SPORT IN VANCOUVER AND NEWFOUNDLAND
[Illustration: THE MOUTH OF THE CAMPBELL RIVER.
[_Frontispiece._]
SPORT IN VANCOUVER
AND NEWFOUNDLAND
BY
SIR JOHN ROGERS
K.C.M.G., D.S.O., F.R.G.S.
_WITH ILLUSTRATIONS AND MAPS BY THE AUTHOR
AND REPRODUCTIONS OF PHOTOGRAPHS_
LONDON
CHAPMAN AND HALL, LTD.
1912
RICHARD CLAY & SONS, LIMITED,
BRUNSWICK STREET, STAMFORD STREET, S.E.,
AND BUNGAY, SUFFOLK.
TO
MY WIFE
THE COMPANION OF MANY WANDERINGS
IN STRANGE LANDS
PREFACE
The following pages are simply a transcription of my rough diary of
two autumn holidays in Vancouver Island and Newfoundland in search
of sport--should they prove of any use to those who may follow in my
steps, I shall feel amply rewarded.
J. G. R.
CONTENTS
BOOK I
CHAP. PAGE
I TO VANCOUVER ISLAND 1
II VANCOUVER TO THE CAMPBELL RIVER 15
III THE FISH AT THE CAMPBELL RIVER 29
IV SPORT AT CAMPBELL RIVER 39
V FISHING-TACKLE 61
VI TO ALERT BAY 75
VII IN THE FOREST 87
VIII IN THE WAPITI COUNTRY 107
IX OUT OF THE FOREST 119
X AFTER GOAT ON THE MAINLAND 131
BOOK II
I TO NEWFOUNDLAND 157
II TO LONG HARBOUR 173
III TO THE HUNTING GROUNDS 187
IV HUNGRY GROVE POND TO SANDY POND 195
V TO KOSK[=A]CODDE 215
VI SPORT ON KEPSKAIG 233
VII TO THE SHOE HILL COUNTRY 245
VIII HOMEWARD BOUND 257
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
VANCOUVER
ORIGINAL DRAWINGS
_To face page_
THE MOUTH OF THE CAMPBELL RIVER _Frontispiece_
MORNING MISTS, MT. KINGCOME 138
CAMP ON MT. KINGCOME 140
PHOTOS
THE INDIAN CEMETERY, CAMPBELL RIVER 41
A MORNING'S CATCH 41
TWO GOOD FISH 50
A 60 LB. FISH 50
"DICK" 80
TOTEM POLES, ALERT BAY 80
THE HEAD OF NIMQUISH LAKE 92
DRIFTWOOD ON THE BEACH OF LAKE NIMQUISH, "DICK" IN
THE FOREGROUND 92
THE VANCOUVER FOREST, SHOWING UNDERGROWTH THROUGH
WHICH WE HAD TO MAKE OUR WAY 110
LAKE NO. 1 110
PACKING OUT 121
THE WAPITI, 13 POINTS 126
THE SHORE OF LAKE NIMQUISH 126
A ROCKY MOUNTAIN GOAT 141
THE GOAT COUNTRY 141
NEWFOUNDLAND
ORIGINAL DRAWINGS
_To face page_
NOT GOOD ENOUGH 159
STEVE JOE DRIES HIMSELF 226
STEVE BERNARD IN CAMP 226
THE CLEARING OF THE STORM, SHOE HILL RIDGE 247
A VIEW IN LONG HARBOUR 263
PHOTOS
JOHN DENNY AND STEVE BERNARD 197
A NEWFOUNDLAND POND 197
STEVE SPYING, SANDY POND 217
CAMP, WEST END SANDY POND 217
THE THREE-HORNED STAG 225
"BAD WATER" 225
A THIRTY-FOUR POINT CARIBOU 238
STEVE SKINNING THE HEAD OF THE THIRTY-FOUR POINTER 238
LUNCH ON THE BAIE DU NORD RIVER 256
MY CAMP, SHOE HILL DROKE 256
UP THE TWO-MILE BROOK, HOMEWARD BOUND 261
A BROOK IN FLOOD 261
MAPS
SKETCH MAP OF VANCOUVER ISLAND 3
SKETCH MAP OF NEWFOUNDLAND 159
TO VANCOUVER ISLAND
[Illustration: VANCOUVER
SKETCH-MAP OF VANCOUVER ISLAND
[_To face page 3._]
CHAPTER I
TO VANCOUVER ISLAND
From the day I read in the _Field_ Sir Richard Musgrave's article, "A
seventy-pound salmon with rod and line," and located the river as the
Campbell River, I determined that should the opportunity arise, I, too,
would try my luck in those waters.
Subsequent articles in the _Field_, which appeared from time to time,
only increased my desire, and the summer of 1908 found me in a position
to start on the trip to which I had so long looked forward.
Living in Egypt, the land of eternal glare and sunshine, I counted the
days till I could rest my eyes on the ever-green forests of Vancouver
Island.
