Y.
Quite as exciting as shooting is the photographing of dangerous game at night, and one evening I sat with Abey and Fernando on the rocks of Vihara Gala while no less than four bears
played around in the surrounding jungle; but, evidently smelling
us due t o the shifting winds, they refused to come and have
their pictures taken. I was using a ~ i k k o nwith a telephoto lens, a
camera with which I had previously made some good flashlight
shots of game in India. The Ceylon sloth bear has poor eyes, a
fact that may cause him to charge when startled, but his nose
and ears are excellent, and nothing would tempt these bears,
even though they must have been very thirsty, to climb the rock
pool when the scent of their arch enemy, man, hung over it. A
big porcupine, making as much noise as any bear, came up rattling his quills, and a brace of mongoose snarled at each other as
they jockeyed for the first drink. Off in the jungle we heard the
crash of branches as an elephant fed, and, nearer, the sharp bark
of a spotted deer scenting the leopard. The moon rose at eleven
and lit the jungle with its pale candle. Near us a bayhanded
cuckoo called and faintly on the evening breeze I heard a crested hawk eagle.
It was an unforgettable scene, and as the moon sailed high
over the ruined dagoba from which the rock got its name, I
thought of other nights in the Ceylon jungles and of how much
they have meant t o me. I remembered camps pitched on. the
sands of Mahaweli when the elephants of the swamps trumpeted
in our very ears and we built the fires high for protection. I
thought of moonlight vigils in the jungles of Okanda when I
waited for leopards, and a starry evening on the sand spit of
Kumana when I hooked a forty-pound estuary perch and finally
dragged it triumphantly t o the beach. 1 remembered the still
September evening in Nuwara Eliya when the big trout rose on
the Bula Ella and my leader parted with a twang like a devil's
harp . . . Memories of jungle and stream that money cannot buy
and time cannot erase.
Sporting Journeys, 1966
IN THEIR
6'
How do you do it, sonny?"
"Easy mister. I bin studyin' their 'abits fer years!"
Page 9
ANNUAL MEETING
First Annual Awards Dinner and Auction Scintillates
The 1977 Annual Meeting of the Museum took place at the
Avalanche Motel, Manchester, Vermont on Saturday, May 21st.
The attendance was notable for its talent and dedication. To enjoy the quiet greatness of a dedicated group is a rare privilege
and if there is such a thing as an angling royalty, it is certainly
manifest in our membership. Museums are not easy things to
perpetuate and it was heart warming to count the number who
were willing to help the cause. After the business meeting was
ended and cocktails were served - if the crowns and tiaras slipped a bit forward on the nose or hung precariously over one
ear, this was the proper place for them. We accomplished a
great deal and had a wonderful time.
The business meeting was convened at 2 p.m., Vice President, Austin S. Hogan, Chairman, presiding.
Let me emphasize that our Museum has a grand concept. We
seek to change the fly fisher's world and over the years of our
existence, we have done exactly this. The mundane proposals
that come to fruition leave no doubt we have had more successes than failures. Our exhibits have become more attractive, our
magazine expands and the continual contributions of memorabilia become more selective and of greater value each year, all
to the advantage of the fly fishing public.
Treasurer, Leigh H. Perkins opened the meeting with his
financial report. We survive but our head is barely above water.
His activities during the immediate past have been directed to
soliciting contributions in large amounts from individuals. There
is a possibility we may receive a grant of $7,000 from a private
foundation.
Registrar, David Ledlie reported the purchase of a humidifier
which is now in operation in our storage facility and the addition of sound to the exhibit rooms.
The Curator, instead of a formal report, discussed particular
problems with the Trustees directly.
Specific action was taken in regard to increasing the membership through using the Museum magazine as a communication link and demonstration model mailed to a prospective
member. Planning for this activity is in progress.
Due t o increased activities and the Museum's rapid growth, it
was voted to advertise for a full time Executive Director. Funds
were budgeted for this purpose and the Executive Committee
will take action through the Orvis News and other media. The
present Curator will continue as editor of the Museum magazine.
Old Trustees reelected and new Trustees elected are as
follows (includes officers):
President - Carl Navarre
Vice President - Austin S. Hogan
Treasurer - Leigh H. Perkins
Registrar - David B. Ledlie
Secretary and Ass't Treasurer - Laura Towslee
Assistant Registrar - Ruth Upson
Trustees
Robert Barrett
Peter Kriendler
Richard Bauer
Dana S. Lamb
Kay F. Brodney
Ernest Schwiebert, Jr.
Charles E. Brooks
Ralph Wahl
G. D. Finlay
Richard Whitney
Ed Zern
Susie Isaksen
Martin J. Keane
Upon the close of the meeting, there was an immediate rush
t o the rumpus room where appropriate beverages and good conversation initiated the festivities.
Our first Awards Dinner was a most enjoyable change from
previous programs. G. Dick Finlay, that bon vivant of the
Battenkill, acted as Master of Ceremonies with flair and distinction. Our first presentations were T h e Mary Orvis Marbury
Award given to two lovely ladies, Trustee Kay F. Brodney and
Anne K. Secor. Kay as a Library staff member has provided us
not only with technological material but is now helping research
a new literary discovery which may, in the future, be something
of a bombshell. Anne, of course, is the key to the success of
T h e American Fly Fisher. Her layouts and typography make it
beautiful. The Museum's Literary Award was given to Dana S.
Lamb. At 74, clear of eye and strong of purpose, he stood before us and read for our pleasure the lovely poem by Thomas
Doubleday that appeared on his testimonial. The Arnold Gingrich Memorial Award was presented to Dr. Alvin Grove, Jr. for
his many contributions to the Museum and his long years as the
forceful editor of Trout magazine. No one has given more to the
causes of conservation o r performed his tasks more ably. The
Fly Fisher of t h e Year Award was presented t o Donald Zahner,
editor and publisher of the Fly Fisherman Magazine. This publication is the first of its kind in America and demonstrates his
exceptional talent. His speech of acceptance was brilliant and I
can think of no one who over the past half dozen years has been
more witty and entertaining. So much so, we insist that he be
with us next year as a principal speaker.
Limitations of space prevent a naming of the members who
came from the far away places. Of the 66 people who attended,
90% travelled from as far away as Canada; Portland, Maine;
Florida; Pennsylvania; Connecticut and the furthermost precincts just to be with us and lend their support. If there was a
tiredness from the miles of travel, it was forgotten and the
whole place sparkled from dinner time (hosted by Olive and
Charles Barnes) through our Second Annual Auction.
Many thanks to all the generous fly fishers who contributed.
The Orvis Company donated hundreds of dollars worth of prints
and fly rods; Martin Keane, not only contributed autographed
copies of his books, as did Shirley Woods, but Marty donated an
antique solid gold tournament casting medal to the Museum's
collections. I was delighted to provide water colors and drawings
and as the Trustees had authorized sales of Museum duplicates,
we could offer more than a hundred fine items. Many more
thanks to such as Ed Oliver and the others who hand carried
their donations to Manchester.
Major Domo of the auction was the irresistible Col. Henry
Siegel. The man has an amazing talent for opening pocket
books. Who else but Hank could get the vast sums he did, under
the circumstances of such a relatively small group of bidders.
Perhaps it was his scarlet vest stretched across his ample
diaphragm that focused attention. More likely, Col. Siegel's
knowledge of books and antiques gave confidence to the
bidders. When the voice began to crack and waver after the first
hour, he was relieved b y Ben Upson who also did a fine job. Upon returning to the rostrum, Hank again unloosened the purse
strings and in the end, the Museum had raised $3,000.
Special thanks are given Ruth Upson and David Ledlie for
their organizational contributions. David accomplished the
arduous task of selecting duplicate items from the Museum's
holdings and Ruth spent many hours doing the bookkeeping
before and during the auction. Without their attention to detail,
an auction would have been impossible.
It was a grand affair and so successful there is the promise
that our Annual Meeting next year will be even more rewarding.
With finest regards,
Austin S. Hogan,
Vice President
For the Trustees
Xishin
)
o , take thine angle, and with practised line,
ight as the gossamer, the current sweep
nd if thou failest in the calm still deep
the sunbeams shine;
the shadows, where the waters creep,
ith all honor and apprecia
Fishing in New Hampshire
Sunapee Trout
The natural history of the unusual trout found in Lake-Sunapee, New Hampshire is obscure. Eventually named Aureolus, it
received little publicity until about the 1880's when state fish
culturists and others became involved in determining to what
family of fishes it rightfully belonged, and whether or not it was
aboriginal to Lake Sunapee. During the development of artificial
propagation in New Hampshire, so many different species of
trout had been imported from Europe that it was considered
very possi'ole the Sunapee lake trout, which seemed definitely
not a common lake trout or speckled brook trout, was an import and an Alpine saibling. Controversy flaired, died down and
the specie having been discovered in other parts of North America is simply designated Aureolus, for its beauty and brilliant
coloring. What may be the earliest record of its existence seems
to have been recorded in The Spirit of the Times, April 4, 1857,
through a letter to its editor.
Calling himself Artegal, a tourist described his New Hampshire experience. Apparently from a western state, he tells of
fishing the Gunnison, named after a Lieutenant killed by Indians in Utah. He observed that pickerel had depleted the brook
trout at the junction of the Gunnison and its inlet to Sunapee
Lake. Pickerel were not native there but had been transplanted
by native residents to the lake where they had apparently done
extensive damage to the brook trout population. The letter continues with descriptions of the area fishes: "The fishes of our
ponds may be briefly named by their common names, others
must supply the scientific names for I can not. There is the horn
pout, which looks like the cat fish but rarely reaches three
pounds. There is the perch, usually small, though in Sunapee
Lake, at a rocky point where the water is deep, in March or
September, when an east wind is blowing hard, some will be
caught weighing from one to three pounds. There is the roach,
or flat side, or sunfish, too numerous to mention which we used
to catch in the sunny pot holes of the Mississippi bottoms; the
pickerel, though there are a few pike here, a few in the Connect-
.
,
icut River, weighing not often as high as five pounds and a half;
the sucker o r barrel fish with his purse-like mouth, the pond
shiner, looking much like gold fish in their sphere of glass and
water and the snake-like silver eel. These constitute with scarcely an exception, the fish of our ponds, if I except the trout. In
Winnepisogee Lake, there are fish not known in this section, but
in Sunapee Lake, with the exception of the trout, the fish are
the same in all ponds.
"The beach of this pond is very white, and formed mostly by
deposits of disintegrated quartz, with hardly a trace of mica;
and while it was a splendid trout lake, and the rendezvous of the
Sunapee Indians from which it takes its name, now as intimated
before, there are but few trout, and those seem to be a different
breed from the brook trout of the state, averaging larger than
they do but not by half so large as the Winnepisogee trout.
"In the brooks we have here, so far as my knowledge extends
but two varieties of trout, the common yellowish, white bellied,
and the red salmon-trout."
Admittedly, the mention as an identification of the Aureolus
leaves much to be desired but the letter does throw some light
on subsequent events and what appears to be an unaccountable
population explosion that occurred a number of years later.
The Aureolus is a deep water trout. From the 1840's on Lake
Sunapee was heavily netted by native residents, the common
Fontinalis being salted, barreled and shipped to Portland and
Boston for several decades. This accounts for the dearth of common trout mentioned byArtega1 and offers an explanation as to
why a lack of competition allowed an explosion. There is the
thought that the heavy netting of the common trout may have
saved Aureolus from extinction. It's doubtful if the introduction of pickerel could have eliminated a trout population in a
lake as large as Sunapee.
In regard to any satisfactory contribution to present day
sport fishing, the Aureolus in Sunapee is of little value.
Scenic View on Road to Sunapee - 1874
Bridges were enclosed, old timers say, to prevent high jumping fish from scaring the horses.
