Part 8

The course now leads by the murmuring Matapedia River, and at Causapscal is found an ideal spot for a restful vacation. It is only suited for those who have quiet tastes and a love for the beautiful, or for those who can enjoy woodland and river walks. It is one of the most beautiful and restful little spots ever seen. It is a picture from Switzerland, and more. No matter how extended the journey, a stay of a few days should be made at Causapscal to drink in some of its soothing balm.

The Matapedia courses right through the village—one of the cleanest in all Quebec, by the way—and one may stop at a comfortable little hostelry, look right out on the river just across the highway, and be lulled to calm slumber by its gentle murmur. Here the houses are built only on one side of the road, and this gives a pleasant view of grassy sward and rippling stream from any part of the village. There are fine views on every hand. The Causapscal River unites with the beautiful Matapedia quite nearby, and along the banks of both streams many choice walks may be enjoyed.

The junction of the two rivers is between high banks, and here is a favorite fishing-haunt for those who own the fishing rights. The Matamajaw Salmon Club House is on the top of the bank, close by.

Beau Rivage is a peaceful hamlet, framed by the far-reaching hills that are here broadened out to a considerable extent. Those who would see the beauties of the famed Matapedia Valley will find ample occupation as the train speeds along.

The Matapedia, or ‘Musical’ River, flows along with soothing murmur and sings a song of peace the while. The rows of cedar logs piled high on the bank, for shipment over the railroad, are turning grey under the summer sun and they blend harmoniously in the landscape effect. Flowers are springing up everywhere, and the tall lambkill is beautiful to behold. How glorious is the country with its absence of formalism and inane repetition of stereotyped patterns! Here the river narrows and throws up two long islands of white and grey pebbles. The water, confined to small channels for the time, dashes forward and springs up, leaping and foaming. How joyful its music! The course now bends suddenly, just where the current is foaming and descending in a noisy rapid. The clear water breaks in rippling waves of snow-white foam, and passes in well-marked ridges for some distance, until the widening channel permits it to resume its erstwhile tranquil way.

Now it passes under the shade of a high and beautifully-wooded mountain, and immediately the water is tinged with a darkening shade—the sun eclipsed by the overhanging trees. On many of the mountains so thick is the foliage that not one tree-trunk can be seen uncovered, excepting, here and there, a white birch sapling.

The scenery of the river and valley between Assametquaghan and Glen Emma is particularly bold and grand, and most enchanting views of the winding Matapedia meet the gaze at every turn of its sinuous course. The mountains rise higher and higher, and as the train turns in and out, far-away glimpses of the silvery stream are frequently caught. Just below the railroad a mass of rocks has fallen from the mountain side into the bed of the river, almost closing the way. Leaning out of the window, as we slow up, the spray is almost at hand.

At times the stream broadens considerably, and the mountains run to foot-hills that diminish to gentle slopes at the river’s brink. Looking along the valley at such points, a grand panorama of mountain, hill, dale, valley and winding stream enchants the artistic eye. There a long line of beautiful trees is seen on an islet, once part of the mainland. As the train goes down stream the island seems to come up under full sail to meet it; and all around, in valley, on mound and hill, and up the steep sides of the mountains, the gorgeous pink bloom of the prolific rhododendron gives joy to the senses.

Here the Matapedia has changed its pebble bed for one of rock, and as there is a considerable fall,—which is also quite noticeable on account of the easy running of the train—the churning waves and dashing foam show beautifully below. At a point where the stream deepens and flows on with darker hue and unruffled surface the train crosses again to the left bank and approaches Millstream—the smallest of hamlets in the most ideal situation that could well be imagined.

On the shore of the river, not far away, is an encampment of happy vacationists, with tent, and shack for cooking; their boat moored below, and the stream singing of health and cool summer joys as it dashes gaily by.

