The 12th of September by Ralph Bice
From Wednesday, September 14, 1977
Quite a few things have happened on this particular date. This is being written on September 12. The first one that I remember was in 1918. It had been a very nice summer with plenty of fishermen in the woods. The last trip was to Butt, or as it was called, Eagle Lake. Angus McLennan of Huntsville was the other guide and we had a family of four, the parents and two teenage boys. As we left the Highland Inn on the morning train for Rain Lake it was raining and we asked permission to use the shelter huts which would make it easier if the bad weather continued. The new shelter hut had been built the previous summer. The party slept in the new hut while the guides used the old one still in good shape with a stove. The fishing was good and we had a good trip. If we had had to use the tents it would not have been as pleasant. Then, about the end of the trip, it really got nasty. Cold rain and wind from the northeast. We waited two extra days but the grub was running out and we started for the railroad on the morning of the 12th.
All went well until we got three parts of the way across the lake when the wind got worse and the canoes took in water. Water came in over the stern and the passenger bailed. We made a sheltered shore and the portage, very wet but relieved to have had nothing worse happen. The rest of the way, while not too good for travelling, was no problem. And this happened 59 years ago this morning.
In 1923 Bob Mann and I had gone to Armstrong to guide moose hunters. We were to be away for more than a month as there were two parties. We met at a small place called Collins, west of Armstrong, The weather was warm, just like summer, and we left the R.R. (railroad) on the late morning of the 10th. We camped one night on the way to Smooth Rock Lake where we would establish our base camp. There were five hunters and five guides. There also was a so-called cook; a plumber friend of the top guide combining a holiday with a trip to the woods. I hope he was a better plumber than the skill he showed as a cook.
We reached our lake well before noon and spent the rest of the day getting camp in shape. I always remember the great quantities of blueberries. Not quite as tasty as what we were used to but so many and so large. Just as supper was finished it began to rain. Then a wind got up, switched to the north, and when we poked out of the tents in the morning there was two inches of snow on the ground. We took several pictures of hunters picking blueberries in the snow. That night it got really cold and that was the end of the berries.
After the snow it turned warm again and we had more than a month of lovely fall weather; basically your Indian summer. Only a few brief showers. That was 54 years ago this morning.
In 1925 I was on a camping-fishing trip with Mr. C.P. Folsom, perhaps the man I fished with the most. We went through the park to Agnone and fished a few days in Lake Travers, the only lake in the Park that had muskies. Also fished a small lake for speckles. We camped near the station as we would take the train at 5:30 a.m. to Brent and return to the Highland Inn on another route. We decided to have breakfast after we had crossed Cedar Lake. Our tent was some distance from the water supply so we had a pail for a bit of a wash in the morning. That night it got cold. The pail had frozen so hard that it took a good blow to break the ice. Then, partway across Cedar Lake, a northeast wind came up and we had trouble making it. All day there were showers mixed with snow and we were quite glad to use the shelter at the foot of Burnt Lake. That was 52 years ago this morning.
During the last war in 1942 with Mr. Folsom the weather was nice and we were camped on Ham (Hambone) Lake. We were in Scott or Magnetewan Lake trying for specks when we noticed young loons learning to fly. There was a pair and we stopped fishing and watched. They would take off on the largest part of the lake, the first few times clumsily, they would circle the lake, light on the water, and after a short rest try again. This is the first and only time I have seen young loons attempting to fly and it was quite interesting. The parent loons did not seem to be around. Only 35 years ago today. One more.
In 1943 I had a father and son and we were camped on Butt Lake. On the 10th we were looking around the area at new lakes and came to Crotch Lake. Sometimes speckles could be caught there. This was one of those days. The fish were small and we took what we could eat in two meals. That evening we planned to go back and catch specks to take home. So, on September 12 we went back. Same fishermen, same tackle, same guide, same nice weather. We fished for four hours and never got one strike. And that was 34 years ago this afternoon. I have not been back to fish that little lake since.
So, for these reasons, I always have a few minutes on September 12 remembering these little happenings.