Life for camp guides has changed along with the times and clientele. In the early days of the Camp, the clientele were wealthy game hunters and visiting Gohere Bay was akin to visiting the great hunting grounds of Africa or South America. Fishing was a complex sport as well in the days before nylon fishing line, snap swivel connectors, braided wire leaders, weedless baits and spin-casting reels.
In the 1920’s and 30’s fishing line was silk and needed to be dried thoroughly after each use. To this end, spikes were driven halfway into the logs on the outside of each guest cabin. After a day’s fishing, the guide would unwind the entire spool of each reel around the spikes to allow the line to dry. The following morning, prior to heading out, the entire spool would need to be rewound. The reels were also prone to backlash. The entire reel spun when casting and had to be slowed by pressure on the line with the thumb of the casting hand. This required concentration and practice. Press too hard and your cast would be short. Too little pressure or applying pressure too late and the spool would continue to spin and unload line at a rate faster than it was leaving the reel. The result was a tangled mess known as backlash which required patience, time and a keen eye to unravel. Often it would be easier to switch to another rod and reel combo, leaving the unraveling to the guide at the end of the day.
Outboard motors were common on Lake of the Woods by the 1920’s. These were a blessing and a curse. Most boats were not designed for the extra weight on the stern and water often washed over the transom, especially when backing or in high winds, though many motors had no reverse gear. This often required a leap of faith that the motor would start with the propeller spinning thus the boat had to be pointed away from docks or shoreline. If the motor failed to start, there were always paddles or oars on board.
Gas tanks were small and integral, attached to the motor, usually on the back behind the flywheel. Often a can of gas was carried along for refills, which became difficult in inclement weather. Starter ropes were a piece of cord with at knot at one end to engage the flywheel which was exposed atop the motor. Many amateurs lost pieces of loose fitting clothing or worse to the teeth of the flywheel. Neckties were a definite no-no. As the boats were not designed for motor power, they lacked spray rails which meant a guide spent his time being soaked as water splashed over the gunwales. An odd effect of the motor era was the wear of wooden ribs. As the guide sat in essentially one place for long periods, they would brace themselves with a foot against one of the wooden ribs. Invariably, the same rib, over and over. This produced wear and fatigue on these ribs which lead to early failure in many boats.
Eventually motors grew in horsepower and reliability. Boat design was typically a step behind. Spray rails were developed as speeds increased. Tiller mounted throttle became the norm and the ready-pull was introduced. The nose of the newer generation boats was higher to allow the motorized boat to tackle heavier waves. This meant guides had a harder time seeing over the nose or even over the heads of the members of their party. This was often dealt with by means of a thin wooden box. The guide would stow a hatchet or hand axe, knife and a couple common tools in a wooden box an inch or two deep. He would place this on the rearmost seat and sit atop the box to afford a better view ahead.
Each guide was assigned a locker from a bank in front of the Camp store. The locker was large enough to hold fishing rods, tackle boxes and cushions and raingear. Each morning the guide would rewind the line on the reels after dropping a fresh load of firewood on the steps of his party’s cabin. Then he would load the gear into the boat, gas the motor, collect his guide box from the kitchen and report for breakfast. The morning meal was typical camp food, the same as the guests, pancakes, eggs, bacon and sausage with coffee. The guide box contained all the essentials for a proper shore lunch. Canned potatoes, beans, fry pan, turner, utensils, plates, coffeepot and cups, cornflake crumbs or cracker meal and a can of canned meat, usually Spam or Treet, just in case. Guides took great pride in a battered, rusting can of meat as it meant they were successful in leading their party to a successful catch and fresh fish for shore lunch.
The guides took their meals at a long table that occupied the space between the lodge building and the old icehouse which became the store. There was a window at one end and a single light bulb over the table. The crew slid along the table on long benches and leaned against the logs after long days or restless nights. Guides were the crew for any odd jobs or maintenance at the camp. If camp was full, they were out with parties. If camp was empty, they could spend days repairing cabins, building or painting docks, fixing broken waterlines or patching leaky boats. There was always something to be done. They would often spend weekends or evenings cutting wood for fires or stuffing oakum between logs to keep insects and bats out.
