CANOEING IN THE BACKWOODS.

Northland Age, Volume V, Issue 16, 7 December 1908, Page 2

CANOEING IN THE BACKWOODS.

Robert Louis Stevenson, in one off his books, descants in his own inimitable way of the pleasures of canoeing on lazy, placid rivers, where life seems but a dream, but canoer ing on some of the rough and tumble streams in the backwoods of America is a very different matter. Writing in “Harper's" Frederic Remington, tho well-known black and white artist, gives a vivid account of a canoe trip he took on & stream of this description. His companion was a professional guide and hunter named Harrison, and their boat—ttye Necoocteo—a sixteen foot canoe weighing 701bs. Their trip was taken down a river which the lumbermen of the district said could not be "run," as it was shallow and rocky. They could find nobody who had been down it, and 1 so felt somewhat the excitement of\ the early explorers,. They' pushed off into the big lake, and were not long in reaching the head of the river. Here a water storage dam and a mile of impassable rapids made a "carry" or "portage" absolutely necessary. This carrying the packs and the canoe on one’s shoulder is the worst feature of this kind of canoeing, the torture of it being as exquisitely perfect in its way as any ever devised. A trunk porter in a sumrfier hotel simply does for a few seconds what has to be done by the hour, and, as to reconciling it to an idea of physical enjoyment it cannot be done. To suffer like an anchorite, however, is always a part of a true sportsman's programme. It was with a little shrill of joy and the largest sigh of relief possible that the boat was again put into the Water. Owing to these "portages" it is necessary that one’s ‘canoe kit" should be as light as possible. Our artist-author’s consisted of one blanket, a light, shelter tent, a cooking outfit which folded up in a sort of Japanese way, a light axe, two oanvas packs, and tea, bacon, and flour.

The journey down the river was marked by plenty of variety. Here and there they came to a "jam" of tree branches across the river, and had to cut their way through, and then at a sudden turn the ominous growl of,rapids was heard. "No talking now, but with every nerve and muscle tense, and your eye on the boil of the water, you rush along. You back water and paddle, tho stern swings, she hangs for a moment, she falls in the current, and with a mad rush you take it i like " a hunting man a six-bar gate, . . The next rift, and with a bump she is hung upon a sunken rock, and—jump ! jump l— I we both flounder overboard in any way posn sible so it is well and quickly done. One man loses his hold, the other swings the boat off, and kicking and splashing for a foothold, the'demoralised outfit shoots along." Soon after this the river became so shallow that for a mile the boat would not run loaded, and so the two voyagers had wade, leading it along, now falling in over their heads, sliding on slippery stones, hurting their feet, and wondering why they had come at all- About this time Mr. Remington’s tennis shoe came off, and his only pair of trousers gave way, so they decided to land and camp for the night.