"We saw Tom come almost at a run over the Joe Lake Portage, canoe over his head. Throwing his canoe into the water he seized his paddle, and shooting the canoe out into the water paddles like a mad man to our wharf. Here he pulled up his canoe in haste and up into our cabin. 'Say Mark, you know. I know you know just what I want. Trees. Spruce trees, black spruce, rough old looking trees. You know what I mean. Trees against a cold, green grey northern sky.  Where can I get them at once?'    I said, 'Tom just tell me what you want, and possibly I can help you.'  He then described the two black spruce trees. I said, 'Go to the little swamp below Sims Pit.  You will find those trees you want in a group.' 'But, can I get them against a cold northern sky?' I assured him that I thought he could. He was away like a shot, and like a wild man was disappearing over the portage. Three days Later Tom came into our cabin. There was a big smile on his face as he said, 'Say Mark, those trees were just what I required for my canvas, and the sky was just right.'"

- Mark Robinson, Park Ranger

Sunset, c. 1913