IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) V ^ A /> /. '<^ %> *^'". .-y^' / y /A V ^v <>^ cF :\ \ <^%\ ^--% ^ '^Z^> CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHM/ICMH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical IVIicroreproductions Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques 1980 Technical Notes / Notes techniques The Institute has attempted to obtain the best original copy available for filming. Physical features of this copy which may alter any of the images in the reproduction are checked below. D D Coloured covers/ Couvertures de couleur Coloured maps/ Cartes giographiques en couleur Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/ Pages d6colordes, tachetdes ou piqu6es Tight binding (may cause shadows or distortion along interior margin)/ Reliure serrd (peut causer de I'ombre ou de la distortion le long de la marge int^rieure) L'Institut a microfilm^ le meilleur exemplaire qu'il lui a 6td possible de se procurer. 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Les images suivantes ont 6t6 reproduites avec le plus grand soin, compte tenu de la condition et de la nettet6 de I'exemplaire filmd, et en conformity avec les conditions du contrat de filmage. The last recorded frame on each microfiche shall contain the symbol —► (meaning CONTINUED"), or the symbol y (meaning "END"), whichever applies. Un des symboles suivants apparaftra sur la der- nidre image de cheque microfiche, selon le cas: le symbols -h^ signifie "A SUIVRE", le symbole V signifie "FIN". The original copy was borrowed from, and filmed with, the kind consent of the following institution: National Library of Canada L'exemplaire filmd fut reproduit grdce d la g6n6rosit6 de l'6tablissement prdteur suivant : Biblioth^que nationale du Canada Maps or plates too large to be entirely included in one exposure are filmed beginning in the upper Inft hand corner, left to right and top to bottom, as many frames as required. The following diagrams illustrate the method: Les cartes ou les planches trop grandes pour dtre reproduites en un seul clich6 sont film6es d partir de Tangle sup6rieure gauche, de gauche d droite et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images n6cessaire. Le diagramme suivant illustre la mdthode : 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 o A M P I N G IN THE MUSKOKA REGION. l)N NORTH RIVKk. / CAMPING IN THE MUSKOKA REGION BY JAMES Dickson, p.l.s. Under the greenwood tree, Who loves to lie with me, And turn his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat. Come hither, come hither, come hither: Here shall he see No enemy, But winter and rough weather. As You Like It, Act II. Scene V. TORONTO ; C. BLACKETT ROBINSON, i88(i. t t CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. TAliE. Introductory 9 CHAPTER II. Preparing for a Start 17 CHAPTER III. Lake of Bays 21 CHAPTER IV., We Start Out 27 CHAPTER V. First Night in Camf 33 CHAPTER VI. A Canoe Voyage 41 CHAPTER VTT, Caught in a Thunderstorm 51 CHAPTER VIII. Nature — Animate and Inanimate go- '^1 I ! ' I r ,^" ^ ."8 Contents. CHAPTER IX. PAOB. A Wet Day in Camp 73 CHAPTER X. Hunting— Successful and Unsuccessful 82 CHAPTER XI. Canoe Lake and Naturalist Notes 91 CHAPTER XII. About Trappers and Beavers .. .. .. 103 CHAPTER XIII. In dents by Flood and Field .. .. 113 CHAPTER XIV. We Continue our Explorations 124 CHAPTER XV. More Exploration and a Good Shot .... .. .. 136 CHAPTER XVI. The Source of the Madawaska— In a Gale .. •• .. 145 CHAPTER XVII. We Finish our Exploration and our Holiday 155 CHAPTER I. INTRODUCTORY. N these days of steamboats, railroads, tourists and newspaper correspondents, one would think that there ougiit to be few spots now in this Ontario of ours a terra incognita; few spots which either the pen of the traveller has not described or the pencil of the artist illustrated and brouf,dit vividly before the mind's eye of those who have not had the opportunity of seeing for themselves. Still there are many grand scenes of lake and river, of mountain and valley, of wimpling burn and brawling brook, of lovely forest glade and fern-fringed dell, that have neither been described nor illustrated. The pen and pencil of a Butler have vividly depicted the Great Lone Land and the Wild North Land. The pen and pencil of a Grant, a Cheadle, a Milton and a Pellesier have embellished and brought to every fireside the snow-capped summits of the Rocky Mountains, the dark canons and lonely valleys of the Fraser and the Thompson Rivers. The newspaper correspon- dent and the artist have followed in the train of a Governor- General across that large extent of country, our great North-West, and painted in glowing colours its fertile plains and majestic rivers, and prophesied the great future in store for it. Other writers and artists have accompanied another '1 1\ li zo Camp Life in Northern Ontario. i i M li It I n Mi tl-l ' ' I it; Viceroy across the continent, and published the grandeur of the Pacific slope. Gentlemen of the same ilk have followed the railroad engineers up the valley of the mighty Ottawa, wound with them around the base ot the towering Laurentian Hills, which lie north of Lakes Huron and Superior, across the great prairie belt, down through the dark canons and gulches of the Rocky Mountains to the shore of the Pacific Ocean, and have in glowing language described the varied beauties of that great extent of country. I have, myself, stood on the shore of the Red River of the north when it lay deep down between its snow-capped banks, calm and solitary, held in the icy clasp of winter, and looking like a huge rent in the far-reaching prairie, its banks dotted at intervals with the thatched and comfortable dwelling of the Indian half-breed, interspersed with clumps of willow, alder, and maple and a few grand old elms. I have stood upon the fertile bank of the same stream when it was a huge, rushing, turbid yellow torrent, completely filling its channel up to the level of the flower-bedecked prairie. I have stood upon the high bank of the Assiniboine, looked across its broad, fertile valley, and traced the windings of the stream as it meandered from side to side of the valley on its way east to join the Red River; looked across to the opposite side and viewed with swelling bosom the glorious old flag of England waving proudly in all the beauty of an April sunset above the stockade of Fort EUice. I have stood upon the high bank of the Qu'Appelle valley and watched the same flag floating proudly in the breeze above another of the Honoui^jle Hudson's Bay Company's forts, and after crossing the vale and stream, and ascending the opposite bank to the level prairie above, have looked back on a dii-'zly April morning across that vale of beauty, and it til Introductory. II required no great stretch of the imagination to picture what it must be when bedecked in its gorgeous summer dress. I have passed through the poplar groves, the flower-bedecked glades, and wound round the shores of the lovely lakelets of the Touchwood Hills. I have crossed the great salt plain, struggled through its quagmires and waded its saline creeks, and stood upon the bank of the South Saskatchew:.n and gazed upon that mighty river tracing its serpentine course away in the broad valley, at least three hundred feet below the level of the prairie, from south-west to