THE RECLAMATION OF ALASKA
Until a few years ago the popular conception of Alaska was a vast
country sealed against the efforts of civilisation by impenetrable
barriers of snow and ice, presenting such a dismal outlook as to daunt
the most intrepid spirits. But to-day quite a different impression
prevails. Alaska is considered a coming country, although it rests on
either side of the invisible line denoting the Arctic circle. It is a
vast mineral storehouse, the lofty mountains containing rich deposits
of all the valuable minerals of commerce, while the dales nestling
among the peaks have been found to be of wonderful fertility and
capable of producing a wealth of agricultural produce. One might regard
the possibility of raising wheat and hay in that northern clime as a
mere phantasy, but I have seen cereals and hay cut in those valleys
which compare very favourably in quality with the similar products
grown in the great agricultural belts of the United States and Canada.
The fact is that the interior, far from being locked the whole year
round in a temperature hovering around, or many degrees below, zero,
has extremes of heat and cold. In the winter the snow envelops the
ground to a depth of several feet, and the mercury descends to 40 or
50 degrees below zero, but in the summer the thermometer registers
temperatures of 80 and 90 degrees. While the winter grips the country
for nearly two-thirds of the year, the summer barely lasts 100 days.
But what a summer it is! The sun shines from a cloudless sky the whole
time, and for some twenty hours throughout the day. Consequently it is
possible to sow and to harvest the crops within 80 days.
Along the coast extremely cold weather scarcely ever is experienced.
The conditions, in fact, are very similar to those prevailing in
Scandinavia. The coast-line of the latter country is bathed by the warm
waters of the Gulf Stream: the coast-line of Alaska is swept by the
warm breezes of the Japanese chinook wind blowing off the Pacific.
Yet popular fallacy resulted in the country being regarded as a closed
book, and the possibility of a railway ever securing sufficient traffic
to justify its existence was ridiculed to scorn twenty years ago. But
the past two decades have witnessed strange developments. The railway
engineer has penetrated the country, and to-day there is a scene of
great activity to connect the remarkable discoveries of metals among
the mountains with convenient points of shipment along the coast.
It was the discovery of gold, and the subsequent rush to the
“Klondike,” that brought about the unlocking of Alaska, and which was
responsible for bringing a country of 591,000 square miles within the
purview of the railway-builder. A rude collection of timber shacks and
tents sprung up like mushrooms on a little indent on the seashore, and
to-day is a healthy, prosperous town and port--Skaguay. From this point
the daring spirits infected with the “yellow fever” pushed inland over
the gaunt, snow-clad mountains to the “fields,” enduring privations
untold and experiences that make the blood run cold in order to gain
the new Eldorado. The trail was blazed with the bleached bones of
animals and pioneers eager to be first on the spot. Of roads there were
none--there was not even a rough path. Those early seekers had to tread
one with their own feet.
No sooner had the first reports concerning the discoveries of gold
at Dawson trickled through, to be substantiated by subsequent
investigations, than the possibility of building a railway from the
coast to the gold-fields, in order to lift the men over the most
difficult and hazardous part of the journey, was discussed. Indeed,
among one of the earliest bands which trailed across the Chilkoot
Pass in a thick black line were one or two surveyors spying out the
general characteristics of the country. Less than two years after the
excitement first flared up the plans for a line 112 miles in length,
extending practically through unknown country, had been prepared.
One end of the line rested on the seashore at Skaguay, while the
other reposed at White Horse, near Lake Lebarge, where communication
was effected with the wonderful inland waterway of the country, the
river Yukon. It was not a long railway in comparison with other great
systems of the world, but it was a highly ambitious enterprise, for
it was destined to lift man and freight over the most terrible part
of the country, the coast range which had been the grave of scores of
fortune-hunters.
The prime mover in this undertaking was an accomplished engineer who
is quite at home in such inhospitable territory. He was sanguine of
its financial success, but when he approached American financiers for
support he was laughed to scorn. But this man was not to be cast down
so easily. Foiled in his efforts to enlist the practical sympathy of
his own countrymen, he came to London and sought British assistance,
for in the matter of railway pioneering the British financier is
probably the greatest plunger. He required roughly £1,000,000, or
$5,000,000, and what was more, he secured it. The firmness and
boldness with which the capitalists of London supported what was
regarded as a hare-brained scheme astonished the American financial
world. The ultimate success of the enterprise, however, was even more
surprising to them, and they more than regretted their refusal to
support the undertaking when it was originally laid before them. One
eminent authority belaboured his compatriots soundly for their lack of
foresight and initiative, and aptly remarked, “As long as the British
know how to grasp the trade of the world, when and where it is most
profitable, they have no immediate cause to worry about German and
American competition.”
