May 9, 1917
I spent the better part of the day canoeing with Charlie Scrim.
Charlie has become a good friend of mine. Ever since he came to Mowat Lodge last year, we always got along well. He’s from a family of florists, but he’s a good fisherman. The consumption made him quite weak but he was a trooper when we went on trips together. Since it was still early in the season we decided to canoe around the shores of Canoe Lake and not venture any further, because in Charlie’s words, if he had the ‘bloody coughing fits’ he could get back to the lodge without troubling me too much.
Another reason for sticking close to the shores was the fishing was darn good. The brookies (brook trout) were a biting lot the past few days, so were looking for a trophy brookie. It was easy to catch them but they were all too small to eat so you ended up throwing them back in. To lure the trophy brookies, and make it more entertaining for all around, I decided to use a dry-fly that I made the other day. A few days ago, I received the package of paints and the Jim managed to find my fly hooks and send them along as well.
Spring is truly the best time for brookies, and the best place to fish are the short connecting streams between lakes. We tried for a while by Potter Creek, made our way to below Joe Lake Dam, the stream from March Hare Lake and then back to a couple small streams south of Mowat Lodge. Charlie had a good time, but he was tired by the end of the day and I had to help back from the dock to Mowat Lodge. He’ll sleep well tonight.
After bringing Charlie back, I did a sketch of the clouds and the sky. It wasn’t as warm as yesterday. The cold air was moving in. The clouds were white and billowing high to the south while to the north they were lower and dark grey. It looked like it would rain, but I knew it wouldn’t. The future is like that sometimes. Everyone is sure that something is going to turn out one way, but deep in everyone’s heart, they know it’s going to turn out another way. That’s how the War is making everyone feel.