  Proceeding south on the Intercolonial Railway, the important centre of Newcastle on the Miramichi River is reached. Here the fine river Miramichi empties into Miramichi Bay, passing first through the island-protected inner bay that makes such a broad approach to Chatham and the wide Miramichi at Newcastle. The prosperous towns of Chatham and Newcastle are therefore natural centres for outfitting and starting on river journeys of such extent that the whole of Central New Brunswick may easily be reached; and not only that, but also Tobique River and the west, the St. John and Madawaska to the far west, the Restigouche and Matapedia Rivers to the north-west, the Upsalquitch and Nepisiguit Rivers to the north, the Nashwaak and St. John Rivers to the south-west, and Grand Lake, Canaan and Kennebecasis Rivers and the Bay of Fundy to the south are all made accessible by the Miramichi River. This grand system of waterways has no parallel elsewhere. Canoeing, fishing, etc., over such an extensive chain of rivers is a joy that, once tasted, calls back the happy nature lover again and again to the fascination of continued exploration in a country that is full of variety and beauty. By this time the traveller has fairly entered New Brunswick, and he cannot have failed to observe many differences between this province and that he has recently left. Quebec is the old world, with scarcely anything of the new in it, save its scenery, distinctive of the Western Continent. New Brunswick, in its life, seems to typify admirably the happy position occupied by all Canada, a position midway between that of Old England and the great republic to the south. With a strong sheet anchor of conservatism and respect for old and tried institutions fastened firmly in Britain’s shore, the far-reaching and unbreakable cable, or indissoluble bond, of attachment And so the New Brunswicker, if you ask him how he is, will not reply, like our British Cousin, “Quite well, thank you; how are you?” Nor will he tell you he feels “great” or “fine”, like our American cousin. Instead, he will tell you he is “Not too bad!” which, as will be apparent, is about half way between the other expressions. If you ask a New Brunswicker, “Is it going to rain to-day?” he will reply, “I don’t think!” Do not be deceived. This does not mean that he does not think; it is his way of saying “I think not.” He will be found genial, pleasant and manly, with a keen eye to the main chance, but not making money his worship—as yet. Miramichi Bay, or “Bay of Boats,” was visited by Jacques Cartier. So many savages put out in their canoes that the bay was literally covered by them—hence the name. Indeed, Cartier had to fire off cannon to frighten them away lest they should swarm on and overrun his little vessels. The next day the explorer made friends with the Indians by giving a red hat to their chief. The town of Chatham has a particularly fine situation near the mouth of the river. Here large ocean steamships load their cargoes of pulpwood blocks, timber and lumber, etc., for all parts of the world. It is a splendid point for fitting out with fishing and hunting equipment, and a convenient base for hunting, fishing and camping-out parties. Enjoyable shorter trips may be taken down the bay to Tabusintac, Neguac and Portage Island, as well as to Fox island, Loggieville and Escuminac. Some of these places are excellent for trout and wild-birds. At Kent Junction, south of Chatham, on the line of the Intercolonial Railway, train connections may be made for Kouchibouguac On the Miramichi River Newcastle is another centre, equipping-point and starting-place for river trips, fishing, hunting, etc. It has a fine situation on Miramichi Bay, and considerable shipping may be seen at the wharves and mills on the water front. On this river, as on the rivers of New Brunswick generally, the extent of the lumbering operations may be judged from the timber rafts and immense quantities of logs floating down stream on their way to the timber-booms and saw-mills. There is a pleasant trip up the Miramichi by steamer as far as Red Bank, and down the bay to Chatham, and seaward there are other interesting steamer routes. Newcastle makes a very pleasant summer stopping-place, as it is quite convenient to many places of interest in the neighborhood. From Derby Junction on one side of the river and from Chatham Junction on the other, two Intercolonial lines run by the Miramichi to Blackville, where they join. From this point the line The Indian word Miramichi means “Happy Retreat,” and this describes its character not only for the old-time “Children of the Forest,” but for the summer visitor as well. It is one of the largest and most important rivers of the province. It has its source in a lake not far from the distant Tobique River. It flows with considerable rapidity in some places, and in the main over a bed of shingle and gravel. The North-West and the Little South-West branches are dotted with pleasant little hamlets in their lower reaches. The Renous, Dungarvon, Batholomew and Cain’s Rivers all discharge into its lower waters, and well above Blackville the pretty little Taxis River at Boiestown marks the westerly turn of the main or South-West Miramichi. At Cross Creek the easterly running Nashwaak turns abruptly south, and over the heights and along this picturesque valley the railway reaches the St. John River, and crosses over it to the southern bank on which Fredericton is so beautifully placed. In addition to the main river and its large tributaries, there are numerous smaller streams and brooks that plash and fall or glide smoothly along to swell the Miramichi; and there is hardly a town or village along the route just traced that does not afford good fishing and hunting, as well as all the joys the nature-lover knows well he will find in such a superbly-watered and well-wooded country. For touring to see the beauties of nature, for drives from the principal centres, and for walking expeditions, no richer or prettier country could be found. This is also the very heart of a great hunting country. Indeed, it is a common thing to look from the passing train and see the deer browsing and bounding gracefully within a stone’s throw of the track, or standing motionless by the edge of some nearby thicket. The Nashwaak itself has its own network of pretty little tributaries, not least of which is the