Page 12
Early fish culturists named this beautifid fish, first "di~covered'~
in Sunapee Lake, New
~ Saluelinus Alpinus
Hampshire, a lake trout, sometimes a blue backed " O q u ~ s s a , 'and
Aureolus, a saibling Fishermen call it Aureolus, the Golden Trout of Sunapee. The t o p
weight during the 1880's was around 9 pounds, the average, from the deepest water about
5 pounds. A. D. Taylor, the artist did a magnificent job.
from Mountain, Lake and River by hank M. Johnson, 1902
THE SPORTSMAN TOURIST
Grayling Fishing in Alaska
"The grayling is supposed by some writers to have been introduced to this country by
the monks, when England was under the see o f Rome; and i t has often been described as
a favourite fish o f St. Ambrose. This opinion has been strengthened by the grayling being
very local, and from its being found at present in most o f the rivers which run near the
ruins o f our ancient monastic institutions."
It's a far cry and a long holler from the peaceful English rivers to the wild white water
o f Alaska where Schwatka did his fishing with a little brown hackle.
The Tahkheesh Indian, who was ahcad in a canoe, t o show us
when we were near t h e only canyon in t h e Yukon, would have
let the raft go right o n through as far as any valuable information was concerned. Long before we reached t h e canyon and its
appended rapids, t h e passage of which every Indian in t h e country had predicted impossible for such a vessel as a raft, it was becoming painfully evident that our Tahkheesh guide in the canoe
would inform us of the canyon just in time t o be t o o late. Anticipating just swch a n emergency, and having ascertained that the
proper camp was o n t h e right hand o r eastern bank, we kept the
Resolute into t h e bank as well as the current would allow, for it
was now so swift that it kept shooting us from one side to the
other, and we were glad t o keep from "jamming" t h e raft end
o n the gravel banks and having ourselves torn t o pieces.
Already t h e perpendicular walls of t h e canyon were in sight,
and the first break of t h e white water entering them showed like
the white teeth of a tiger as we started t o make the bank in the
swift current. This current helped us for a few seconds until we
had nearly reached t h e shore, when it started us o u t , and from
there an almost straight line of water led t o t h e narrow canyon
but a couple of hundred yards away. T h e first line that hands
could be laid upon was thrown ashore, and our half-breed interpreter, Billy, jumped into t h e canoe and paddled ashore, and
quicker than it takes t o pen these lines o n e end was made fast t o
the strongest tree convenient and the other t o a cross-log of the
raft. There was no time for "snubbing" with so few t o manage
the line, and the raft was allowed a running gait of some twenty
o r thirty yards o u t into t h e swift water before it brought up
with a twang that ought t o have snapped an inch and a half
rope, let alone the little quarter-inch flag halliard that was
thrown o u t t o do this d u t y of a giant. As t h e raft was brought
up b y the thread t h e current came rushing over t h e end of the
logs and even over t h e cross-piece, and everyone expected t o see
the halliards part, but they stood t h e strain, singing like a taut
telegraph wire in a high wind until we struck t h e shore, and the
raft was let down a few yards into a whirling eddy and tied up
until an inspection could be made of the obstacles ahead.
This revealed a canyon about three-quarters of a mile long,
t o which was appended a series of rapids and cascades extending for another four miles. This canyon was not over thirty or
forty yards wide and as many feet deep. Its banks were perpendicular columns of basalt, as regular as those o f Fingal's Cave,
and looking more like t h e workmanship of man than of nature.
In this channel the water contracted to nearly one-tenth its average width, fairly boiled as it rushed through, and it must have
been very deep t o have allowed the entire volu~nc to pass
through even a t its rapid gait. Dangcrous as it looked, with its
frothy waves running three and four feet high, I doubt if it was
at all as perilous for a raft as t h e four miles of rapids that succeeded it, running, in the former width of the river, over shoals
and bars of boulders, and tangled and intricate lnasscs of captured driftwood, where it seemed impossible that a bulky craft like
ours could escape them all as they a p p e a r d in echelon. Just at
the tail end of these rapids came a cascade, where the river again
narrowed into such small proportions that all the water could
not get through, and it ran u p over the ascending sides and poured down over these, making a perfect crescent of water. Here,
too, near and just before t h e cascade, were pretty regular
columns of basalt, b u t in no way so high as those in the canyon
four miles above.
The portage around the canyon, made b y t h e Indians, was
over quite a high ridge, and then descended abruptly with a
dizzy incline into a valley, which, after continuing nearly down
t o the cascades again, ascended a sandy hill very hard t o climb.
The hilly part around t h e canyon was pretty thoroughly covered
with small pines and spruce, and all along the portage trail some
miners that had preceded us had cut thcsc down near t h e path
and felled them across it, and then barked them o n their upper
sides, forming stationary skids along which they could drag their
whip-sawed boats. Two large logs, o n t h e dizzy declivity, well
trimmed of their limbs and bark, made inclines o n which t h e
boats could be lowered into the valley below. Here they had
floated their boats b y tow-lines down t o the cascades and had
dragged thcnl around this. It is not very hard t o imagine that
such a chapparal of felled brush and poles across the path did
not improve the walking in t h e least.
The day we walked over t h e trail on t h e eastern side of t h e
canyon and rapids was one of t h e most insufferably hot ones I
ever experienced, and every time o n e sat down it was only t o
have a regular "Down-East fog" of mosquitoes come buzzing
around, and the clawing in t h e air and t h e slapping of the face
was an exercise equally as lusty as that of traveling. The only
way was t o walk along brandishing a handful of evergreens from
shoulder to shoulder. As o n e advanced they kept t h e same invariable distance ahead, as if they had not the reniotest idea you
were coming toward them. An occasional vicious reach forward
through t h e mass with t h e evergreens would have about as much
deadly effect as going through t h e same amount of fog, for I believe they could dodge a streak of lightning. Nothing was better
than a good strong wind in one's face, and as you emerged from
the brush o r timber, it was simply delicious t o see them disappear. If you would look o n your back, however, you would see
it spotted with them, even then crawling along and testing every
thread in one's coat t o see if they cannot find a thin hole where
they can bore through. Once in t h e wind it is comical t o turn
around slowly and see their efforts t o keep under t h e lee of a
red shirt, as one b y one they lost their hold and are wafted away
in t h e wind.
Returning t o the raft, nearly all of t h e remainder of t h e day
was occupied in t h e splendid grayling fishing that was so abundant in this part of the Yukon, and if ancient writers were right
in recommending these fish as proper food for sick persons,
then Miles' Canyon (for so it was named in t h e expedition)
would probably b e o n e of t h e great health resorts of t h e world.
They were delicious and fat, and as this fat t h e ancients also believed had t h e "property of obliterating the marks of small-pox,
freckles, and other spots o n the skin," if certain natural histories can be believed, there might also be some curative power for
the infinite variety of mosquito bites that were making the tops
of our heads, as we sat in rows at meal times, look like halfbushel displays of assorted red apples.
These grayling were t h e most persistent biters I ever saw rise
to a fly, and more uncertain than those uncertain fish usually
arc in grasping for a bait, for thcrc were times that I really bclicvcd we got fifty or sixty rises from one fish before he was
hooked o r the contest would be given up. The same invariable
two sizes, already alluded to in the previous article, were yct
met, with here and thcrc a slight deviation in grade. This grayling fishing was much diminished after we left the Miles' Canyon
and rapids, but never wholly ceased until the White River, nearly a hundred miles below Selkirk, pours in its swift, murky
waters, of supersaturated glacier mud, when all bait and fly-fishing ceases, and with only fish hooks as articles of barter with t h e
natives, one must go into bankruptcy.
We did not leave this vicinity for two o r three days after, and
during our stay I believe that fully 400 or 500 were caught, and
our Tahkheese Indian allies, some ten in number, men, women
and children (graded according to type), lived almost solely off
of our catchings. Whenever a little gravel bar ran o u t into t h e
swift water and sent a long string of diminishing whirlpools
from its point, there any one could satiate his fishing appetite.
The Iloctor was the only one with a reel in t h e party, and it
kept a constant opposition in buzzing with the swarms of nlosquitoes. The Doctor thought that t h e fish might be caught in
rock whcre he was
scincs, but as hc t u ~ n b l c doff of the slippery
..
.
standing o u t in the water drawing then1 in, as he turned around
t o see the effect, no court martial was deemed necessary in the
case.
During warm sunny days not a "rise" could be had even in
t h e shady places, but in the cool evenings with a few clouds over
t h e sun, t w o o r three flies o n a line might each be rewarded with
a fish a t a single cast. The picture of a Michigan grayling in
"Sport with Gun and Rod" is a most accuratc portrait of the
gal1ly fellows we captured near this part of t h e Y u k o n River,
and I doubt not they arc identical varieties, o r very closely
allied.
Whenever the strong southern winds that had done us so
much good in sailing over the lakes would cease, a light breeze
from the north would follow with clearing weather and warn1
sunny days, and for a few days during this particular part of the
year, thcsc zephyrs from thc north would bring with then1 a
perfect snowstorm of snlall brown moths o r millers, not unlike
;he grasshopper plague of years ago o n the Western plains. A
puff of wind o r an eddying gust would tumble many of them
in t h e water whcre t h e currcnt would pack them down in
strings of brown color faster than t h e fish could think of eating
them, and most curious of all it was during this very time that
we caught our gamy grayling, and that, too, with brown flies.
The millers caught by t h e water and drifted into eddies would
not b e touched, and it was only when an isolated onc came
beating its wings and fluttering o n t h e waters' t o p around the
swiftest corners that a spring for it was at all certain, and a
brown hackle dancing around in t h e same place would monopolize every rise within t h e radius of a game fish's eyesight. They
were not much inclined t o jump at any time in the vicinity of
fearing that t h e mosquitoes
the canyon o r its rapids,
would eat them up, as some o n c remarked, b u t o n several other
occasions and places, especially during quiet b u t lowering and
rainy evenings, they could be heard seeking their suppers, being
probably t h e gnats and mosquitoes t h e rain was beating down;
a t least, let us all hope so and pray for rain and graylings o r
grayling.' Our Tahkheesh friends were as much surprised a t
this peculiar kind of fishing as t h e grayling themselves, and expressed their astonishment in guttural grunts.
They a t e all the spare ones we would give them, which was
often nearly a dozen a picce. The largest grayling we weighed
was two pounds and a quarter.
Early on t h e morning of the 2nd of July a small rafting party
of two o r three persons was sent over t h e portage trail to get
below the cascades and help the raft's being brought ashore a t
that point, and were supplied with rope for that purpose. A
little after 10 o'clock in the morning, Billy, our half-breed, entered the canyon with our canoe and disappeared around thc
corncr of the-basaltic columns. At 11:25 a:m. we loosened the
raft from hcr moorings and, although it took fully five minutes
t o pole her o u t from thc cddy where she had been moored, she
at last got under headway and started out. The first accidcnt
was a smashing collision with t h e basaltic columns of the canyon's west side, that tore off the inner log in a twinkling and
snapped off the outer one and shot it into the middle of the
stream. It swung around the landing place with tremendous
velocity and soon took up its original swiftness. Right about the
center the canyon widens o u t into a circular basin of basalt
where the water's edge might possibly be reached o n the western shore, and in this whirlpool and boiling cauldron it was
(continued o n page 18)
"Would you say that graylings or grayling were caught in large numbers on the Upper Yukon?" asked one writer of another of the party
as they sat together in the evening balancing accounts for the day. "It
makes no difference whether you lie in the singular or plural in
Alaska," was the unsatisfactory answer of the individual interrogated,
who had sup osed f,hc questioner referred to the Yukon above this
place as the bpper.