My intention was to arrive in Vancouver about the end of July, spend
the month of August, when the great tyee salmon run, at the Campbell
River, and pass September, when the shooting season begins, in hunting
for wapiti in the primeval forests which clothe the north of Vancouver
Island.
I also hoped, should time permit, to have a try for a Rocky Mountain
goat, and possibly a bear on the Mainland.
I sailed from Southampton on July 10, on the _Deutschland_, the
magnificent steamer of the Hamburg-American Line, and never did I
travel in greater luxury.
The voyage across the Atlantic is always dull and monotonous; it was
therefore with great relief that, having passed Sandy Hook in the early
morning, I found myself approaching New York on the 16th.
Here I was to have a new experience.
I am, I hope, a modest man, and never dreamt that I was worthy of
becoming the prey of the American interviewer.
The fact of being a Pasha in Egypt, a rank which I attained when
serving in the Egyptian Army, was my undoing.
A kind German friend who had used his good offices on my behalf with
the Board of the Hamburg-American Line, gave the show away, for I found
myself on the printed passenger list figuring as Sir John Rogers Pasha.
To the American interviewer, a Pasha was, I presume, a novelty, and the
opportunity of torturing one not to be forgone, for as soon as we came
alongside the quay at Hoboken, a pleasant and well-spoken individual
came up to me and, raising his hat, remarked, "The Pasha I believe.
Welcome to America." I then realized what I was in for.
Had I been a witness in the box, I could not have undergone a more
merciless cross-examination. It was almost on a par with a declaration
I had to make for the Immigration Authorities--giving my age, where I
was born, who were my father and mother, when did they die, what was
the colour of my hair and eyes, and lastly, had I ever been in prison,
and if so, for what offence?
I really think New York might spare its visitors this ordeal.
Wriggle as I could, my interviewer was determined to obtain copy,
and though I insisted that the title of "Pasha" had been entered on
the passenger list by mistake, and that it was one not intended for
exportation, he was not to be satisfied.
Giving as few details as possible as to how I had obtained my exalted
title, I eventually shook off my persecutor. No sooner had I moved a
few steps away, than if possible a more plausible person expressed the
great pleasure it gave him to welcome me to New York, and endeavoured
to impress on me that it was a duty I owed to myself and to the
American nation, not only to explain what a "Pasha" was and how I
became a Pasha, but also to allow my photograph to be taken, which he
guaranteed would appear the following day in his paper--naturally the
leading journal of New York.
On my point-blank refusal to accord any more interviewers an audience
or to be immortalized in his paper, he sadly expressed his astonishment
that I should refuse the celebrity he wished to confer on me.
Had not Mr. Kingdon Gould allowed himself to be photographed?--then why
not I?
Other interviewers gave me up as a bad job, but just before landing I
was leaning over the side of the steamer when some one shouted, "I have
got you!" and I saw that one of my persecutors had taken a snapshot,
which I am glad to say must have been a failure, for I did not appear
in the New York papers the next day.
I acknowledge that one of my interviewers to whom I had refused any
information heaped coals of fire on my head, by rendering me valuable
assistance in getting my luggage through the Customs.
I had often heard of the difficulties of the New York Customs, but I
must say I never met with greater civility, and there was no delay
in passing all my baggage, fishing-rods, guns, rifles, no duty being
charged.
New York possessed few attractions for me, and the call of the Campbell
River was strong--so July 17th found me starting for Montreal, where I
arrived the same night and put up at the excellent Windsor Hotel.
Only a top sleeping berth on the Trans-Continental Express was
available for the following night, and, as I desired a section--that is
two berths, upper and lower--I had to wait till the evening of Sunday,
the 19th, before I could start for Vancouver.
Leaving Montreal at 10.15 p.m., I arrived at Vancouver about noon on
the 24th, having travelled straight through.
The Canadian Pacific Railway is probably the most extensively
advertised line in the world. I cannot say it complied with modern
requirements as regards convenience and comfort.
Every one knows the much-vaunted Pullman Car system of America--men and
women in the same carriage, the only privacy being offered by drawing
the curtains across the berths which are arranged in two long rows on
either side of the car.
If you have a section of two berths, which is essential to comfort, you
can stand upright in the lower berth to dress and undress, and put
away your clothes where you can.
If you have only a single berth, you have to dress and undress as best
you can, sitting in your berth.
On my first trip to Canada, I was only going as far as Mattawa, one
night in the train, so contented myself with a single lower berth.
The upper berth was occupied by a very stout lady, who in descending in
the morning, gave me an exhibition of understandings as unexpected by
me as it was unintentional on her part.
The real advantage of a section, in taking the long Trans-Continental
journey, is that when the berths are put up in the day-time, one has
a nice compartment to oneself; that is, if the black porter does not
condescend sometimes to occupy one of the seats, and only to move, on
being politely requested to do so.
The sporting pamphlets of the Canadian Pacific Railway make
a sportsman's mouth water. Here we have the paradise of the
fisherman--there the Mecca of the sportsman.