The village of Matapedia has a choice and romantic situation at the confluence of the Matapedia and Restigouche Rivers, known as ‘the meeting of the waters.’ A railroad runs from here along the south shore of the Gaspé Peninsula. The surrounding country is magnificent, and a wealth of beauty is found in the river scenery and fine walks of the neighborhood. It is one of the choice spots of Canada, and numerous sites for cottage retreats and river bungalows will be found along the valley of the Matapedia River, above and below the village.

The canoeing waters of this lovely district are exceedingly choice.

Very nearly all of the country traversed hitherto has been rich in rivers and streams. In addition to the great inland sea of the St. Lawrence, and all the numerous rivers previously named, the district bordered by the Matapedia River has excellent water privileges that cover a wide area. That fine river, the Rimouski, and the charming little Neigette are within easy reach of the Métis River, indeed the smaller river runs into the Métis; and the Métis itself is almost touched by the Patapedia which runs on and connects with the Restigouche and Matapedia Rivers.

Rich as Quebec is in watercourses, the province of New Brunswick, into which we are about to pass, is endowed to even a more extraordinary extent with those supreme additions to the beauty of a landscape; and which provide, when communicating, such pleasant and convenient means for going from one part of the country to the other.

The system of nearly-connecting rivers just traced extends through New Brunswick in a wonderful manner; for over the Upsalquitch, Nepisiguit, Miramichi and other rivers, and by means of the Madawaska and Tobique, and over the widely ramifying waters of the noble St. John, a grand highway of water travel is provided. In addition, there is an almost countless number of tributary streams that intersect the country in every direction, and which serve to bring remote inner districts into communication with the seaboard. As has been seen, some of the rivers are very rapid—dashing headlong through rocky gorges and over stony beds. Others are wide and tranquil, and some ripple a quiet way over sandy beds.

Nor must the myriad streams of smaller proportions be forgotten—the cascade, the brook, the clear and sparkling waters where fish abound. Surely the whole of this beautiful country is that of which the poet of olden days wrote:

1. Meeting of the Waters, Causapscal 2. Tunnel near Matapedia 3. Meeting of the Waters, Matapedia

“The lofty woods, the forests wide and long, Adorned with leaves and branches fresh and greene In whose cool hours the birds with chaunting song Do welcome with their Quire the Summer’s Queene;

The meadows faire, where Flora’s gifts among Are intermixt the verdant grass between, The silver skaled fish that softly swimme Within the brookes and cristal wat’ry brimme.”

The Matapedia, or ‘Musical,’ River received its name from the sound made by the wind in the branches of the trees as it courses over and through the numerous ravines. The river rises in Lake Matapedia, and is over sixty miles long. Its principal tributaries are the Causapscal and the Kassimiguagan. It runs a rapid course between two extensive mountain ranges, and terminates in the Restigouche at a point some twenty miles south-west of Matapedia village.

Along the Tobique River are mountains and mountain ranges of great beauty. Bald Head, on the Riley Brook, near the Northern Forks, is nearly 2,300 feet above sea-level. The Blue Mountains of the Tobique Valley are very picturesque—some rise as high as 1,200 feet above the river level. The loftiest heights are attained on the south branch of the Nepisiguit, between Nictor and Nepisiguit Lakes and the eastern branch of the Tobique. Here a height is attained of 2,600 feet above the sea-level. There are several odd-looking mountains on the portage from Nepisiguit River to Upsalquitch Lake, and a good view of the surrounding country is obtained by climbing one of these heights.

The Tobique is considered by many to be the most picturesque stream in all New Brunswick. The fishing is fine and the scenery beautiful. Nictor Lake is well worth the journey necessary to reach it, and the whole trip up and down the river is a unique woodland and water experience. Near the high land separating the Tobique waters from those of the Miramichi and Nepisiguit, the highest lakes of New Brunswick are found, many of them being over 1,200 feet above the level of the sea. The whole province abounds in lakes. Those off the regular travel routes are seldom visited, although they are quite attractive.