*
PROFESSOR
PARMACHEENE BEAU
COACHMAN
KING OF THE WATER
YELLOW BODY MONTREAL
KATY DID
ABBEY
REUBEN WOOD
ROYAL COACHMAN
GRAY HACKLE
SCARLET IBIS
FIN FLY
JUNGLE COCK
YELLOW MAY
WHITE MILLER
BROWN HACKLE
QUEEN OF MOOSEHEAD
TROUT FLIES
from .Mountain, 1,ukr 61c River 1902
MONTREAL
QUEEN OF THE WATER
PARMACHEENE BELLE
TOODLE BUG
SCARLET IBIS
GRIZZLY KING
A,&
L .
HENSHALL
SILVER DOCTOR
GRAY DRAKE
ORIOLE
MONTREAL
BASS FLIES
COL. FULLER
POLKA
PROFESSOR
Grayling Fishing in Alaska (continued from page I 5 )
thought that the raft might get left spinning around in the big
eddies, but no such misfortune befell it, and it shot through the
basin so that a person on the banks couldn't have told it from a
stern wheel steamer. It went grating over the rapids below,
laboring like a ship in a heavy sea until nearly down to the sandhills by the cascades, when Billy and Indianne, a large burly
Chilkat-Tahkheesh Indian, rowed out to meet it at the bend,
and, then gathering itself like a horse for a hurdle, it rushed at
the cascades, first buried its nose in the flying froth, and then
rising in the air shot through at an angle of twenty-five or thirty
degrees in the air, sinking to a level in the simmering suds beyond. The same old halliards was gotten ashore that had stood
us so well before, but it snapped like a thread as the raft reached
its end.
A second attempt, about 400 to 450 yards below the cascades, was more successful, with a good, generous shaking up of
the whole. Not far from here was a little grove of small pines,
that had been well seasoned by some disasterous fire raging
through them within the last two or three years, and as our present deck looked like the horizontal plane of a pound of fish
hooks, we determined t o take advantage of this little grove to
redeck our boat, which was accordingly done.
All of these groves and timber districts must be subject to
periodical devastation of fire, especially the conifers, the spruce,
the pine and other resin-bearing trees, according to the appearances that were presented to us from time to time along our
route, and are no doubt set fire to by careless campers of
nomadic Indians, or more probably by their setting fire to dense
masses so as to throw up a thick smoke that can be seen for
miles as signals. In most of the fired ranges the trees are quite
large, and falling into decay after having been killed by the fire,
they soon form an entanglement of blackened limbs and trunks.
~ h f is
s anything but easy for a pedestrian to make any headway
through, especially when it is coupled, as usual, with a dense
growth of young trees, whose limbs extend to the ground. As I
have worked my way through them at a rate of a mile in
twenty-four hours, I could not help thinking of the chances of
escape if a grizzly bear should be out taking the fresh air at the
same time, and the two paths should intersect at an. angle of
1800, and the bear was of that unreasonable nature that insisted
on the whole path and that "mighty quick." But as no bear in
his right mind would have lived twenty-four hours among so
many mosquitoes for all the unwashed explorers from "the land
of the midnight sun" t~ "the dark continent," no such collision occurred, and I was left alone to fight my mosquitoes in
peace.
And, by the way, there is some reason why the grizzly should
dread the mosquito of Alaska, and that reason is, that they have
been known to kill them during the short summer months.
Absurd as this appears, and as first it appeared to me, I was at
last a convert to the theory advanced by the Indians, that the
large brown bear of Alaska, here inappropriately, I think, called
the grizzly, has been known to succumb to mosquitoes in these
parts. I first heard of this on the lower river, and although I was
in a better frame of mind than the average reader of the Forest
and Stream for believing the story, I did not, until an old trader
in these parts who had no object in stuffing me, and whose
every manner and conversation on every other subject was perfectly reliable, confirmed it. Should one of these big brown
fellows, tempted by something unusual, as a savory mess of defunct salmon, wander down into or across a swamp unusually
full of these prickly pirates, and they make their attack upon
him, the bear is likely to rear up on his hindquarters, bruin
fashion, and fight them with his paws until he is nearly exhausted and his eyes become vulnerable to the incessant attacks of
the insects, and in course of time they are swollen shut, and if in
this condition the bear is not able to get away from the district,
or should get deeper into the marsh, starvation finally ends his
sufferings. Hard as this is to believe, I felt that the reasoning
was not unreasonable and the outside facts in the case strongly
corroborating it in all that was needed to make it appear possible and even probable.
I think I have spoken in a former article of the widespread
terror the brown bear produces among all the Alaska natives
within the limits of my travels. I found the animals or heard of
them, by this means principally, along the whole length of the
Yukon, and extending along all its estuaries whose Indian
tribes visit the great river.
The famous Trude Ranch in Montana was host l o many a fIollywood movie star. Richard
Arlen and friends pose for photos at the Ranch. This is the wife of Richard Arlen, who
along with Noah and Wallace Reery were great fishers. The trout are from Henry's Fork.
(c. 1947) -donor Charles E. Brooks.
From "Dowrr the Yukon on a Raft"
by Lt. Fred Schwatka, 1884
Ledge Fishing for Ouinaniche
To say the ouinaniche is a landlocked salmon, writes Ripley
Hitchcock in the Christian Union, would seem to relegate him
to the rank of his brethren of Lake Sebago and Lake Sunapee
and other peaceful waters an hpnorable rank, yet inferior to
his own. For the ouinaniche, while the naturalists may dismiss
him as simply the Salmo salar, variety sebago, is the result of
pecllliar conditions. FOPhim, more than most of us, life is a
struggle. He lives in the rush and roar of torrents, and seeks his
food where no weakling may venture unscathed. At the Main
Chute of the Saguenay, where the vast volume of white water
mars past Laurentian crags, and at the foot of cataracts on the
Mistasshi and Peribonca, the ouinaniche is at home. Naturally,
he has become possessed of a body like vibrant steel, a tail of
incredible size and power, and a dorsal fin which shows above
the water as he feeds like a lateen sail. If in all this there lurks
the sin of over-emphasis, it will be pardoned by those who know
the joy of finding a fisherman's legend founded upon the eternal
verities.
I leave to others the discussion of the migrations of the
ouinaniche, his exact habits, and the possibilities of his extinction. My own introduction was under circumstances so adverse
at fll~tthat I seemed on the point of repeating the familiar experience of those who goqe the bait offered to "sportsmen" by
the hotel prospectus and railway advertisement. I had "outfitted" at Robewd on Lake St. John, and, with my two half-,
breeds, a canoe, two tents, blankets, and a small mountain of
supplies, 1 crossed the lake on an absurd little logging steamer,
which finally stopped by the simple process of running aground
on the sand-bars a mile off the mouth of the Mistassini. The
biich-bark canoe was launched and loaded, and the men bent to
their paddles in a heavy rain, which pursued us fitfully at our
waking. The men hung back. "Trop mouillee," was Philippe's
constant plaint my stalwart Philippe, with a face more ferocious than that of any Apache renegade whom I have ever seen
in Arizona, and a voice like that of a homesick calf. It was
simply one of the questions of will and discipline which are apt
to be raised in "the bush," and by good men, too, merely to
test a new employer and to determine the chances of an easygoing trip. But the issue was met and settled then and there,
and late in the afternoon of the second day, despite rain and
four long portages, we reached the magnificent fifth falls of the
Mistassini and apparent failure. Not a single ouinaniche could
be bribed to take my flies.
It is easy to console one's self with the familiar "it is not all
of fishing to fish" when the fisherman stays his hand from mere
satiety; but philosophy is more difficult for the empty-handed.
It was true that the air of that norther solitude was a tonic, and
the cataract itself worth the journey from New York. Yet phil-
-
-
osophy and the natural man fought hard for the u p p a hand as I
lay on my fragrant bed of fii boughs; listening to the patter of
rain on the tent and the roar of the mighty waterfall close at
hand. But in the morning, after mote fruitless endeavor here and
there among waves which tossed the canoe like the traditional
cockle-shell, we landed on a sharply sloping ledge of Lsuratian
rocks. There I stood braced in a crevice above the water, but not
out of reach of waves which leaped up from a troubled sea, and
there in that angry flood, where fly-casting seemed a mockery, I
found the ouinaniche. There was a sudden tug down under the
surface, and at the answering strike a silvery body flashed four
feet in air, and 1 heard Louis's whoop and Philippe's shout,
"C'est un gros, Monsieur, un gos!" "Un gos" the fish certainly
seemed to be, as twenty-fie yards of l i e were taken from the
screaming reel in the first rush out into the rapids, where another leap was followed by a rush straight in, and then a fit of
sulks. So the moments crept on, each second vibrant with suspense, while the gallant fish, now in water, now in air, fought
with a courage and tenacity which 1have never seen equaled by
trout or black bass, nor by a grilse in point of endurance, nor
hardly, pound for pound, by a salmon. How long this battle
royal lasted it would be hard to say. Philippe measured time by
his pipe, and he smoked three. At last, 1 was able to strain the
ouinaniche toward the ledge where Philippe clung precariously,
and in another instant the fish was in the net, Louis was gripping it through the meshes, and both men were scrambling like
cats up the face of the rock to a safer place. There we adminisstered the coup de grace, and 1 noted the shapely head, the
cleancut body, with the iridescent greenish gill-markings and
dark spots on the silvery sides, and I rrrruveled at the width of
the powerful tail and the size of the dorsal fin. No sportsmen
could ask finer game, and no gourmet could take exception to a
fish whose flesh is more savory than the trout, and less cloying
than the Salmo salar.
It was off this same Laurentian ledge that I fought and
killed all my ouinaniche during those rare days. They were
days of moving experiences with ouinaniche which seemed to
spend all their time in air, with others which leaped up on the
rock beside me, or fought their way far out into the rapids, or
"bored" doggedly at the bottom, while the l i e vibrated as if at
strokes of the powerful tail. And all this time .I was at a place
which would make the fortune of the summer landlord if it
were, unhappily, accessible to "summer visitors," and not so far
to the northward that even the outpost cabins of settlers are
below, and the only human being
- to the north are.a few t r a p
pers and the ~skimos.
Anon. Forest & Stream 1891
Harold N. Gibbs is given credit for being one of the first to catch New England striped
bass with a fly rod and salt water fly made with a hair wing. These two examples are the
patterns that evolved about 1950 and came to be known as the Gibbs' Striper.
Other items,the old bamboo rod, reels and book were part of an exhibit 04 angling
books sponsored by Brown University's Rockefeller Library. It was the first exhibit of fly
fishing literature in America. (1968). The exhibit catalog is sold by the Museum for $3.00.
A previous exhibit presenting both English and American angling books were presented by Princeton University, honoring the late Otto Von Keinbusch for his discovery and
gift to Princeton of the Arte of Angling, 1577. Fifteen showcases of rare books were displayed at Brown plus an exhibit of antique hackle and fly displays. Over 400 visitors attended the exhibit's opening.
Photo, coUection Austin S. Hogan
An Adirondack Excursion
Long Lake, Aug. 10,1845
Dear H.
Let me introduce you t o our camp. I t is a lovely afternoon,
and a most lovely day, and there a t t h e foot of t h e lake, back a
few rods in t h e forest, is burning a campfire. O n a stick that is
thrust into t h e ground and leans over a log, hangs a small kettle
of potatoes - a little t o one side is suspended t o a tree a noble
buck just dressed, some of t h e nicest bits of which are already
roasting in a pan over t h e f i e . In a low shantee, made of hemlock bark, entirely open in front, lazily recline t h e young clergyman and t h e doctor, watching with most satisfied looks t h e
cooking of the savory venison. O n t h e other side are stretched
the weary hounds in profound slumber. An old hunter is watching, with knife in hand, t h e progress of a johnny cake he is baking in the ashes, giving every now and then a most comical hitch
to his waist bands, while, as if t o keep his balance, t h e whole
sides of his face twitch a t t h e same time. Close b y him is my
Indian guide whom I obtained yesterday, coldly scrkinizing my
new modled rifle. Taciturn and emotionless as his race always
are, he neither smiles nor speaks.
