In Search of a Siberian Klondike

by Washington Baker Vanderlip; Homer B. Hulbert

Tundra Camp.

The poor horses were simply black with mosquitos, though we helped them as much as we could by tying branches of leaves to the saddles and bridles. During the night we provided a good heavy smudge for the animals to stand in. The horses knew well its value, and would crowd together into the smoke to escape the cruel stings of their enemies. At about four o'clock each morning the cool temperature quieted the mosquitos, and the horses could get two hours of feeding. At noon, when we lunched, the horses would crowd in upon us in the smoke, and even though beaten off, would persistently return. Frequently the camp was pervaded by the smell of burning hoofs and tails. The dogs suffered less, for their hair protected them, and at night they would sleep with their faces buried between their paws so that the mosquitos could not get at their vulnerable spot.

Having crossed the river, we followed along its eastern bank till we came to the Uchingay River, and a few days later reached the head waters of this stream. We saw in the distance the two red mountains. In the stream I began to find float-rock containing iron pyrites, and I prospected carefully on all sides, but, with the exception of a few colors now and then, there was nothing of interest. When we came near the source of the stream I sunk shafts to bed-rock. After a thorough examination of the region I was forced to admit that the trip had been a failure, and prepared to retrace my steps.

After two days on the return trail, we found the water of the stream fairly deep, and I determined to make a raft and float down with my Tunguse guide, examining the outcroppings on either side of the stream, while the two Koreans took the horses down along the bank. I estimated that I could go four times as fast as the horses, and that if I stopped frequently to examine the formations I would arrive at the crossing of the Paran at about the same time as the Koreans.

So we all went to work and made a raft of light dry sticks, twelve feet long by about eight inches in diameter. There were twelve sticks in all, and the raft was about seven feet wide. Fronyo selected three good pieces of timber and made sweeps, the extra one being for emergencies. We also had two good stout poles. All our baggage was loaded on the raft, fastened down securely, and covered with a tarpaulin. I then divided the food evenly, giving the Koreans their full share, and telling them to go to the point where we had crossed the Paran, and that if we did not show up within a certain time to make their way across the river and return to Ghijiga without us. I gave Kim the rifle and cartridges, and half the food, which amounted to a little rice, half a pound of tea, and some hard bread. I also gave him the fish-net. Fronyo and I kept the shot-gun.

We bade the Koreans good-by, and shoved off into the stream, which was running like a mill-race. We were kept busy steering the raft clear of the rocks with which the river was strewn. As yet we used only the poles. I may as well confess right here that this trip on the raft was a fearfully hazardous undertaking, for we never knew what sort of water we had below us; so clumsy was our craft there was no chance of escape to either bank should danger loom suddenly ahead. But the hard work we had experienced in making our way through the tangled woods made us reverse the dictum of Hamlet, and, rather than bear again the ills we had been through, we flew to others that we knew not of. The rush and swirl of the angry waters, the narrow escape from the ragged crest of a reef that came almost, but not quite, to the surface, and was invisible thirty feet away, the rush past steep cliffs and flowery banks, all formed such a delightful contrast to the weary plodding through the forest that we were willing to welcome almost any dangers for the sake of the exhilaration of this mad dash down the stream.

The river was only about twenty yards wide at the point where we embarked upon it, but it broadened rapidly as it was fed by tributary streams from either side. Now and again the current was divided by an island, and then came together far below. All went smoothly the first day, and at four o'clock we tied up to the bank and prepared to camp. But so great was our difficulty in finding any dry wood that it was bedtime before we had finished our preparations for the night.

The next morning we made an early start. It was thought that we must be near the junction of the Uchingay and the Paran. Though a drizzly, sleety day, it did not dampen our ardor—nor that of the mosquitos. I had to put on a set of oilskins which greatly hampered my movements on the raft. The river had now broadened to a hundred and fifty feet, and was indeed a mighty torrent. We tied up to the bank frequently to examine the outcroppings.

We had congratulated ourselves upon the ease and rapidity of our run down-stream, when suddenly we sighted white water below and knew there was serious trouble ahead. Our raft was so light that usually it would pass over any obstacles in the bed of the stream or at most scrape lightly upon them, turn around once or twice, and then float off into smooth water below. Of course, if the rocks came above the surface it was an easier matter to go around them. We managed to pass through these rapids successfully, but immediately below them we saw that the stream divided into two parts, the channel to the left appearing to be the better one. We guided our raft accordingly, and soon found ourselves rushing down a gorge at railroad speed. The cañon began to "box up" in an ugly manner, and our pace became so great that we lost control of our little craft. Sweeping around a bend, we saw that a great tree had been undermined by the water, and had fallen out over the stream so that two thirds of the narrow channel was completely blocked. We strove with might and main to pull the raft to one side in order to evade disaster, but she might as well have been an ocean steamer for all the effect of our futile endeavors. We swept under and among the branches of the tree, and though we hugged the raft as closely as possible, we were both brushed clean off. I seized a branch and tried to draw myself up, but the current snatched me away, and I was swept down-stream. I fought to regain the surface, but could not do it. My head was fairly bursting, when I felt the current pushing me up, and suddenly I was shot out of the water and rolled up on a wooden incline. As soon as I could collect my wits I found, to my amazement, that I was on the raft again. It had landed against a rock in a shelving position, with the lower side under the water, and the water itself had provided, in an almost miraculous manner, the means which alone could save my life. Almost the first thing I saw was a hand above the water, grasping the edge of the raft, and another feeling eagerly for a place to get hold. Poor Fronyo was under water and evidently far gone. I thrust my arm in up to the shoulder, and got hold of his hair, and I had little difficulty in dragging him out and up on the raft. He was almost unconscious. I took him by the collar and the seat of the pants, and, by pounding his stomach on the pack, soon relieved him of the water he had swallowed. Twenty minutes later I was rejoiced to see him quite himself again, although very weak.