ON STEAMSHIP "GEORGE W. ELDER,"
PUGET SOUND, September, 1888.
We have all thought we were fairly appreciative of the wealth and wonders of Uncle Sam's domain. At Niagara we have gloried in the belief that all the cataracts of other lands were tame; but we changed our mind when we stood on the brink of Great Shoshone Falls. In Yellowstone the proudest thought was that all the world's other similar wonders were commonplace; and at Yosemite's Inspiration Point the unspeakable thrill of awe and delight was richly heightened by the grand idea that there was no such majesty or glory beyond either sea. But after all this, we now know that it yet remains for the Alaskan trip to rightly round out one's appreciation and admiration of the size and grandeur of our native land.
Some of our most delighted voyageurs are from Portland, Maine. When they had journeyed some 1,500 miles to Omaha they imagined themselves at least half way across our continent. Then, when they had finished that magnificent stretch of some 1,700 miles more from Omaha to Portland, Oregon, in the palace cars of the Union Pacific, they were quite sure of it. Of course, they confessed a sense of mingled disappointment and eager anticipation when they learned that they were yet less than half way. They learned what is a fact—that the extreme west coast of Alaska is as far west of Sitka as Portland, Maine, is east of Portland, Oregon, and the further fact that San Francisco lacks 4,000 mile's of being as far west as Uncle Sam's "Land's End," at extreme Western Alaska. It is a great country; great enough to contain one river—the Yukon—about as large as the Mississippi, and a coast line about twice as long as all the balance of the United States. It is twelve times as large as the State of New York, with resources that astonish every visitor, and a climate not altogether bad, as some would have it. The greatest trouble is that during the eighteen years it has been linked to our chain of Territories it has been treated like a discarded offspring or outcast, cared for more by others than its lawful protector. But, like many a refugee, it is carving for itself a place which others will yet envy. But, to
OUR TRIP.
There are seven in our party, mainly from Chicago. After a week of delightful mountaineering at Idaho Springs, in Platte Cañon, and other Union Pacific resorts in Colorado, we indulged in that delicious plunge at Garfield Beach, Salt Lake, and, en route to Portland over the Union Pacific Ry., quaffed that all but nectar at Soda Springs, Idaho, and dropped off a day to take a peep, at Shoshone Falls, which, in all seriousness, have attractions of which even our great Niagara can not boast. We found that glorious dash down through the palisades of the Columbia, and the sail, through the entrancing waterways of Puget Sound, a fitting prelude to our recent Alaskan journey.
The Alaskan voyage is like a continuous dream of pleasure, so placid and quiet are the waters of the landlocked sea and so exquisitely beautiful the environment. The route keeps along the east shore of Vancouver Island its entire length, through the Gulf of Georgia, Johnstone strait, and out into Queen Charlotte Sound, where is felt the first swell of old ocean, and our staunch steamship "Elder" was rocked in its cradle for about four hours. Oftentimes we seemed to be bound by mountains on every side, with no hope of escape; but the faithful deck officer on watch would give his orders in clear, full tones that brought the bow to some passage leading to the great beyond. In narrow straits the steamer had to wait for the tide; then would she weave in and out, like a shuttle in a loom, among the buoys, leaving the black ones on the left and the red ones on the right, and ever and anon they would be in a straight line, with the wicked boulder-heads visible beneath the surface or lifting their savage points above, compelling almost a square corner to be turned in order to avoid them. At such times the passengers were all on deck, listening to the captain's commands, and watching the boat obey his bidding.
From Victoria to Tongas Narrows the distance is 638 miles, and here was the first stop for the tourists. The event here was going ashore in rowboats, and in the rain, only to see a few dirty Indians—a foresight of what was to follow—and a salmon-packing house not yet in working order.
From Tongas Narrows to Fort Wrangel, thousands of islands fill the water, while the mainland is on the right and Prince of Wales Island on the extreme left.
FORT WRANGEL.
