Wrangel narrows is one of the finest scenic passages along the coast
of Alaska. The magnificent range of snow-covered mountain peaks, the
green-clad slopes on the shore and the Stickine delta compose as
noble a landscape as one will see anywhere in the world. The sunset
and sunrise lights in the narrows and on the snowy, cloud-wreathed
mountains are marvelous pictures of beauty, beyond the power of pen or
brush to portray.
At low tide broad bands of russet hued algae border the sea-washed
shores. Giant kelp break loose from their moorings and go floating
about, their yellow fronds and orange heads contrasting strangely with
the intense green of the water. The Indians say these kelp are the
queues of shipwrecked Chinamen. Many eagles build their nests in the
trees, while myriads of seagulls skim the water.
The scenery of the Stickine river is equally grand. Three hundred
glaciers drain their waters into this river.
The tourist meets the first tide water glacier in the Bay of Le Conte.
The Stickine Indians called it Hutli, Thunder Bay. Here, they say,
dwells Hutli, the Thunder Bird. To their imaginative mind the cracking
of the ice and the noise of the falling icebergs, is the cry of Hutli,
and the roar of the falling water the flapping of his huge wings.
In Lapland the guardian spirit of the mountains is known as Haltios.
[Illustration: DOUGLAS ISLAND, LOOKING TOWARD JUNEAU.]
Juneau is located at the foot of Mt. Juneau, which is more than three
thousand feet high. It is snow-capped and delicious water comes pouring
down the mountain sides. Juneau is a newly built town and is the
largest on the coast. It has a population of thirty-five hundred. Just
below the town is a village of Taku Indians. Back of the village are
the grave houses. Here we find totem poles and Indian offerings to the
spirits. Steamers bring to this wharf fruits and vegetables. Radishes,
lettuce and onions, also rhubarb, look tempting in the gardens. Juneau
is the home of many miners and prospectors. The chief mining interest
in this vicinity is the Treadwell mines, located on Douglas island,
just across Gastineau channel from Juneau. The ore runs from two
dollars and twenty cents to four dollars per ton only, but the water
power coming from the mountains makes the working of the mines cheap,
so that the company is enabled to pay large dividends. Hundreds of
sacks of gold, nearly free from rock, lay day and night on the wharves,
waiting for the steamers to carry it away to the stamping mill. On the
wharf at Treadwell lay twenty thousand dollars.
The mill spoken of is the largest in the world. It runs eight hundred
and eighty stamps day and night. There is enough ore in sight to run
the mill twenty-four hours a day for thirty years. The mountains are
being literally blasted down and carted away. The Indians work in the
mines, but they cannot compete with their Anglo Saxon brothers, they
earning only about half as much. They will not trust the white man over
night, hence are paid at the close of each day.
The Indians wear citizens’ clothes and carry watches. Many of them
sport canes when walking about the streets. The women and girls do
the family washing on the rocks in the mountain streams. One little
black-eyed, brown-faced witch who said her name was Troke Lewis, was
washing handkerchiefs on a big rock over which the water poured. She
paused to talk to us, a cake of soap held high in one hand, while with
the other she held her handkerchiefs down in the cold water on the rock.
Just around the cliff, back of Juneau, lies the beautiful Silver Bow
cañon.
[Illustration: SILVER BOW CAÑON, JUNEAU. By permission of F. LAROCHE,
Photographer, Seattle, Washington.]
There are plenty of fine fish in the bay. Salmon, trout and eels
abound. The writer caught a trout weighing ten pounds and an eel
weighing one pound.
Skagway is located on the Lynn canal at the foot of Mt. Dewey, which
rises sheer fifty-five hundred feet above the sea. The climate is
very mild, the thermometer never being known to register over six
below zero. A veritable Ganymede sends down a vast supply of the most
delicious water. Skagway is the coming city of Alaska. It will be to
Alaska what Chicago is to the Middle Western States, what St. Paul
and Minneapolis are to the Northwest and what Seattle is to the North
Pacific coast. Streets are being laid out and other improvements are
going on. Log cabins covered with tar paper are being replaced by
more substantial buildings. People are coming here to stay and the
representative inhabitants of this youthful town are men and women of
refinement and culture from the Eastern and Middle States.
