We passed out of Lake Tahk-o a little after two o'clock in the afternoon of the 26th of June, and entered the first considerable stretch of river that we had yet met with on the trip, about nine miles long. We quitted the river at five o'clock, which was quite an improvement on our lake traveling even at its best. The first part of this short river stretch is full of dangerous rocks and bowlders, as is also the lower portion of Tahk-o Lake.
On the right bank of the river, about four miles from the entrance, we saw a tolerably well-built "Stick" Indian house. Near it in the water was a swamped Indian canoe which one of our natives bailed out in a manner as novel as it was effectual. Grasping it on one side, and about the center, a rocking motion, fore and aft, was kept up, the bailer waiting until the recurrent wave was just striking the depressed end of the boat, and as this was repeated the canoe was slowly lifted until it stood at his waist with not enough water in it to sink an oyster can. This occupied a space of time not much greater than it has taken to relate it. This house was deserted, but evidently only for a while, as a great deal of its owner's material of the chase and the fishery was still to be seen hanging inside on the rafters. Among these were a great number of dried salmon, one of the staple articles of food that now begin to appear on this part of the great river, nearly two thousand miles from its mouth. This salmon, when dried before putrefaction sets in, is tolerable, ranking somewhere between Limburger cheese and walrus hide. Collecting some of it occasionally from Indian fishermen as we floated by, we would use it as a lunch in homeopathic quantities until some of us got so far as to imagine that we really liked it. If smoked, this salmon is quite good, but by far the larger amount is dried in the open air, and, Indian like, the best is first served and soon disappears.
Floating down the river, and coming near any of the low marshy points, we were at once visited by myriads of small black gnats which formed a very unsolicited addition to the millions of mosquitoes, the number of which did not diminish in the least as we descended the river. The only protection from them was in being well out from land, with a good wind blowing, or when forced to camp on shore a heavy resinous smoke would often disperse a large part of them.
When we camped that evening on the new lake the signal smoke of the Tahk-heesh Indians—if it was one—was still burning, at least some six or seven miles ahead of us, which showed how much we had been mistaken in estimating its distance the day before. A tree has something definite in its size, and even a butte or mountain peak has something tangible on which a person can base a calculation for distance, but when one comes down to a distant smoke I think the greatest indefiniteness has been reached, especially when one wants to estimate its distance. I had often observed this before, when on the plains, where it is still worse than in a hilly country, where one can at least perceive that the smoke is beyond the hill, back of which it rises, but when often looking down an open river valley no such indications are to be had. I remember when traveling through the sand hills of western Nebraska that a smoke which was variously estimated to be from eight to twelve or possibly fifteen miles away took us two days' long traveling in an army ambulance, making thirty-five or forty miles a day, as the winding road ran, to reach its site.
LOOKING SOUTHWARD FROM CAMP 14 ON LAKE MARSH
On the left is the Tahk-o Pass, on the right the Yukon Pass in the mountains, directly over the point of land. Between this point and the Yukon Pass can be seen the Yukon River coming into the lake.
The shores of the new lake—which I named Lake Marsh, after Professor O. C. Marsh, a well-known scientist of our country—was composed of all sizes of clay stones jumbled together in confusion, and where the water had reached and beat upon them it had reduced them to a sticky clay of the consistency of thick mortar, not at all easy to walk through. This mire, accompanied by a vast quantity of mud brought down by the streams that emanated from grinding glaciers, and which could be distinguished by the whiter color and impalpable character of its ingredients, nearly filled the new lake, at least for wide strips along the shores where it had been driven by the storms. Although drawing a little less than two feet of water, the raft struck several times at distances from the shore of from fifty to a hundred yards, and the only alternative was to wade ashore in our rubber boots (the soft mud being deeper than the water itself) and tie the raft by a long line whenever we wanted to camp.
One night, while on this lake, a strong inshore breeze coming up, our raft, while unloaded, was gradually lifted by the incoming high waves, and brought a few inches further at a time, until a number of yards had been made. The next morning when loaded and sunk deep into the mud, the work we had to pry it off is more easily imagined than described, but it taught us a lesson that we took to heart, and thereafter a friendly prod or two with a bar was generally given at the ends of the cumbersome craft to pry it gradually into deeper water as the load slowly weighed it down. When the wind was blowing vigorously from some quarter—and it was only when it was blowing that we could set sail and make any progress—these shallow mud banks would tinge the water over them with a dirty white color that was in strong contrast with the clear blue water over the deeper portion, and by closely watching this well-defined line of demarcation when under sail, we could make out the most favorable points at which to reach the bank, or approach it as nearly as possible. This clear-cut outline between the whitened water within its exterior edges and the deep blue water beyond, showed in many places an extension of the deposits of from four hundred to five hundred yards from the beach. It is probable that the areas of water may vary in Lake Marsh at different seasons sufficiently to lay bare these mud banks, or cover them so as to be navigable for small boats; but at the time of our visit there seemed to be a most wonderful uniformity in the depth of the water over them in every part of the lake, it being about eighteen inches.
Camping on the lakes was generally quite an easy affair. There was always plenty of wood, and, of course, water everywhere, the clear, cold mountain springs occurring every few hundred yards if the lake water was too muddy; so that about all that we needed was a dry place large enough to pitch a couple of tents for the white people and a tent fly for the Indians, but simple as the latter seemed, it was very often quite difficult to obtain. It was seldom that we found places where tent pins could be driven in the ground, and when rocks large enough to do duty as pins, or fallen timber or brush for the same purpose could not be had, we generally put the tent under us, spread our blankets upon it, crawled in and went to sleep. The greatest comfort in pitching our tent was in keeping out the mosquitoes, for then we could spread our mosquito bars with some show of success, although the constantly recurring light rains made us often regret that we had made a bivouac, not particularly on account of the slight wettings we got, but because of our constant fear that the rain was going to be much worse in reality than it ever proved to be. I defy any one to sleep in the open air with only a blanket or two over him and have a great black cloud sprinkle a dozen drops of rain or so in his face and not imagine the deluge was coming next. I have tried it off and on for nearly twenty years, and have not got over the feeling yet. If, after camping, a storm threatened, a couple of stout skids were placed fore and aft under the logs of the raft nearest the shore to prevent their breaking off as they bumped on the beach in the waves of the surf, a monotonous music that lulled us to sleep on many a stormy night. The baggage on the raft, like that in an army wagon or upon a pack train of mules, in a few days so assorted itself that the part necessary for the night's camping was always the handiest, and but a few minutes were required after landing until the evening meal was ready.