An Outing of Waukesha Men in the Wilds of Wisconsin

An Outing of Waukesha Men in the Wilds of Wisconsin

Waukesha Freeman (Waukesha, Wisconsin) 

September 27, 1900

 

Away up in the northern part of the state, against the geographical line which divides Michigan’s Northern arm from the territory of our own commonwealth, and where the national line divides the rainfall, giving to each state its just proportion, there lies a region of pine forest which to the south of the watershed is honeycombed by countless lakes, where nature seems to have gently bade the water rest before taking up the turbulent passage through the tributaries to the Wisconsin River. Civilization has passed by this region, owing to its inaccessibility, and with the exception of a few lumber camps and log lodges for tourists on the outer border, natural conditions prevail. The region forms a natural park where fish and game are protected by laws more efficient than those made at Madison, and where winged and finny creatures have not diminished in numbers to any considerable extent as yet. 

The advantages of the section as a place to while away a vacation have been realized for years, but owing to the considerable efforts required to reach any of the lakes beyond those whose outlets have been cleared up by the lumbermen, and on which there is still excellent fishing and hunting, but few tourists have penetrated to the interior lakes. 

The writer, with six companions, visited this region early in September with a firm determination to get to these almost unknown waters and there set up housekeeping for a fortnight. In evidence of the natural laws of preservation which protects the wildlife of this section, we admit that we only had a lingering glimpse of the interior landlocked jewels and were forced to set up shop on “Windy Point,” less than a mile from a log house summer resort and surrounded by log booms and lumber camps. However, our campsite was wild enough for the ordinary individual and reached with effort enough to satisfy most people in search of a quiet place to rest and recuperate.

 

THE PARTY AND THE START.

 

The party consisted of Messrs. P. C. Robinson, Harry Randall, Roy Walker, George S Putney, Malvin Wright, E. S. Smith, and myself, who met at the little station of Manitowish at 6 o’clock on the morning of September 7, having straggled in in parties of two and three since the evening before. When the last of the party arrived, we put out an eye for our luggage, which was piled 10 feet high on the platform and which furnished a question of debate as to the best mode of transporting it 40 miles into the interior. We found one chest had not been put in an appearance. The boats were launched on the river just below the station, and the luggage piled in, which settled the question of the number of passengers who might travel by water. There was no room for all, and two were chosen by lot to saunter a foot 7 miles up a logging road, while the others paddled 15 miles up the sinuous Manitowish, which winds around in a manner to make a merry-go-round manager dizzy. The sun, which had a shine on, struck us from every side and left his mark completely around the necks of everyone who did not wear a bandana and made us feel foolish for transporting a large double blanket a piece all the way from home. Four days afterwards, when we could not sleep for chill, we wished we had lugged four blankets a piece and two radiant home burners.

The trip up the river was a delightful one, and although the swift current made paddling a little more arduous than we desired, we went along at a four-mile clip and encouraged each other by recounting every sign of the approach to Rest Lake dam, where we expected to lighten the load of provisions by a meal. We ate dinner while we were several miles from the dam, however, and reached there about 4 o’clock. After hard work in portaging into Rest Lake, we again took an inventory of goods and bewailed the loss of one piece of baggage which contained a goodly supply of the staff of life and which we dared not proceed without.

The loss, together with the unsolved problem of transporting all our luggage in one trip, settled the question of going further the next day and we secured an additional boat from Pete Vance’s summer hotel and crossed the lake where we set up camp, supposedly for a short time. Other campers had been on the site, and we utilized their tables and tent floors and were comfortably settled by bedtime. This halt was fatal to the desire to go further into the wilds to camp, as we could not afterward be induced to strike tents for an unknown site in the hemlock swamps.

 

SOME LITTLE EXCURSIONS.

 

The weather was excellent for three or four days, and we enjoyed the little excursions and fishing trips about Rest Lake, but the wish to get into the unknown lands overcame us and two of us started out one morning on a voyage of discovery. After several attempts to find the inlet from the other lakes of the Manitowish chain, we encountered a gasoline launch coming up an arm of the lake and the pilot directed us to follow the thoroughfare. The thoroughfares were formerly rivulets connecting the lakes which had been deepened and widened by raising the water about 20 feet at Rest Lake Dam so that logs could be rafted down.

