Between the point on which St. Michael is built and the mainland, a small arm of the sea makes in, in which three fathoms may be carried until the flagstaff of the fort bears west by north, this is the best-protected anchorage, and has as much water and as good bottom as can be found much farther out.

The excitement of the summer of 1897 caused an enlargement of facilities and the erection of additional buildings, forming a nucleus of traffic called Fort Get There. Here will be put together in the autumn or winter at least three, and perhaps more, new river steamboats, of which only two or three have been running on the lower river during the last two or three years. These are taken up, in pieces, by ships and fitted together at this point. All are flat-bottomed, stern-wheeled, powerfully engined craft, the largest able to carry perhaps 250 tons, such as run on the upper Missouri, and they will burn wood, the cutting and stacking of which on the river bank will furnish work to many men during the coming winter. To such steamers, or smaller boats, all the persons and cargoes must be transferred at St. Michael.

For the last few years there has been no trader here but the agent of the Alaska Commercial Company, and a story is told of the building of a riverboat there in 1892, which illustrates what life on the Yukon used to be. In that year a Chicago man, P. B. Weare, resolved to enter the Alaskan field as a trader. He chartered a schooner, and placed upon it a steamboat, built in sections and needing only to be put together and have its machinery set up, and for this purpose he took with him a force of carpenters and machinists. On reaching St. Michael Weare was refused permission to land his boat sections on the land of the Commercial Company's post, and was compelled to make a troublesome landing on the open beach, where he began operations. Suddenly his ship carpenters stopped work. They had been offered, it was said, double pay by the rival concern if they would desist from all work. Weare turned to the Indians, but with the same ill-success. The Indians were looking out for their winter grub. Here was the Chicago man 2,500 miles from San Francisco and only two weeks left to him in which to put his boat together and then hope for a chance to ascend the river before winter came on. There was no time in which to get additional men from San Francisco. In the midst of his trouble Weare one day espied the revenue cutter Bear steaming into the roadstead. On board of her was Captain Michael A. Healy. That officer, on going ashore and discovering the condition of affairs, threatened to hang every carpenter and mechanic Weare had brought up if they failed to immediately commence work. The men went to work, and with them went a gang of men from the Bear. The little steamer was put together in a few days, and the Bear only went to sea after seeing the P. B. Weare steaming into the mouth of the Yukon.

The Weare was enabled that summer to land her stores along the Yukon, and was the only vessel available for the early crowds of miners going to Klondike.

The mouth of the Yukon is a great delta, surrounded by marsh of timber—a soaking prairie in summer, a plain of snow and ice in winter. The shifting bars and shallows face out from this delta far into Bering Sea, and no channel has yet been discovered whereby an ocean steamer could enter any of the mouths. Fortunately the northernmost mouth, nearest St. Michael and 65 miles from it, is navigable for the light river steamers, and this one, called Aphoon, and marked by its unusual growth of willows and bushes is well known to the local Russian and Indian pilots. It is narrow and intricate, and the general course up stream is south-southeast. Streams and passages enter it, and it has troublesome tidal currents. The whole space between the mouth is a net-work, indeed, of narrow channels, through the marshes.

Kutluck, at the outlet of the Aphoon, on Pastol Bay, is an Indian village, long celebrated for its manufacture of skin boats (bidars), and there the old-time voyagers were accustomed to get the only night's sleep ashore that navigation permits between St. Michael and Andraefski. On the south bank of the main stream, at the head of the delta, is the Roman Catholic mission of Kuslivuk; and a few miles higher, just above the mouth of the Andraefski River, is the abandoned Russian trading post, Andraefski, above which the river winds past Icogmute, where there is a Greek Catholic mission. The banks of the river are much wooded, and the current even as far down as Koserefski averages over three knots an hour. Above Koserefski (the Catholic Mission station), the course is along stretches of uninviting country, among marsh islands and "sloughs," the current growing more and more swift on the long reach from Auvik, where the Episcopal mission is situated, to Nulato.

The river here has a nearly north and south course, parallel with the coast of Norton Sound and within fifty miles or so of it. Two portages across here form cut-offs in constant use in winter by the traders, Indians and missionaries. The first of these portages starts from the mainland opposite the Island of St. Michael, and passes over the range of hills that defines the shore to the headwaters of the Anvik River. This journey may be made in winter by sledges and thence down the Auvik to the Yukon, but it is a hard road. Mr. Nelson, the naturalist, and a fur trader, spent two months from November 16, 1880, to January 19, 1891, in reaching the Yukon by this path.

The other portage is that between Unalaklik, a Swedish mission station at the mouth of the Unalaklik River, some fifty miles north of St. Michael, and a stream that enters the Yukon half way between Auvik and Nulato. In going from St. Michael to Unalatlik there are few points at which a boat can land even in the smoothest weather; in rough weather only Major's Cove and Kegiktowenk before rounding Tolstoi Point to Topánika, where there is a trading post. Topánika is some ten miles from Unalaklik, with a high shelving beach, behind which rise high walls of sandstone in perpendicular bluffs from twenty to one hundred feet in height. This beach continues all the way to the Unalaklik River, the bluff gradually decreasing into a marshy plain at the river's mouth, which is obstructed by a bar over which at low tide there are only a few feet of water except in a narrow and tortuous channel, constantly changing as the river deposits fresh detritus. Inside this bar there are two or three fathoms for a few miles, but the channel has only a few feet, most of the summer, from the mouth of the river to Ulukuk.

Trees commence along the Unalaklik River as soon as the distance from the coast winds and salt air permit them to grow; willow, poplar, birch and spruce being those most frequently found.