Knowing that his curiosity was excited, I remarked, "Mitchell, I wish you would try m y rifle, f o r I have some doubt
whether it is perfectly correct." Without saying a word he took
up an axe, and going t o a distant tree struck o u t a chip, leaving
a white spot. Returning as silent as h e went, h e raised my gun t o
his face, where it rested for a moment immovable as stone, then
spoke sharp and quick through t h e forest. T h e bullet struck t h e
white spot in the center. He handed t h e rifle back without uttering a word - that shot was a better comment o n its correctness
than anything h e could say.
Our venison and johnny cake and potatoes were at length
done; each of us peeling off a bit o f clean hemlock bark for a
plate, we sat down o n t h e leaves and placing our bark dishes
across our legs, with a sharp stick for a fork, and our pocket
knives in the other commenced our repast. I have dined in palaces, hotels and amid ancient ruins, b u t never so right royally
before. We were kings here, with o u r rifles b y o u r sides, and n o
one to dispute our sway; and then such a palace of countless
columns encompassing us, while t h e tiny murmur of t h e waves
as they laid their cheeks o n t h e small pebbles below, made harmony with t h e refreshing breeze that rustled in t h e tree tops
and lifted t h e ashes o f o u r already smouldering camp fire. I
thought last winter a t t h e Carlton House, that t h e venison made
a dish that might please a gourmet b u t it was tasteless, savourless compared t o THIS venison, cut off from t h e freshly killed
carcass and roasted in the open forest. A clear stream nearby
furnished us with a richer beverage than wine; while t h e fresh
air, and gleaming lake and sweet islands sleeping o n its bosom,
gave to the spirits a healthier excitement than society.
After the repast was finished, w e stretched ourselves along
the ground and smoked our cigars, and talked a while of trout
and deer and bears and wolves and moose. A t length, the Indian
arose and made preparations f o r departure. Taking our rifles add
fishing tackle, we push our boats into t h e lake, and made for
Raquette River, t h e outlet of t h e lake and thence into Cold
River.
I wish I could give you some conception of this stream. A t
this season of the year it is almost as moveless as a pond, while
its waters are as clear as fluid crystal, revealing a smooth and
pebbly bottom. The shores of both the rivers are all trodden
over with moose, deer and bear tracks. During t h e afternoon, we
had endeavoured t o take some trout, o f whiih Mitchell told me
t h e river was full. But the unruffled surface o f t h e stream, combined with its pellucid waters, and an unclouded sun, made
every fish fly t o his lurking place long before we got sight of
him. Under t h e deep shadows of an overhanging and wooded
bank, Mitchell a t length took one, while I had t h e pleasure of
seeing a two pounder rise t o m y fly with open mouth and dilated eyes; but just as he was going to snap it, h e caught a glimpse
of us and darted like a flash of lightning t o t h e bottom, from
whence n o after coaxing could lure him. But as t h e sun went
down, I had better success. Being the only one who used a fly, I
t o o k all t h e trout. They were, however, of a small size and difficult t o hook, for I had nothing b u t a common pole c u t from t h e
forest, o n which t o rig m y line. I had left m y light and delicate
rod in t h e settlements, as I should advise everyone t o do, who
endeavours t o penetrate this pathless region. when o n e is compelled t o carry his own rifle, overcoat and underclothing, and
sometimes his cooking utensils, and that too, with a walk of
twenty miles o n a stretch before him, he would d o well not t o
lumber himself up with fishing rods.
But when t h e sun a t l e n g h totally disappeared behind the
mountains, and the surface of Cold River, overshadowed by the
impenetrable forest became black as ink, t h e trout left their retreats; and in a short time t h e water was in a foam with their
constant leaping. Where but a short time before we bad passed
looking down through t h e clear depths without seeing a single
finny rover, now there seemed an innumerable multitude. Here
a sudden bold bound - there a long shoot as a fierce fellow
swept along after a large fly, kept t h e bosom of t h e stream in a
bubble. T h e Indian and m y companions had stiff poles, cord
lines and large hooks, with a piece of raw venison for bait. This
they would SKITTER along t h e surface, and t h e moment it
caught the eye of a trout, away h e would rush with a leap and a
plunge after it. I found that m y light tackle was entirely o u t of
place in this new mode of fishing for while I was drowning one
big fellow, those in the boat with me would take half a dozen.
Besides t h e time f o r fishing was short, for twilight had already
settled on the forest - and so, after in m y hurry breaking two o r
three snells, I, too, rigged o n a cord line, big hook and piece of
venison. I never saw anything like it in m y life - it was a constant, leap, roll and plunge there around our lines - and some of
them such immense fellows for brook trout. In half a n hour, we
took a t least a half a bushel, many of them weighing three
pounds, and a few less than a pound.
A t length, however, it became t o o dark t o fish, and a single
rifle shot of the Indian recalled o u r scattered boats t o start for
camp.
Turning t h e head of our boat, w e drifted down to Raquette
River, and then pulled for t h e lake. This was a mile of hard rowing, and it was late before we reached t h e outlet. One skiff having started sooner than we, was already at t h e camp - t h e cheerful fire of which burst o n us through t h e trees as we rounded a
point of t h e outlet, and shot upon t h e bosom of t h e quiet lake.
"Look," R-ffe I exclaimed, "Yonder is t h e campfire, and another light moves down t o t h e beach where they are dressing the
trout for supper." He sprang t o t h e oars, and the light boat fled
like a wild deer toward that cheerful flame. Islands and rocks
flew by, and under a cloudless sky and myriads of bright and
glorious stars, we sped gaily o n , tili at length t h e boat
on
t h e pebbly beach, and a joyous shout that made t h e solemn old
forest ring, went u p from camp and shore. In a moment all was
bustle and preparation f o r supper and the noblest dish of trout
I ever a t e I took there b y firelight in t h e woods. My appetite, it
is true, was sharp, and we made a sad inroad into our pile of
fish.
After supper we lay around in every variety of attitude upon
the dry earth, lazily snuffing up the fragrance of the woods, and
looking off on the still surface of the lake in whose clear depths
the stars of heaven stood trembling and listening to wild hunting
stories, interspersed now and then with flashes of broad humor,
till at length the deep breathing of the Indian admonished us
that we, too, needed repose to prepare us for the toils of the
next day.
A little after midnight I awoke - the wind had shifted to the
east and was blowing strong and chill, sending a rapid swell on
the beach, and a loud murmur through the cedar tops ahead.
The fire had died away except for a few smoldering brands. The
wild and lonely scream of the northern diver, came at intervals
through the darkness, as he floated far away on the water; and
night, solemn night with the great forest, was around me. I
strolled down to the lake shore and let the breezes fall on my
fevered head, while the glimmer of the dying embers of our
camp fire through the trees rendered the scene doubly lonely. I
returned, and seizing the axe, soon had a bright and crackling
f i e sending its light over the sleepers. The sparks, borne higher
and higher by the wind, danced about in the forest, and shed a
clear light on a white hound that lay sleeping in careless ease at
the foot of a tree. Tall trunks stood on every side gradually
growing dimmer, till lost in a mass of blackness, and contrasting
strangely with the motion and roar of the tops, through which
the wind swept in fitful gusts. Again I stretched myself on the
ground and woke no more until light was dawning in the east,
and then with a shudder and a start as though a tomahawk was
gleaming over my head. The Indian's dog had crawled upon me,
and lay heavily along my body, his head resting on my bosom,
his mouth to my mouth, while a low growl issued from his
chest, startled the Indian by my side. I never was so struck with
the alertness of an Indian. I am not slow to wake myself, espec-
ially in a case like this; but before I opened my eyes, Mitchell
was on his feet and as I looked up I saw him standing over me
with his piercing black eyes fixed on the dog. "Be still," he exclaimed, and then as if talking to himself, he added, "it is
strange, but he is watching you. He smelled danger." His keen
nose probably winded some wild animal prowling about our
camp - attracted hither by the savory smell of venison. I gently
caressed the noble fellow, and rose from my hard couch. The
whole group was standing listlessly around the fire, yawning
and stretching, while the few jokes
that were cracked created
only a mockery of laughter.
yours truly,
J. T. H.
from Headley, J. T. The Adirondack; or Life in the Woods.
N . Y., Chas. Scribner. 1861. (Cy. 1849) p. 121 - 130.
The native Indian of prehistory never used rods in their fishing so the "skittering" described by Headley evidently was
learned from white pickerel fishermen or learned when the rod
or pole was first used. Another mention of the method is more
unique: "This beautiful lake (Raquette) is thronged with salmon
and speckled trout. Talk about Pisico Lake and Lake Pleasant,
and other border waters, where fishing has become a business.
Come here if you wish to see the treasures the wilderness encloses. The most beautiful and savory trout that ever swam are
found in such quantities that you can take them without fly or
bait of any description. Look to that inlet -there sits my friend
B---n with a pole and line big enough to play a sturgeon with,
and nothing but a piece of white paper on his coarse hook. He is
skipping it, or as the fishermen call it, 'skittering' it over the
water, and there rises a two pounder, by his side and there a
three pounder - heigh ho a full dozen of them, with their speckled gleaming sides and wild eyes are making the water foam-"
p. 205.
Edging the Adirondack wilderness were the settlements mentioned by J . T. Headley.
Lake George, N. Y. offered luxurious hotels and nearby Saratoga boasted the country's
leading race track, mineral springs and more fine hotels including a gambling casino.
Dyeing Fishing Lines
Editor Forest and Stream:
Will you please inform me (or have some of your readers t o
do so) what is a good homemade dye for fishing lines that will
give them a fixed color, o r d y e them black, and at t h e same time
not injure them b y rotting, swelling or otherwise greatly affecting the form, texture or size of t h e lines?
In explanation of the question I have t o say that I never find
any lines in t h e market dyed t o suit my taste, and it is sometimes, recently, difficult t o find a n y that are suitable, otherwise
as to size and quality, for t h e locality. I therefore often have t o
do my own dyeing.
In t h e clear water t h e bass are very wary and will not take
the hook when t h e angler is in sight. It is necessary t o cast t o a
great distance and t o remain concealed. As a four-pounder is a
great rarity and t h e common run is below two pounds, a very
small line must b e used - one smaller than many first-class dealers advertise. A white line is quite a conspicuous object in clear
water, and I am satisfied that bass cannot be taken readily when
one is used. It is necessary t o use a line that cannot be seen
readily, and this is all t h e more necessary in casting, as Dr. Henshall says truly that in that style of fishing t h e leader must b e
discarded. T o prevent t h e line from being seen b y t h e game,
manufacturers have, as we all know, made lines of various different solid colors, and also braided and twisted together
threads of different colors. Either of these is better than a white
line, but they still fall short of t h e requirement. T h e point I insist upon is this, that that which enables t h e human eye, as well
as the fish's eye, t o catch and follow a line of any kind is the
continuity of t h e line as t o form and color, and e converso,
breaks o r irregularities in contour o r color have a strong tendency to prevent t h e eye from following u p t h e line. In other
words, irregularity, so far as t h e vision is concerned, destroys a
line. If a line b e speckled o r ringed, t h e continuity is not broken
because it is still regular in that form. T h e line should be so dyed as t o run from one shade t o another, then perhaps t o spots,
and then t o other shades, s o as t o make t h e whole irregular and
unsystematic.
I have dyed in this way b y wrapping o r balling the line up
upon itself so as t o leave irregular interstices for t h e penetration
of the fluid, and then dipping in t h e juice of a walnut, warm,
and renewing after a short time. The line can then be wiped off
with a wet rag. Applications of water immediately after dyeing
will reduce the shade. A line dyed in this way is not readily followed b y t h e eye at some little distance; and I imagine when
stretched on t h e bottom of a stream it would attract little more
attention than t h e g a v e l and small twigs and stems of leaves
that often lie there.