We followed the thoroughfare until we met several parties, evidently city chaps, fishing with their guides who rowed at an astonishingly fast pace, and turning a short distance beyond us came back. We followed them for about three miles and finally came to a fine, large body of water on the west shore of which seemed to be a village. This was Buck’s summer resort on Manitowish Lake, and there were a number of guests there. The owner of the gasoline launch we had hailed was among the number. We stopped here about an hour and got the directions to a number of other lakes in the chain which could be reached through the thoroughfares. All the cottages at Bucks’ were built of logs, but were not as rude as the regular lumber shacks of the camps. Here the road ended and all connection was cut off, except by boat, to the few who had set up shop further eastward. Buck’s place makes a fine headquarters for tourists who do not care to visit more inaccessible lakes, but the fishing and hunting is no better than can be enjoyed from Pete Vance’s Rest Lake cottages, four miles nearer the railway. 

We went eastward from Buck’s to Island Lake. It is as large as Pewaukee Lake and has four islands, on one of which is a small resort, LaFave’s. There are three other shacks on the shores, one of which is owned by a Chicago man of means and is a comfortable place. This lake is a fine body of water with excellent fishing grounds. We caught several fish in this lake during our stay. We had luncheon at LaFave’s and started for home about 3 o’clock. We related our experiences to the others in camp that night and a general exodus for Island Lake next day was the result. While we had been absent the boys had enjoyed themselves fishing near camp and had been entertainedd by one of the party falling into the lake from the boom logs which had been beached around the point for use the coming season, where the logs will be hauled down by the rafting steamer which was anchored near the dam and which we came near confiscating for a houses after the weather changed. After the second trip to Island Lake, it was almost decided to trek to it with the camp, but the next day it rained and we decided to investigate further before striking camp. 

 

COOKING AND DISHWASHING.

 

About this time, dishwashing seemed too mean an occupation for discoverers, and it was difficult to get the household duties accomplished. The cooking was generally under Mr. Robinson’s supervision, and no housewife can equal his efforts at a boiled dinner or fry a slice of muskellunge to a finer turn. The meals, of which there were generally two a day, were thoroughly appreciated and we who had the supervision of supplies wondered if we would not have to hasten back before our allotted time was passed to avoid starvation. The stray package of breadstuffs was hauled up by Vance’s stage one day and relieved anxiety until we found it had passed the time in the rain on the depot platform at Mercer, and the “loafers” were budding out in green spots and had to be relegated to the fishes. 

Our visit to Island Lake whetted the appetite to go further and we formed a party of five to find the Clear Lake passage. It was a  long one filled with driftwood and stumps, but the visit was well worth the time. On the north shore twenty miles from a base of supplies, were the last vestiges of habitation, the Clear Lake Lumber camp and Devine’s cabin, where he and his Native American wife, who refused to be photographed, had lived for fifteen years and reared nine children. He was at the lumber camp when we landed. The children readily consented to be “snapped” by a camera upon being presented with a “hard tack.” Paul, the 3-year-old, hastened to the house to don his bright red hat and slicker before he appeared with a wide grin to have his photograph taken. They all wanted to see the picture as soon as the exposure was made, and seemed disappointed when I told them that they would have to wait until I got home, when I would mail one. We met Mr. De Vine on our way along the trail to the camp and talked with him. He seemed to have been well educated, but showed evidence of moreseness, which had driven him from his own people. Among other things, he spoke of the wrong done to him when the dam was put in at Rest Lake and submerged just about half of his 160-acre farm. His first cabin had been built a quarter of a mile out in the lake on what was then dry land, and he was fearful that he would be obliged to abandon his present cabin as the water had risen to within a few rods of it last spring. He had a fine garden, and the hill on the north was crowned with a large corn field. 

 

A VISIT TO LUMBER CAMPS.

