USA > Alaska > Trailing and camping in Alaska > Part 5
Note: The text from this book was generated using artificial intelligence so there may be some errors. The full pages can be found on Archive.org (link on the Part 1 page).
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21
I laid the gold pan on a rock, held on to one side of the bluff and attempted to draw my six-shooter. Accidentally I knocked the pan from its place, and it went bumping and rattling down that rock-pile, fill- ing Bruin with vision of destruction. He darted away like a rocket, while a few bullets were shot into the ground behind him. He ran a quarter of a mile, stopped, looked back, then fearing that the pan might rattle some more, he dug his claws deeper into the ground, threw up more dirt behind, snorted louder and ran faster down hill, across a ridge, over a gulch and another ridge, until his dark form faded away in the distance. Then I felt brave. The little cub had become frightened also, and had left.
The next day we crossed through the pass, where there was a lake that reflected beautiful mountain scenes from its surface, and where water lilies were
72
Trailing and Camping in Alaska
growing. We traveled an old trail on which we found Indian beads. This trail led us down to the Slahna, which we crossed on a raft and swam our horses, camping on the west side about six miles be- low Mentasta Lake.
Those September mornings were frosty; the ground was frozen and the grass was rapidly losing strength. We lightened our loads to enable us to reach the old Indian village near the mouth of the Slahna in one day's travel. Captain Abercrombie took our outfit on the raft down the river, and Lynch and I hurried down through the timber with the horses. When about a mile from the camping place, the raft came into view, with its pilot chilled and cramped from being so near the cold water. Here we loaded the packs on the horses again and the others proceeded down to the old abandoned Indian town, while I took the raft and struck out for a tent that was on the opposite side, and a quarter of a mile below.
On this tent was marked in large letters: "We are the boys from Decatur, Illinois." They " pot- latched " me two cups of flour and one of beans, and extended an urgent invitation to remain overnight, as it was dark and there was rapid water between that point and the Copper River, about three miles below. As we were out of anything to eat in our camp, I declined the offer. Hoping to land in an eddy at the mouth of Ahtel creek, near our camp, I
73
Trailing and Camping in Alaska
tied the provisions in a small sack to my vest, bade Bert Hurd good-bye, and shoved the raft out into that boiling current.
It was a roaring diversion, where the water was too deep for a pole to reach bottom, and the raft was pilot, captain and crew, with one useless pas- senger. The frolicking current did not hesitate to slam the craft against the over-hanging brush along the bank. Down on my knees with my hat knocked off, I braced myself against those sweepers of alder and willow until the raft sank so low in the water that the waves slapped my face; then the thing would slowly turn until the current caught it. Immediately it would rise and shoot away, to repeat the per- formance on the opposite side, a quarter of a mile below. We, the raft and I, failed to reach the cov- eted eddy by about four feet, and away we went, bouncing with renewed animation for the Copper. The provisons were successfully thrown on to a high bank, in an open place. Then there was more trouble with the sweepers. Fortunately, the raft struck the bank in a favorable place and I left it to continue its crazy voyage. Slowly I worked through the brush for a mile, to where was found the pro- visions. Then I started for camp in as straight a direction as I could guess. On the way, a frightened bear snorted and went crashing through the brush, but I felt that frightening bears was a pleasant pas- time to rafting dangerous rivers at night-time. For-
74
Trailing and Camping in Alaska
tunately I came out of the brush right at our camp- fire.
We descended the west side of the Copper River by crossing swamps, swimming rivers and cutting our way through forests of spruce. We passed a camp where there was a lone man watching a cache of provisions, while his partners were off at the head of the river. He complained of not having seen a man for more than a month. He lighted his pipe and, seating himself on a log, became communi- cative.
" Whenever I think about my coming up here," said he, " I realize that I put up a job on myself and made it work, too. This would be a good place to play solitaire, but I'll wager that no man, after he has been here a month, can play even that with- out cheating himself."
We remained there long enough to cook what we called a square meal from that man's supplies, and refused his offer of some provisions, as we were not hungry when we left, and thought we could kill enough birds for our need. Near this camp I killed my first Alaska pheasant. They are very much like the prairie chicken in size, color and in their manner of flying. Their flesh differs from that of the spruce hen, in that the meat is whiter. They subsist mostly on seeds and berries and not on spruce needles, as do the spruce hens.