charming Tay; and here as in so many parts of New Brunswick it is difficult to alight at random in a place that has not water and canoeing facilities. Canoeing on the St. John River The following description of a canoe trip on the Nashwaak is typical of hundreds of similar journeys that can be taken along the course recently traced, and indeed on any of the rivers and waterways, great and small, with which the province is so liberally endowed. As it is most convenient to make this particular excursion from Fredericton, that place is taken as the starting point from which the canoe puts out. It is a bright morning, the air is playing in a gentle breeze, and the St. John River gleams with many a dancing ripple as we take our way well up stream to drop down quietly with the current as we drink in the glorious view on every hand. Higher up, where the banks become bolder, the lumbermen’s piers of stone, cribbed in with timber, and overgrown with young tree shoots and wild-flowers in profusion, line the centre of the stream like so many ornamental gardens. Yon shimmering surface in the distant valley, at the foot of a bold hill, is not a placid lake bathed in the beams of the early sun—it is a white and fleecy morning mist catching the side rays horizontally and reflecting them in long pencils of light. NEW BRUNSWICK SCENES
At times the hills and woodland over there terminate abruptly in long stretches of perfectly smooth meadow-land, stretching out like a well-laid carpet, and with only an occasional high tree by the edge to mark the course of the river. We are nearly opposite the Nashwaak, and paddling across the northern half of the broad St. John we reach the rich meadows that lie at the mouth of the stream upon which we shall soon float. Gliding up stream with easy paddling, the covered bridge is reached and we thread our way through the loose floating boards and made-up rafts of deal that mark the lumberman’s highway. A little further up, however, a stop is made, for here is a boom of heavy timbers, chained directly across the stream. We soon find a place where there is a clear waterway near the shore, some three or four feet wide, and pushing through this we speed on. But the rippling murmur of water falls on our ears, and looking ahead we see the wavelets, eddies and bubbles that mark a swiftly flowing current. Bending to with a will, and at times using the paddle as a pole in very stiff water, we manage to work our way up higher. And now another obstruction is met, a boom that completely closes the way, with no water passageway of any kind. And so, keeping inshore and balancing on one of the logs, while using one hand for support against the almost perpendicular bank, we pull the canoe over the boom, step in, and once more proceed on our way. The lively kingfisher makes flights up the stream in advance of our progress, sweeping down at times with unerring eye to seize his prey from under the surface of the water, and then resting on some projecting tree branch he gives opportunity for admiring his comely appearance before our near presence warns him to renewed flight. Well up above the water, but skimming the trees and brushing the leaves as he flies, he keeps us company, and soon is joined by other merry fellows that make the way lively. Here is a huge eagle with a wing-spread of five or six feet, at least. Seemingly unafraid, he drops almost alongside on the bank that runs down to a flat sand strip; and as he stands still as we pass, we can see the pure white of his head and tail, and notice his powerful wings as he again soars in the air. Wild canaries, also, are quite numerous; and the canoe voyager on the Nashwaak has no lack of pleasant company. Several pieces of swift water have been passed, and at one point where the river meets an island and has a steep descent and sharp bend of the channel, the rushing fall of water carries us nearly into the shore; and it takes both paddles to make any progress by “poling” or pushing on the bottom of the river. Under the Dam—Nashwaak River Going further, we look with apprehension on an apparently insurmountable barrier in the form of an immense log, wedged solidly across stream between the high banks, with a very narrow channel and, of course, plenty of rushing water. The log does not touch the water, being held in position about a foot, or less, above it. Holding to the huge barrier we force the head of the canoe beneath it, and pressing down with united weight we manage to get past by scrambling over the log and dropping into the canoe as it passes clear. On the Nashwaak River A very pretty stretch of water now marks the gradual approach to the Marysville dam, and here occasional streaks of rapid water are found as the channel contracts. At last we reach the foaming run, or rapid, just below the fall, and a lively time ensues before the canoe is brought right under the curtain of the waterfall. Turning now to descend, the full current of the rapid is behind. Watching until we head right, and planning to reach a quiet pool Hurrah! This is fine! We are where the current is swiftest, and where waves curl and boil over with dashing foam. There! a sheet of white spray! and we have tasted the Nashwaak. We take the water like a duck, are whisked past the point at a tremendous speed, and then, with a powerful stroke of the paddle, we make a quick and giddy turn—to find ourselves in still water, taking a few moments of well-earned rest. While the Nashwaak, in the main, may be termed a meadow stream, it has many places in its upper waters where high and rugged banks, wild woodland and steep fall make scenes of romantic beauty. It is not open in the sense that a canoe may go all over its course without meeting obstruction, as may be done on so many other rivers in the province. It is one of those small streams that many prefer just for the fun of making easy portages and crossing such barriers as those described, as well as over occasional bars of sand or gravel in shoal places. A journey of 20 to 25 miles may be taken up stream in this way. One in each canoe is best for the upper waters. There are pleasant little settlements all along the shore, and simple refreshment may be obtained, as well as sleeping accommodation, if the canoeist desires to prolong the trip and take time to see the inner country at his ease. Calling the Ferry, St. John River decorative border
|
|
