That night we stayed at Cleary Creek, having accomplished ten miles as the result of the day’s trip, but as the greater part of the ten miles consisted of the ascent and descent already mentioned we were both satisfied.
Next morning we started off, following the trail down Cleary Creek until we struck the Chatanika River, and here we met our first big obstacle. Our course lay up the Chatanika for about seventy miles, but as soon as we arrived on the banks of this river we found it impossible to travel any farther, on account of overflows. It may be as well to explain for the benefit of the uninitiated what is meant by an overflow.
The Chatanika is a river over one hundred miles in length, but is full of gravel bars. At the beginning of winter the stream, of course, freezes, and where the gravel bars are situated it freezes solid to the bottom, owing to the fact that the water is very shallow at these points.
There is always a large body of water flowing from the subterranean springs at the source of this river, and, as this water cannot make its way through the barriers of ice and gravel, it forces itself up through the ice and flows over the top until such time as it freezes or finds its way under the ice again. In some places the overflows thus formed are three or four feet deep.
Now, it is a serious matter to wade through water when the thermometer is a long way below zero. It is the easiest thing in the world for a man to lose his feet in this way, for as soon as one gets wet the moisture freezes into a cake of ice, and unless precautions are immediately taken the limbs may become so badly frozen that amputation is necessary, in order to prevent mortification.
When we found the river was so full of overflows we judged it best to wait a few days and give the water a chance to freeze, as the weather was very cold at this time. We found a deserted cabin, minus door and window, and proceeded to make ourselves as comfortable as possible under these circumstances. We had a stove with us, and as there was plenty of wood handy we soon had the cabin warm.
We stayed at this place over two weeks, waiting for the overflows to close up. Time began to drag heavily on our hands, for the days were very short and game scarce, so all we could do was to eat and sleep and wait for the flood-water to freeze. Our Christmas Day—that day of all the year so eagerly looked forward to in happier climes—we spent as follows. During the few hours of daylight I took my gun and went off into the woods. I found the tracks of a wolverine, but was unable to follow them up, as it was already getting dark, though I could see that the tracks were newly made.
That night we did our best to celebrate Christmas properly. We prepared a feast, which consisted of caribou steak, evaporated potatoes, evaporated onions, canned butter, canned pears, and baking-powder bread. Such little luxuries as plum-puddings and mince-pies were chiefly conspicuous by their absence, and I finished my repast with a bad attack of home-sickness, which was perhaps natural, but hardly in keeping with my rôle of dauntless pioneer.
We waited by the banks of the Chatanika until January 1st, and then, as the overflows still showed no signs of freezing over, we determined to start the New Year and our trip up the river at the same time, and trust to that special Providence which is supposed to guard sailors, fools, drunken men, and little children. The dogs were in good condition, as they had done nothing for two weeks but eat, sleep, and grow fat. They showed a distinct dislike to their harness at first, which was perhaps natural, but after a time resigned themselves to the inevitable.
For the first two miles we managed to pick out a land trail, but after that we had to take to the river, as the timber became too thick. After we had travelled about two miles on the river trail, we began to congratulate ourselves on the condition of the track, for by picking our way carefully and avoiding the stretches of open water we were making good time.