The grass had lost its strength and our poor
75
Trailing and Camping in Alaska
horses soon lost theirs. The most disagreeable task that I had to perform was to shoot one of our equine servants. We stood him on top of a five-hundred- foot embankment, and his body went rolling down into the Copper River. We felt fortunate when each of us had a little pine squirrel for supper. We ate those with a relish, even if my companions did insist upon referring to them as rats. Often, while sitting around our campfire, we would tantalize our appetites by talking about the good things to eat and of the double orders we intended to hand in at popular restaurants when we returned to civilization. I attempted to encourage my companions to eat rein- deer moss, boiled and seasoned, by telling them that it was a favorite dish used and eaten by the royalty of Lapland, but they insisted that they were good Americans, and not particularly stuck on the diet of kings, whether Nebuchadnezzar or his Arctic imi- tators.
The McClelland party was boating upon one side of the Copper River when another party was doing the same along the opposite shore. The latter at- tempted to cross over, but their boat was capsized and all were drowned. Their names were unknown to the McClelland party, and thus all trace of them was lost. Probably the Valdez postmaster, when later he returned their long uncalled for letters, re- ceived anxious ones of inquiry from their friends at home.
76
Trailing and Camping in Alaska
We arrived at Copper Center on September 26 and found the population decreasing by boat-loads of the people going down the river. Many had built cabins, and now had changed their minds and were going out with the " push," as they called the home-going crowd.
Our trip had impressed Captain Abercrombie with the fact that a trail into this country was an ab- solute necessity. Although he was enthusiastic be- fore, he was more so now, and it was partly through his renewed exertion in behalf of the region that his name will ever be identified with the opening up of the Copper River country. A few ridiculed the idea of a trail being constructed through those mountains, claiming that the project was impossible without crossing a glacier.
The Banks of the Copper River.
CHAPTER VI
An Indian once said: " You go down river, he help you; you no go same way river go, he no help. He all same. white man."
WE left our outfits at Copper Center, on Septem- ber 28, and joined Millard, Dal Stevens, Nutter Bros., Pete Cashman, Jim Finch, Al Hinky and others in the novelty of boating down the river. Seated in three row-boats and all pulling oars, the current assisted in shooting us down rapids and around bends at a ten-mile gait.
The sun shone brightly, and the mornings were crisp, with the thermometer at 18 above. The ride was fascinating and the Indians waved their old rags at us as if wishing us " God speed," no doubt remarking to each other: "Surely the white men are as plentiful in their country as the blades of grass ! "
The Indians had been benefited by the generous " pot-latches" of the whites. They possessed all sorts of guns which would shoot new and unknown grades of ammunition, that they could not obtain. They wore all sorts of misfit clothing and their wickiups contained more or less of tea, coffee, sugar and tobacco, which would-be prospectors had tugged,
77
78
Trailing and Camping in Alaska
pulled and packed over the glacier, only to abandon with their first disappointment.
Our first night's camp was at Taral, where the Indians exhibited cooking utensils which had been hammered out of copper. This was the home of Chief Nicoli, who led in the murder of the Russian explorers. It was he who, many years before, had led the Copper River Indians in a successful resist- ance to the invading Tananas. They claim that the Russians were very cruel to them.
Two years after we camped there, Nicoli departed to the Happy Hunting-grounds for an interview with the Great Spirit about that and other matters -possibly the death of John Bremner, who, it is claimed by them, was killed by the Tananas. The natives now say that the spirit of Nicoli protects the mountain sheep from the leaden missiles of the white man.
This Taral chief was a man of strong character. During his active life he prohibited any direct busi- ness intercourse between the natives of the interior and those on the coast. He held the key to the in- terior by way of the Copper River, and as he lived on the bank of the river, no Indian dared pass. The Indians of the interior brought furs down to this dic- tator, and he took them to the coast traders and re- turned with guns and powder. They generally hammered their own bullets from native copper.
