Along Alaska's Great River / A Popular Account of the Travels of an Alaska Exploring Expedition along the Great Yukon River, from Its Source to Its Mouth, in the British North-West Territory, and in the Territory of Alaska

by Frederick Schwatka

From the moment of our casting loose the raft, on the morning of the 27th, we commenced our struggle with the current to gain ground, or rather, water, to the eastward, often with double and treble complements of men at both oars. Point after point we successfully essayed, working like pirates after their prey; and fully a half dozen of these, I believe, were so closely passed across their upper ends that a score less of strokes would have allowed us to float down the western channel. Almost at the last minute we got such a straight away course to the right bank that looking backward it seemed as if we had ferried our way directly across the river, and as we rounded the last island Fort Yukon's old dilapidated buildings burst into view, in the very nick of time, too, for that particular island extended well below the site of the old fort, and we passed around it hardly a good hop, skip and a jump from its upper point. We could not suppress a cheer as the hard earned victory was won, for to verify the old adage that "it never rains but it pours" good luck, there at the bank was the river steamer "Yukon" and from her decks came a rattling volley of shots to welcome us and to which we replied almost gun for gun. A little more hard pulling and we landed the raft just above the buildings and about three or four hundred yards above the steamer, which we at once prepared to visit. The "Yukon" is quite a small affair compared with the river boats of the United States, but quite well built and well modeled. They spoke of it as a ten-ton boat, although I took it to be one of double or treble that capacity, its machinery being powerful enough to drive a vessel of five or six times that tonnage against any ordinary current, but very necessary for a boat of even the smallest size on such a swift stream as the Yukon. The machinery took up the greater portion of her interior and were it not for the upper decks, it would have been difficult to find room for her large crew. The moment I caught sight of the crew they seemed so like old acquaintances that I was on the point of probing my memory for the circumstances of our former meeting, when a second thought convinced me that it was only my familiarity with the Eskimo face that had produced the effect of a recognition. These Eskimos had been hired on the Lower Yukon, and but for their being a little more stolid and homely than those of north Hudson's Bay, I should have thought myself back among the tribes of that region. They make better and more tractable workmen than any of the Indians along the river, and in many other ways are superior to the latter for the white men's purposes, being more honest, ingenious and clever in the use of tools, while treachery is an unknown element in their character. The master of the "Yukon" was Captain Petersen, and the Alaska Company's trader was Mr. McQuestion, both of whom had been for many years in the employ of that company on the river. From the former I ascertained through information which he volunteered, that he had a large ten or twelve ton river schooner at the trading station of Nuklakayet, some three hundred miles further down the river to which I was welcome when I reached that point with the raft. After the "Yukon" had ascended the river as far as Belle Isle, he would return and would pick us up wherever found and tow the schooner or barka as it was called in the local language of the country, a sort of hybrid Russian vernacular. From long experience on the river, Captain Petersen estimated its current at about five miles an hour above old Fort Yukon for the short distance which he had ascended with the steamer; but probably four from there to Nuklakayet; three and a half to Nulato; and three below that until the influence of the low tides from Bering's Sea is felt. Of course this rate of speed varies somewhat with the season, but is the average during the period of navigation in July and August. He expected to overtake me about the 15th of August somewhere near Nulato, as he had orders to pull the St. Michael's off the gravel bar where she was lying, the Alaska Commercial Company having bought out all the effects of the rival concern after the latter had expended between half a million and a million of dollars without any reasonable remuneration for the outlay. This the captain thought would detain him a week or ten days, and if I could get as far as Nulato, or Anvik, it would save him towing the "barka" that far on its way to St. Michael's or "the redoubt," as they all call it on the river. Thus we should be doing each other a mutual favor. The "barka," however, had none of its sails, except a jib, and this circumstance, coupled with the head winds that we should be sure to encounter on the lower river at this reason, reduced us to find our motive power still in the current. Provisions were purchased in sufficient quantity to last as far as Nuklakayet, where we could select from a much more varied stock.

