Thursday October 17, 1889
Jervis McEntee Diary Entry, October 17, 1889, from the Jervis McEntee papers, 1850-1905, in the Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institution
Thursday, Oct 17, 1889 The wind blew hard from the S. all day. Royal and I started for the trout hole on the 3rd lake about 9. We spent a [?] deal of time dodging in and out of [bogs?] looking for the brook which runs into the first lake from the second and at least found it just opposite our camp between two long points. It is a long and crooked approach to 2nd lake through a wide meadow. You leave the brook at the first fork and take the one to the left. At 2nd lake you enter at a forest of pines. The wind blew a gale but we pushed across nearly S. under the lee of a couple of islands and found the thoroughfare just before we reached the sand beach where we lunched 8 years ago at the S. E. end of the lake. Just there we met a man in an old birch who seemed to have nothing but a meat bag with some little thing in it in the bow. He told us the brook on which was the trout hole came in on the right about 3/4 of a mile away. As we rounded a point to the right we came upon an inlet in which there was a current and up which we went. I thought I heard running water and proposed going to the end but Royal said it was not the place and we returned contrary to my judgment and rounding the first point went clear to the extreme end of the lake not seeing a sign of a brook. We returned to the inlet and I determined to examine it thoroughly first near the head on the right we came to a corduroy road through a cedar swamp where we landed and up which Royal went and was gone 3/4 of an hour reporting a lake at the end but no signs of a brook. We continued up the inlet and saw another road which I noted and a short distance beyond came to the brook I had heard falling over the rocks. We were satisfied this was the place and went back to the road up which we walked to where it had crossed by a bridge now gone. Then we stuck up stream as we had been directed and after a quarter of a mile of pretty rough walking reached the hole at the foot of rapid water near some rocks. It was a thoroughly promising place. I cast and in a short time had a rise. The next cast I took a pound trout and that was all. I whipped the pool faithfully for an hour to no effect. [We?] had wasted so much time reaching here that [it?] was now 3 oclock and time to return. We reached camp in an hour and a half and had our trout broiled for supper which Eastman greatly enjoyed as it was the first fish we have had. Speculating around the camp fire after supper as to why I had caught and seen but one, Ben York suggested that this was their "spondin' season and that he had prob'ly spondid and was kind'o roamin round". Eastman had had the camp all cleaned up and made very comfortable and attractive but the wind blew directly into the tent and we could leave no fire in front. The men had to build a fire on the sand below to cook our supper. We were hungry as bears and of course ate enormously. The result was I did not get to sleep until after midnight. I found I had too much covering and threw them off half of it. Eastman snored and talked at a great rate and at least I dropped off. Here is a map of the way to the trout hole [McEntee has drawn a map in this entry].
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