Then for six days it rained at intervals, while a grey pall of cloud stretched ceaselessly over our heads, and we spent most of our time playing whist or euchre in our cabin, which would just hold four people. Our fourth on these occasions was a most cheerful Scotchman, known to us as the King of Cassiar, to which kingdom he was now returning. He possessed a large stock of most excellent whisky when he came on board. During these sad and gloomy days we visited sundry salmon canneries, and about midnight on Sunday the 10th we arrived at Wrangel. We had now got so far north that there was quite light enough even at that hour to walk about the streets, and I accompanied our Scotch friend ashore, as he was to leave us here and go up the Stickheen river. While in the town I gleaned the information that canoes went up almost every summer from Hooniah to Yakutat along the unprotected part of the coast, and we proceeded to sketch out plans for conveying our expedition in the same way.
The next day was still wet and cold, and though we met sundry small icebergs floating down from the glaciers in Taku Inlet, we saw nothing of the mountains which gave them birth. Some excitement was caused by our stopping about eleven o’clock to pick up a fair-sized canoe with four of Mr. Duncan’s Metlakatla Indians in her, who had encountered rough weather and damaged their frail craft. We reached the mining city (!) of Juneau in the evening, and H. and I plunged about till late at night, seeking, with the assistance of Mr. Reed, a Juneau store-keeper, for some sloop or schooner which might convey us up to Yakutat. This we failed to find, but we engaged a certain Dick as interpreter, who was said to be the smartest Indian in Alaska, and rejoiced in the appellation of the Dude. For this aristocratic Siwash’s services we weakly consented to pay four dollars a day and his food, and he accompanied us on board, his luggage being about as voluminous as that of a Swiss guide.
On Tuesday the 12th we had at last a perfectly beautiful day, during which we steamed from Douglas Island, the seat of the biggest gold-mine in Alaska, up the Lynn Canal to Pyramid Harbour. The mountains on each side of the narrow inlet were covered with glaciers, all obviously shrinking, and none of any great size, till we came to the Davidson Glacier, close to Pyramid Harbour, which at a distance appears to come right into the sea, though it is really separated from it by a narrow belt of moraine. Retracing our course next day down the Lynn Canal, we then went down Chatham Strait to Killisnoo, where I saw the biggest salmon that I ever came across in Alaska, a brace of about fifty pounds each, and then, passing through most beautiful scenery in Peril Straits, finally reached Sitka at 11 P.M.
CHAPTER II
SITKA TO YAKUTAT
As we were detained at Sitka for a fortnight, making preparations for the expedition, and waiting for W. to come up on the next boat, I may as well give some description of one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen. As the traveller lands on the pier, he has the Indian village of about five hundred inhabitants on his left, while just in front are the barracks of the United States marines, and the old Russian citadel, from the top of which he will obtain a lovely view, somewhat resembling that of the Bay of Naples, but with the additional charm of the snow mountains and small glaciers at the head of Silver Bay. Numbers of small green islands stretch across its mouth, while further away to the west lies Kruzoff Island, humping itself into the dormant volcano of Mount Edgcumbe and the double summit of the Camelsback. Due east, and almost overshadowing the town, rises the sharp peak of Verstovia, so called by the Russians from its being supposed to be exactly a verst (about three thousand feet) high, but the translation of the Indian name is Arrowhead. To the north-east lies the little pool of Swan Lake, above which the forest-clad hills sweep up again to the height of about two thousand feet, while across the bay to the south rise mountains of very respectable proportions.
As he goes on up the main street, our traveller sees on the left a broad grassy place beyond which are the remains of towers and stockades, now no longer required to keep out the hostile Siwash, while on the right are a row of stores, of which one or two are still the old log buildings erected by the first inhabitants. He then passes the simple but hospitable little Baranoff hotel on his left, and finds himself in front of the Greek Church, the main feature of Sitka. Brilliantly though rather tawdrily decorated inside, its service on Sunday was impressively conducted and was well attended by many of the older Indians, and by the few Russians left in Sitka.
The road continues along the shores of the bay to the Indian River, a broad rapid stream, foaming in places over ledges of rock; the ground in its neighbourhood has been reserved as a sort of public park, and, though wild and uncared for, presents pictures of great beauty. But though beautiful, the town is very diminutive, and its permanent white population does not, I should think, amount to more than one hundred souls. We had a letter of introduction to Mr. Vanderbilt, one of the Sitka merchants, and, after securing rooms at the aforesaid hotel, went to interview him with decidedly satisfactory results. His partner, Mr. De Groff, was at that time at Yakutat, where he had established a small store, and was supervising some gold mining that had been commenced in the black sand on the shore. His small schooner, the ‘Alpha,’ was expected back every day from sealing, and as soon as she returned she would be sent up to Yakutat with stores for his partner, and could take us as passengers. At that time we did not intend to take any white men, trusting that we should be able to get canoes and porters at Yakutat, Dick being the medium of communication.
We then decided to go on a little training expedition, and selected a sharp peak we had noticed from the steamer in approaching Sitka, and had set down as between seven and eight thousand feet high. To reach this we departed one afternoon in a fair-sized canoe with its owner and Dick, and rowed (for most of these large canoes are fitted with oars) in a northerly direction for about six miles, till we reached the mouth of a narrow bay known as Nusquashinsky or Nushanitzky. Here the wind, though light, was in our favour, and we sailed peaceably up it, reaching its head about seven o’clock, and camped by a broad stream, along which we had at first thought we could make our way towards our mountain, which the Indian informed us was called Sha-klokh, or Spear-peak, but the bush in the valley was so dense that we struck straight up next morning, till in about four hours we got above tree-level, and pitched camp at a height of about two thousand feet close to a big bed of snow. Next day we climbed our peak triumphantly in about three hours, and even put on the rope to cross a big snow-patch hanging on the face, but its height proved to be only 4,300 feet, so easily is one deceived at first in a new country. We built a big stone-man on the top, which we afterwards found was visible with a glass from the bay, and returned to the tents, where we spent most of the afternoon in slumber. At this camp we got one or two deer, and took a lot of venison back to Sitka, intending to dry it and take it north, but unfortunately it all went bad in that moist atmosphere.