Armed with the requisite cash resources, the projector lost no time.
He hurried back to Alaska and commenced his attack upon the towering
mountain chain. His arrival in “shack-town” with an efficient staff
and materials signalised the transition of Skaguay from a tumbledown,
disreputable collection of shanties into an important, well-built port.
The engineer realised only too well that he had a desperate task
confronting him. The maps and reports of the territory he intended
to traverse were found to be absolutely unreliable. He discarded the
whole lot and advised his own survey expeditions to prepare their own
cartographical guides. Five surveys were run, and five alternate routes
for the line between the coast and White Horse were completed before
selection was made definitely.
Then the rock and earth commenced to fly. There was a call for 5000
men. Skaguay was the starting-point, the first spadeful of earth being
turned near the water’s edge. A narrow gauge--three feet--was adopted
as being more economical to build, while from the traffic point of
view it was considered to be more than adequate. As the small gangs of
men armed with pick-axes and shovels advanced up the main street of
the town in embryo, defining the grade, the enthusiasm knew no bounds.
It was an occasion for a frantic outburst of revelry. The conquest of
the dreaded White Pass had commenced: the most northerly railway on
the American continent was under way; and the time was not far distant
when the miners would be able to pass from coast to gold-fields with no
more danger or discomfort than attends one who travels from London to
Scotland or from New York to Chicago.
For the first five miles the going was easy, as the line was plotted
through practically level country with only a slight ascent in order to
strike the mountains at a convenient point. Two months after the first
sod was turned down by the waterside this section was completed and
opened for traffic, an event which was not permitted to pass by without
another outbreak of jubilation.
The feature that most astonished the inhabitants, however, was the
vigour with which the presiding genius pushed his enterprise forward.
The gold rush was at its height, and hundreds of new arrivals poured
into Skaguay from every arriving boat. One and all were bound for the
diggings, and they proceeded as far as possible over the railway, to
continue a wearisome toil afoot from the railhead. To these men the
completion of the line meant more than one can realise from a distance.
That plod over the mountain crest through a pass which is so steep that
it appeared to lean back was heroic.
As the engineer penetrated the mountains his task became more exacting,
perilous, and the pace of the advance eased up appreciably. There was
no dearth of labour, for new arrivals, not having the wherewithal to
gain the gold region, or others who, having ventured there to meet
only with misfortune and ill-luck, were only too glad to seize the
opportunity to earn a good day’s pay on the building of the White Pass
& Yukon railway, as it is called.
[Illustration: THE FIRST HOUR’S WORK: NAVVIES PREPARING THE GRADE ALONG
THE MAIN STREET OF SKAGUAY]
[Illustration:
_Photos, Draper, Skaguay_]
BY RAILWAY TO THE KLONDIKE--THE WHITE PASS AND YUKON LINE UNDER
CONSTRUCTION
Laying the metals at the head of Lake Bennett, showing construction
camp.]
The engineer decided to keep his grades as easy as possible, but during
the course of 15 miles through the mountains he found very quickly
that this was no easy matter. He had to gain the summit of the pass,
an altitude of 2,888 feet, in this distance, and it was found quite
hopeless without a climb of 1 in 15. Much of the country lying in his
path never had been trodden by man. Below the snow-line it was covered
thickly with virgin forest, tangled undergrowth and dead-fall piled up
to a tremendous height, through which the men had to axe their way at
a snail’s pace. Above the line where timber ceased to thrive cliffs
rose up sheer, with their faces so polished by the Arctic gales and
weather as to be as slippery as ice and affording no foothold whatever.
In order that the workmen might gain a purchase for the wielding of
their tools, huge logs were slung down from convenient heights, held in
position by massive chains attached to iron dogs driven into the rock,
and on this flimsy foothold the men were compelled to prosecute
their tasks as best they could.
[Illustration: THE DISMAL TRACT OF SWAMP AND RIVER THROUGH WHICH THE
ALASKAN CENTRAL RAILWAY MAKES ITS WAY]
One of the most complex difficulties was in regard to the bringing
up of provisions and stores for the men, and the requisite material
for the railway. The base of supplies was over 1000 miles away, every
ounce of necessities having to be brought up by water from Seattle or
Vancouver. The little army was cut off entirely from the outside world,
news of which could be gleaned only when a boat called at Skaguay. The
absence of telegraphic communication was a deficiency which was felt
the most sorely. The post, intermittent and uncertain, as there was no
regular service, was the sole vehicle of communication. Consequently
extreme care had to be observed to preserve a continuous stream of the
material required. The omission of this or that entailed a delay of
anything from ten days upwards.