 

We made an interesting visit to the lumber camp which was in charge of two middle-aged men. A musty wood and boiled onion combination smell was wafted to us as we neared the camp, and gave us an impression that we would not like the place. After we arrived and were warmly welcomed by the “camp watch,” as they call the men in charge, we forgot all about the disagreeable odor and made a very interesting tour of the buildings. The watch said it was all right to stay there if one could fight the bed bugs off. He was poaching a lumberjack show and was nearly out of leather cement, when Mr. Robinson suggested that he would send him a bottle. “I would be worth more to me than so much gold,” he said. We inspected the log buildings and contents. There were piles of blankets seven feet high in the “office.” We wished we had some of the on Windy Point. The dining cabin was connected with the main sleeping room by an extension of the room, which formed an open lounging place. There were accommodations for 50 men and 15 or 20 teams in the camp. We noticed the big heavy harnesses were hung in the alleyway between the bunks where the teamsters slept. They were consequently kept in excellent condition and were cleaner than harnesses usually are. There were a dozen sleighs capable of carrying as many tons each standing near the stables, with a snow plow and sprinkler for icing the road so that the enormous loads can be drawn onto the ice of the lake from the woods, where the logs fall through in the spring break up and are rafted down he thoroughfares to the dam. This property is owned by the Mississippi Lumber Company of Eau Claire, which will carry on extensive operations on the lakes the coming winter.

Several days before this visit we had learned the twenty Indians from the Lac du Flambeau reservation had gone in the day ahead of us and were camped on Rice Creek, where they were gathering wild rice. In our efforts to locate Rice Creek, we took a portage from the east end of Clear Lake which brought us to Big Lake, out of which Rice Creek flows. We were compelled to stop here on the borders of one of the finest lakes in the region. Away to the south, we could catch a glimpse of a shack which we afterward learned belonged to A. S. Laflin of the Laflin Rand Powder Company. Rand is a grandson of Matthew Laflin. He owns a fifteen-acre tract on which are eleven log buildings where he spends a considerable time with friends each season. We were loath to return without a better acquaintance with these waters, but resolved to go back later. 

After returning to the lumber camp, we met two fellows who appeared to be lumberjacks. They told us, however, that they were lumber estimators and were going to make a trip to the eastward of Presque Isle and Papoose Lake to estimate 7,000 acres for a New York firm. Here were two men going right to the very point we had planned to visit and we inquired eagerly regarding the trail they were following. They directed us but when they saw us prepare to wake up the Papoose Lake trail, they informed us that we would be obliged to wade half a mile in six inches of water or leave the trail and break through the woods. We turned about and came back to Camp Crestfallen. We conferred with the guides and watches but got little encouragement for a favorable trip over the two miles which separated us from the land-locked lakes in which we desired so much to cast a line for the big muskies we had heard the guides tell of at Vance’s. Two of the boys proceeded us out of Clear Lake and visited Buck’s place late in the afternoon.

 

BUCK, A LOCAL CHARACTER

Is a hospitable fellow and has a glad hand for all who visit the Manitowish cottages. The boys were shown about the place and were regaled in a princely manner. Buck was cutting up some logs in the front yard that afternoon, and a number of guests watched him return to work after he had shown the boys about. Stakes were wagered that he would not work ten minutes without a drink, and the guests stood about with watches in hand waiting developments. Buck kept at work industriously, and the minutes glided by. Eight were counted when he raised his hat and wiped the perspiration from his forehead and again attacked a large stump root. The seconds passed rapidly and the axe was wielded with agility until nine minutes had passed. He did not weaken until half a minute later, when he threw the axe ten feet and yelled, “Come on boys, let’s have another drink.” (Smith, Batavia Ill, vouches for this.)

We learned more of Buck before we left for home. He is an ingenious follow and play pranks with the city boys who are used to tall buildings but gaze open-mouthed at the lumberjacks with hob-nail shoes. One of the guides told us how Buck had a big rubber fish which he anchored off one of the points in five feet of water. Then he would invite the latest arrival from town to go spearing muskies. The guide by arrangement, saw several large ones as they rowed along shore before they passed the point, where the new arrival saw “the one,” at which he generally lunged with the spear when Buck would tip the boat over and all would have to swim for shore. And afterwards, they would tell of the nine-footer they just missed. The new arrival at Buck’s find out lots that he little dreamed of, especially if Buck has an inclination to make his visit a memorable one. The grog shop there does not have a late glass front and large sign, and many a thirst new arrival had interviewed Buck as to its location and been taken to the woods behind the cottages where a crotched stick is cut and Buck takes out his compass and strides off. After a quarter mile walk the crocheted stick seems to be thrown violently to the ground, when Buck says “I guess you will strike it here.” He scratches away the leaves and unearths a rubber tube from which he regails himself and then invites his friends to take a pull. Lots of them, the guide said, think that the liquor comes out of the ground.