Like all Alaska towns, it is situated at the base of lofty peaks along the water's edge at the head of moderately pretty harbors. It seems to be the generic home of storms, and the mountains, the rocks, the buildings, and trees, and all, show the weird workings of nature's wrath. In 1863 it was a thriving town where miners outfitted for the mines of the Stikeen river and Cassian mines of British Columbia; but that excitement has temporarily subsided, and the $150,000 government buildings are falling in decay. The streets are filled with debris, and everything betokens the ravages of time. The largest and most grotesque totem poles seen on the trip here towered a height of fifty feet. Those poles represent a history of the family and the ancestry as far as they can trace it. If they are of the Wolf tribe a huge wolf is carved at the top of the pole, and then on down with various signs to the base, the great events of the family and the intermarriages, not forgetting to give place to the good and bad gods who assisted them. The genealogy of a tribe is always traced back through the mother's side. The totem poles are sometimes very large, perhaps four feet at the base. When the carving is completed they are planted firmly in front of the hut, there to stay until they fall away. At the lower end, some four feet from the ground, there is an opening into the already hollowed pole, and in this are put the bones of the burned bodies of the family. It is only the wealthier families who support a totem pole, and no amount of money can induce an Indian to part with his family tree.
THE GRAVES
of those not having totems are found in clusters, or scattered on the mountain sides, or anywhere convenience dictates. The bones are put in a box with all the belongings of the deceased, and then deposited anywhere. The natives are exceedingly superstitious and jealous in their care of the dead, and would sooner die than molest or steal from a grave. That tourists who are supposed to be civilized, refined, and Christianized should steal from them is a crime which should never be tolerated, as it was among the passengers of our steamer.
JUNEAU—THE TREADWELL MINE.
After leaving Wrangel the steamer anchored off Salmon Bay to lighter eighty tons of salt for fishermen, then on to Juneau and Douglas Islands. Here was the same general appearance of location, the gigantic background of densely wooded mountains, the tide-washed streets, on broken slopes, the dirty native women with their wares for sale, with prices advanced 200 per cent, since the steamer whistled, and behind them their stern male companions, goading them on to make their sales, and stealthily kicking them in their crouched positions if they came down on their prices to an eager but economical tourist.
Juneau is the only town of any importance on the mainland. It has arisen to that dignity through the quality of its mines, and it is now the mining centre of Alaska. Here we found Edward I. Parsons, of San Francisco, erecting an endless-rope tramway for conducting ores to a ten-stamp mill now under construction. Mr. Parsons has had large experience in this line, and his tales of "Tramway Life" in Mexico are intensely thrilling and full of interest. It is to be hoped that the good people of Juneau will see to it that he does not have to eat the native dishes, as he did in the land of the greasers. The festive dog is all right in his place, but rather revolting to an epicure.
The famous Treadwell gold mine lies across the bay, on Douglas Island. It is noted, not so much for its richness per ton, but for its vast extent. The 120-stamp mill makes such a deafening noise that there is no fear that the curious minded will cause employés to waste any time answering questions, for nothing can be heard but the rise and fall of the great crushers and the crunching of the ores. The ore is so plentiful that an addition of 120 stamps is being added to the present capacity. The hole blasted by the miners looks like the crater of a huge volcano without the circling top, and sloping down to an apex from which is the tunnel to the mill. The Treadwell yields about $200,000 per month, and will double that when the mill is completed.
There are many pleasant homes in Juneau, and some of its society people are charming indeed. The business houses carry some large stocks of goods, and outfitting for the interior mines in the Yukon country is all done at this place. There are two weekly papers, one the Mining Record, an eight-page, bright, newsy paper which deserves a liberal support.
One of the most novel and grotesque features of the entire trip was a dance given by the Indians at
A "POTLATCH,"
a term applied to any assemblage of good cheer, although in its primary sense it means a gift. A potlatch is given at the outset, or during the progress of some important event, such as the building of a new house, confirming of a sub-chief, or celebrating any good fortune, either of peace or war. In this instance, a sub-chief was building a new house, and the frame work was inclosed in rough boards with no floor laid. There is never but one entrance to an Indian hut. This is in front, and elevated several feet from the ground, so that you must go down from the door-sill inside as well as out. No windows were yet in the building, and it was really in a crude state. These grand festivities last five days, and this was the second day of merry-making.