north-east, and noted the thin columns of blue smoke at my feet and in the distance which marked the home of the French half-breed, with the sides of the trail here and there dotted, singly and in groups, with the tepees of the Cree, Sioux and Stoney. I stood upon the shore of the same stream and gazed upon the spot where, on that cold November morning, Lieutenant Butler drove the rifle bullet into poor Blackie's brain to put an end to his suffering, when he found it was beyond his power to save the life of the faithful brute which had so gamely borne him over so many miles on his western journey. It seemed as if the whole scene was being enacted over agai^. before my sight. The swarthy half-breed, in blanket capote, a few paces in advance, holding the halter of the cautiously- treading animal; his master a few paces in rear, gently urging him forward ; the sudden giving way of the ice, and plunges of the hardy little beast in his vain endeavour to stem the seething current ; the master, at the risk of his life, throwing himself down upon the ice and wriggling to the edge of the dark chasm and seizing the halter, in the vain hope of being able to haul him out ; his rushing up the bank when he finds all hope of rescue must be abandoned ; the little puff" of white smoke, followed by the sharp, whip-like crack of the rifle, and 12 Camp Life in Northern Ontario. ii !M lih: Ml' r ! I I I down goes the noble head. As I looked upon the shaggy little animal against whose shoulder I leaned while gazing upon the rushing river, my mind's eye reviewing the little tragedy of that cold and now distant morning, and thought of the many miles over hill and dale, ploughing through snow-drifts, and wading- over miles of water-covered prairie ; through rushing creeks of half-melted snow, where both horse and rider were all but submerged ; trotting along, threading his way amongst the countless badger-holes, galloping across the level, treeless plain, or toiling through the alkali quag- mires, through all which he had so gamely borne me ; and then, when the bridle and saddle were removed at the close of the hard day's work, hobbling off, with shackled feet, to pick up his scanty supper of brown, withered grass, while his master, after partaking of his pork and biscuit, his dish of warm tea and evening pipe, wrapped in blanket and furs, lies down to sleep away the few intervening hours which should usher in another day's toil, lulled to sleep by the whistling of the wind around his canvas covering, — I felt that I could appreciate the feelings of the brave soldier who rushed into his tent, sat down, and shed tears over the death of a little horse. I have stood upon the high bank of the North Saskatche- wan and gazed upon the majestic stream as it lay like a huge serpent far in the valley beneath, winding its way north- easterly to join with the south branch at the Forks, an apparently illimitable forest of spruce and poplar spreading far as the eye could reach away northwards; the south shore, with its fringe of timber, backed by the miles of prairie which I had crossed. The mind's eye seemed to review the past and depict the future of that great country. The past history of those vast plams seemed to pass, like a panorama, before (II Introductory. 13 one : the countless herds of bison feeding peacefully on the luscious grasses ; the sudden rush of the frightened animals as the feathered and painted hunters dashed in amongst them on their panting and foam-covered mustangs, followed by the prowling coyote, dealing havoc and death right and left. The peaceful Indian village ; the joyous shout of sporting child- hood ; the busy house — or, rather, tent — wife ; the listless, lazy hunters and warriors, lolling and smoking away the long summer day ; the sharp, wild shriek of terror, and death-yell of the dying, as the peaceful village is suddenly awakened at the dark midnight hour or gray dawn by the war-cry of the enemy; the whistling arrow and tomahawk of the bloodthirsty foe ; the battle in the open prairie in broad daylight, when brave manfully meets brave, when it is man to man, knife to knife, tomahawk to tomahawk; where, hand to hand and foot to foot, they strive for the coveted trophy of their prowess — the bloody scalp ; the wails of despair as the vanquished return to their village, bearing their dead and wounded, with the sad tale of the loss of husbands and fathers, of lovers and brothers ; the shouts of the victors returning to their village, waving aloft the bloody proofs of victory, and leading forward the hapless captives, who only too well know their fate to be the torture and the stake. But a change is gradually stealing over the spirit of the dream : the self-sacrificing missionary begins to penetrate those distant wilds ; many fall victims to the relentless savages ; but no sooner is their fate known than the gap is filled by others, who, undeterred by the fate of their predecessors, willingly leave kindred, home, and friends — and all, many would think, that makes life worth living — to lay down their lives in the cause of the Great Master; and again, as in olden *times, the blood of the martyrs has become the seed of the m' • ;■ I H Camp Life in Northern Ontario. 1 1 1 "I li'l Mm i'l! \ V f '. 1 Church. The Bread of Life has been cast upon the troubled waters of a bloodthirsty humanity ; and, though in small and almost imperceptible quantities, it is being gathered after many days. First the presence of the Black Robe is tolerated amongst them ; then, by the example of their blame- less lives, a few are turned from their idols, and gradually, and almost unknown to themselves, they become a power in the respective tribes. A midnight attack is made upon a village where a priest happens for the time to be sojourning, terror and despair seize the whole camp, but the holy father assumes command and is implicitly obeyed ; he shouts to the warriors, in their own tongue, to seize their arms and defend their homes, their wives, and little ones; they rally at his call ; the enemy is driven off with loss ; the foe cannot under- stand how they were defeated, for the surprise had been complete. At last the intelligence reaches them the Black Robe was in the village ; the cause of their overthrow is now explained : how could they succeed against an enemy when he was in their midst ? But soon other palefaces, actuated by greed of gain and lust of power, begin to penetrate amongst the nbes. Humanity and justice are to them a sealed book. The good priests feel they have now a more subtile, a more cunning, and a more devilish enemy to deal with than the bloodthirsty aborigines themselves — an enemy who know no scruples of conscience ; an enemy who worm their way insidiously into the confidence of those children of the wilds in order to work their ruin to their own advantage ; and the carts of illicit traders may be seen wending their way from tribe to tribe laden with worthless gew-gaws and fire-water, setting up their trading posts and luring on their victims to certain destruc- tion. A craving for rum, which seems insatiable, seizes the* Introductory . 