Sunrise
In this location we spent about a week. We had no difficulty in killing all the teal (Nettium carolinensis) and Canada geese (Branta canadensis) that we cared to eat, and, when the tide was down, in gathering all the clams desired. During the month that we spent in this part of the country it rained continually, night and day, with the exception of three days, which I spent in photographing. The sun would burst through the clouds like a huge search-light, casting its rays upon the tropical luxuriance of the underbrush, reflecting back a sparkling radiance from myriads of tiny rain-drops. We changed our camp occasionally for new grounds, and one evening we had pitched our tent without pinning it down. It was raining, as usual, and after eating a scanty meal we threw our blankets on the ground and retired early. Some time in the night I heard the crackling of the rank grass. My first impression was that there was a porcupine skulking near, but as we listened my guide said, “There’s a bear outside!” We had thrown down on the grass at the edge of the tent what was left of a side of bacon, and Mr. Bruin was trying to get it from under the canvas. I immediately jumped up, grabbed my “405,” and started towards the flap of the tent, but about the time I reached it there came two loud “woofs,” accompanied by the sound of crashing bushes, and that was the last we heard of Old Bruin.
Our Permanent Camp
At the head of one of the fiords in the neighborhood, there was a glacier of considerable size, and on looking over the desolation I half expected to find a glacier bear (Ursus emmonsi). Comparatively little is known about the habits of this animal. The only one in captivity is in the public park at Seattle. It is a fine specimen, and as it walks up and down behind the bars its wild nature seems to predominate in every movement. In the adjoining cages are black and grizzly bears, but they seem to be satisfied in captivity, while the glacier bear reminds one of a hyena as it paces from end to end, occasionally throwing its head into the air. The fur is a bluish black beneath, with outer grayish tips.
In the early morning I started alone in the direction of the dead glacier, crossed the glacier stream easily to the opposite side, which looked more inviting of access, working my way up over the lateral moraine, searching among the crevasses, and now and again getting into a “pocket,” from which I had to retrace my steps. Towards evening I turned homeward. When I reached the stream, I thought I had located the ford where I had previously crossed, but on making the attempt, I found the water too deep and swift. Many times I tried to cross at different points, thinking each time I had found the ford. I would wade out into the ice-cold stream until I felt the swift current almost lifting me off my feet, and then would make a hasty return. It was beginning to get dark and I was anxious to get home, so I lifted a large stone in my arm to give me additional weight and started toward a little eddy, cautiously feeling my way. When I reached the eddy I felt my feet sinking in the sand. My first thought was of a quick-sand, and I shall never forget the sensation as I hurriedly dropped the stone and made a mad rush for shore. However, I finally succeeded in reaching the other side safely. Before arriving at camp I heard the report of a gun from the direction of home, for the guide had grown uneasy and thought I was lost.
A few more days’ experience in the rain, among the glaciers, then we broke camp at high tide and drifted with the ebb flow out along the shore until we reached the outermost projection of rocks, and there awaited the return of the tug which would take us back to Valdez.