At one point a lofty granite tooth 70 feet wide and 20 feet thick
sheered up in front of the engineer to a height of 120 feet. He neither
attempted to go round nor through the obstacle. He brought up a squad
of expert drillers, and soon they were engaged in honeycombing the base
of the cliff with deep holes. Charges of explosives were rammed home,
and when detonated the whole crag, a crumbling mass of rock, rattled
down into the ravine. The pedestal of this cliff was then smoothed off,
and thereon the sleepers and metals were laid.
By dint of prodigious effort, continued without intermission both day
and night the whole week through, without even a respite for Sundays,
the engineer succeeded in carrying the railway forward for a distance
of 40 miles and over the summit of the pass in a single season. Such an
achievement in the face of the abnormal difficulties encountered, in
such a short space of time, was indeed memorable.
Satisfied with this result, the engineer called a halt. His men were
in dire need of rest, and as there was no object in exposing them
unduly to the rigours of the terrible winter now that the back of the
task had been broken, constructional work was suspended for a few
months. But it was not a period of complete inactivity. He had planned
his work for the following summer, and during the winter months he
pressed the snow-covered country into service for the erection of his
constructional camps, the disposition of building material, provisions
and stores at convenient points over a long distance ahead.
One cannot help admiring the perspicacity of the man identified with
this peculiar enterprise. When he sought financial assistance to
further his scheme he argued that directly the railway had negotiated
the summit, remunerative traffic would develop. So it proved. Confident
in these anticipations, the guiding hand had ordered considerable
rolling-stock to be hurried to Skaguay while his graders were forcing
their way to the summit, and when the pass was overcome a service was
inaugurated.
Yet it is doubtful if the engineer scarcely expected the results that
were experienced. The adequacy of his rolling-stock over the first 40
miles was tested to breaking point. The pack-trail over the pass was
abandoned as quickly as a candle is extinguished by a gust of wind when
the first train was announced. The miners braved the elements, pitiless
cold and dazzling snow, no longer. From the railway to-day one can
still see decaying evidences of a bygone bustle and activity attending
the trek of the first prospectors and pioneers to the Klondike in the
falling shacks and huts scattered along the trail, which before the
advent of the iron horse were centres of life and revelry, but which
to-day are wrapped in forlorn desolation. Scarcely a person enters or
even passes their doors now.
So soon as the winter broke, the engineer brought his forces to the
front once more. The line skirts Lake Bennett. White Horse, on the
head waters of the Yukon, some 72 miles ahead, was the objective, and
the engineer was determined to reach that inland terminus that season
by hook or by crook. As the line skirts Lake Bennett, and this sheet
of water is navigable, he decided to use it temporarily until White
Horse was reached, the railway consequently being resumed from the head
of the lake. This was a justifiable course, inasmuch as the building
of the line along the waterside would have occupied considerable time
owing to physical characteristics, while it was imperative that White
Horse should be reached without delay.
The coming of spring saw the graders regirding themselves for another
wrestle with the rock and gravel. Before they had gone very far the
edge of a lake was gained. Its banks were precipitous and did not lend
themselves to a feasible track. An ingenious solution of the problem
was essayed. The engineer decided to lower the level of this sheet of
water by some 14 feet and to build his grade on a shelf which surveys
showed there would be exposed. To this end he cut a small outlet. But
as the vent was driven through soft soil and totally inadequate to
resist the pent-up force of the escaping water, the latter widened the
breach into such a deep and wide channel that the lake was lowered by
no less than 70 feet! This result opened up a new difficulty, escape
from which was only practicable by the erection of two large bridges
spanning the rift left by the receding waters. As a result, the line
does not run round the lake as planned originally, but cuts directly
across its bed.
When at last the metals were laid into White Horse and the Yukon River
was gained, the engineer retraced his footsteps to push ahead with the
last link around Lake Bennett, so that through rail connection between
the coast and the Yukon River might be possible that year. This was a
heavy piece of work owing to the indentation of the lake-shore and the
number of crags that dropped into the water. But by blasting away the
faces of the promontories to fashion a narrow gallery upon which to lay
the track, and by dumping the rock shivered by the explosives into the
bays to form embankments, an easy alignment was secured.
Although the railway overcomes mountains running up to a height of
7000 feet, only one tunnel was found to be necessary. Curves are
numerous and sharp, so that the line describes a sinuous route among
the peaks. Although on the ascent of the mountains from a point 5
miles out of Skaguay grades of 1 in 25 were found unavoidable to gain
the summit, the descent on the opposite side is much easier, for the
difference in level of the White Pass summit and White Horse summit,
91 miles beyond, is only 808 feet. However, the line between these two
levels is built for the most part on forced grades.