15 red men : they freely imbibe all the evil propensities, and are taught none of the virtues, of the whites, and all their evil passions riot in excess. While under control of the Honour- able Hudson's Bay Company none of these were allowed amongst them ; and if the Company did not Christianize, neither did they debauch, and a fair value was given the red man for his labours in the chase. But all is now changed : the buffalo, which furnished both food and clothing, has become almost extinct. The giving up of their nomadic life, and the adoption of the vices only of civilized humanity, are steadily and surely decimating the number of the Indians, and in this, as in all other parts of the continent, the introduction of the white has been the sure forerunner of the destruction of the red man. And it requires not the eye of a seer to see in the near future those vast plains covered with cities, towns, and villages, and a teeming population ; when those wide, rolling rivers will be covered with a fleet of steamboats, freighted with the products of the loom, the anvil, and the soil, and the smoke of the locomotive hovering over the plains in every direction, while the native red man will have become almost extinct. But while the descriptive powers of so many pens and pencils have been employed in describing the magnificence of that vast country, there are scenes of equal, if not greater, beauty almost at our doors, where, although the extent of country is not so vast, nor the streams so majestic, there are many fairy nooks, lakes and islands, rolling rivers, tumbling brooks and wimpling burns, of pine-clad hills and lovely forest dells, which would task the powers of the most gifted pen to describe or pencil to illustrate. There, in the North- West, the rivers, though large, are all yellow and muddy with the washings of the soil through which they wind their VT' n I III ' y II' I! 'ii; III )|S]; m 1^ I "'I lljil t '■ ■ J I'M « linii i!ll' i6 Camp Life in Northern Ontario. devious course, and it is only the most burning thirst which can tempt the weary traveller to partake of their waters; here they are clear as crystal, and so cool and refreshing that the very sight of the water tempts one to taste the tempting draught. There it is only the coarser varieties of the finny tribe that are to be met with, except in the great lakes; here almost every little creek can provide the hungry with a rich repast of brook trout, while every lakelet is teeming with the luscious speckled lake and salmon trout, which can be caught in abundance either by angling or by the night-line at all seasons of the year. There, except the wild goose and ducks of the lakelets and marshes and the prairie chickens, the only game now to be m.et with is the hare, the jackass rabbit and sneaking coyote; here the lakes and rivers abound with the beaver, mink, and otter — the woods with the marten, fisher, and fox, the gigantic and noble moose and graceful red deer, the gray wolf, black bear and lynx. Come with me and we will spend a summer holi- day in this sylvan retreat, where, though we can reach it in a few hours' travel, we will be completely cut off i om the busy haunts of men. The glorious tipie of youth, lads, When all the trees are green — Every goose a swan, lads, And every lass a queen ; Then hey for rod and gun, lads. And to the woods away, For youth must have its fling, lads. And every dog its day. CHAPTER II. PREPARING FOR A START. HE lakes of the Lower Muskoka — Muskoka Lake, Lakes Joseph and Rosseau — have been explored in every nook and corner; their every bay and inlet, solitary rock, and pine-clad islet have been graphically described, and the best spots to secure the denizens of their depths ; the islets where the basket can be most quickly filled with the luscious huckle- berry, the raspberry, and strawberry have been pointed out to the sportsman and berry -picker. Lakes Mary, Fairy, Vernon and Peninsula, and the winding river between, have also afforded material for pen and pencil. One or two of the more venturesome newspaper correspondents have hazarded a few lines on the beauties of Lake of Bays and Hollow Lake ; but it is the purpose of the present writer to visit the hitherto unknown wilds of the Upper Muskoka, and endeavour to lay before his readers some of the beauties of lake and river, of mountain and valley, which, though almost at our doors, are still so far away and so little known. We leave the steamer at the thriving village of Brace- bridge, to retrace her route with her deck-load of pleasure- seekers down the winding river to Muskoka Lake, across to Port Carling, through the locks and up the short stream into rrT |i!" Ml |l| , ill til .i lii li; ,11 •i-il z8 Camp Life in Northern Ontario. Lake Rosseau, thread her mazy course among the scrub c k,. pine and fern-clad islets to her nightly quarters at the village of Rosseau. We secure the frugal supply of provisions neces- sary for our sojourn in the wilds, and, engaging a team of horses, wend our way eastward through a newly-settled dis- trict; past the trough-covered shanty, the more substantial hewn log-house with shingled roof, and occasional frame dwelling of the hardy settler. Past little churches and unpre- tentious school-houses, each with its quota of strong, hardy, and in many cases barefooted, boys and girls, presided over by the neatly-dressed and courteous lady teacher. The scenes recall our own early youth, and we seem to live our school- days over again, and, as we look into the fearless, honest faces of the Children, we feel with the poet that There's something in an honest boy, A brave, free-hearted, generous one, With his unchecked, unbidden joy. His dread of books, his love of fun — And in his clear and sunny smile. Unshaded by a thought of guile. And unrepressed by sadness — That brings me to my childhood back. As if I trod its very track, And felt its very gladness. We pass through groves of stately sugar maples, of birch, beech, and basswood ; through stretches of woods where the fire-fiend has left his trade-mark on giant pine and hemlock, and destroyed many thousands of dollars' worth of valuable timber ; through sections depleted of their timber by the axe of the lumberman; past groves of stately balsam; through tamarack, spruce, and cedar swamps; through clearings of waving grain and new mown hay. Herds of kine are quietly feeding on the luxuriant grass which has sprung up along \ W Preparing for a Start. 19 the old lumber roads, and the tinkle-tinkle of the cow-bell i ', heard on every side. We pass over stretches of hard clay and soft, sandy road; up stony hills, where the horses have to strain every nerve to haul their load to the top ; down others where it is equally difficult, even with the assistance of a br ake on the wheel, to restrain the impetus of the vehicle ; over Corduroys in the swamps and morasses; up an inclined plane 'hrough the Devil's Gap; over strongly-built bridges spanning the otherwise impassable gullies, with their ever- present grass and alder-fringed creek beneath. Now the timid gray i abbit is bounding along the road before us ; again, a mother -partridge is hurrying her down -covered chicks to cover. High over head the gray hen-hawk is basking in the sunshine, giving forth its shrill whistle at short intervals; while the coo of the wood-pigeon, the cher- irr of the squirrel, and cluck-cluck of the striped chipmunk are heard in the neighbouring covert; while from yonder beetling crag an antlered buck may be seen gazing down upon our lumbering waggon with its gay and chattering load.. After some sixteen miles of