There are two tribes at Juneau, located at each extreme of the town. The water was black with canoes coming to the feast and dance, bringing gifts to the tyhee, who, in return, gives them gifts according to their wealth, and a feast of boiled rice and raisins and dog-meat. The richest men of the tribe dressed, in the rear of the building, in the wildest and most fantastic garbs, some in skins of wild animals. There was a full panoply of blankets, feathers, guns, swords, knives, and, as a last resort, an old broom was covered with a scarlet case. Jingling pendant horns added to their usual order, and the savage faces were painted with red and black in hideous lines. Anything their minds could shape was rigged for a head-dress, and finally, when all was ready, they ran with fiendish yells toward the beach, some twenty yards, and there behind a canvas facing the water they began their strange dance.
Only one squaw was with them, and she was the wife of the tyhee (chief) giving the feast. The medicine man had a large bird with white breast, called the loon. While dancing he picked the white feathers and scattered them on the heads of the others. The other squaws were sitting on the ground in long rows in front of the canoes reaching to the water's edge, about 200 feet below.
Their music was a wild shout or croon by all the tribe, and the dancing is a movement in any irregular way, or a swaying motion given to the time given by the voices, and they only advanced a few inches in an hour's time.
The tribe approaching in canoes had their representative men dressed in the same styles, only gayer, if possible. When the canoes glided onto the beach, four abreast, it was the signal to drop the canvas hiding the host and party, and advance a little distance to meet them. Then they broke ranks and made way for the visitors to approach the house with their gifts of blankets or other valuables for the tyhee. Most of the Indians convert their riches into blankets. These nations, seen by the tourist in an ordinary trip to Alaska, seem very much the same in all points visited. None of them are poor, all have some money, and many have
WEALTH COUNTED BY THOUSANDS.
To be sure, some of them are in a measure Christianized, but the odors arising from the homes of the best of them are such as a civilized nose never scented before. Rancid grease, dried fish, pelts, decaying animals, and human filth made the strongest perfume known to the commercial or social world.
The squaws, if they were in mourning or in love, would have their faces painted black with oil and tar. Then again, a great many wear a wooden or ivory pin thrust through the lip just below the fleshy part. It is worn for ornament, the same as ear-rings or nose-rings, and is called a labret. The missionary work done among them is a commendable one, but it seems a hopeless task. Their houses are always built with one object in view, to be able to tie the canoe to the front door. A long row of huts just above high-tide line can always be safely called a rancherie in that country. Their food is brought by the tide to their very doors, and the timbered mountains abound in wild game, and offer ample fuel for the cutting.
Chilcot, or Pyramid Harbor, is about twelve hours run from Juneau, and it is here the famous Chilcot blanket is made from the goat's wool, woven by hand, and dyed by native dyes, and worked from grotesque patterns. Here, also, are two of the largest salmon canneries in Alaska, and here, indeed, were we in the
LAND OF THE MIDNIGHT SUN.
The hours passed quickly by as the supposed night wore away. At midnight the twilight was so bright that one could read a newspaper easily. Then the moon shone in the clear sky with all regal splendor until 3.30 in the morning, when old Sol again put in his claims for admission. He lifted his golden head above the snowy peaks, and spirited away the uncertain light of unfolding dawn by drawing the curtains of the purpling east, and sending floods of radiance upon the entire world. It was a sight never to be forgotten, if seen but once in a lifetime.
Onward once again when the tide was in, and our next awakening was on the grand glacier fields. The greatest sight of the entire trip, or of any other in America, now opened out before many eager eyes. For several days, icebergs had been seen sailing along on the smooth surface from the great glaciers, and speeding to the southern seas like phantom ships. As the ship neared the bay, these huge bergs increased in size and number, with such grotesque and weird shapes, that the mind is absorbed in shaping turrets, ghosts, goblins, and the like, each moment developing more and more of things unearthly, until the heart and eyes seem bursting with the strain, when suddenly a great roar, like the shock of an explosion of giant powder, turns the eyes to the parent glacier to see the birth of these unnatural forms. They break from the icy wall with a stupendous crash, and fall into the water with such force as to send our great ship careening on her side when the swell from the disturbed waters strikes her.