At Skagway all sorts of vegetables are growing in the gardens, lettuce,
radishes, onions, potatoes, cabbage and tomatoes.
We spent the Fourth of July in this place. Congressman Warner invited
us to join him and the senatorial party for the day. We went to the
summit of the Selkirk mountains, to the head of the Yukon River on the
White Pass and Yukon railway, after which the party was entertained in
Skagway.
[Illustration: OLD RUSSIAN COURT HOUSE, JUNEAU.]
Observation cars were especially prepared for the party. These
consisted of flat cars around which run a railing. The seats were
reversable and ran lengthwise of the cars. Thus you might view the wall
of granite along which you were passing or reverse the seat and behold
the wonderful things to be seen in the pass below, where the march of
Civilization has left her trail, cabins, mining camps, amidst snow and
flowering mosses, tin cans, cracker boxes; and last but not least,
horses and mules just as good as when they lay down to their last
sleep in these wilds.
The run to the summit was made in two hours. Over the same route men
and pack mules plod along three weeks. Only in places is there much
vegetation on these granite mountains. Toward the summit blackberries
are in bloom. They are perfect plants only two inches high, each plant
sending out two or three branches loaded with bloom. Dwarf pines and
tufts of grass grow in the crevices of the rocks and on the sides of
the mountains, where a little soil has found lodgment.
The White Pass and Yukon railway, which was opened in February, now
runs trains over the summit to Lake Bennett. Work is being pushed
rapidly forward to the final destination, Ft. Selkirk, Northwest
Territory. The distance from Skagway to the summit is sixteen miles.
The road was blasted out of solid granite all the way and is a
wonderful feat of engineering skill.
There are the usual curves and loops, but these are not sufficient to
overcome the steep grade which rises two hundred feet to the mile. The
road rises thirty-two hundred feet in the sixteen miles. At one place
the train was run up into a ravine on a Y. The engine was uncoupled and
coming in behind us pushed the coaches up to the summit.
The ice bridges all through the mountains are in good repair, the
turbulent streams flowing under them with a dash and a roar of the
Selkirk’s own.
All along the way to the summit is visible on the opposite side of the
pass, the foot trail of the Indians. This narrow path lies along the
sheer cliffs, dropping suddenly into deep ravines, then almost straight
up the precipitous side of the mountain.
An enterprising company has built a wagon road to the summit, but a
nervous person had best run his carriage on more level ground. This
road stands on end in many places. It runs along level enough for a
foot or two then takes a header into a ravine, presently it winds over
a frail bridge which the spuming torrent below threatens every minute
to wreck.
[Illustration: STREET IN JUNEAU.]
The wagon relegated the trail to oblivion. Then came the railroad and
travel and commerce deserted the wagon road. Here they lie, the foot
trail on one side, the wagon way on the other, and just above the road
way, the railway. Three path ways: that of the untaught, unskilled
Indian, that of the enterprising pioneer and that of the modern
engineer, traverse this play ground of the Titans.
At the summit of the mountains Old Glory waves beside the British flag.
Several British red-coated police are on duty at this point. They live
in one-room frame houses covered with sail cloth.
The Yukon river rises at this point and flows four thousand miles into
Behring Sea. Just now the head is a bank of snow from which we made
snowballs.
The railroad will shortly be completed to Lake Bennett. From that
point, with the exception of White Horse rapids, is a clear, unimpeded
water route to Dawson City, in the heart of the Klondike.
From the Dawson City _Midnight Sun_ we learn that this metropolis of
the Northwest Territory is quite a busy place.
Hundreds are leaving for the Cape Nome country by every steamer, and
many are making the trip in open boats.
A disastrous fire occurred on the hill back of Dawson on Wednesday
last, when about forty cabins were destroyed by the blaze. In many
cases the entire contents were destroyed, while some few were enabled
to save their outfits. The fire caught from a small bonfire down
near the Klondike, and in the first ravine up that stream. It ran up
the hill to the trail, and then burning down towards the ferry, also
destroyed half the homes on the lower side of the trail. The loss is
estimated to reach about five thousand dollars, and fell on a class who
could ill afford the loss, some being left absolutely destitute.