jolting over the rough road, with occasional short walks up the hills to ease the panting horses, a sudden bend is made to the right, and we enter the busy little village of Baysville, on the north bank of the south branch of the Muskoka River. The village is some two miles below the foot of Lake of Bays, or, as some call it. Trading Lake, and is the end of steamboat navigation in this quarter. Here there is a fine water-power spanned by a sub- stantially-built bridge, dam, and timber-slide; on the north side is a saw-mill, and on the south a grist or flour mill, both doing a thriving trade. Out on one of the piers a disciple of Izaak Walton is hauling the speckled beauties out of the seething waters, as they boil and bubble, rush and tumble^ li!; ii;;' [li: i! ! I' ! I ilii I [ iiii 20 Camp Life in Northern Ontario. over the dark granite rocks. Here we pause for the night in one of the comfortable hotels, presided over by a courteous landlord and attentive landlady, and sup at a board loaded with dainties which would tempt the most fastidious epicure, and retire for the night to a comfortable room, and a bed which would woo the drowsy god even if we had not the aching joints occasioned by our long and rough ride. This is the last night we shall pass between wooden walls and under shingled roof-tree for, it may be, several weeks. To- morrow night, and for many succeeding, we shall sleep be- neath our cotton tent ; our bed, the boughs of the fragrant balsam, and, instead of snow-white sheets and feather pil- lows, we will lie between the folds of our strong gray blankets, with — shall we mention it? — our boots and fo'ded coat for a pillow. To-night we may indulge in brown stout. Bass's ale, and various other strong drinks, fragrant Havana, tea, with both cream and sugar, tarts, pies, jellies, and puddings, with fresh eggs and luscious butter just from the churn. To-mor- row our only drink will be tea — in a tin pannikin, with neither cream nor sugar, — or the pure, crystal water of the river, for no intoxicants of any kind are to be found in our commis- sariat. Biscuits, or as they are familiarly called, hard tack, with pork, beans, and dried apples, and perhaps a bottle of pickles or box of sardines for the first meal or two, shall compose our food, while to smoke aught but a briar-root or clay pipe is a forbidden luxury in our camp. Here we must complete our supplies. Our birchen canoes are to be purchased, a few forgotten articles, such as an extra tin dish, a box of matches, a little baking soda, and an extra plug or two of Myrtle Navy must likewise be added our store, also a few bottles of pain-killer, a bottle of castor oil and a box or two of pills, and a few cakes of Castile soap. CHAPTER III. LAKE OF BAYS. jARLY in the morning the shrill whistle of the little steamer awakes us from our dreams, and in a few minutes we are up and dressed. It is a glorious morning. The rays of the rising sun are shining on the dark green woods to the west, while the red face of old Sol himself is just beginning to show above an eastern hill. A thin mist only partially conceals the rushing river. The sharp buzz of the saw is already to be heard converting the huge pine log into lumber. The disciple of Walton is again at his post with rod and fly, bent on securing his breakfast of shiny beauties hidden beneath the surface of the bubbling waters. The whistling of birds is commingled with the joyous song of the trim milk-maid, as she seats herself by the side of old Hawkie to extract the rich white milk from the distended udder. Gay Chanticleer is strutting around, leading the feathered beauties of his harem with their young brood in search of the proverbial early worm — alas ! for the poor early worm ; while a stray lady porker with her squalling brood is trudging round — a wooden yoke, as a voucher for her character, on her neck — on the lookout for the easiest way into kitchen garden or potato patch. 1 1 11: 'i^l ill I I I ^I!| \m\ 22 Camp Life in Northern Ontario. Soon we have partaken of a hasty but substantial break- fast, bountifully spread on the snow-white tablecloth. Our bill is paid, and we wend our way to the dock where lies the little steamer puffiing and blowing, and straining at her fastenings, for though still tied to the wharf her screw is slowly churning up the limpid waters, the engine having been set in motion for the purpose of proving whether the machinery is in proper working order. We are greeted with a kindly grasp of the hand by the jolly captain, who is perambulating the dock enjoying his morning pipe. The hands are busily engaged in taking in her cargo ; our few traps are soon on board, and the canoes laid on the big punt invariably towed behind, the vessel being too small to admit of the necessary boats being carried on deck ; a toot-toot from the whistle, the captain grasps the spokes of the wheel, he gives a sharp pull to an adjacent wire, there is a loud tinkle- tinkle of a bell in the engine-room, a quick, trembling motion and low rumbling noise, the dock with its half-dozen villagers, who have come down to see us off, is quickly left behind, and the plucky little vessel is stemming the placid waters at a speed of not less than eight miles an hour. Gracefully and swiftly she makes her way round the sharp bends of the river, past comfortable and thrifty homesteads, when gradually Lake of Bays opens to the view. The field- glass is unslung from the shoulder, the focus adjusted, and seated in front of the wheel-house, we gaze upon the varied beauties of the Lake. Immediately in front the lake is dotted here and there with high rocky pine-clad islands ; every rock, tree, and limb is faithfully mirrored in the surrounding water, — the shadow almost as distinct as the substance. There, on the one hand, are three or four loons, the great northern diver, with their beautiful plumage, each one, like the islands, seem- Lake of Bays. 23 ing double ; on the otlier side the canoe of a settler is swiftly approaching, a hat is waved, an answering scream from the whistle, a tinkle of the engine-room bell, the rumbhng of the machinery and churning of the screw ceases, and we are at a standstill. The canoe sw'ftly approaches, delivers its message, and we are again away on our course. A little further on, and wheeling to the shore, we tie up at a primitive wharf composed of a rough wooden pier with three or four logs extending from it to the shore and covered with a few loose planks. Piled on the bank are several cords of dry wood, a portion of which is speedily transferred to our hold, and the little vessel is again ploughing her way through the calm waters of the lake. The most of the south shore, as far as can be seen to the east, has been redeemed from the primeval forest, and where only a few years ago was an unbroken wilderness there are now thriving and well-stocked farms, with good dwellings and capacious barns. Right in front is a long, low, rocky point, the lake extending on its right some ten or twelve miles east to the village of Colebridge at Cedar Narrows, famous for its trout, venison, and steaks of bear meat. Should the traveller wish to visit Hollow Lake, that is his route ; but as we are bent for the head waters of the branch of the Muskoka River which extends further to the east, we steer to the north of the point, and' a sheet of water larger than