Old Bachaneta once attempted to descend the
79
Trailing and Camping in Alaska
river on a raft, but Taral Nicoli demanded that he should turn back. Bachaneta was a noted leader among the Indians at the head-waters of the river and of the upper Tanana, but a bullet from the rifle of Nicoli caused him to seek a landing and return on foot to his home, one hundred miles away. Billy Bachaneta related this incident to me, and added that if Nicoli had not died, he and his father and a few friends had intended to repeat the attempt.
The next day we passed through Wood canyon, with its crooked walls and beautiful scenery, where the water was deep and boiling, with large whirl- pools in the turns. We passed the tent-town of Bremner, at the mouth of Bremner River, where many in tents had tried to pass the winter. The scurvy had nearly wiped out that camp. A few men had loaded their sick comrades on hand-sleds, and had descended the Copper River in the dead of winter, while the ravens flying overhead had an- nounced: "We'll pick your bones!" There is no sadder tale of northern hardships than that of Bremner.
We overtook the soldiers who had abandoned their horses and boated to Bremner. They had been instructed to ascend Tasnuna River from this place and descend Lowe River to Valdez Bay. Lowe River was formerly known as Valdez River, but Lieutenant Lowe fell into it once and thereafter changed its name from it's mouth to its source. Ac-
80
Trailing and Camping in Alaska
cording to this precedent, most of the rivers in that part of Alaska should be named Powell. But there would be other claimants.
On the last of September we arrived at the head of the rapids, which were about three miles long. The river here plunges down through a narrow space between a perpendicular wall on one side and the moraine of Miles glacier on the other. Above this glacier, and on the west side of the river, can be seen the remarkable sight of trees growing on the ice. The formation appears to be rolling, gravelly hills, but the deep-cut ravines disclose them to be old glacier moraines, with a few feet of vegetable matter and débris on clear blue ice.
Mr. Corliss was there at the rapids with his boat, "Long Tom," and was going to attempt boating through on the morrow. A man had been drowned there the day before while attempting that same feat. I seated myself on a large boulder, about forty feet above the swirling water, to watch the " Long Tom " go through. Six men, each with an oar, pulled straight for the rapids, while Corliss, with set jaws and a determined look on his face, stood up in the stern as the pilot. The boat appeared to hesitate before taking the plunge, then shot down like an arrow for about one hundred and fifty yards, where it whirled in an eddy, then plunged down into the second rapids.
The occupants could be seen, now high on the
81
Trailing and Camping in Alaska
center crest where their oars could not touch water but were working in air, then deeply dipping in the troughs of the current; but finally they landed below the second rapids. A few of us carried our sleep- ing-bags around along the trail that traversed the bluff. Others followed Corliss in one of our boats, and they also succeeded in landing it below without mishap, but the danger was so appalling that they concluded to line the second boat, by all hands hold- ing to a long rope and walking along the moraine side of the river.
This attempt was a failure and the boat broke away with sixty feet of rope dragging behind. This held the boat straight and safely piloted it through the first two rapids; but a loop in the rope caught on the bottom at the head of the third rapid, known as the cataract, and there it bobbed up and down, all night, with our provisions, and blankets for six men.
It bobbed and bobbed there, regardless of our appetites and comfort, while we built a fire in some driftwood and despondently discussed the situation. There appeared but one thing to do and that was to cut the rope with a bullet. We discovered, by throwing rocks, that the boat was much farther away than at first we had supposed, the distance being about sixty yards. As the boat was moving, and as it was necessary to strike the rope when taut, it was a difficult shot to make. There were but nine cartridges left for my revolver, and these were
82
Trailing and Camping in Alaska
reserved until all ammunition in camp had been used up by another shooter. Fortunately my eighth shot severed a strand, and my ninth completely cut the rope, and immediately that boat shot away from there, like a quarter horse on a race track. It rolled out the blankets, when going through the cataract, and then floated on down to deep water.
The watchers who were down there with the other boat which had made the run successfully, paddled out among the icebergs and recovered it. We built a fire among some driftwood, ate flapjacks and sand, while the wind blew a gale. Acres of ice fell from the two-hundred-foot face of Miles glacier, across the river, a mile away; these would disappear be- neath the surface of that deep water, and then bob up, to float off as icebergs. When they struck the water they sent waves away out on our beach.