It was certainly then disappointing, to say the least of it, to find
in the Restaurant Car, that though passing through the paradise of the
fisherman, two days out from Montreal, we were eating stale mackerel,
and on the return journey when the sporting season was in full swing
and duck and prairie hens were being brought in abundance to the car
for sale--they were only purchased by the black porters for re-sale at
Montreal at a handsome profit. None of them appeared at our table.
The food was indifferent and dear. Everything was "à la carte," and to
dine moderately cost 1½ to 2 dollars, while a tiny glass of whisky,
served in a specially constructed bottle of infinitesimal proportions,
was charged at an exorbitant price.
Food in the car, without wine, beer or spirits, may be put down at 5 to
6 dollars a day, and I would recommend any one making the trip to stow
away a bottle of good whisky in his suit-case, from which to fill his
own flask for meals.
Travelling for six days and five nights continuously, one would have
thought that some simple bathing arrangements would have been provided.
A douche even would have been welcome. The lavatory and smoking-room
were one and the same--five to six persons could find sitting
accommodation, and four basins had to meet the washing requirements of
the entire car.
I do not wish to be over critical, but I am glad to say I have met many
Canadians who agree with me that the arrangements for the comfort
of the passengers on the Canadian Pacific Railway are capable of
improvement.
Very different, I was told, was the comfort to be found on the American
Trans-Continental Line from Seattle via Chicago to New York. The train
is provided with a bathroom, library and a barber's shop, while an
American friend who recommended me to return by the American Express,
assured me that the food left nothing to be desired.
When competition arises between the two Trans-Continental lines in
Canada, the second of which is now being constructed, some improvements
may be hoped for.
The scenery of the Rocky Mountains has so often been described, that
I will not inflict my impressions at any length on my readers. It is
certainly fine, but no part of it can in my opinion compare with that
of the line from Lucerne to Milan via the St. Gothard, and what a
difference in the engineering of the line and the speed of the trains.
Accidents by derailing of ballast trains seemed fairly common. We saw
one on our way across, and two engines which had toppled over the
embankment marked the site of at least one other.
As regards the Rockies, it must be admitted that the effect of their
real height is taken away by the gradual rise in level as one crosses
the plains.
Calgary, where the mountains are first approached, stands at 3,428 feet
above sea-level.
All things come to an end, and the morning of July 24th found us
steaming into the city of Vancouver, glad that the weary journey was at
last over.
The town of Vancouver is beautifully situated on the Mainland
overlooking the Straits of Georgia.
I am glad, after my criticisms of the Canadian Pacific Railway, to
testify to the comfort and moderate charges of the Canadian Pacific
Railway Hotel at Vancouver.
A charming bedroom with bathroom attached cost only 5 dollars, all
meals included. Excellent beer, locally brewed, was cheap, and a bottle
of Californian Chianti, quite a drinkable wine, cost only a dollar, so
there was nothing to complain of.
My waiter happened to be an Irishman, and he took quite a personal
interest in my comfort, whispering into my ear in the most confidential
manner the dishes of the day that he recommended as the best.
On a day's acquaintance, claiming me as a countryman, he confided to me
his story. His father had been manager of a bank in Ireland, and he
was sent abroad to settle in Canada.
Starting on a farm, and, according to his own story, doing well, a
fire destroyed his house and farm implements. Drifting through various
stages, he arrived at his present position, with which he seemed quite
content. He was married, and lived outside the hotel. Fishing was his
passion, and every spare moment was devoted to it.
He was really a most entertaining companion, with a keen sense of
humour, and he made the meal-time pass very pleasantly, for he never
ceased chatting.
A run by steamer to Seattle to see some friends, gave me a glimpse
of Victoria and the exquisite scenery of the trip from Vancouver to
Seattle.
At Vancouver I had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of Mr. Bryan
Williams, the Provincial Game Warden of British Columbia, with whom I
had been already in correspondence, and to whom I was indebted for much
valuable assistance and advice.
A true sportsman, his heart is in his job, and if he only be given
a free hand and adequate funds, the preservation of game in British
Columbia will be in safe hands.
The licence, 100 dollars, is not a heavy one, but I think it might
with justice be graduated, fixing one sum, say 50 dollars, for
Vancouver Island, where only wapiti, an occasional bear and deer are
found, and imposing the higher licence for the Mainland, to include
moose, mountain sheep, goat, caribou and grizzly bear.
One would have thought that in the city of Vancouver, the centre of a
great angling country, every requirement of the fisherman would have
been found. The contrary was the case.
Fortunately I had brought my own fishing-tackle, for in the best
sporting shop in the town I could not obtain a suitable spare
fishing-line.
Rods, reels, lines, flies and baits were inferior in workmanship as
compared to what one is accustomed at home.
I therefore strongly recommend any fisherman to bring all his tackle
from home. In the case of rods, reels and lines, New York may have
better, as I shall show when I come to discuss the question of tackle
later on.
From the manager of the Bank of Montreal, to whom I had a letter
of introduction, I met with great courtesy financially as well as
socially, and I became free of the excellent Vancouver Club, so
charmingly situated, and only regretted that my short stay prevented my
availing myself more of its hospitality.
VANCOUVER TO THE CAMPBELL RIVER