An illustration of the manner in which t h e eye can be misled
b y a broken line is this: Many a bass angler has spent hours of
suspense lest the "one-gallused" boy would d o harm to his
bucket of shiners, o r "steel-backs," in his absence. Let t h e fisherman cast his minnow bucket into t h e stream and fasten t h e
cord t o a root or stone a t t h e shore; if t h e water be clear the
cord will probably be seen very plainly. But then let him take
two o r three switches, o r say a small branch with several twigs,
and place them, in an apparently haphazard manner, a t the surface and a t a slight angle over and across the cord; and he will
find, especially if shadows be cast, that he will have to look
close in order t o locate the cord.
This may all b e regarded as very trivial and I may find in
course of time that I have come too quickly t o a conclusion,
b u t from fishing in company with others and from sometimes
using t w o rods at once, my observation and experience lead me
just now t o believe that t h e best results have been obtained with
such a line as I have described, and I would suggest that anglers
elsewhere o n similar waters, especially where bass are wary, give
it a trail, if the idea has not already been practically tested by
others.
P. M.
Franklin, Tennessee
[Hon. H. C. Ford, president of t h e Pennsylvania Fish Commission, makes a beautiful olive colored d y e for gut b y the
following process: "Take two empty tomato cans; pour into
one about an inch of Stafford's writing fluid; then pour in water
until t h e can is over half full. Put two tablespoonsful of logwood into the second can, and pour in water until two-thirds
full. Bring both t o a boiling point o n your range. Then take
your hank of gut, from which the rough ends have been severed,
and immerse in t h e ink can a minute and a half. Hold it under
t h e hydrant a short time t o wash o u t t h e superfluous dye, and
then plunge into t h e logwood can for two minutes. Then wash
off t h e superfluous dye as before. If t h e color is not dark
enough repeat t h e process in both cans." We have seen this gut
used in clear water and know that it is highly effective. Doubtless the same method will be available for lines. Walnut leaves
and shells have been used t o produce a brown color from a very
early date with alum t o fix t h e color.]
1889
A CANADIAN TROUT
Toronto, June 1 - In a lake which empties into t h e Montreal River, and through which I
traveled b y canoe ten days ago, we caught with a troll twenty trout, t h e smallest 3 Ibs.,
the largest 8 Ibs. They are shaped like t h e speckled brook trout. There is a soft fin o r excrescence o n t h e back next t h e tail. The fins, tail and flesh are blood orange in color. The
back is dark, t h e belly white, the sides speckled with silver and gold spots. Some of the
fish are reddish brown and some considerably inclined to gray o r silver hues. The fish
grow t o 40 Ibs. in weight. The officers of t h e Hudson's Bay Company call them speckled
trout. Some people say they are silver salmon. This is a fresh-water lake, 300 miles north
of Toronto. The water is very clear and cold, 600 ft. deep, resting o n a pebbly bed. The
fish d o not attempt t o leave t h e lake, though it has two outlets; they are never found out
of it. The large 40 Ibs. fish are caught in the fall of t h e year with night lines sunk deep in
the water. The fish is more beautiful than t h e speckled trout of the brooks, and I say it
advisedly, its flesh is more juicy and finely flavored. Please inform me what kind of fish
they are. - S. R. CLARKE.
[We think this must be one of the large trout known in our catalogues b y name only probably Ross's trout, described by Richardson. Would it be possible for Mr. Clarke to
send us a specimen, o r at least the skin of a large one? T h e skin can b e sent dry o r in salt.
Littlc is known about the trout of t h e region referred t o in the above communication. We
1891
know the lake trout and landlocked salmon occur there, b u t nothing more.]
The Fun of Angling Literature
by Josepll Spear Beck
"The True Measure of a Civilization is the number of
its second-hand book stores. . . Montagu."
Izaak Walton may be a hero to all of us now, but it wasn't
~ l w a y sthat way. In 1658, five years after The Compleat Angler
was published, Richard Franck in his book Northern Memoirs
wrote: "Walton stuffs his book with morals from Dubravius . . .
not giving us one precedent of his own . . . lays the stress of his
observations on other men's observations . . brings himself under the Anglers' censure . . . of plagiary . . . to be pitied, poor
man . . . for loss of his time, in scribbling . . . other men's notions. These are the drones that rob the hives."
Later in his book, which incidentally was not published until
1694, is more ridicule - "I urged his own argument upon him,
that pickerel weed of itself breeds pickerel. Which question no
sooner stated but he transmits himself to his authority, Dubravius, etc. I readily opposed . . . aserting, that pickerels have been
fished out of pools where that weed never grew . . . nor pickerel
ever known to have shed their spawn t h a e . This I propounded
from a rational conjecture of the Heronshaw . . . who might lap
some spawn around her legs . . . adhering to the bullrushes . . .
where the fish have shed their spawn, and this filmy substance
adhering to her legs . . . she mounting the air . . . in probability
mounts with her. Where note, the next pond she arrives at,
possibly she may leave the spawn behind her, which My Compleat Angler no sooner deliberated, but dropped his argument
and huffed away."
Such passages add zest to the angling collector's hobby. What
starts one on the collecting hobby is known to anyone whose
fancy is stamps o r coins or blondes. With books, stamps and
coins there is a mental stimulus without the physical drain of
the latter. In this writer's case it started while in college in the
literary field, but was triggered into angling literature about 15
years ago through the good times fishing with Will Presba,
Frank Steel and other friends.
If you are not already a collector, you can appreciate any-
.
way the kick one gets in reading and holding in his hands the
first book written by some angling giant of the past or the f i s t
book written on some important phase of angling.
Walking down LaSalle Street one day with my eye on a
willowy beauty in a mini-mini skirt, I felt a sudden flash of excitement surge through me. I had just remembered that coming
in the mail to me the next day from London was Saunders' The
Compleat Fisherman, Edinburgh, 1772, in which was the first
mention of silk-worm gut.
Most collectors start with contemporary authors, building
the foundation of their collection and properly so. The enjoyment of their books stimulates them into looking up the classic
writers so often referred to by our contemporaries. Before long,
names like Venables, Halford, Ronalds, and Bainbridge are old
friends. Halford says that the sportiest fish of all on a fly line is
a mackerel. Isn't that a surprise?
Ronalds probably contributed more to fly-fishing than any
other man - a rather large statement, but his many editions of
The Fly-Fisher's Entomology starting with the 1st edition, London, 1836, and culminating with the 2-volume 13th edition,
Liverpool, 1913 containing specimen flies beautifully tied, will
convince almost anyone.
Among more contemporary experts is Professor R. Donnersberger, whose book The Tarpon and I , Miami, a prize winner of
1963 and reprinted 1964 and 1968, is well-known to all of us in
the Anglers' Club. Not so widely read, but still worth studying,
is his analytical work The Nymph and Y o u , Dean River, B. C.
1966. In language that any layman can understand is this clear
description of the nymph's life cycle, "After the eclosion the
nymph starts to moult and continues until the ecdysis when he
emerges as a dun or epeorus pleuralis, particularly if you are
fishing in May."
Venables, an original thinker, wrote his well-known book
The Experienc 'd Angler: or Angling Improv'd in 1662. It is interesting that the book was written following his misfortunes.
He served in the Parliamentary Army; was sent with Penn in
1654 in command of the expedition to conquer Hispaniola, and
on their return from that disastrous enterprise, the generals were
imprisoned in the Tower.
Each generation of anglers produces new ideas. One such is P.
Schreiber, who in his book Well-Spent Evenings with SpentWing Adams, Langlade, a best seller of 1960 and reprinted in
1964 and 1967, introduced the Coronna Coronna. His comments are significant and fall logically into place. "First, bathe
your Adams in a heavy layer of cigar smoke, second, the nicotine puts the trout into a frenzy; third, the odor wards off insects; and finally, the cloud of smoke makes the angler invisible
to the trout.."
Although Schreiber is generally credited for the wide use of
tobacco, a search of early angling records reveals that a C. Hemenway of Evanston, about 1890, started using tobacco with devastating" effect on trout. The records back that far. however.
are very thin and reading difficult since so many pages are
foxed.
For laughter in angling books, it is hard to beat Anglers A 11
by Foote, a collection of short stories which Graydon Ellis
brought to the attention of many of us. The Wedding Gift is one
of the classics in this collection. Another side-splitter is Syd
Hoff's Upstream, Downstream and O u t of M y Mind, Indianapolis, 1961.
For gentle rib-tickling there is none better than Harold
Pickering's Angling of tbe Test, Derrydale Press, 1936. Written
in old English style, it is delightful.
For beauty there is always pleasure in seeing an angling book
so enjoyed by its owner that he had it richly bound in morocco
or calf and artistically tooled in gold. The excellent sporting
books published by Eugene Connett's Derrydale Press are eagerly sought. These books were published in limited editions,
generally in 950 copies, and covered sports such as angling,
hunting, horse racing, fox-hunting, and sailing. When one reflects on the millions engaged in these sports, it's obvious that
there aren't enough ~ e r r y d a l e sto go ariund. Too bad that the
Derrydale Press folded in 1947 under the pressure of high publishing costs!
One of the most magnificent books in American angling, and
also a rarity, is Dean Sage's The Kistigouche and Its Salmon
Fishing, Edinburgh 1888. Dean Sage, in Salmon and Trout, N.Y.
1904, was the first to mention the single haul. Little did he
dream then that 65 years later Allan Johnson, using the double
haul, would be casting his line out of the county!
Shipley in his A True Treatise on t h e Art of Fly-Fishing,
London, 1838, makes the first reference to fanning the fly, i.e.,
drying it out with several false casts. There are many of us in the
Anglers' Club who have developed this into such a science that
tornado warnings are often issued at the Langlade Weather
Station.
The fly tyer's delight, of course, are those scarce and rare
volumes that contain the actual fly specimens in sunken
mounts, notably -
Ronalds' Dry Fly Entomology (2 vols.) 250 copies, referred
to before;
Blacker's Art o f Angling, 1842;
Aldam's A Quaint Treatise o n Flees and t h e A r t of Artyfichall Flee Making, London 1875 and 1876;
Halford's Dry Fly Entomology, 2 vols. London, 1897, 100
copies, and Modern Development o f T h e Dry Fly, 2 vols.,
London, 1910, 75 copies;
Baigent's A Book on Hackles f i r Fly Dressing, Newcastle-on~ L n (n.d.);
e
Edmonds & Lee's Brook & River Trouting, Bradford, ' 5 0
copies (1916) ;
Taverner's Trout Fishing From All Angles, 1929, 375 copies,
and Salmon Fishing, 1931, 275 copies;
Leonard West's deluxe volume of The Natural Trout Fly and
Its Imitation, St. Helen's (n.d.) (1912), 30 copies.
- -
West was so meticulous in his instructions to H. Milward &
Sons who tied up the sets of flies, that he fills up a notebook in
his correspondence, rejecting and accepting 106 flies for each
set, in an exchange with the tackle house before the full set of
flies was finally approved.
On this side of the water are the deluxe 2 vol. editions of
Jennings' A Book of Trout Flies, Derrydale Press, 1935; and
Phair's sumptuous Atlantic Salmon Fishing, Derrydale Press,
1937.40 copies.
It is refreshing to note that while these legendary figures introduced the flies which we have and use today, that there are
always new tyers coming along with new ideas. One such is J.
Buesch who presented a new angling first in his book The
Brown Bomber Salmon Fly, Doctor's 1. 1969. "In tying these
excellent salmon flies, first tie on a tail of finest deer hair. Then
spin on the deer hair body and clip it sparse - real, real sparse.
Follow with hackle and impala as per sketch and whip-finish.
Now comes the real surprise. Cut off the tail! This drives the
salmon out of his mind and POWIE! you've got him."