The Restigouche has been called the ‘noblest salmon river of the world.’ It is navigable for 130 miles or more above Campbellton. It has bold and rugged shores as well as scenes of softer beauty. The country on both sides of the river is exceedingly grand and impressive. There are huge lofty mountains, often of irregular shape, covered with tall pines and rich hardwood. Its chief tributaries are the Matapedia, the Upsalquitch, the Patapedia, and the Quatawamkedgewick, or ‘Tom Kedgewick.’ The head waiters are within fifteen miles of the St. John, and that river may be reached by canoe with a portage of only three miles along the Grand River connection.

The length of the Restigouche is over 200 miles. It flows generally over a north-east course, and broadens gradually as it nears its mouth at the Bay of Chaleur. It is the first large river to be met that is entirely free of rapid and fall not practicable for a canoe. It is full of windings and abrupt turns which add to the beauty of its scenery, and where pools are so often found in which fish like to lie. There are places where the flow of the water is so tranquil that it can hardly be noticed. Others there are where gay and frothy little rapids bubble and dance as they toss their white crests in the air, but here a canoe may be poled through with ease. Even in those places where swirling eddies and foaming waters are found, little difficulty is experienced in making a way through to the quiet water above. In the quiet and still parts of the river the fish are to be seen swimming about many feet below the surface, and this is true, also, of the Green River, which connects with the upper forks of the Restigouche.

The Upsalquitch is a stream of many tributaries and sparkling branches. It abounds in salmon and trout. It is related that on one journey over this river the fish were so plentiful that considerable effort was necessary to force a way through with the canoe. On another trip down to the Restigouche a pool was passed through where not less than two hundred salmon jumped and darted in every direction when they were thus disturbed. These fish would only average about twenty pounds each; but others weighing over forty pounds are frequently caught.

From Campbellton over the line of the International Railway to St. Leonard’s, many districts of the Upsalquitch, Kedgewick, Restigouche, Tobique and St. John Rivers may be reached.

The Nepisiguit, or ‘River of Foaming Waters,’ is a fine fishing stream. But great as this attraction is, it has even a greater, for its scenery is rugged, romantic and exquisitely varied. The picturesque Pabineau Fall is a lovely sight, and the Grand Falls of the Nepisiguit, about twenty miles from Bathurst, should be seen by every one. Connection is made by a short railroad with the line of the Intercolonial Railway at Nepisiguit Junction, near Bathurst. The Grand Falls tumble precipitately in four descents through a huge rocky gorge. The roar of the water, the foaming curtain of the descending torrent and the spray that floats some distance down—all combine to make a striking scene; while the sight of the river rolling away in the shuddering depths below has a strong fascination for all. Above the Grand Falls there are picturesque rapids where by walking over the great rocks—and over giant tree trunks that have lodged in immovable positions in their descent of the river from the lumbering region higher up—a good view of river and hilly banks may be obtained. By going down the railroad for about one quarter of a mile, and climbing up on to a bluff, a full view of the gorge, the fall and the foaming depths far below may be had.

Pabineau Fall takes its name indirectly from the small stream Pabineau that falls into the Nepisiguit a short distance below the Fall. It was once called Pabina, and had the English name of Cranberry Falls as well. Although the word is of Indian origin, its present form is believed to be Acadian French, meaning the Highbush Cranberry. The Indians used to spear a canoe-load of salmon at a time by the Pabineau Fall in the days before fishery wardens were appointed to patrol the river.

There are splendid trout lakes on the upper waters of the Nepisiguit, and the whole region is one of the choicest for sportsmen, lovers of nature, and those who do not mind being away from the towns. To see the river at its best, it is necessary to camp out with guides accustomed to the management of canoes, and who are also skilled in woodcraft. There are many such guides living all along the lower part of the river. There are some excellent private fishing-club houses, as well as a few where guests are received.