Our dead reckoning, as checked by the astronomical observations, showed the distance from the site of old Fort Selkirk to Fort Yukon to be four hundred and ninety miles, and two-tenths, (490.2); and the entire distance of the latter place from Crater Lake, at the head of the river, nine hundred and eighty-nine (989) miles; the raft journey having been twelve miles less. In running from Pyramid (Island) Harbor of Chilkat Inlet, the last point we had left which had been determined by astronomical instruments of precision, to Fort Yukon, the next such point, a distance of over a thousand miles, Mr. Homan's dead reckoning, unchecked the whole distance, was in error less than ten miles; and from Fort Selkirk, determined by sextant and chronometer—the latter regulated between the above two places—to Fort Yukon, the error was less than six miles. At this point we connected our surveys with the excellent one given to the lower river by Captain Raymond in 1869; although we continued our own as far as the Aphoon, or northern, mouth of the Yukon River.

When Russian America became Alaska, or to be precise, in 1867, that date found the Russians established as traders only on the lower river a considerable distance below the flat-lands, while in 1848 the Hudson Bay Company had established Fort Yukon within their territory, a port which they were still maintaining. Upon our accession, it was determined to fix the position of Fort Yukon astronomically, and if it should prove to be on Alaskan soil—west of the 141st meridian—the Hudson Bay Company employes would be notified to vacate the premises. This was done by Captain Raymond in 1869. In the course of this occupation a good map of the Yukon River was made from its mouth to Fort Yukon, which was published by the War Department, accompanied by a report. With this it may be said that the results of the expedition ceased, as that department of the government does not publish and sell maps made under its direction, and they therefore are practically deprived of circulation. When I asked Captain Petersen if he used maps in navigating the river, he said that he seldom did, as there were no good ones in existence for the permanent channels of the river, while the temporary channels were so variable that his old maps were of little service. He had never heard of the Raymond map being published, and on being shown one, seemed astonished that so good a map was in existence, and asked me to send him a copy, which I was unable to do, as I could not procure one at the proper department in Washington. The maps he had were those made by the Russians when they were in possession of the country, which are still the best of such as can be procured.

The Indians in and around old Fort Yukon are known to the traders as the Fort Yukon Indians, which is probably as good a name as any, as they are not entitled to be regarded as a distinct tribe (or even as part of one), in the ordinary acceptation of the word. The country of the flat-lands is not well stocked with game of the kind that would support any great number of Indians at all seasons, and as the river spreads over so wide an extent, the chances of catching fish are proportionately decreased, and altogether the flat-lands would be rejected by the natives for other locations. I was told by those who ought to know, and whose assertions seem to be borne out by other evidence, that there were no Indians who made this country their home until Fort Yukon was established in 1848, an event which attracted the usual number of Indians around the post who are always seen about a frontier trading station, many of whom made it their home. They came up the river, down the main stream, and down the great tributary, the Rat or Porcupine River which empties itself near the fort, so that the settlement was recruited by stragglers from several tribes, and it was for this reason that I spoke of them as not being a distinct tribe. The Indian who assumed the rôle of chief, Senati, as he is called by the white people, a savage of more than ordinary authority and determination, came from the lower ramparts where there exists a village bearing his name, which he still visits. Since the abandonment of the post by the Alaska Company, his force of character has done much to hold together the handful of natives that still cling to the old spot; but with his death and the desertion of the place by white traders this part of the river will soon return to its former wildness. When the Hudson Bay Company came upon the river at the point where they built this fort, they felt safe from the encroachments of the Russians, although trespassing upon Russian soil, as the Yukon was supposed to flow northward, and, like the Mackenzie, to pour its waters into the polar sea. Old maps may still be found bearing out this idea,[2] the Colville being pressed into service as the conjectural continuation of the Yukon into the Arctic portion of Alaska.

[2] As late as 1883, a fine globe bearing that date, costing some hundreds of dollars, was received by the American Geographical Society from a London firm, which still bears this error, corrected over twenty years ago.