The first book on dry-fly fishing in America was Gill's Practical Dry-Fly Fishing, New York, 1912. Gill & LaBranche were
both members of the Anglers' Club of New York. Reports from
those days relate that LaBranche planned to write such a book
and became so angry when Gill brought his out first that it nearly broke up the club.
Even though we acknowledge the skill of such masters as
Hewitt, LaBranche, Haig-Brown, and Lee Wulff, a new angler
takes a new look. For instance, there is J. McCoy, who in his
book The Southpaw Trout, Oconto, 1965, brought forth a challenging observation. "Fishing one evening at Camp 23, 1 noticed
that I was missing numerous trout striking from the left bank,
but taking those from the right bank. I gave this considerable
thought and decided that the trout striking from the left were
probably missing because the hook I was using was canted to
the right. A simple twist of the hook to the left did the job, and
proved that trout are individuals too."
It would be exciting to run across Chetham's Vade Mecum,
London, 1681 because Chetham with Franck were the first men
to describe salmon flies. Adventure lies ahead, I'm off to a
second-hand book store.
WESTERN AMERICANA
Rainbow Trout of the McCloud
Editor Forest and Stream:
Your correspondent "Scarlet-Ibis," in number of J u n c 11,
mentions thc Dolly Vartlen and rainbow trout.
A perusal of his article rccalls no st agreeably the two weeks
spent by thc writer and Nat. K. l l a r ~ n o non t h e famous McCloud
Kiver is Siskiyou County, California, in Junc, 1887. Leaving San
Francisco th; evening ;)f thc 17th we take the sleeper of the
Portland train a t Oakland Mole, and t h e ncxt morning finds us
at Sisson. 250 milcs north. ant1 at t h e headwaters of thc Sacra~ n c n t o herc
,
but a rncadow brook.
While eating our 1)rcakfast a t Sisson, we intcrview the landlord rcgarding the best fishing places, antl he rcfers us to the
driver of thc Fall Kiver Stagc, which lcaves in twenty minutes.
"Wall, ye git in with nic an' I'll sct yc down over on the
McCloud." We ask him how far hc proposes to take us, and
lcarn that t h c ncarcst stopping placc is Downing's Kanch, 1 8
milcs east, a t the southcrn I,ase of Mt. Shasta, which looms up
14,440 fcct., bright and glealning with eternal snows, a prominent landmark for a h ~ ~ n t l r c tmilcs
l
in any direction. Having
colnc to this point sirnply o n the reputation of t h c McCloud to
furnish trout of rcriiarkaI)lc size and vigor.
and with no definite
c . .
destination in vicw, wc quickly placc our traps and ourselves in
the open spring wagon, arid hugely enjoy the ride in the fresh,
crisp morning air over Squaw Mor~ntairl,ant1 noon time brings
us to Downing Kanch, a two-roomed log house, a stable of
"shakcs" without roof, ant1 a shcep corral.
The driver introduces 11s to the ranch people, who conclude
thcy can take care of us; so after a hasty lunch and rigging up in
our fishing gear, we ask to be tlircctctl to thc most likely place
on thc strcam, which we fintl at its ncarcst point is some two
milcs away. Only thc oltl pcoplc werc at home that day, and
they dircctcd us to the Uppcr tall, s o ~ n cdistance up the stream.
We found a fall of sonic 9 0 fcct., a t thc foot of which was a
swirling, eddying strctch of water, with dark, deep cavernous
holes among the rocks that looked the vcry home of thc famous
beauties we had come so far t o intcrview.
A word as t o our tacklc. My companion, an ardent lover of
the royal sport, a veteran angler, is just now about t o test the
qualities of a new split t~anlhoofrom the hands of somc noted
~naker,and I have an humble rot1 of ash with lancewood tip,
light, strong, and o f that whiplike flcxibility and perfect balance
so pleasurable t o fccl. Our flics, a varied assortment of the commoner kinds, t h e hackles in grays, browns, ginger, etc., predorninating. We are each supplicd with 6 ft. leaders, lines of lightest
silk, in color darkest green, and srnall multiplying reels, and
ample room in our creels f o r all that may conic t o our hooks,
which, b y the way, are No. 8.
Thus equipped, we fearlessly niake our first casts, and for
somc time are successful; but as thc shadows lengthen small
trout of 6 t o 8 in. begin t o take t h e fly, and at sunset we count
a total catch of 104: Wending our &ay over the trail to the
ranch, we discuss t h e situation, which, considering the largeness
of our expectations as t o size of the fish t o be found in this
stream, seems discouraging.
At our s uLm e r of fried trout and corn bread. we meet the
young son of our host, Will, a stalwart youth of skventeen, who
laughs at our catch of "little uns," and says he can show us
where we can see "some whoppers jumpin'," b u t in rather a
sarcastic vein remarks t h a t we "can't get 'en1 with them little
bits of poles." In fact, h e had "got on" numerous big ones, but
they had either broken his "pole," t h e line o r t h e hooks, and h e
looked with contempt upon our slender tackle. However, Will
proved extremely good-natured, and after breakfast a t early
1
dawn of t h e n e s t morning we follow him to the hole at thc big
springs, some two milcs helow t h c scene of the previous afternoon and much nearer t h e house.
We find t h e river down in a narrow canyon, with rather precipitous banks o f two o r three hundred feet, and the hole a
somewhat turbulent pool of good lcngth and breadth, between
immense springs, thc waters of which issue from the rocks a
hundred feet abovc our heads, and came leaping, tumbling and
cascading down and mingling with the waters of the McCloud.
Thcsc feeders o f springs, of which there are many in the
short course of the river, find a channel under and through the
lava bcds all the way from the snow line of Mt. Shasta, a veritable nature's ice house, antl afford an abundant and constant
supply of t h e purest and iciest water t o t h e stream below. The
space between these two big springs -- t h e largest on the river -is about 1 0 0 yds., and in t h e pool between, according t o Will,
the big trout lurked.
The morning is glorious, t h e sun just peeping through the
tops of t h e giant sugar pincs, and while we eagerly joint our rods
and tie o n our most taking casts a gentle breeze, drawn up the
mountain gorge b y some invisible force, slightly sways the bushes o n the banks, and directly we see hundreds of J u n e flics, dislodged from their retreat under the leaves, fly fluttering with
damp and heavy wing over and near t h e water's surface. Talk
about rainbow trout. They began their breakfast right then and
there. Dozens of 2-pounders could b e seen at a glance, as thcy
leaped high, their beautiful sides gleaming in t h e morning sun,
16 in. sections o f t h e most brilliant rainbow.
A thrilling sight, truly, and we hastily change our flies for the
gray and ginger hackles, as most nearly approaching in color the
drab and dun of t h e natural fly, for which the trout so plainly
manifest their liking. After two o r three short casts t o get t h e
leaders straightened, I reach o u t a little further and softly drop
my cast just over where but a lnonient before a grand specimen
had shown me his whole length, when t h e hungry fellow, as if to
dare me to battle, again leaps clear from his element and, with
a saucy flip of his tail and a nlost graceful somersault, disappears with my gray hackle. A slight and quick motion of my
wrist, and I know that I have hooked my first rainbow. I have
held a plow behind a yoke of unruly steers, and it seems an apt
though prosaic comparison t o the wild rush of that trout
through t h e swift waters of t h e pool. When first struck, he vaulted 2 ft. o r more into the air, and with a vigorous shake tried t o
free himself from the hook; then, with zigzag and erratic course,
down the stream he headed f o r a rock half hidden b y a growth
of watercress that partly dammed t h e channel at the foot of the
pool, making t h e reel sing as it paid o u t the line.
With some effort, I checked his mad charge, and shortening
the line with every yielding turn, glanced about for a place t o
land my prize, for I have no net. Suddenly t h e tension upon rod
and line is eased and I fear t h e game is off, but quickly reeling
in, as he leaps again and again, and soon showing t h e first signs
of lost vigor, I have him turning up his gleaming sides in token
of defeat and h e comes a weary captive to the ready hand of
Nat, who, standing by, has watched the gallant fight of this
gamy fish. Time, 1 3 minutes. Will, who has cut a pole in the
brush nearby, and has seated himself o n a rock while making
fast t h e small "clothes line" h e has been wont t o fish with,
drops his work and wideeyed and open-mouthed, is speechless
from start to finish; b u t with t h e fish safely in hand he gives one
wild yell and a jump t o where 1 stand with thumb under t h e gill
of my captive.
Page 2 7
"That's my trout, my trout," he exclaims, and points to a
wire snell hanging from the mouth of the fish, where sure
enough, I find a No. 2 hook firmly caught through the cartilage
of the nose. Will recognizes this hook and snell as his property,
which more than a week before he had baited with a grasshopper and cast upon the waters. It had been seized by this s a k e
trout and in attempting to land it in the good old way, by a
vigorous jerk of the pole, the trout objecting to such violent
methods, had kept part of the tackle in protest. This magnificent specimen of the rainbow trout weighed, when caught, 3
Ibs. 9 ozs. Will had hooked and lost so many in this same pool
that he had come to believe that short of a good-sized sapling
for a rod and a hawser for the line, nothing could induce them
to leave this, their favorite haunt. While I am telling all of this,
Nat has not been an idle listener, but has hooked an almost exact duplicate of my prize, one as full of fight, game to the last.
Here let me mention and comment on the fly-taking propensities of the rainbow as we found them. We confined our
fishing for the next ten days mostly to this pool, and in this
time, took from its dark waters with the fly over 500 trout, all
rainbow, that would average 2 Ibs. each. The last day's fishing
was as good as the first, with no apparent decrease in numbers
or voraciousness. There seemed to be no small fish here, and
their even size and wonderful vigor were most remarkable. Many
were the repetitions of the scene describing the capture of the
f i s t fish, and occasionally, when two of these gallant beauties
were struck at one cast, the long and exciting contest can be
better imagined than described. We lost but few fish, as they
rose to the fly with no uncertain rush, and we always saw our
game the instant of the rise, the fish invariably leaping clear of
the water. Standing squarely facing across the stream, a long
cast directly to the front would drop the flies well out, and the
hackles, dry from their course through the air, would fall soft
and light as a bit of down upon the swiftly-flowing waters, and
floating airily while the slack of the line lasted, formed the most
seductive lure. The good qualities of hackles, from the fact that
they dry quickest while casting, were here firmly impressed upon me, and since that time their use in many of the mountain
streams and lakes of the Northwest has confirmed my first impressions.
I have not since that time found another place where all the
elements were so perfectly combined as we found them on that
trip to the McCloud - no mosquitoes, no black flies. The
weather perfect and the hungriest and gamiest trout it has ever
been my experience to deal with.
We found no Dolly Varden unless a trout captured by Nat at
the foot of a fall some eighty rods above the hole could have
been one. Here at high noon the sun's rays penetrated a deep,
still pool, and here we could see some large fish almost motionless near the bottom. They would not notice our flies, but a
No. 4 hook baited with a piece of trout belly, a double gut
leader, and a .44 cal. cartridge for a sinker, had the desired effect, and Nat had the liveliest kind of a time in very cramped
quarters for 25 minutes.
This trout had the appearance of being a very old and overgrown rainbow, weighed 5% Ibs. and measured 24% in. from
tip to tip. In color one could imagine seeing where the brilliancy and beauty of the rainbow once existed, but now dulled
and gray with age. I carefully and reverently scraped the moss
from his venerable pate, fully expecting to find the initials
"B. C." thereon, but he had outgrown all reliable evidence of
his certain years.
Words are inadequate to describe the full measure of our enjoyment on this memorable trip. I have not since then visited
the McCloud, but my lines have been cast in other places where
the trout, if not so gamy, have atoned in size and numbers.
Some time, if agreeable, I will tell you of the sport to be found
in the waters of western washington, the trout in the streams
and lakes, and the salmon in the sound.