Theodore Roosevelt, who, in addition to his other qualifications, is a genuine nature-lover, scout, woodsman and Nimrod, is always at home in the upper waters of the Nepisiguit. Of this country he wrote: “Goodbye, lovely Nepisiguit, stream of the beautiful pools, the fisherman’s elysium; farewell to thy merry, noisy current, thy long quiet stretches, thy high bluffs, thy wooded and thy rocky shores. Long may thy music lull the innocent angler into day-dreams of happiness. Long may thy romantic scenery charm the eye and gladden the heart of the artist, and welcome the angler to a happy sylvan home.”

The country just described is perhaps the best in all North America for hunting and fishing. Some details and incidents relating to this region will therefore be of interest.

The hibernating or marvellous winter sleep of bears is doubtless well known to all. A large bear crawled out one April from under a bridge of logs in the Upsalquitch district over which timber had been hauled noisily all winter without arousing him from his long, deep sleep.

Bruin plays queer antics. A bear broke into a lumber camp, turned the tap of the molasses barrel, rolled over and over in the sticky syrup, broke open a flour barrel with one stroke of the paw and then rolled about in the flour until he looked like a polar bear.

An Indian without a gun was once chased by an infuriated she-bear, whose cub he had stolen. His only refuge was a hollow tree, down which he lowered himself with the cub. The old bear descended bear fashion, tail first. The Indian seized her by the stumpy tail, whereupon he was drawn to the top, and giving the bear a thrust off on top of the stump, master of the situation.

A bear caught in a trap on the Patapedia by an Indian was met by the hunter, marching around with the trap on one foot and shouldering the pole to which it was attached, biting savagely at the knots and boughs of trees he passed and inflicting terrible wounds on the defenceless wood. Knowing there was a bounty of three dollars a bear on the New Brunswick side of the boundary, the Indian succeeded in driving him across the dividing brook. This done, he shot him and got his bounty.

Another wily Indian cut off the snouts of two large Newfoundland dogs, and producing them to the magistrate demanded the bounty money. Being asked for the customary oath, he said, ‘Swear me in Indian, me no understand English well.’ ‘All right,’ said the unsuspecting justice. The guileless Indian then swore in the Indian tongue that he had killed two large black dogs—and pocketed the six dollars.

A story showing the humor of a Maliceet Indian, who was a great snuff-taker, is the following: “One time I go huntem moose, night come dark, rain and snow come fast; no axe for makum wig-wam; gun wet, no get um fire; me bery tired, me crawl into large hollow tree; I find plenty room, almost begin sleep. By-and-by me feelum hot wind blow on my face, me know hot bear’s breath. He crawl into log too; I takeum gun, she no go; I think me all same gone, all eat up. Then me thinkum my old snuff-box. I take some snuff and throw ’em in bear’s face, and he run out, not very much likeum. I guess me lay still all night, he no come again, little while, bear he go O-me sneezum, over and over, great times. Morning come, me fixeum gun and shoot ’em dead; he no more sneezum, no more this time.”

When an Indian catches a bear in a trap, he apologizes to the animal, and asks that vengeance shall not be taken for his death. He promises to respect his bones, and this promise he keeps; for Indians burn bears’ bones instead of giving them, like other bones, to the dogs.

Bruin is often very wily. A bear once dropped to the fire of a hunter’s rifle. Carefully reloading, the hunter advanced and poked the animal to make sure it was not shamming. The bear was motionless. The gun was laid down and a sheath knife drawn to prepare Mr. Bruin for the camp bearers. Just as the hunter grasped the forepaw the bear raised up, and a terrible struggle ensued. A son of the hunter was commanded by the father to shoot, but the boy was too nervous to risk a shot. Finally the hunter was worsted and succumbed to his injuries just as the son gained command of himself and lodged a bullet in Bruin’s head. A singular part of the story is the positive statement that only one bullet was found in the bear’s body—and that was the son’s bullet that killed the animal at the last.