The 27th and 28th were occupied in taking observations to rate and correct the chronometer, much of the first day being spent in company with the officers of the boat, who recounted their interesting adventures on the river and its adjacent regions, in which their lives had been spent. I recall an episode of Mr. McQuestion's early life which so well illustrates the extraordinary vigor of the voyageurs of the Hudson Bay Company in the British north-west territory that I shall briefly repeat it. His boyhood was spent in the northern peninsula of Michigan and the states and territories to the westward, until finally he found himself at old Fort Garry, then an important post of the Hudson Bay Company. Here he was brought into constant contact with the restless voyageurs, and from them he imbibed much of their adventurous spirit, and was imbued with a longing to visit the far north land of which they spoke. He heard of Athabasca as other lads might hear of California and Mexico and Peru, while the Mackenzie and Yukon resembled to his imagination some fabled El Dorado or Aladdin's dream. He longed to see these lands for himself, but he knew the hard work the voyageurs were compelled to endure. He had seen the bundles and bags and boxes of a hundred pounds that they were to carry on their backs around rapids too swift to pole or "track," and over the many portages and exchanges on their long journeys. He knew he was not equal to the work required, but with the enthusiasm of youth he determined to make himself equal to it by a course of physical training, and after several months presented himself to an agent of the company as a full-fledged voyageur. To his delight he was accepted and entered on their books at a monthly salary, that probably being the least important part to him at the time. The first party which started northward in the spring included young McQuestion in its number, the most enthusiastic of all. Days wore on and much of his enthusiasm was repressed by the hard experiences of the journey, but it was by no means destroyed. In a few days the other voyageurs began talking of the great portage, where every thing, canoes included, had to be carried on their backs around the swift rapids, and wishing that their task, the hardest they had to encounter in the northern regions, was well over. McQuestion rather regarded it in the light of variety, as a break from the monotony of weary paddling over still and "tracking" through swift water. At last the lower end of the great portage was reached at a small cascade, and as the great canoe in which the young voyageur was paddling was nearly at the lower end of the line, he could plainly see the indications ahead. The canoes came up and landed at the little rocky ledge, their one hundred pound bundles were thrown out on the bank, high and dry, and the canoe itself was dragged from the water to make room for the next. McQuestion saw the chief of the canoe throw a bundle on the first comer's back, and expected to see him start off over the trail to the upper end of the portage, said to be ten or twelve miles across, and running through a tanglewood with all kinds of obstructions occurring the whole way. As the man did not start off, however, McQuestion watched eagerly for the reason, and was astonished to see the chief put a second bundle of a hundred pounds upon the other for the packer to carry, a load under which he expected to see the poor fellow stagger or fall. He did not fall, however, nor even stagger, but wheeled in his tracks and started off at a good sharp run, and disappeared over the hill. In a few minutes he reappeared on the crest of another hill, still maintaining his rapid gait, and with half a dozen others following him on the trail, with each carrying the same weight, and proceeding at the same gait. His heart sank within him, and as he climbed the ledge of rock he felt almost like a criminal on the way to execution. He received his two bundles, started off, and managed to keep up his gait over the crest of the nearest hill, when he fell, spread out at full length over the first log he attempted to cross. He returned to the factor in charge of the expedition, and a compromise was made by which he paid to that functionary the amount per month he was to have received in order to accompany the party as a passenger. At one of the northern posts he obtained a situation more to his liking, and thus drifted into the company's employ, finally crossing over to the Yukon River, and transferring his allegiance to the Alaska Company when it succeeded his old masters.