Geo. E. Miller
Seattle, Wash.
Forest and Stream, Aug. 13, 1891
Concerning the Dolly Varden
An enthusiastic fly-fisherman residing in California writes for
information regarding the Dolly Varden (Salvelinus malma). He
complains that they will not rise to the fly, though they take
bait very well, even the humble "barnyard hackle," generally
known as "wums." He is of the opinion that they need educating, and suggests the introduction of a few of our sprightly
Eastern brook trout for companions in order that a good example might teach them to appreciate the beauties of the "fluttering fly."
Many others have made inquiries about these Western trout,
and the subject has been pretty well discussed, still such matters
are always interesting to fishermen, and particularly to those
who are about going on Western trips.
I have fished in some of the waters of the far West, and, as
far as I could observe, I found three species of the salmon family, the Dolly Varden (Salvelinus malma), the black-spotted
salmon trout (Salmo mykiss), and the rainbow (Salmo rideus).
The natives call these by all sorts of names regardless of rule,
and it is impossible when they speak of "mountain trout," or
"spotted trout," o r "salmon trout," o r "brook trout," etc. to
know what they mean o r what species they refer to. The Dolly
Varden is the only true trout o r member of the Salvelinus family found on the Pacific slope, but its habits resemble the lake
trout more than the speckled trout. We could not catch them on
the fly, though I was told that they did occasionally take a
bright salmon fly. What few we caught we took by trolling with
a mottled pearl bait. It was in the month of September and they
were just spawning, so we did not make any great effort to
capture them. The largest we killed weighed 9%Ibs.
The rainbows we took were small and did not seem very anxious to make our acquaintance. These fish spawn in the spring
and were as indifferent about our flies as their brethren that
have been introduced in our own waters. The Salmo mykiss or
purpuratus (the black spotted trout) was decidedly superior to
the rainbow. They took the fly boldly, fought bravely and were
a fine fish on the table with firm pink flesh. They vary very
much in color. and the male and female are so different in anpearance that many of the resident fishermen consider them a
different variety. They are found in all the Western lakes and
rivers and furnish food and sport to thousands of anglers.
The quiet colored flies seem to be the favorites, such as the
light and dark-coachman, brown-palmer, professor, brownhen, golden-spinner and cowdung. The addition of jungle-cock
shoulders adds to their killing qualities, and the patent fluttering flies are great favorites in the West. The sizes of hooks depend on thewaters they are to be used in, the same as in the
East, but No. 8 will answer for most localities.
When first visiting the West, the Eastern angler will find difficulty in hooking these fish, for they show their salmon blood
in the manner of taking the fly, and it does not answer to strike
them quickly. All that is necessary is t o tauten the line as they
turn to go down. They are splendid fighters and jump freely,
and a 2 Ib. fish will take off line in a manner that will make the
reel buzz. They also spawn in the spring. Why these fish were
not introduced on the Atlantic coast, instead of the rainbow, is
a mystery that will never be explained.
SCARLET-IBIS, 1891
George Dawson
A woodcut of George Dawson b y T. H. Thorpe graces our
brochures and letterhead. Thorpe was a fine artist and the likeness is quite apparent b y a comparison of the features of the
accompanying portrait.
George Dawson, while a trenchant political writer, was also
fond of depicting life in the woods and on the streams. With
pleasure I renewed my acquaintance with him in later years,
when peace reigned in the land, and by invitation accompanied
him to the Adirondacks when both were familiar with the use of
the fly in luring the trout. He was born in Falkirk, Scotland, in
1813, and came with his parents to America five years later. He
had no early schooling, but learned the printers' trade before he
was thirteen, and educated himself. Then he went to Rochester
and worked for Thurlow Weed, editor of an anti-Masonic paper,
and in 1836 Dawson became editor of the Rochester Democrat.
Weed was afterward editor of the Albany Evening Journal, and
in 1846 Dawson joined him as assistant editor. Weed retired in
the stirring days of 1862, and Mr. Dawson took his place as editor and proprietor of the Journal, then as now, one of the leading papers of the State of New York; and it soon became known
that the pen of the new man was a most vigorous one. His love
of nature was a most prominent trait, and fishing was his favorite means of enjoying this love. Once, while on the way to the
Adirondacks with him, I remarked: "The woods to me is a place
to loaf." If I had read Whitman then I would have added, "and
invite my soul," but only added, "A couple of hours' fishing
morning and evening is all I want; if the fish bite good it is well;
if not, the trying for them suffices."
"My boy," he replied, "that is just exactly my own notion,
and I have a dislike for the companionship of the bustling, busy
angler, who fishes as long as he can see to do it, morn, noon and
dewy eve, in the hope o f getting the last trout in the water.
Such a man makes a labor of fishing; I go to the woods for rest
and other attractions purer, higher and more ennobling than the
mere act of taking fish."
t
same words down in a notebook. and while in
He ~ u these
camp wrote an account of the trip to the Journal and used them
in its columns in June, 1873, now before me.
Once, in writing of "how really garrulous are the silent men
of meditative mood," and relating how, when in the woods,
their faces would be illuminated by the passing thoughts while
they were really communing with distant friends, and their silence was only seeming, and musing in an abstracted way was a
rare and pleasant gift, he said: "It is not so with the chronically
absent-minded, who may be heavy-browed, but are vinegarvisaged and constitutionally morbid, and would no sooner think
of angling than of robbing the exchequer of the realm. An editor's life is neither the best nor the worst in which to cultivate
this rare gift. There are those in the profession who can so concentrate their thoughts that the pertinacious pleadings of a score
of office-seekers cannot tangle the thread of their meditations.
And sometimes even the least abstracted among us have to
throw off sentences amid such persistent din that bedlam itself
would blush at the clatter. What little of the art came to me by
nature and compulsory practice has been strengthened by the
opportunities for silent meditation afforded by the habit of
angling." Thus spoke the weary political editor, and we read between the lines his disgust with the horde of office-seekers, who,
under the ante-civil-service laws, rendered miserable the life of
every man who had "inflooence" in the smallest degree; but the
deduction which he draws - that the practice of angling conduces to deliberate thought - is one that should commend its
practice t o parents as the best of all sports for their sons. The
murdering instincts of a boy are often satisfied with the death
of a low form of animal life which cannot suffer as much pain
as mammals or birds, under any circumstances, because their
nervous organizations are lower. Shakespeare was greatly in error when he wrote. in effect. that: "The Door beetle that we
tread upon in corporal sufference finds a pang as great as when
giant dies." Suffering is entirely a matter of nerves. A worm
which can be cut in two and go on living, and perhaps grow into two worms. cannot suffer much. Pull a lobster's claw from
its body and new one grows; pull a limb from a mouse and
the animal dies.
Under date of July 3, 1878, Mr. Dawson wrote me: "No
past time is so attractive to me as angling, and when not at it I
greatly like to talk and write about it, ethically, not scientifically, for I have never been able to master an 'ology' of any kind,"
and then he goes on to ask about the details of grayling fishing.
Some time before this, I called on him and enlarged on the
pleasures of a trip to the Au Sable River, Michigan, with Mr.
Daniel H. Fitzhugh, of Bay City, and of the capture of the
gentle grayling. He listened a while and then asked:
"How large do grayling grow?"
"Those we took were fish that would weigh from threequarters to one and a half pounds, but some have been taken
that would weigh as much as two pounds."
"My boy" - he seemed to be fond of addressing me in this
way, perhaps because of the fact of the great disparity of years
when we first fished together back of Kinderhook Landing, or
because his son, George S., was my schoolmate - "you talk
enthusiastically about this new fish, which never exceeds two
pounds in weight; did you ever take a salmon?"
"No but
"Well, I have, and the grayling may be a good little fish for
those who have never hooked bigger game; but it seems rather
small to one who has taken a salmon."
This was a setback from an enthusiastic angler, and, after
pulling myself together, I ventured to suggest that his angling
literature, as far as I had read it, rather placed the weight and
number of fish in the background, and that, as the originator of
the saying that "it is not all of fishing to fish," I had thought
that the newly discovered grayling might interest him. He saw
the point at once, became interested in the fish and went to
Michigan to take them, an account of which can be found in his
"Angling Talks," published by Forest and Stream in 1883 - a
most interesting little work, full of flavor of the woods and
waters.
Mr. Dawson died February 17, 1883, after a few days' illness,
aged seventy years. His life had been such an active one, and as a
political leader he was so prominent, that his death produced a
profound sensation. The Albany Argus, politically opposed to
Mr. Dawson, said of him: "To journalism this man bore no undistinguished relation. He was -a ready, wise, dangerous writer.
He was a Greek to be feared when he came bearing presents.
* * * He was very able in stating a case for a party; he was even
abler in stating a case against a party. He was ablest in giving a
man either a fatal defense or a fatal attack. His genius ran to
combat; battle was his element. Routine tired him. Peace gave
him a sense of ennui. "
About five months before his death, he retired from his
editorial labors, although his well-knit frame and compact form
showed no more sign of weariness than did his mind. The Argus
said: "Pneumonia wrestled the life out of this Scot, they say.
Doubtless it did; 'twas pheumonia of which he died. But how
came his constitution to take it? Through cold? Why, he had
summered for years in water knee-high, or waist-high, putting
up jobs on fish. Why, he had repeatedly slept on the floor of
lumber cabins o' winter nights, his feet to a fire and his head
under an open window, in the Michigan woods. He had the con-
quering will that defied wet and blasts. Did his prolonged labors
undermine his constitution? Emphatically no! He was ever
strongest in harness. When he weit to press every day he went
to bed every night to sleep the easy-breathing, refreshing sleep
of a boy. Knocking off work unsettled his man's strength. Labor
was a tonic to him. He would have lived through sheer love of
labor had he remained a scalp-taker every day, armed with his
keen pen and keener thought. None can be blamed. He quitted
work because he said he wanted t o quit it. He thought that lessening the tension would enable him to play in the youth of old
age. And he loved to play. But work was his best play. Then he
played with thunder."
Only once did Mr. Dawson hold public office. He was postmaster of Albany from 1861 to 1867, at a time when his pen
was most actively engaged in the patriotic work of upholding
the integrity of the Union. But he did not stop at writing editorials and equipping his eldest son for the army. He publicly announced that he would pay to the families of any six printers
who would volunteer, $4 per week during the time they remained in the United States' service, and he did it. One of the six,
Charles Van Allen, of Bethlehem, Albany County, went out
with my regiment in August 1862, and died in Andersonville
prison September 18, 1864. His wife received the pay for nearly
a year after he died, or for the full term of his enlistment, some
$624, all to one family.
George Dawson was a member of the Baptist Church, a Sunday School teacher and lay preacher. A noble man and a most
charming one to be in camp with. Entirely without ostentation,
his acts of charity were known to but few, and if within his
power, his pencil would be drawn through most of these lines,
written by one who is proud to have known him and to have
called him friend.
from Men I Have Fished With
by Fred Mather
1897
Editor Forest and Stream:
In reply to your inquiry regarding the winter habitat of the
tarpon, I can only say that I cannot furnish information of a reliable character. It is a warm-water fish, and when the in-shore
water becomes chilled it is probable that it seeks off-shore water
or the edge of the Gulf Stream, to return when the water in the
streams and lagoons is heated by the sun of lengthening days.
Much has yet to be learned regarding the winter home of the
tarpon and its spawning grounds. ~ t - a nearly day I expect to
make a marooning trip around the peninsula to the Bay of Biscayne, and shall endeavor to co!lect information regarding the
home of the tarpon during December, January and February.
By the bye, my friend, Senator Quay, should be credited
with the capture of the first tarpon with rod and reel in Charlotte Harbor. On his return to Jacksonville he exhibited the head
of the fish and was so elated by the capture that he presented
me with the rod, reel and line used on the 0ccasion;and I have
treasured them as a momento of the first capture of a silver king
by the use of a rod and reel.