The Muir glacier is the one that occupies the most attention, as it is the most accessible to tourists. It rises to a perpendicular height of 350 feet, and stretches across the entire head of the Glacier Bay, which is estimated from three to five miles in width. The Muir and Davidson glaciers are two arms of that great Ice field extending more than 400 miles in length, covering more area
THAN ALL SWITZERLAND,
and any one of the fifteen subdivisions of the glacial stream is as large as the Great Rhone glacier.
Underlying this great ice field is that glacial river which bears these mountains of ice on its bosom to the ocean. With a roar like distant artillery, or an approaching thunder-storm, the advancing walls of this great monster split and fall into the watery deep, which has been sounded to a depth of some 800 feet without finding anchor.
The glacial wall is a rugged, uneven mass, with clefts and crevices, towering pinnacles and domes, higher than Bunker Hill monument, cutting the air at all angles, and with a stupendous crash sections break off from any portion without warning and sink far out of sight. Scarcely two minutes elapse without a portion falling from some quarter. The marble whiteness of the face is relieved by lines of intense blue, a characteristic peculiar to the small portions as well as the great.
Going ashore in little rowboats, the vast area along the sandy beach was first explored, and it was, indeed, like a fairy land. There were acres of grottoes, whose honey-combed walls were most delicately carved by the soft winds and the sunlight reflections around and in the arches of ice, such as are never seen except in water, ice, and sky.
MOUNTAINS OF ICE,
remnants of glaciers, along the beach, stood poised on one point, or perchance on two points, and arched between. These icebergs were dotted with stones imbedded; great bowls were melted out and filled with water, and little cups made of ice would afford you a drink of fresh water on the shore of this salt sea.
At five o'clock in the morning, with the sun kissing the cold majestic glacier into a glad awakening from its icy sleep, the ascent was begun. Too eager to be among the first to see the top, many started without breakfast, while others chose the wiser part, and waited to be physically fortified.
The ascent is not so difficult as it is dangerous. There is no trail and no guide, and many a step had to be retraced to get across or around some bottomless fissure. For some distance the ground seemed quite solid. Soon it was discovered that there was but a thin covering of dirt on the solid ice below; but anon in striking the ground with the end of an alpine stick it would prove to be but an inch of ice and dirt mixed, and a dark abyss below which we could not fathom. It is to be hoped, for the good of future tourists, that there are not many such places, or that they may soon be exposed so they can be avoided. Reaching the top after a tedious and slippery climb, there was a long view of icy billows, as if the sea had suddenly congealed amid a wild tempestuous storm. Deep chasms obstructed the way on all sides, and a misstep or slip would send one down the blue steps where no friendly rope could rescue, and only the rushing water could be heard. To view the solid phalanxes of icy floes, as they fill the mountain fastnesses and imperceptibly march through the ravines and force their way to the sea, fills one with awe indescribable. The knowledge that the ice is moving from beneath one's feet thrills one with a curious sensation hard to portray.
Below, it seems like the constant wooing of the sea that wins the offering from this wealth of purity, instead of the voluntary act of this giant of the Arctic zone.
For twenty-four hours the awful grandeur of these scenes was gloried in, when Captain Hunter gave the order to draw the anchor and steam away. The whistles call the passengers back to the steamer, where they were soon comparing specimens, viewing instantaneous photographs, hiding bedraggled clothing, casting away tattered mufflers, and telling of hair-breadth escapes from peril and death. Many a tired head sought an early pillow, and floated away in dreams of ghoulish icebergs, until the call for breakfast disclosed to opening eyes that the boat was anchored in the
BEAUTIFUL HARBOR OF SITKA.
The steamer's whistle is the signal for a holiday in all Alaska ports, and Sitka is no exception to the rule. Six o'clock in the morning, but the sleepy town had awakened to the fact of our arrival, and the inhabitants were out in force to greet friends or sell their canoes.
There are some 1,500 people living in Sitka, including all races. The harbor is the most beautiful a fertile brain can imagine. Exquisitely moulded islands are scattered about in the most enchanting way, all shapes and sizes, with now and then a little garden patch, and ever verdant with native woods and grasses and charming rockeries. As far out as the eye can reach the beautiful isles break the cold sea into bewitching inlets and lure the mariner to shelter from evil outside waves.