On the forenoon of the 20th, the Yukon continued her voyage up the stream, having accomplished all the summer trading with the Fort Yukon Indians the day previous. I was present at an afternoon parley with them, and was greatly impressed at the patience exhibited and required by traders among these savages; a patience such as not one shopman in a thousand possesses, according to my experience, however great a haggler he may be. McQuestion had learned the art of patience from his old employers, probably the most successful bargainers with savages the world has ever seen. Indian No. 1 put in an appearance with a miserable lot of furs, and a more miserable story of poverty, the badness of the winter for trapping, the scarcity of animals and the inferiority of the pelts, his large family in need of support, his honesty with the company in the past, and a score of other pleas, the upshot of which was a request that he might be supplied with clothing and ammunition for another year in return for the pelts at his feet. The trader replies, setting a definite price in trading material for the amount of skins before him, and the "dickering" begins. After half an hour or an hour's talk of the most tiresome description, the discussion ends in the Indian accepting the exact amount the trader originally offered, or about one-tenth of his own demands. Indian No. 2, who has heard every word of the conversation, then comes forward with the same quality of furs and exactly the same story, the trade lasting exactly the same time, and with exactly the same result; and so on with all the others in turn. Even No. 12, of the dozen present, does not vary the stereotyped proceedings any more than an actor's interpretation of a part varies on the twelfth night of the piece. Then Indian No. 1 comes forward again with a package of furs of a better quality than the first he displayed, and solemnly affirms that these are the only ones he has left, and that if the trader will not give him enough clothing for himself and family, and enough ammunition to last through the winter in return for them, they must all go naked and perhaps starve for want of the means of procuring food. This story, with its continuation, lasts about half as long as the first, but ends in the same way, as the Indian's eloquence has about as much effect on the trader as it would on the proverbial row of stumps. The farce is repeated by all the Indians in turn, and is yet again repeated at least once before the entire transaction is over, during all of which time the white trader sits composedly on his stool, and gives a patient and unvarying answer to each in his turn, under provocation that would have put Job in a frenzy before the first circle was completed.

On the 29th of July we took an early departure, and about noon passed an Indian village of five or six tents and ten or a dozen canoes, which might have appeared uninhabited but for the dogs that surrounded the tents, nearly a score to every one, proving that their owners were either asleep or only temporarily absent. The dogs flocked down the beach and up the bank, and emitted such a chorus of unearthly howls that we were grateful to the current for hurrying us away. That day we drifted 50.5 (geographical) miles in a trifle over thirteen hours, showing but little diminution in the river's rate of speed. It was an exceedingly hot blistering day on the river, almost unbearable, and the heat, coupled with the clouds of mosquitoes, impelled the doctor to remark that it was clear to the casual observer that we were in the Arctic regions. About seven o'clock in the evening, the thermometer marking 80° Fahrenheit in the shade, we saw "sun-dogs," or parhelia, very plainly marked on either side of the western sun, a phenomenon I had so often observed in the Arctic winter and in Arctic weather elsewhere, as to seem incongruous during such tropical heat. A heavy rain shower came up about ten o'clock at night and continued at intervals until late the next morning.

"It is an ill wind that blows no one any good," and if the gnats and mosquitoes did keep us awake all night they allowed us to start two hours earlier than usual, and in spite of a gale in the afternoon that made it very difficult to steer well and to keep off the lee banks, we camped reasonably early and had forty-four miles to our credit in addition. This wind was very cold and disagreeable, with heavy black clouds overhead; a most decided change in the weather since the day before, but for the better, as the strong wind kept down the mosquitoes and gave us all a good night's rest.

The 31st was uneventful, and in fact it was only in the casual incidents of our voyage that we found any thing to interest us while floating through this region, a flat desert clothed with spruce trees, all of a uniform size, and monotonous in the extreme. We scored forty-five geographical miles and retired at night in a rain shower, which continued with such unabated fury next day that we remained in camp. A stroll that evening disclosed the distal extremity of a mastodon's femur on the gravel beach near camp, Mr. Homan finding a tooth of the same animal near by. For many years the scattered bones of this extinct animal have been found along the Yukon, showing that this region was once its home. When at Fort Yukon an Indian brought the tooth of a mastodon to a member of my party, and receiving something for it, probably more than he expected, told the white man that the entire skeleton was protruding from the banks of one of the islands, about a day's journey up the river. Our limited time and transportation forbade investigating it further. In a few years, I suppose, the bank will be excavated by the undermining river, and the bones swept away and scattered over many bars and beaches, for it is in such places that the greatest numbers are found, while a complete skeleton in situ is a rarity.