Souvenir History of Bruce Beach/The Fishing Club

THE Records of Bruce Beach would be incomplete without a history of the Fishing Club. The genesis of the Club, and the experiences of the fishermen in their first venture were related in a Sporting magazine by Rev. W. A. Bradley, a short time after the trip to Miller Lake, and reproduced here: There is situated on the shore of Lake Huron, some six miles south of the town of Kincardine, a summer resort known as Bruce Beach, which numbers about seventy-five cottages, about one half of which are owned, or occupied, by clergymen, comprising theological professors, city and country pastors.

One night last camping season my cottage was invaded by a number of genuine successors of Peter; James, and John, sons of thunder as well as possessors of the instincts of the fisherman, who proposed a fishing trip to some good fishing ground, and inquired if I was familiar with any. I told them that the Bruce County Council bad three years ago held its June meeting in Tobermory, the extreme point of that index finger of Bruce county, that points to the north star, and that one of my men, who had accompanied the party, on his return, when I inquired how the fishing was in the Bruce peninsula replied, "Fishing? I tell you that the bass are so plentiful and gamey in those lakes up there, that you have to go behind a tree to keep them from seeing you bait your hook, or they will be out after it." One of the party said that he had a suspicion that the story must be true, for he had a man in his employ who had fished in a lake up there, but who so far had escaped the attacks of the bass, who had told him similar stories of fishermen's luck, and who had placed a tent and fishing paraphernalia at his disposal, if he should ever go to Miller Lake for a fishing outing. "That settles it," chimed in the other members of the party, "we leave for the peninsula tomorrow morning at 5 o'clock." However next day we concluded that the week was too far spent. and as some of the party had to preach on Sunday, that we would wait till the following week, and riot limit ourselves to time.

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The Preparations for a good fish story
Left to Right: Norman Slater, D. T. L. McKerroll, W. A. Bradley, W. A. Bremner, R. Davidson, N. A. MacEachern.

Our party consisted of a theological professor, two city pastors, one of which had accompanied our troops in France, who shall be known as the Captain, a pastor from Cobourg, the writer, and (as no Presbyterian church court is complete without an elder) an elder from Hamilton.

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The Fisherman's Catch
W. A. Bremner and Norman Slater, with D. T. L. McKerroll in the background

Bright and early the next week two Ford cars were filled with sleeping blankets, cooking utensils, fishing tackle, cutlery, thermos bottles, cups and saucers; sufficient for the party, and 8 o'clock saw these clerical disciples of Isaak Walton heading for parts unvisited before by any member of the party.

Considerable scepticism was expressed by the wives of the party as they saw binder twine sacks being taken along in which to bring home the fish, and suggestions were made that the fish brought back were not to cost more than 13 cents per pound. All this chaffing the fishermen endured with Christian fortitude and resignation as becometh saints.

Kincardine, Tiverton, Underwood, Port Elgin, Southampton, and Allenford, we passed through, and Wiarton reached by 12 o'clock nOon. Here the party waited till the arrival of the G. T. R. train from the south which was to bring the sixth member of the party, the elder from Hamilton.

After a sumptuous dinner in the Arlington Hotel whose genial proprietor well deserves mention here for the excellency of the cuisine provided in that hostel, the party set out for Lion's Head, which was a little over half way from Wiarton to Our objective point. Here begin the turns and twists in the road that have made the peninsula famous. I had heard of an Englishman, Irishman, and Scotchman, telling stories of the sharp turns in the roads that they bad experienced in their travels. The Englishman had been on a road so tortuous that he could never see twenty yards straight ahead of him. The Scotchman told of a trip he had to the centennial in Philadelphia years ago, where the curves in the railway were so sharp, that he, in the baggage car, handed his chewing tobacco to the man on the rear of the last coach of the tram, and got it back at the next curve. The Irishman said that driving around the Lakes of Killarney the curves in the road were so sharp that on a number of occasions he saw the back of his own head. But on the peninsula roads we were told that the driving horses were all fat, because at every curve in this road they could eat out of the back of the buggy to which they were hitched. "Well these roads," said the Toronto pastor, when we reached Lion's Head, "are crooked enough to make a snake dizzy."

Here we inquired about the fishing at Miller Lake, and the distance to that place. The opinion expressed was that the fishing there was not very good, and the distance in the minds of many to whom we spoke was uncertain as we were told that it was 14 miles by some, 15 by others. and 17 by the hotel keeper, who recommended Stokes Bay as a better fishing ground, and his house for our accommodation at night, as there was no accommodation at Miller Lake. However we were not to be diverted from our objective, and set out for Cape Chin, over roads that made the Rocky Roads to Dublin unworthy of the name, for while the road from Wiarton to Lion's Head was over rocks and hills, the road from Lion's Head to Cape Chin made us experience Roller Boller thrills. One member of the party remarked that these roads were up and down and in and out at the same rime. As we passed a curve·in the road a large bill board with the sign