The village nestles between giant mountains on a lowland curve surrounded by verdure too dense to be penetrated with the eye, and too far to try to walk—which is a good excuse for tired feet. The first prominent feature to meet the eye on land is a large square house, two stories high, located on a rocky eminence near the shore, and overlooking the entire town and harbor. Once it was a model dwelling of much pretension, with its spacious apartments, hard-wood six-inch plank floors, elaborately-carved decorations, stained-glass windows, and its amusement and refreshment halls. All betoken the former elegance of the Russian governor's home, which was supported with such pride and magnificence as will never be seen there again. The walls are crumbling, the windows broken, and the old oaken stairways will soon be sinking to earth again, and its only life will be on the page of history.
The mission-school hospital, chapel, and architectural buildings occupied much of the tourists' time, and some were deeply interested. There are eighteen missionaries in Sitka, under the Presbyterian jurisdiction, trying to educate and Christianize the Indians. They are doing a noble work, but it does seem a hopeless task when one goes among the Indian homes, sees the filth, smells the vile odors, and studies the native habits.
These Indians, like the other tribes, are not poor, but all have more or less money.
MANY ARE RICH,
having more than $20,000 in good hard cash, yet the squalor in which they live would indicate the direst poverty.
The stroll to Indian river, from which the town gets its water supply, is bewitching. The walk is made about six feet through an evergreen forest, the trees arching overhead, for a distance of two miles, and is close to the bay, and following the curve in a most picturesque circle. The water is carried in buckets loaded on carts and wheeled by hand, for horses are almost unknown in Alaska. There are probably not more than half a dozen horses and mules in all Alaska—not so much because of the expense of transportation and board, as lack of roads and the long, dark days and months of winter, when people do not go out but very little. All the packing is done in all sections of Alaska by natives carrying the packs and supplies on their backs.
Sitka's most interesting object is the old Greek church, located in the middle of the town, and also in the middle of the street. Its form is that of a Greek cross, with a copper-covered dome, surmounted by a chime-bell tower. The inside glitters with gold and rare paintings, gold embroidered altar cloths and robes; quaint candelabra of solid silver are suspended in many nooks, and an air of sacred quiet pervades the whole building. There were no seats, for the Russians remain standing during the worship. Service is held every Sabbath by a Russian priest in his native language, and the church is still supported by the Russian Government. Indeed, Russia does more for the advancement of religion than does our own Government for Alaska.
The walk through the Indian ranch was but a repetition of the other towns, only that they were wealthier and uglier, if possible, than the other tribes. The Hydahs are very powerfully built, tall, large boned, and stout.
Two days were spent in visiting and trafficking with these people. Then the anchor came up, and soon a silver trail like a huge sea serpent moved among the green isles, and followed us once more—now on the homeward sail.
But one new place of importance was made on the home trip, and that was at
KILLISNOO.
When the steamer arrived, the evening after leaving Sitka, the city policeman met us at the wharf and invited us to visit his hut. Of course, he was a native, who expected to sell some curios. Over his door was the following:
"By the Governor's commission,
And the company's permission,
I am made the grand tyhee
Of this entire illahee."Prominent in song and story,
I've attained the top of glory.
As Saginaw I am known to fame,
Jake is but my common name."The time when he attained his fame and glory must have been when he and his wife were both drunk one night, and he put the handcuffs on his wife and could not get them off, and she had to go to Sitka to be released. He appears in at least a dozen different suits while the steamer is in port, and stands ready to be photographed every time.
Killisnoo used to be a point where 100,000 barrels of herring oil were put up annually. The industry is now increasing again.
"By the Governor's commission,
And the company's permission,
I am made the grand tyhee
Of this entire illahee."Prominent in song and story,
I've attained the top of glory.
As Saginaw I am known to fame,
Jake is but my common name."
NATURAL WEALTH.