Grouper fishing is exciting sport and seldom engaged in by
visitors to Florida. At almost any point along the Gulf Coast,
where the water is from two to-six fathoms-in depth with a
rocky bottom, this excellent fish can be captured in great numbers. Off the Anclote Keys and on the easterly side of Egmont
Key this exciting sport can be enjoyed.
A notable fishing resort has, to a great extent, been overlooked. I refer to Lake North, south of Jupiter Inlet, on the
eastern coast of Florida. During the winter months bluefish
from 2 to 7 Ibs. are found in the lake in countless numbers.
They will eagerly appropriate a squid or other movable bait.
Fly-fishing can be enjoyed in the capture of cavalli and sea
trout. If the sea is calm (which is usually the case) fishermen can
pass out of the inlet of Lake North, and capture sea fish on the
reefs off, but near, the shore.
Anglers visiting Florida should carry with them a 10 to 12
oz. fly-rod, 12 ft. long, with a supply of large flies. If they intend engaging in the capture of ravallia the hooks should be
snooded on fine steel wire, or else flies and fish will be lost, and
language unworthy of a fisherman indulged in. As a rule, the
hooks upon which flies are mounted are too light for Florida
fishing. The best flies that I have found are the small spoon-fly
bails made by Hall & Co., of Grand Rapids, Mich. The feather
portion is large and gaudy, the spoons small, and the hooks of
large size and of extra quality. The smallest baits, No. 112, 1,
1-112 and 2 are best adapted to fly-fishing in Florida. In using
the artificial fly in salt-water fishing in Florida, it should be allowed to sink a short distance beneath the surface before an
effort is made to bring it home. I would advise intending flyfishermen to use a heavy fly-rod, a large reel and at least from
50 to 100 yds. of line. I prefer a 12 oz. split-bamboo rod 1 2 ft.
long, the finest Cutthunk line and an Abbey & Imbrie quadruple
multiplying reel. Such an outfit is necessary to capture cavalli
and ravallia ranging from 10 to 20 Ibs., and channel bass weighing from 5 to 30 lbs.
Al Fresco
Forest and Stream, Jan. 16, 1890
The Angler in Nicaragua
The student of Natural History will fmd a rare field for exercise in the wonderful flora and fauna, while t o the sportsman,
the country is a veritable paradise. In a previous letter, I spoke
of the various kinds of game t o be found in the forest on the
Atlantic slope. To those may be added deer, which are abundant on the Pacific slope, particularly in the vicinity of Rivas.
But it is the angler who will find greatest cause to rejoice. To
say nothing of the barracuda, snapper, and other fine sea fish t o
be had of Greytown, let me confine myself to the fish of the
lake and the San Juan. The most highly-esteemed fish is the juapoti (pronounced wah-po-ti), which somewhat resembles the
black bass in appearance, but is much more savory. The saballetta, a silvery fish, shaped like the striped bass, is a gamy fellow, who when hooked will leap o u t of the water and endeavor
often with success, t o shake t h e hook o u t of his mouth. He is,
however, rather bony and not highly thought of as a food fish.
But the great game fish of the fresh water is the savaloreal, o r
tarpon, which fairly swarms in the river and lake. Wherever
there is a shoal place in the river they are to be seen breaking in
hundreds. and at the Toro Rapids, above Castillo, they are so
numerous that they frequently jump into the boats ascending
o r descending. When ex-United States Minister Hall, who is the
agent of the canal company at Managua, was descending the
river t o meet Senator Miller, five large tarpon jumped into the
little steamer which carried him down the Toro Rapids. Lake
Nicaragua is, so far as I know, the only body of fresh water in
the world that can boast of the shark. It is full of genuine maneaters, similar in appearance t o those of the ocean, and quite
as savage. It is said that at least 25 persons annually fall victims
in the lake to these monsters. Of course, they also travel up and
down the river. A large alligator o r crocodile - - I should say the
latter from the shape of his snout - - also inhabits the river. At
the Toro Rapids we saw a huge one swimming. His head alone
was about 5 ft. long. These "gators" have a queer way of fishing. They select a shoal place in the rapids and lie head t o the
current, with mouths wide open. They have been a good deal
shot at since work was begun on the canal, and consequently,
are now extremely shy of man. The natives, however, do not
seem to have ever dreaded them half as much as the sharks.
W. E. S. in The Sun, 1891
Wyoming Territory, Nov. 25, 1876 - Perhaps some would
like to know something of fishing out in the far west, where the
foot of white man has scarcely ever trod; if so I will tell of some
I enjoyed while after the wily Sioux last summer; yet it was
fishing under difficulties in some respects; as one was obliged to
take carbine and pistols, and often an escort, for we were in the
famous hunting grounds of the Indians, called by them the
Hunter's Paradise. During the past summer I was with the Big
Horn and Yellowstone Expedition, under the command of General Crook, U.S.A., which left Fort Fetterman, Wyoming, the
outskirt of civilization, the last of May. The country past over
between that point and Tongue River was very uninteresting,
rolling prairie covered with sage brush and grease wood timber
very scarce except along the creek bottoms,where cottonwood,
aspen and willows are often abundant. Very little game of any
kind was seen during the march, except jack rabbits, antelopes
and a few old buffalo bulls. During part of June and July we
were in camp on Goose Creek, a tributary of Tongue River, rising in the Big Horn Mountains; a clear cold mountain stream;
quite a luxury after having used the water of the Cheyenne and
Powder Rivers. The trout fishing in Goose Creek was splendid.
Do not think I exaggerate when I say that from 10,000 to 15,000
were taken while the command was in camp. Hundreds were
brought in every day; took a hundred myself in a few hours.
The creek debouches from the mountains in a perfect Niapara,
cascade upon cascade. 'Tis wonderful how the-finny den&ons
get up them, yet they do after their own way without fishways
or ladders. The trout taken were small, brook trout weighing
from a quarter to three quarters of a pound - a few turning the
scales at three pounds. Many of your readers would be amused
at seeing the outfit of the fishermen; willow poles cut from the
bank, hook of any size, often a bent pin, a coarse line about ten
feet long. Yet with this tackle, trout were taken without number. Grasshoppers which were very abundant furnished the bait.
I and a few others used artificial flies and were as successful as
those who used bait.
August 2 the command moved to the headwaters of the
Tongue River, where the fishing was magnificent. Just after getting to camp, I started for a fish taking two mounted men with
me, crossed over at the river at camp. The river here was not
over sixty or seventy feet wide, very cold and clear as crystal,
two feet deep, bottom rocky and sandy. By this time, many of
our Indian scouts were fishing. They ride into the water on their
ponies and fish without dismounting, going to the bank in order
to land the fish. I was much amused at their manner of taking
and preparing fish. Soon after crossing I dismounted, cut a pole
and prepared my tackle, very much to the amusement of several
of our Indian scouts who were intently watching. When my fly
book was produced and they saw the fly - the last one to m i regret - they were very curious to examine it, not comprehending
what was to be done with it. When they saw me put it on the
line and prepare to make a cast, one of them offered me a grasshopper for bait which was declined. He looked at the fly - one
of Read & Son's gray professors - shook his head saying in his
guttural voice, "No good, no good -" but no sooner had I made
a cast into a deep pool near by than a fine trout made a dart for
the fly and took a good bite, almost pulling the rod, or pole I
should say from my hands. After playing him a short time he
was landed, much to the surprise and delight of my Indian
spectators. After taking my fish from the hook, they again examined the fly, saying "Heap good, heap good!" Made another
cast and soon landed a f i e one, which was continued until I
had six fine trout, weighing more than two pounds each. Finding no more in this pool, moved down the river a few rods to
another where I made a cast. No sooner had the fly touched the
water, than it was taken, but in attempting to land him too
soon, the snood broke and away went fish and worst of all, taking my last fly with him. Calling to one of the men who was
holding the horses nearby, to catch some grasshoppers, proceeded to put on a new hook, baited with the hopper and commenced fishing again. They bit splendidly and never had better sport,
for as fast as I could throw in I pulled them out, and without
moving more than a yard o r two, took fifty-one as f i e fish as
you ever saw weighing from one to two and a half pounds each.
As we had as many as we could well carry, returned to camp
and soon had some of them in the frying pan. So ended my f i s t
fishing in Tongue River, S. Wyo.
Rod & G u n , Vol. 9, ,Yo. 10
Dec. 9,1876 - p. 146
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Page 32
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1901 - 1972
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1903 - 1976
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AMERICA'S FIRST POLLUTERS
-
The lumber mills that dotted the landscape by the
thousands during the nation's coming of age, choked
the spawning beds and killed t h e trout.
Editor Forest and Stream:
As the season will soon be
quiring where to go and shall we
find trout, o r shall we find t h e
streams where trout used to abound
now depleted of fish and the waters filled with
sawdust?
The reply, although hard t o give them, yet from general as
that one could get goo
great many large wide s
caught a string of trout large enough t o satisfy t h e longings of
any true fisherman; b u t what is the fishing today? With b u t a
few exceptions those now caught are small fish. These trout
when small are found at t h e head of t h e small streams, which
are the headwaters of the larger streams, and which as they grow
in size naturally seek larger and deeper waters, and as they work
down toward t h e deeper holes in t h e large streams what d o they
find? Generally a sawmill emptying large quantities of sawdust
which flows down stream, filing t h e water and depositing itself
along the banks as it goes, until the shores along the entire
length of the stream are covered with it.
One stream I had brought to m y notice last summer; o n a
trouting trip to Ossipee I had planned t o fish Lovell's River and
its branches, there being about six miles of good water for trout,
but there was so much sawdust floating down from t h e sawmill
at the head of the river that fishing with any prospect of success
was out of the question. F o r several miles you could see t h e
sawdust floating down as well as piled u p o n the banks, in some
places from a foot t o three feet deep, so that when wading t h e
river you did not know whether you would sink down a foot
under the surface o r go over your waders. In Gulf and Colby
brooks, which run into t h e head of Lovell's River, b y going u p
stream far enough so as to be above the sawmills, plenty of
small trout were found and no sawdust.
In the Saco River, from Crawford Notch to Conway, there
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used t o be good fishing, also in Swift River, a branch of the
Saco, and which joins it at C o n w a y Corner; this is a stream
which has from ten to fifteen miles of wide, deep water, with
plenty of large pools, o u t of which trout used t o b e taken, but
now t h e same fishermen who have followed this stream for
years are satisfied if they catch a few fair-sized fish.
Is there no way b y which t h e sawmills can b e stopped from
emptying their sawdust into these streams?
Osborne
February 5, 1891
STAFFORDSHIRE
"If the breathless chase, o'er hill and dale,
Exceed your strength, a sport of less fatigue,
Not less delightful, the prolific stream
Affords. The crystal rivulet, that o'er
A stony channel rolls its rapid maze,
Swarms with the silver fry. Such, through the bounds
Of pastoral Stafford, runs the brawling Trent;
Such, Eden, sprung from Cambrian mountains; such,
The Esk, o'erhung with woods."
Armstrong
I will give thee for thy food
No fish that riseth in the mud.
But trout and pike that love to swim
Where the gravel from the brim
Through the pure streams may be seen;
Orient pearl fit for a Queen,
Will I give thy love to win
And a shell to keep them in;
Not a fish in a l l my brook
That shall disobey thy look,
Butr when thou wilt, come sliding by,
And from thy white hand take a fly
The Faithful Sheperdess
Beaumont & Fletcher, 1611
Fishing, if I, a fisher may protest
Of pleasures, is the sweetest,
Of sports the best
Of exercises the most excellent;
Of recreations the most innocent.
But now the sport is marde, and wotte ye why
Fishes decrease and fishers multiply.
Thomas Bastard, 1598