Bearing in mind the character of the country traversed, where lofty
peaks and steep precipices alternate with deep gorges and wide clefts,
it is obvious that such a railway as this could not be completed
without recourse to heavy bridging. In all there are 11,450 lineal feet
of such structures. There are seven steel bridges, one of which, just
before the summit is gained, is 400 feet in length, with the centre 215
feet above the bottom of the gorge.
Taken on the whole, labour was not so difficult a problem in
Alaska then as it is to-day, despite the remote situation of the
constructional work, for reasons already explained. The enterprise
found employment for about 35,000 men, and it speaks volumes for the
care exercised in regard to their comfort and welfare, that only 35 men
met their deaths through accident and disease, notwithstanding the high
pressure with which work was maintained. The men for the most part were
far more intelligent than those generally identified with such work.
To illustrate the extreme fascination that gold exercises over these
prospector-navvies, one incident is worth relating. The men were
driving the grade with great zest, quite contented with their lot,
because the majority had tasted the bitterness of ill-luck at the
Klondike. One day news trickled into the camp of the discovery of a
new goldstrike not far distant in British Columbia. It galvanised
the labourers like electricity, awoke all slumbering ambitions and
re-erected all the castles in the air which Dawson had dispelled so
ruthlessly. A solid phalanx of 1,500 men threw down their tools and
clamoured round the pay-office of the engineers for their wages due to
them forthwith. Not having received any premonitory warning of this
development, the engineer inquired what was the matter, thinking that
possibly a “strike” was being nursed. As the wages were paid the men
stampeded off to see if Fortune could be wooed any more easily at Atlin
than she could be won at Klondike.
As the railway was pushed through hurriedly while the Klondike
gold fever was at its height, some of the work was of a temporary
character, but once the communication was established the whole line
was overhauled. Timber trestles and bridges were replaced by heavier
substantial metallic structures, and the earthworks were strengthened.
To-day the road compares with any to be found on the continent.
The service is daily, except Sundays, and the line is patrolled
regularly for boulders or avalanches which may have crashed down the
mountain-sides, to come to rest on the track, and which form fearsome
obstructions to a train. In winter it is kept open by means of the
rotary snow-ploughs. This is no easy task, for the blizzards among
mountains of the north are ferocious in their severity. Drifting snow
often fills the cuttings to a depth of 35 feet or so. Two locomotives
harnessed to one of these snow-clearers generally contrive to force a
clean open passage through the fleecy mass, however. It may be pointed
out that this railway possesses the largest type of narrow-gauge
engines in the world, the engine and tender in working order turning
the scale at 106 tons. Travel from our point of view appears somewhat
expensive, since it averages 1_s._ or 25 cents per mile.
The total cost of constructing and building the railway amounted to
£850,000, or $4,250,000. The most expensive section was that from
Skaguay to the White Pass summit, this first twenty miles involving
an expenditure of £400,000, or $2,000,000. In the first season after
completion, however, its gross receipts were £800,000, or $4,000,000,
25 per cent. of which was absorbed by working expense.
One outcome of the remarkable success attending the pioneer Alaskan
railway was the embarkation upon another undertaking in the same
country, this time under United States auspices. This, however, was a
far more ambitious scheme. It involved the building of a standard-gauge
road from Seward, in Resurrection Bay, some miles north of Skaguay, to
the town of Fairbanks, 463 miles inland, the idea being not only to
bring the latter point into touch with the coast, but also to tap rich
coal deposits and vast forests of lumber. Unfortunately this project
has not been attended with that success which marked the White Pass
& Yukon line. After 54 miles were completed its finances became so
entangled as to require the offices of a receiver to straighten matters
out.
However, it must be explained that several unforeseen circumstances
contributed to this chequered career over which the engineers had
no control. Such calamities as floods, arising from the melting
snows swelling the glacial rivers, landslides and avalanches wrought
widespread damage time after time. Moreover, constructional work was
not quite so straightforward as on the road more to the south, for
progress was arrested repeatedly by the necessity of carrying out
heavier work than the surveys contemplated.
Seward is situate on a flat, and the line was driven through a
convenient river valley from this point into the mountains. The absence
of any roads or even trails rendered investigation of the country
fringing the proposed route precarious and trying because large
stretches of swamp occupied the valleys, while the mountains were torn
and broken, rising up steeply on either side.
[Illustration: THE WONDERFUL HORSESHOE TIMBER TRESTLE 1,240 FEET LONG,
VARYING FROM 40 TO 90 FEET HIGH, ON THE CENTRAL ALASKAN RAILWAY
Over 1,000,000 lineal feet of timber was used in its construction.]