And this reminds me that I am almost neglecting a reference to Alaska's vast resources in forests, metals, furs, and fish. There are 300,000,000 of acres densely wooded with spruce, red and yellow cedar, Oregon pine, hemlock, fir, and other useful varieties of timber. Canoes are made from single trees, sixty feet long, with eight-feet beams.
Gold, silver, lead, iron, coal, and copper are encountered in various localities. Though but little prospected or developed, Alaska is now yielding gold at the rate of about $2,000,000 per year. There is a respectable area of island and mainland country well adapted to stock-raising, and the production of many cereals and vegetables. The climate of much of the coast country is milder than that of Colorado, and stock can feed on the pastures the year round.
But, if Alaska had no mines, forests, or agriculture, its seal and salmon fisheries would remain alone an immense commercial property. The salmon are found in almost any part of these northern waters where fresh water comes in, as they always seek those streams in the spawning season. There are different varieties that come at stated periods and are caught in fabulous numbers, sometimes running solid ten feet deep, and often retarding steamers when a school of them is overtaken. At Idaho Inlet Mr. Van Gasken brought up a seine for the Ancon tourists containing 350 salmon for packing. At nearly every port the steamer landed there was either one or more canning or salt-packing establishments for salmon. Of these, 11,500,000 pounds were marketed last year.
Besides the salmon there is the halibut, black and white cod, rock cod, herring, sturgeon, and many other fish, while the waters are whipped by porpoises and whales in large numbers all along the way. Governor Swineford estimates the products of the Alaska fisheries last year at $3,000,000.
THE SEAL FISHERIES
are still 1,800 miles west of Sitka. St. Paul and St. George Islands are the best breeding places of the seals, sea lions, sea otter, and walrus. These islands are in a continuous fog in summer, and are swept by icy blasts in winter. There are many interesting facts connected with these islands and the habits of these phocine kindred, but space is limited. Suffice that 100,000 seals are killed each year for commercial purposes. Over 1,000,000 seal pups are born every year, and when they leave for winter quarters they go in families and not altogether. An average seal is about six feet long, but some are found eight feet long and weigh from 400 to 800 pounds. The work of catching is all done between the middle of June and the first of August. The fur company are supposed to pay our Government $2 for each pelt. These hides are at once shipped to London to be dyed and made ready to be put on the market in the United States.
In fact, Alaska seems full to overflowing with offerings to seekers of fortune or pleasure. Its coast climate is mild, with no extreme heat, because of the snow-clad peaks which temper the humid air, and never extreme cold, because of the Japan current that bathes its mossy slopes and destroys the frigid wave before it does its work.
Three thousand miles along this inland sea has revealed scenes of matchless grandeur—majestic mountains (think of snow-crowned St. Elias, rising 19,500 feet from the ocean's edge), the mightiest glaciers, world's of inimitable, indescribable splendor. It is a trip of a lifetime. There is none other like it, and our party unanimously resolves that the tourist who fails to take it misses very much.
Fifth Tour—
From Portland to San Francisco by steamer is one of the most enjoyable trips offered the tourist in point of safety and comfort, and the service is exceptionally fine.
The steamers "Oregon," "Columbia," and "State of California" are powerful iron steamers, built expressly for tourist travel between Portland and San Francisco. The traveler will find this fifty-hour ocean voyage thoroughly enjoyable; the sea is uniformly smooth, no greater motion than the long swell of the Pacific, and the boats are models of neatness and comfort. It affords a grand opportunity to run down the California coast, always in sight of land, and derive the invigorating exhilaration of an ocean trip without any of its discomforts. Among the many points of interest to be seen are the picturesque Columbia River Bar, the beautiful Ocean Beach at Clatsop, the towering heights of Cape Hancock, the lonely Mid-Ocean Lighthouse at Tillamook Rock, the historical Rogue River Reef, Cape Mendocino, Humboldt Bay, Point Arena, and last, but not least, the world-renowned Golden Gate of San Francisco.
The steamships of this company are all new, modern-designed iron vessels, supplied with steam steering apparatus, electric light and bells, and all improved nautical appliances. The state-rooms, cabins, salons, etc., are elaborately furnished throughout, the whole presenting an unrivaled scene of luxurious ocean life.