Another story of a bear shamming has a happier ending, for in this case the hunter reloaded and approached by stealth after seeing Bruin drop like a stone to his rifle shot. This time the bear ‘came to life’ too soon. He was found standing, and ready to give battle, until a second shot really hit him and ended all shamming.

Fish stories are always in order in a fishing country; and when that country is the best the world has to offer, the stories may properly be of fair proportions.

On the Nepisiguit River a 45-pound salmon has been known to leap from the water into a canoe. This reverses the usual practice of suicides; and perhaps it will be well to explain that as a fish has to jump out of water to commit felo-de-se, the salmon in question took the easiest course.

Squirrels in swimming across a river are sometimes swallowed by trout. As trout have often been caught weighing six pounds, this story seems quite credible:

On a trouting excursion in this region so many fish were caught that the fishermen became completely exhausted through the incessant labor of hauling in the fish. On the homeward journey they reached a place where large trout poked their heads out of the water, but the fishermen had not enough energy left to throw a line.

In good fishing waters, strange as it may seem, two trout have been caught on the same hook with one cast of the line.

It may be well to remark that in Quebec and New Brunswick the system of private leases of fishing privileges prevails. That is to say, the fishing rights on a stream are either owned by those who have bought land with river frontages, or they are leased outright by the Government to fishing clubs of wealthy sportsmen who can afford to have the river patrolled by fishery guards. A privilege may include the right to cast a line in one pool, in a stretch of water a mile or two in length, or over the course of the river for a distance of fifty or even a hundred miles.

Club-houses are built at the principal spots where the best fishing may be had, and there wealthy fishermen make their stay in comfortable quarters during the salmon season. At Matapedia, Campbellton, etc., may be seen whole truck loads of large boxes some four feet long, each box having one or more fine salmon packed in snow for transportation to friends of the anglers at New York and other distant points.

The expense of maintaining the club-house, buying fishing rights, employing fish guardians, etc., is borne by the members of the club; and all things considered the sport of salmon-fishing is a royal amusement costing a considerable amount of money.

The best rights are all bought up; but there are still some places, as on the Upsalquitch River, where fair salmon-fishing may be had at ten dollars a day and the cost of the fishing permit added. In some streams, where fish do not abound, the cost is much less. Sportsmen should bear these facts in mind before planning a fishing trip. If really good sport with fine fish is desired, the best plan is to communicate with the I. C. R. Agent at the nearest point to the centre selected, and he will procure all the information required. If planning a trip in June and July, do not wait until the fishing-rights are let out and all the guides and boats are engaged—write in good time, not later than the month of April or May, and have definite arrangements made well in advance, including the important detail of where to stay. Some of the best places for fish have neither cabin nor camp anywhere near. In selecting a spot like this, arrangements for tents and supplies, teams and guides, etc., should be made at least some months ahead.

_The Bay of Chaleur_

Jacques Cartier entered and named La Baie des Chaleurs in the year 1535, but before that time the unnamed waters had been frequented by European fishermen, drawn there by the splendid fishing for which this bay has long been known. The name ‘Bay of Heats’ was probably given to mark the genial temperature of these waters as compared with that of the more frigid waters of the Newfoundland shore. In very early maps it is termed La Baie des Espagnols, or ‘Spanish Bay’, from the fact that many of the early fishers were from Spain. The Indian name, Ecketuam Nemaache, the English of which is ‘Sea of Fish,’ is quite appropriate, too; but the use of the name Bay of Chaleur is now universal.

The Bay is more than ninety miles long, and receives the waters of fully sixty rivers and streams. Sea and brook trout are found in nearly all of these tributaries, and in many of them the finest salmon are caught. It is rarely stormy, on account of the protection afforded by the projecting peninsulas, and the outlying islands, Shippegan and Miscou. The air is clear and pleasant, and fog is comparatively unknown. The tides, also, are quite moderate.