what we have yet seen opens to our sight. The western shore is high and bluffy, the timber chiefly hardwood, while at short intervals the forest is broken by large clearings, well-fenced and cultivated, everything denot- ing the success and approaching independence of the hardy backwoodsman who only a few years ago penetrated these wilds, with, in many cases, only his axe and hands, to hew !li!!' II 24 Camp Life in Northern Ontario. Jil! ii:ir »l::! I W\ ■ out for himself a home in the unbroken and then almost unknown wilderness. How much this Canada of ours owes to those hardy pioneers ! What an evidence of the success which almost invariably attends the industrious and persever- ing ! How is it that our towns and cities are so crowded with the poor and starving, with their cry of no work ? Out here there are thousands of farm lots of one hundred acres each, which can be had free for the takinf,, on almost any of which many a labourer or artisan would be better off than in town or city. Here they have no rent, high taxes, water and gas rates, or high-priced fuel. On nearly the worst of the land they can grow at least potatoes and other vegetables, and keep their cow, pig, and hens, the three sources from which so many of the necessaries of life are drawn, while nearly all the 3'ear round abundance of work may be had at a good remu- neration for any time that can be spared from the farm, and within a reasonable distance of their homes. After steaming for over an hour another rocky point is rounded, and we are in sight of the end of our steamboating. Away in the distance we see through the glass the end of the North Bay. A narrow strip of yellow sand lines the shore. Behind is a clearing filled with blackened and charred stumps, while in the front, a few rods up a gentle incline from the water's edge, stands a substantial frame house. At a dis- tance of a mile and a quarter from the landing we pass a bold, high bluff to our left. Right in our front, and an eighth of a mile from the landing, a large creek, the outlet of some two or three small lakelets, pours its waters into the bay; while to the right, in a little recess, may be seen the mouth of the North River, the stream which we purpose ascending. Another shrill scream from the whistle, a few more turns of the screw, another tinkle of the bell in the engine-room^ Lake of Bays. 25 the machinery stops, and with lessening speed we approach and finally stop alongside the primitive dock of rough, un- dressed logs. We have reached the end of the first stage of our journey, the village of Dwight, at the head of the North Bay. Stepping on shore we are accorded a hearty greeting by the landlord of the Dwight Temperance House and a number of the hardy and bronzed settlers, who have come out to get their weekly mail, and make their few purchases at the little store which, as .ell as the post office, is kept in conjunction with the Temperance House. Our goods are quickly trans- ferred to shore, the mail-bag changed, a few packages of merchandise, bags of flour and sides of bacon laid out on the dock, and after a hearty shake of the hand and a hon voyage from captain and engineer, the whole crew, the engine is again put in motion, and after backing off a few boat- lengths, the signal is given, "full steam ahead"; and wheel- ing round to the left, first her broadside, then the gracefully- rounded stern and the turmoil of waters are presented to view. She proceeds on her way down round the peninsula which divides the North from the South Bay, up which she pro- ceeds to Colebridge, when, after performing the same round of duties as at Dwight, the prow is again pointed westward. W.ien the rays of the setting sun illuminate the eastern hills, turning every object golden, striking upon some exposed fel- spar or quartz-crystal on granite bluff, transforming them into apparent gems of the purest water, she again, puffing and panting like a tired horse, ties up at her dock of the morning. The boat has made her daily round of the lakes, and both vessel and crew have honestly earned their night's repose. The view down the bay from the verandah of the Dwight House is a magnificent one. Across the bay to the right 26 Camp Life in Northern Ontario. I i' i mi'\ the dense forest has given place to wide, well-fenced fields of waving grain, with comfortable farmhouses and good barns. To the left a similar transformation is taking place. Another opening in the woods down the left shore, anr* wreath of blue, curling smoke denotes the presence of another of those elements of Ontario's greatness, the hardy pioneer. The remainder of the shore seen from this point of view is covered with a dense growth of waving maple, birch, and basswood, with an occasional gigantic pine or hemlock tow- ering high above its fellows. Here and there a bold, treeless bluff, the rock nearly concealed b}^ a covering of rich brown» flower-besprinkled moss, is visible at intervals between the trees. But, in order to apprecirte all the beauties of Lake of Bays, one must view it at the various seasons of the year. In winter, all is covered with a n antle of spotless white; the leafless boughs bent beneath their load of snow, which is whirled at intervals by the fierce northern blast in dense, white wreaths across the ice-bound waters. Soon as the warm rays of the spring sun have melted the snow and released the water of the lake from its icy covering, the trees begin to unfold their buds, and in a few days all is in full summer dress of deep green; and the drumming of the partridge, the coo of the pigeon and whistle of the robin are heard on every side. Again, as the warm summer draws to a close, and the leaves begin to ripen, the frosty nights of October assisting Nature in her handiwork : first the maple shows a yellowish tinge, gradually deepening into various shades of red; then the birch, beech, and lastly the basswood follow suit. Here, scenes of varied beauty that would task the powers of the most gifted pen or pencil are spread out before the admiring eye. 'ml CHAPTER IV. WE START OUT. WIGHT has become of late years a favourite resort for the tourist, the lover of piscatorial sport, and the deer-hunter. Many a huge trout has been hauled out of the deep waters of the bay, and many a noble buck has got its death- wound while breasting the foam-crested wave to escape the baying hound, which has roused him at early morn from his lair under the "greenwood tree." Here, also, the overworked and confined city clerk can spend his brief summer holiday, and recruit his shattered nerves, inhal- ing the pure air of forest and lake; while he can sleep on as soft a bed and sit down to a board loaded with nearly all the luxuries of the city, attended by the courteous landlady, who seems bent only on attendmg to the most minute wants of her guests. But now wc are for the first time to partake of our own frugal fare. The tin tea-pail and drinking-dishes are unpacked ; a fire is stt*f ted by the side of a stump ; the tea-chest opened, and half-a-handful of the fragrant leaves thrown into the pailful of cold water, for experience has taught us that the best method of extracting all the nourish- ment out of the leaves is to put them into the cold water, and remove the pail from the fire as soon as it has attained the boiling-point. A small pole is procured, the tea-pail hung irpr I ' -ii; I ' I t'l I, 'I i'l tl ■; ll 1 !i: i\ r llfi s8 Camp Life in Northern Ontario. on one end, the other held in place by being thrust under a neighbouring log, supported in the middle by a billet of wood, the pail hanging over the fire. The frying-pan, after beinf;' carefully cleaned, is filled also with water. An opening is made in the end of the rough canvas bag, in which is the huge side of long, clear bacon. The cook, knife in hand, is at work cutting off a number of slices, which are placed in the pan, set on the fire, and allowed to boil a couple of min- utes. This is called parboiling, and is for the purpose of removing the superfluous salt. The water is now poured off, and the next moment the air is impregnated witii the aroma of frying pork, which in a few minutes is cooked. Suddenly there is a frizzing sound on the fire, as a portion of the now boiling tea forces its way by the accumulating steam out around the sides of the lid. It is quickly removed from the fire, the lid taken off, half-a-dishful of cold water is thrown in, when the leaves immediately subside to the bottom. The head is knocked out of the biscuit-barrel. The shout of the single word, dinner, speedily brings all hands, each v/ith tin plate and tea-dish to the spot; when each, having helped himself to a slice of pork, a spoonful or two of gravy, and filled his dish with the fragrant tea, makes his way to the biscuit-barrel, where a few of the hard, brown discs are laid on top of the pork. A neighbouring log or spot of grass serves for a seat, the knees for a table, and do we enjoy the dinner? Well, to use a homely and perhaps a rather vulgar phrase, " You bet ! " As this is the last chance of availing ourselves of Her Majesty's mail, while our cook is washing the dishes and packing up we hastily scribble a few lines to home and loved ones. The river for the first eight or ten miles, with the exception of the first two, is composed of a series of rough. We Start Out. 29 roaring chutes and rapids, too rough for canoeing. What is a chute? you ask. It is a short stretch of water, where there is not a perpendicular fall, but the stream is hemmed in and somewhat narrowed in its channel by projecting rocks, and dashes foaming and tossing down an inclined plane over sharp-pointed rocks and large boulders, terminating at the bottom either in a deep bay or rapid. We must take our things overland five miles to a point half a mile above Hunter's Bridge. The distance by the winding stream being nearly twice as far, the services of a settler and his team are secured. A couple of men are sent on ahead with axes, to cut any newly-fallen trees out of the way. The goods are loaded on the waggon ; the canoes, if taken on the load, would run a fair chance of being broken on the rough road, so they must be carried. They are laid bottom down upon the 'ground, two paddles laid along the two centre thwarts and fastened thereto, a sufficient distance apart to allow the head of the bearer to pass up between and a paddle to rest on either shoulder, then, stooping down and grasping a gunwale with each hand, we Take her up tenderly, Lift her with care : [She is] fabhioaed so slenderly, and raise the one end, turn her over above the head and let her down till a paddle rests on either shoulder, the other end still resting on the ground ; then, slightly stooping, v/e bend forward till the light vessel is neatly balanced on the shoulders, and now, straightening up, the hands still grasping the gun- wales, away we march, in single file, after the waggon. For the first three miles the country is level, with a ridge of hardwood hills at a short distance from the road on the north. The axe of the lumberman and the ravages of the fire-king have well-nigh destroyed all the original forest be- :! i; I 'I l: m il fill Ml; lili I'll li!' 'I' ii l!u; fiiiiiijl'll 30 Camp Life in Northern Ontario. tween the hill to the north and the river on the south. It has been succeeded by a growth of white birch, poplar, and red cherry, the whole surface being covered by the wild raspberry and black thimbleberry, while, twining amongst the roots, the slender vines of the still more luscious strawberry are in equal abundance, while here and there are clumps of the sumach and black alder, with its big clusters of small red fruit. We pass through a few small abandoned clearings. A small lakelet lies nestled in its margin of marsh grass in a hollow to the left, while the roar of the river, as it tumbles over its rocky bed, may be heard, at short intervals, on the right. The hardwood hill to the north now bends southerly across our path, and we cross a few ridges, covered with a dense growth of huge maples, black birch and hemlock. A mile or so further, and we come to a stop on top of a hill some three hundred feet high, down which the road has been cut in an almost straight line. Here, far down in the hollow, we caich glimpses of the silvery river shining through the trees, running at right angles to our path, and spanned by a little dilapidated bridge. This is Hunter's Bridge, and is as far as the road has been built. On the edge of the hill, on the further bank of the stream, is an old deserted clearing of an acre or two in extent, with the remams of an old shanty in the centre. Here, a number of years ago, a man named Hunter built his cabin, and moved his family into the woods far from any other settler. He was in the habit of crossing the country to the settlement of Cedar Narrows, some nine miles to the south, at regular intervals. During the depths of an uncommonly severe winter a longer interval than usual had elapsed since his last visit, and the settlers at the Narrows becoming alarmed for his safety, Mr. C , with the never-failing solicitude which one dweller in the bush feels for the welfare of another, We Start Out. 3' donned his snowshoes and, alone, made the long tramp over the deep, soft snow. The poor man was found laid out a corpse in his lonely hut. He had been dead for several days. The mateless woman and fatherless children huddled round a small fire, eating a few frozen potatoes, their only food. The bread-winner was gone. Lay him low, lay him low In the clover or the snow ; What cares he? He cannot know. Lay him low. Hunter's Bridge is the eastern terminus of a Government colonization road, and connects also at this point with the northern terminus of the BoDcaygeon road. We now turn to the left, and the waggon proceeds half a mile further over a rough trail, when it readies the end of its journey. At noon we bade good-bye to steam power, and must now part with horses and waggon. Henceforth our only means of transport will be the bark canoe along the smooth stretches of the river and across the lakes ; while crossmg the portages, bending beneath our packs, with tump-line across the brow, we must be our own pack mules. The waggon is quickly unloaded, turned round with some little difficulty amongst the closely growing trees, and is away on its homeward journey. Here our labour begins in earnest, and hastily turning the canoes bottom upwards — for the gra- dually gathering clouds portend an approaching shower — as many of the goods as they will cover are placed underneath ; as much of the remainder as we will be unable to take in the first trip is piled together and covered with a light rubber sheet. Each man now hastily snatching