In hunting season, the rhythm of the camp changed. Guides would rise early to set out bait at sites they had been priming all summer long. By leaving food at a particular spot, they would encourage moose, deer or bear to return when hungry. As the seasons turned and food became scarce, the animals returned to their reliable spot. Guides kept some baiting secret while others were very public knowledge. Garbage dumps were favorites of bears. Grassy meadows, cleared by fires or timber harvest provided tender grass for moose or deer. Beaver ponds and flooded creek beds provided shelter for ducks and geese. All summer the guides would spend their free time scouting these places and marking locations, each in their own way.
Guides lived in a bunkhouse atop the island. Twenty guides were not an unusual number at times during the forties. A typical party for fishing was four to a boat, though some preferred the privacy of two or three. They usually stayed at the camp for two to three weeks at a time, then take a weekend off to head home to families, taking their wages with them. Most of the men worked trap lines in the winter or cut timber or both. Some reported to the mines and others simply lived off the land. Many times guides would bring their wives to camp to work the cabins or as cooks. Some couples would work at different camps, the husband guiding in one place, the wife cooking in another. Once the children arrived, however, the wife usually stayed at home and worked growing vegetables or other jobs they could do at home.
The bunkhouse saw its share of card games and drinking. Guides did not mix with guests after hours and being intoxicated around the guests was grounds for dismissal. The occasional brawl was also not unheard of, though again, the guests were not to know, except by the black eyes and fat lips the following morning.
Many repeat guests had favorite guides and guides had favorite guests. They also had those they preferred not to see again. Many large parties required several guides and the individual pairings might vary by the day to spread the wealth of high tippers among the crew. Since tips were based on catch, if the group fished together, the order of boats would vary each day as the last boat to pass a spot usually had the best results and the first boat, the worst.
Large parties would also sometimes meet up for shore lunch. Each guide would play a particular role. One would head in early to start a fire and begin cleaning fish, another would come in later but stay in to clean up after. Guides and guests ate together on shore lunch, though guests always had first choice. This lead to a little conniving by guides when it came to serving up the fish. Northern Pike are notorious for the boniness of their fillets. They are large fish and produce large, inviting looking servings as well as large bones. Guides would cut the fillets toward the tail, leaving several large fillets and several smaller tail pieces. Guests would gravitate toward the larger pieces and the guides would be ‘left’ with the smaller, though nearly boneless, tails.
In the 1940’s, when Willard ran the camp, he brought the technique of ‘feather paddling’ to the guides. This involves the use of the paddle in small, circular motions to hold the boat in position or move it as needed without removing the paddle from the water. The technique required a little time to learn, but provided a peaceful setting for fishing as well as keeping the fuel bills down. Even after the advent of motor trolling, guides were required to shut down the motor upon arriving at their destination. The paddle went into the water and the motor did not start again until they were ready to leave. Before hiring, each candidate was instructed to guide their boat around the entire island without lifting the paddle from the water. The only time a guide was to take the paddle out of the water was to assist the guest with landing fish or retrieving bait caught between stones or in trees.
Over time, folks became more comfortable with the lake, motors became easier to operate and the luxury crown moved on. More guests were families or couples and wanted an independent experience. Gone were khaki slacks and shirts, lace-up boots and fishing hats, replaced by sneaker, cutoff jeans and baseball caps. Bass boats became all the rage with their outrageous horsepower, sleek designs and shallow draft. Depth finders and fish finders replaced guides with years of knowledge and experience with underwater topography. Guides now are an elite group with their own boats specializing in long day trips. Many fish alongside their parties and trolling motors are the norm. For the most part, jigs and minnows have replaced the massive casting baits of yesterday. Modern musky hunters will still toss out a big bucktail spinner, but a trip through Grandma’s old tackle box showed harnesses for frogs and baby ducks, rigging for chubs and jointed wood carvings nearly as big as some fish I’ve cleaned and fried, with treble hooks that make me nervous to handle.
Life in Gohere Bay has certainly changed in the last 90 years and one can only wonder what the next 90 years will bring.
No comments:
Post a Comment