Chapter I. Introductory
N these days of steamboats, railroads, tourists and newspaper correspondents, one would think that there ought 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 brought 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 correspondent 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
Camp Life in Northern Ontario.
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 of 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 Ellice.
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 Honourable 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 drizzly April morning across that vale of beauty, and it
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 Saskatchewan 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 again before my sight. The swarthy half-breed, in blanket capote, a few paces in advance, holding the halter of the cautiouslytreading 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 down goes the noble head. As I looked upon the shaggylittle 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 quagmires, 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 Saskatchewan 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 plains seemed to pass, like a panorama, before
Introductory.
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 childhood ; 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
Camp Life in Northern Ontario.
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 blameless 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 understand 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 tribes. 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 destruction. A craving for rum, which seems insatiable, seizes the
Introductory .
I5 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 Honourable 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 plainscovered 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 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 met 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 holiday in this sylvan retreat, where, though we can reach it in a few hours' travel, we will be completely cut off from the busy haunts of men.
The glorious time 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 huckleberry, the raspberry, and strawberry have been pointed out to the sportsman and berry -picker. Lakes Mary, Fairy, Yernon 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 Bracebridge, to retrace her route with her deck-load of pleasureseekers down the winding river to Muskoka Lake, across to Port Carling, through the locks and up the short stream into i8
Camp Life in Northern Ontario.
Lake Rosseau, thread her mazy course among the scrub oak,, pine and fern-clad islets to her nightly quarters at the village of Rosseau. We secure the frugal supply of provisions necessary for our sojourn in the wilds, and, engaging a team of horses, wend our way eastward through a newly-settled district; 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 unpretentious 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 schooldays 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
Preparing for a Start,
19, the old lumber roads, and the tinkle-tinkle of the cow-bell is 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 brake on the wheel, to restrain the impetus of the vehicle ; over corduroys in the swamps and morasses ; up an inclined plane through the Devil's Gap; over strongly-built bridges spanning the otherwise impassable gullies, with their everpresent grass and alder-fringed creek beneath. Now the timid gray rabbit 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 cherirr 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 substantially-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,
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 beneath our cotton tent; our bed, the boughs of the fragrant balsam, and, instead of snow-white sheets and feather pillows, we will lie between the folds of our strong gray blankets, with — shall we mention it ? — our boots and folded 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-morrow 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 commissariat. 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
ARLY 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 hercharacter, on her neck — on the lookout for the easiest way into.' kitchen garden or potato patch.
Camp Life in Northern Ontario.
Soon we have partaken of a hasty but substantial breakfast, 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, ing double ; on the other 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 rumbling of the machinery and churning of the screw ceases, and we are at a standstill. The canoe swiftly 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 denoting 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
Camp Life in Northern Ontario.
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 persevering ! 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 taking, 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 year round abundance of work may be had at a good remuneration 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 distance 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.
the machinery stops, and with lessening speed we approach and finally stop alongside the primitive dock of rough, undressed logs. We have reached the end of the first stage of our journey, the village of D wight, at the head of the North Bay.
The opening of the book is shown; the full text loads in the reader.
Loading the full text…
The end
You’ve reached the end of Camping in the Muskoka region.