We arrived at Alganik on October 3. This was a trading post at the edge of high tide, with a few goods, a barrel of whiskey, a squaw-man or two, and several half-breed children. We followed the guidance of an Indian from that point, and striking the tide just right, we crossed the twenty- five miles of mud flats, and ascended the outlet of Eyak Lake, on an ingoing current. On the banks of this outlet were hundreds of acres of redtop grass, and occasionally large spruce trees. The tide car- ried us on, and increased our speed. We passed a sloop in which were a squaw-man, his wife and fam-
83
Trailing and Camping in Alaska
ily. The half-breed children hung over the edge of their floating home and trailed their little fingers in the water as they drifted along this winding slough. These squaw-men generally live in sloops, and drift from one Indian town to another, shoot- ing duck, catching fish and degenerating. Yet there are a few of these men who have homes and are making good livings for their families and educating their children.
We crossed the three miles of Eyak Lake, landed at the Indian town of Eyak, and then portaged six hundred yards across a peninsula to the Alaska Commercial Company's fish cannery. This now is the terminal of the Copper River and Northwestern Railroad. Thence we rowed three miles to Orca, where seventy-five Copper River adventurers were waiting for a steamer to take them home. Among them was a Mr. Leonard, an old Rocky mountain- eer, who was one of the only two men that had ever boated through all of the Copper River rapids, in- cluding the cataract, generally avoided by descend- ing a slough. Those men had no knowledge of the slough, and disclaimed any credit for performing the remarkable feat. When Leonard was asked how he had succeeded, he replied :
" With a pair of oars, a flat-bottomed boat, ig- norance and the necessary attributes that should ac- company a pair of idiots, sir ! "
The next day we boarded a steamer for Valdez,
84
Trailing and Camping in Alaska
having traveled about six hundred miles in fifty-eight days, having cut our way through brush and timber the greater portion of the distance. The crossing of the glacier streams were the most bitter reminiscences of the trip.
The man from California, who had camped with us in Mentasta Pass, proceeded to the Yukon and there had met another fellow who was so eager to get out of the country that he had offered the Cal- ifornian a large sum of money if he would take him to Orca, and accepting it, he had returned almost immediately.
This Yukoner was an old man and had in his possession about three hundred pounds of gold nug- gets. The reason of his anxiety to get out by that route, then almost unknown, may be explained in this wise: The Canadian government had retarded the development of its resources by levying a tax on all gold produced. At that time, the Klondikers were taxed one-fifth, and probably because of that, many had slipped through the line into Alaska and had claimed ever afterwards that they had procured their gold in Uncle Sam's territory.
There was another class who worked in the mines for wages and who stole nuggets while in the shafts, and buried their treasure until they desired to leave. Then it became imperatively necessary that they should slip across the line to avoid making a state- ment of how and where they had procured the gold.
85
Trailing and Camping in Alaska
Those never had dust, only nuggets, such as they could pick up with their fingers.
The man here mentioned succeeded in arriving at Orca, and from there traveled second class by steamer to Juneau. Any fellow who could be guilty of stealing out of the country with gold would be likely to continue covering up his tracks. To pro- duce evidence, in case of future arrest, probably he would deceive some reputable person to assist him unwittingly by repeating his statements. I do not say that this particular individual did that, but I do know that there was an old man who visited a promi- nent citizen of Juneau and disclosed to him that he possessed that amount of gold nuggets, and repre- sented that he had procured the gold in the Coast Range, not far from Orca. He even detailed how he was out of provisions and how he had killed a moose right near where he had made the discovery, although as a matter of fact there are no moose in the Coast Range. He promised to show the Juneau man where he had found the gold if he would ac- company him there the next year.
From Juneau that old man had returned to the States, where he had died the following year, and no doubt there are people who are yet looking for the mysterious and fabulously rich auriferous de- posit which they believe this old fellow found in the Coast Range. They will continue to do that, just as others have hunted for the John Swift mine of
86
Trailing and Camping in Alaska
Kentucky since 1761; and are looking for the " Old Squaw Mine " of the Yuma desert; and the " Peg- Leg " mines of both California and Oregon; or the Captain West "Mud Glaciers " of the Tanana, and dozens of other mirages that remain as undis- turbed delusions where the rainbows point.