 

TO PAPOOSE LAKE. 

 

After our trip to Clear Lake, we discussed the trip to Papoose and decided to get to the lake even if we did have to wade half a mile. We drew cuts for camp watcher, and the other six of us tuned in early after dinner and supper, which came in a bunch at dark. The next morning, we started out with three boats and in our haste to reach the Clear Lake portage we did not even drop a trolling line for a chance musky strike. We took up the trail past the camp and informed the watch that we were going in. He said we would have a tough time but admitted he had never been to Papoose Lake; had taken the timber estimator’s word for it. The trail was easily followed until we struck the swamps. The first was skirted and two of the boys flushed a covey of partridges and wasted three shells in an endeavor to bag some of them. We tried to repeat these tactics around the second, a larger swamp, but could not pick up the trail on the opposite side and lost an hour in returning and following it right across through the water about a foot deep. We found it within a hundred feet of where we had been searching, but it ran up into an arm of the lowland and was very disagreeable to follow and the advice of one of the others to “Be a sport and wade.” The advice was rather indecorous in view of the fact that he completely ruined his only pair of shoes in the wading and had to rely on the charity of the others for footwear until he reached home.

The trail finally reached highland but branched every 100 yards and we had to keep tab on the compasses pretty closely as the day was cloudy and threatened rain. We came to an opening at last through which the location of the lake could be seen, and we reached the shore in a few minutes. Here at last was a lake to our heart’s desire. It was a beautiful body of water to look upon and every shoreline line rounded off where the heavy growth hung five or six feet over the water. No signs of life were seen except the streak of a passing fish through the water along shore, which was visible by the minnows jumping out along its course. We took photographs toward the two islands in the center of the lake and sat around and munched hard tack. We all agreed that Papoose Lake should be our objective point next year and that we should visit the sister lakes further on of whose beauty the guides told us. They had used their persuasive powers to prevent our going there to camp by telling us that the fish had all been seined out in the spring by poachers who fished for the market and this was one of the reasons why we did not break camp at Rest Lake and move further on in the first days of our outing.

 

FROZEN OUT AT LAST. 

 

After our return to Clear Lake we portaged across to Big Lake again and enjoyed another view of it, but the Laflin cabins savored too much of civilization and it did not wean our preference from the one we had researched by the hard tramp to the north. We were thoroughly tired when we reached camp at dark that night, but another of those dinner suppers awaited us and we left no vestige for the jolly little tramp dog, Sport, which had followed us from the station and which paid his board by serving as foot warmer for our culinary artist. He went to bed with a crust and had to be sent back by Vance’s stage next day to avoid starvation. Rain and wind came after supper and made the night very disagreeable to those who were tired out by the hard journey of the previous day. All night and all day it continued without cessation, and when it did not cease on Sunday, all resolutions to stick it out for two weeks were annulled. We passed a very unpleasant day Sunday and finally got chilled so that we put on waterproof coats and sat beside a fire under the south bank, where we watched the rain turn to snow and finally cease falling. 

For two days, we did not venture off Windy Point owing to the high waters, but it quieted with sundown and we decided that a part of us should go to Vance’s for the night and leave our blankets for the others, and that we should break camp for home the next day. The weather changed before morning and portaged into the Manitowish River at 10 o’clock with the exception of Malvin Wright who rode his boat over the crest and through the whirlpool, thereby saving a long carry and furnishing amusement for us who watched him and took snap shots as he went through.

On the down trip, we ran the rapids which had caused considerable work to portage around in coming up, and had line sport shooting at big flocks of ducks which raised from the rice beds as we passed. We made the return in about half the time it took to go up and with less effort and had the luggage all checked in ample time to catch the homeward-bound train. 

A. H. Y.