up a pack and swinging it upon the shoulder, we hurry off along the narrow trail. One hand grasps the tump-Une, while with the other m ii'i ■'111 ■I III I' ; lif I 3a Camp Life in Northern Ontario. we ward off the numerous limbs projecting across the path, which, if not thus guarded against, miglit play sad havoc with eye and face. We scramble, or half roll, over a fallen tree or two, and bend beneath another which has been torn out by the roots by some passing storm and arrested in its fall by coming in contact with another. Another half mile and again the shining river, glinting through the trees, bursts upon the view. A few steps more and we are at the landing. Only a very small piece of the stream is visible from this point, while to the right is heard the roar of a short rapid where the river is divided into two parts by a small island at the top of a ledge of rock. We have reached our first camp-ground. The packs are tossed off, and we seat our- selves for a moment upon them, while hats are removed and pocket-handkerchiefs hastily applied to reddened brows and perspiring faces. We straighten up, and gaze for a few minutes on a scene of sylvan beauty. The view is very limited in extent, for neither fire nor the hmiberman has caused destruction here, and great pines, maple, hemlock and cedar, with a dense undergrowth of balsam and hazel, encircle us on every side. But there is little time for either rest or meditation, for though the clouds are passing off without the threatened shower, the slanting rays of the fast declining sun denote the near approach of night. The remainder of the goods are to be brought in from the end of the road. Tents are to be put up, brush for the beds to be cut, gathered, and spread, the firewood for the night to be procured; for although it is here in abundance and to spare, still it has to be cut and brought in, the fire started, packs undone, supper cooked and eaten, and a dozen and one other odd jobs — known only to those accustomed to a life in the woods — to be got through with before darkness finally sets in. CHAPTER V. FIRST NIGHT IN CAMP. HE camp ground is an old one, having been used for many years by surveyors, hunters, and trap- pers, so there is no clearing-off or levelHng of ground to be done. The force is divided; apart return for the remainder •" the baggage, while two others cut tent poles and pegs, and set up the tent; another cuts down a balsam, carefully selecting one with a large top: the pin-covered limbs are broken off at a short diacance from the. trunk, and brought in. The tent has been erected, carefully and evenly stretched, and the brush- ing is begun. We commence at the back by laying down each separate limb with its top to the rear, and the side whic!\ was undermost when growing on the tree turned on top. This process is continued till the whole surface is covered with a sufficient thickness to make a soft and even bed, care being taken to keep the broken ends next the ground. A pole, five or six inches in diameter, is laid across the ends of the brush at the door, and kept in its place by pegs driven into the ground at each end. The whole floor now presents a soft, smooth, dark green elastic surface. By this time the goods are all in except the canoes, and as neither bears nor wolves will eat them, and there are no thieves here, they are 34 Camp Life in Northern Ontario, I;? I- 'I 'I'll m\ \i 1% ^ nil' 111!, ij'ii ill' tfl III;, I ilii Mi safe where they are till " to-morrow morning." A few pro- jecting limbs have been left four or five inches long on the upright pole at the back of the tent, on which to hang powder horn, shot bag, field-glass, etc., while the rifle and double barrel are stacked around, and carefully tied to the same pole, for the double purpose of protecting them from the damp and reducing the chances of an accident to a minimum. The packs are opened, our dunnage bags and everything not imme- diately wanted are stored away in the bole at the back ot the tent. The blankets are spread out and rolled back to the head till bedtime. Our heavy boots are removed and replaced by a light and easy pair of gaiters or mocassin slippers, and we begin to feel at home and are quite comfortable. Darkness has now set in, and what about supper ? Our cook has not been idle ; a huge fire is blazing away a few feet in front of the door ; a stout post about four feet long, cut from the top of a small tree — where the trunk has branched off into two parts, and these both lopped off a few inches above the point of divergence, thus forming a crotch, — has been securely driven into the ground a foot or so from each end of the fire. Across those another stout pole has been laid, from which the tea pail is depending. The cold water and dry leaves are in process of being quickly transformed into tea. The cook, with glowing but merry face, leans over the frying-pan, carefully stirring up and turning the frizzling slices of the " unclean beast." The little can of mustard is got out ; the one bottle of pickles produced, the neck broken oflF, to save the trouble of drawing the cork. In a few minutes everything is in readiness, and the dinner scene is enacted over again. Pork and biscuits and dishes of tea disappear with amazing quickness and in goodly quantities, for the afternoon's work has given all hands a good appetite, First Night in Camp. ss while joke and jest are bandied from side to side. Supper finished, pocket-knives, pipes, and plugs of T. B. or Myrtle Navy are produced. We have no tobacco-pouches with ready cut, but prefer cutting a pipeful as it is requirec?. Pipes are lit and a general smoke is begun. The sight is a pleasing one. Here one is seated on the ground with back against a log, puffing away in silence; two or three, seated on the pole at the door of the tent, are engaged in quiet conversation, discussing the morrow's programme ; others are reclining on elbow, or stretched at full length on the dry leaves. One who does not indulge in the weed is laid out with hands under his head on the brush in the tent, and with lusty voice is shout- ing to the company how I was dreaming last night, Oh, bad luck to my dreaming ; I was dreaming that Teddy Was false unto me ; while still another is equally intent on informing the com- pany how he Met her in the garden Where the praties grow. We retire a few paces into the shade and survey the scene. We have seen on canvas many pictures of camp life, but never aught that did the scene justice. The merry group, the snow-white tent, the blazing fire, the illuminated trunks of the huge pines, the lights and shadows amongst the green leaves, the silvery ripple of the river where a single ray from the fire has penetrated to its surface, the glittering stars over- head, the soft, mellow light of the moon as she shows her face above the eastern hill, the solemn stillness of the night, broken only by the gentle murmur of the adjacent rapid. Attempt to describe it. Pshaw ! "TT I !ill . Ml! ill I. II. !;s: \\\y I ;;:i '1 1)1 'il'ii 36 Cnmp Life i:i Nortkerti On'ario. The cook is hard at work. The dishes have been washed and carefully piled, bottom up, on a piece of newly-peeled hemlock bark. All the birch within a considerable radius of this old camp-ground has long since been denuded of its yellow coat. Pork is to be parboiled for breakfast, and more boiled for dinner. The