There was no time to rest at Valdez, for imme- diately I was instructed to take my transit and carry triangulations up the Lowe River and approximately to determine the altitude of the pass that had been discovered and reported by Corporal Hyden. Two companions and myself accomplished the feat of getting over into Dutch Flat in four days with two mules. It could be done in one day now, as a trail has been blasted through the Keystone Canyon.
We met Frank Schrader, of the Geological Sur- vey, in Dutch Flat, and also the soldiers previously mentioned as having come through that way. A man by the name of Baird had perished there a few months before. One of my assistants returned with the soldiers, taking the mules with him, while with one companion I remained to complete the survey in a snow storm.
My companion, who was a practical joker, and I camped on our way out without bedding. We built a large fire, near which I sat with my back against a tree. There was a forty-pound rock lying in front of me, and my companion would sit on that until I would nearly freeze. He enjoyed being between me
87
Trailing and Camping in Alaska
and the fire. When he was sufficiently warmed in front, he would stretch himself out, face downward, and snore for half an hour. When it was neces- sary to warm his front, he would wake up and re- peat the performance of sitting in front of me for awhile. He always did enjoy anything of that kind, so while he was snoring I figured out that I was deeply in debt to him for the many practical jokes he had played on me during the past Summer, and therefore concluded to square several of the accounts at one time.
I rolled that rock into the fire and left it there until it was too hot to spit on, then with the aid of a stick of wood, I returned it to its usual place. My companion snored for only a few minutes longer, then arose and very deliberately sat down on that rock. Immediately he displayed unusual activity by yelling a war-whoop, jumping over the log fire, and crashing down the hill on the other side with a noise that resembled a stampede of wild cattle. He returned rubbing his blister, and remarked that there must be a root on fire beneath that rock, as it got hot quicker than any rock he had ever heard of. He said he preferred to stand any way.
Pete Cashman, Mr. Stewart and Mr. Ham left on October 18, to bring in the horses that had been left near Taral. It was a useless undertaking, as the feed had been frozen and they were too weak to travel. Their account of the trip appeared in the
88
Trailing and Camping in Alaska
government report of the Copper River Exploring Expedition, and reads like a fairy-tale.
They encountered a bear, and after running until exhausted they discovered that the bear was running in the opposite direction. Then they laughed and wondered why that crazy bear had not been holed up for the winter. Often they were lost and with- out food, and all one night they traveled in a cir- cle. In one day they counted nine bears and saw many wolverine tracks. Once they were caught in an ice jam on the river, but the Indians helped them to reach shore and housed them over night.
They cut some meat from a dead horse for food and returned. Having frosted their hands and faces, they were taken in and fed on the best the Indians possessed. Stewart had torn the fork of his trousers, and after due consultation, several squaws decided to mend them, but Stewart was bash- ful and preferred to sit cross-legged. According to the government report two squaws grabbed and held his hands while a third pulled off his trousers. Stewart yelled to Cashman for assistance, but Pete replied with laughter and encouraged the squaws in their undertaking. Stewart said afterwards that he entertained a high opinion of Indian housewifery.
From Copper Center Pete undertook the hazard- ous venture of returning to Valdez. He crossed the lake and camped in a tent where there was a man who was badly frozen from having attempted to get
89
Trailing and Camping in Alaska
over the glacier a few days before. His name was Evyan. Pete dressed his frozen feet and attended to his wants the best that he could, and then lay down beside his host for a night's rest. When awakening the next morning he discovered that his bed companion was cold in death. Fortunately, when Pete arrived in Valdez he was none the worse, apparently, for his trip.
On October 26 the steamer Excelsior took away one-third of the population. Most of those who re- mained did so with the intention of going out on the November boat, but it failed to come. Straggling parties continued to come over the glacier and to tell of their hairbreadth escapes. One man became so exhausted that he had lain down to sleep on the ice. His companions reasoned with him that it would be better to shoot himself, and even offered to lend him a pistol for the purpose, but it was re- fused. Another, reasoning that the man should be shot, walked up to him and generously offered to do the shooting. The tired and sleepy man then de- liberately arose and was the first of the party to ar- rive in Valdez.
Need help finding more records? Try our genealogical records directory which has more than 1 million sources to help you more easily locate the available records.