Scows and boats through from Lake Bennett began arriving in great
numbers the last of the week, and are continuing to do so.
Trunks and bandboxes are taking the place of dunnage bags heretofore
brought into the country. Every steamer is unloading cords of them.
Men who during the winter were spending hundreds of dollars over the
gambling tables are now looking for a chance to work their passage out.
The suspicious actions of two strangers over on Gold Run has caused
gold sacks to be guarded more carefully.
Two men while poling a boat up the river, were overturned near the
mouth of the Klondike, losing a valuable kit of tools. The men were
picked up by a boat pushed off from the river bank.
[Illustration: GREEK CHURCH, JUNEAU.]
The grand opera house, built by Charles Meddows, is to be the finest
building in Dawson. It is three stories high. The auditorium has a
seating capacity of two thousand and a double row of boxes, forty-two
in number.
From present indication Dawson will celebrate the Fourth of July as it
was never before celebrated. Citizens of Canada are as eager supporters
of this movement as are those of the States. There was a public mass
meeting held in June at the A. C. warehouse, when there was about five
hundred people present, and an executive committee appointed. Since
then the different committees have been appointed and are meeting even
better support from all quarters than expected.
The foreman of the Gold Hill mine saved from his washup a thousand
dollars’ worth of handsome nuggets. Over these he kept a jealous eye
continually until last Friday. Between seven and eight o’clock that
evening he went to a neighboring cabin to bid good-by to Sam Miller,
who was preparing to return to the States. During his temporary absence
some sneak thief entered the cabin and cutting open a valise secured
the sack of nuggets, but in his haste overlooked fifteen hundred
dollars in dust lying near by.
We learn that a responsible firm is organizing a properly conducted
express company, which will be prepared to carry parcels, gold dust,
and attend to commissions. Thus a long felt want will be supplied in
connection with Dawson’s dealing with outside points.
The foreman of the Eldorado is doing the finest piece of mining yet
seen in the Klondike. A passer by would think that his large force
of men was laying off a baseball ground, so level is the entire five
hundred-foot claim being stripped for summer sluicing.
Cards are out announcing the marriage of two of Dawson’s most prominent
young people.
A beautiful baby girl born over on Bonanza claim the other day is
considered the most valuable nugget on the claim.
[Illustration: INDIAN CHIEF’S HOUSE, JUNEAU.]
Patrick O’Flynn, a prisoner serving a six months’ sentence, escaped
Thursday and has gone, nobody knows where. He, with other prisoners,
was carrying water from the Yukon when he bolted among the tents along
the river bank, mingled with the crowd and was lost sight of. One
hundred dollars reward was promptly offered for information leading to
his capture.
The Yukon has been steadily rising for the past week, and the high
water mark is not yet reached. Water is backed up in the Klondike,
overflowing the island.
This little city came near having a Johnstown flood last winter. An
eye witness thus describes how the ice went out at Dawson. The river
had been frozen all winter. When a few warm spring days came, the
melting ice and snow in the mountains sent down immense volumes of
water the strain of which the ice could not long withstand. All day the
people stood helplessly about discussing the situation. A flood seemed
inevitable; the greater part of the city was in danger of being swept
away; until three o’clock in the afternoon the situation was unchanged,
the ice gave no evidence of going.
Suddenly and almost simultaneously all along the city front the ice
was seen to commence moving. A steamboat whistled and the cry went up,
“The ice is moving,” and thousands of spectators rushed to the river
bank just in time to see it go. The dancing masses of huge pieces
of ice weighing tons upon tons, reared high in the air and tumbling
over each other as they fell, presented a most beautiful spectacle. At
ten o’clock it jammed and raised the water about three feet, doing no
damage except smashing the wheel of the steamer Nellie Irving. In ten
minutes the jam broke and the next morning the river, which the day
before was frozen solid across, was entirely free except for blocks of
floating ice from above.
Last year ice jammed and, backing the water up, flooded the town, doing
much damage.
[Illustration: SUMMIT OF THE SELKIRK RANGE, AT HEAD OF YUKON RIVER. OLD
GLORY WAVES BESIDE THE BRITISH FLAG.]