round pointed steel shovel has had a handle inserted in its socket. A hole a foot and a half in diameter, and of an equal depth, has been dug close to the fire and filled with burning embers to dry out and heat it. A tin pail half filled with water is got ready. The bag of white beans is brought forth, a few tea-dishfuls are care- fully picked over and emptied into the pail of water, which is now hung over the fire. Another pail of water is placed alongside it, the sack of dried apples brought within the radius of the light, a few handfuls are taken out and carefully washed in the big tin dish, then squeezed between the hands and dropped into the second pail. The dirty water is now thrown out of the dish, and replaced by a few dipperfuls of clean hot water. The sack of bacon is again visited, several square chunks are cut ofT, and tossed into the dish of hot water, scraped and washed clean, and deposited in still another pail of water, which now takes its place as number three over the fire. Our cook has now a breathing-spell, and has time to light his pipe also . iid join in the conversation for half an hour or so. At the end of that time the lid of the apple pail is removed, a large iron fork thrust down to the bottom, and the whole mass stirred up. Another dipper of water is added, as the swelling fruit has absorbed most of the first supply. The lid is then replaced, and the bean pot treated in a similar manner. The pail of boiling pork is also subjected to a careful scrutiny to ascertain if it is not boiling dry. A part of the top is now taken off a box of raisins, from First Nifjht in Camp. 37 which a few handfuls are carefully picked and waslied clean. Another inspection of the apple pail shows that their cooking has reached the proper stage ; it is removed from the fire, the raisins emptied in and carefully and evenly mixed with the apples, when it is again replacetl on ihe fire and allowed to simmer for a few minutes, then finally taken off and a few spoonfuls of sugar added, the lid replaced and it is set to one side ready for breakfast, A bake-kettle which has hitherto been kept in the background now makes its appearance, and is scraped and thoroughly cleaned. The i)eans, which are by this time boiled soft, are emptied into it, the grease from the pork we had for supper is also put in. A few slices of raw fat pork are laid on top, the lid put on ; the hole by the fire is emptied of its embers, a quantity of hot sand thrown in, and the bake-kettle put in on top, the whole being covered witli hot sand and ashes. The boiling pork is now also done to a turn ; it is taken from the fire, the swollen pieces held up in turn on the prongs of the big fork, and cold water poured over them, when it also is set aside ready for the table. The cook's day's, or rather night's, work is now over, for we hear his " Get out of the way, boys; I want to go to bed." It is now time for all hands to retire, for we must be astir betmies in the morning, and the slight preparations for turning-in are soon made. The wide-brimmed straw hat is placed bottom up a little above where the head is intended to rest. The contents of the trousers pockets are emptied into the crown. No small article must be left round in a loose manner, or the chances are that it will be lost in the brush. The vest is folded, watch-pocket uppermost, and laid on top of the hat. Braces and socks are removed, and placed under the dunnage bag which, along with coat or smock-frock, is to form our pillow. The blankets have been ii^i Mini 'ifi 1 ! ■: liil ' III 'I 'I' 1 I'l' .1 llit 1 '!n ■il .||i ll ' ! I ll ' 11 ! ■I'l 38 Camp Life in Northern Ontario. unrolled, and turning down the upper end of one of them we slide in between. "Are you coming to bed, Jack?" is addressed to a smoker seated at the door, who is reluctant to abandon the fragrant weed. "Yes, just in a minute, Tom." "Well, you had better hurry up then, and not disturb a fellow when he is asleep." "Lie over, Jim, and straighten out those big legs of yours, and try and be satisfied with your own half of the bed." " Now, Dick, straighten your- self out ; I am quite willing to let you have half the bed, but must protest against your taking it out of the middle." " Straighten yourself. Bob, and keep your big feet to your own side," accompanied with a preliminary snore. Such are a few of the expressions, garnished by sundry adjectives which it is not necessary, nor would it be polite, to repeat, which are to be heard on every side. A hushed conversation is still being carried on by one or two couples, when, " Come now, boys, you had better adjourn the debate till morning," is heard irom the boss. This gentle and easily understood reminder is at once taken, and in a few minutes all is hushed in silence, broken only by the heavy breathing of the sleepers and the gentle murmur of the flowing river. The first rays of the rising sun are just beginning to change into golden the green tops of the giant pines, when a loud " Hurrah, boys, breakfast ; are you going to sleep all day," is heard from the cook, who has been up since the first gray streak of dawn, and in an incredibly short space of time all are up. The few articles of clothing which had been taken off the previous evening are donned, while negative compliments touching the respective merits as bedfellows are bandied from side to side, accompanied by a gentle reminder to the one who had spread the brush of " a big root or limb, right under my back or shoulder," the ready and First Night in Camp. 39 consoling retort, " Well, if you don't like my work, you can make it yourself to-night." '• I guess I had better, and not trust it to you again if I want to sleep" ; all, however, in the best of humour. Towel, soap, and comb in hand, we make our way to the side of the river. We have frequently read descriptions of the morning ablutions of camp life, in which the campers are represented as standing on stone or log, and stooping down to bathe the head in the limpid water. This method we consider both inconvenient and awkward, so we have provided ourselves with a handy tin wash-dish, which, having filled with water, is set on a moss-covered log or neighbouring bank, at a convenient height from the ground to avoid an unnecessary amount of stooping, and after having well scrubbed hands, face, and neck, empty the dish, which is immediately taken possession of by the next in waiting. The hasty toilet is soon completed, and we wend our way back to camp. The pail of hot tea and pan of fried pork are standing invitingly ready. The shovel is again called into play to scrape the ashes off the top of the buried bake-kettle. A hook, out from an adjacent sapling, is inserted into each ear ; it is gently lifted out and set down at a convenient distance from the fire. The dust is carefully wiped off the lid, one of the hooks inserted in the ring on top, it is lifted off, and the rich, steam- ing mess exposed to our admiring gaze. Spoons are at once dipped in ; each one helps himself, a liberal quantity being laid on each plate. The biscuit barrel is again relieved of a portion of its contents, and with light hearts and hungry stomachs we find seats and begin the wholesome repast. In a few minutes both pork and beans have vanished. The plates are replenished with a few spoonfuls of the apple sauce m I 4 ! ii i if It :1 lip. ii li :|