The line was to conform in every particular to a first-class trunk
system, with a maximum grade of only 1 in 50, with few and easy curves.
That was the idea on paper, but it proved a terrible task to attempt to
reduce theory to practice. Directly the base of operations at Seward
was left, the engineers found the country in its primeval condition,
the ground being covered with a tall, dense, dank grass between five
and six feet in height, and tangled thick forests. Clearing alone was
a tedious job, and the prevalence of bog rendered movement slow and
exasperating.
[Illustration: A WASH-OUT CAUSED BY THE PLACER RIVER IN FLOOD
Showing-the extensive damage inflicted upon the embankment.]
[Illustration: THE OBLITERATION OF THE LINE BY A LANDSLIDE
Over 1,200 feet of track was torn up and carried 2000 feet down the
mountain-side.
TWO VISITATIONS OF NATURE WHICH OVERWHELM THE CENTRAL ALASKAN RAILWAY
PERIODICALLY.]
As a rule it is mountains which offer a deterring barrier to the
engineer, but in this instance it was the valleys which presented the
most searching difficulties. The practical route for the line lay
through the Placer River Valley, and the negotiation of this depression
in order to preserve the grade and alignment was beset with innumerable
perplexities. After leaving the coast the railway has to climb
gradually until it gains and crosses the summit of the watershed at an
altitude of 1,050 feet and 45 miles out of Seward. Then comes a sharp
drop for 3 miles, followed by a more rapid descent for 200 feet or so.
In times gone by a huge glacier filled this valley. At the head the
ravine narrows sharply and leads into a canyon, where the rocky wall
rises up on either hand almost perpendicularly to a height of some 700
feet. This rift is about three-quarters of a mile in length, and opens
into another valley at the foot of a large glacier which leads to a bay
on the coast known as Turnagain Arm. So sharp is the descent that in
the course of 22 miles some 900 feet has to be overcome.
The drop from the summit at the 48th mile-post out of Seward for a
distance of 6 miles puzzled the engineers sorely. Six surveys had
to be run through this short canyon, and even then a grade of less
than double the 1 in 50 was found impracticable. The configuration of
the rift did not permit official requirements to be carried out with
economy. Even the grade twice that demanded was found unattainable
without six tunnels and seven large curves.
The survey was a perilous undertaking owing to the extreme steepness
of the cliff-sides and the vegetation clinging to the rocky face. The
rodmen working with the survey parties had to be slung in mid-air from
ropes to enable the requisite calculations to be made.
The difficulties of the survey were surpassed by those of construction.
The very first tunnel brought this home with startling vividity. It
is 700 feet in length, and is almost entirely on a curve of about 400
feet radius burrowing through a projecting hump of the main chain.
In order to gain the tunnel a broad sweep of the same radius as that
of the tunnel curve had to be made, and the two works together form
two-thirds of a circle. But one portal of the tunnel opens out on the
brink of a precipice, the mountain-side falling away abruptly at that
point. So in order to carry the line forward a huge artificial work had
to be carried out. This is a timber trestle which constitutes one of
the most outstanding features of the line. From end to end it measures
1,240 feet in length, while it varies in height from 40 to 90 feet,
some of the outside members being no less that 120 feet in length. Over
1,000,000 feet of timber was used in its construction.
As a matter of fact, the extent of timber trestling upon this railway
cannot fail to impress the visitor. In the valleys the line is laid
almost entirely upon a wooden grade, owing to the absence of stable
solid ground upon which to raise embankments, while the rivers are
spanned by steel bridges ranging in span from 80 to 100 feet in the
clear. As the rivers rise and fall considerably according to the
season, the abutments had to be set well back from the low channel,
and, moreover, had to be protected heavily by piling to withstand the
severe scouring that takes place when the waterways are in flood and
they rush along with the speed of a cataract.
More than 50 per cent. of the work through the canyon is tunnelling,
which aggregates 2,800 feet out of 4,800 feet. There was no other
way of overcoming the abrupt cliff-sides, and but for the rifts and
clefts in their flanks its extent would have been greater. This was the
work which occupied so much time and consumed so much money, for the
rock was found to be intensely hard. Steam drilling was attempted at
first, but the temperature within the borings rose so high as to become
intolerable. Therefore this plant had to be discarded in favour of
compressed air drills. With their aid a hole 21 feet in height, by 14
and 16 feet in width, to carry a single track, was hewn and blasted out.
The installation of the power plant to operate the drills was a pretty
problem. It could not be set up on the same side of the canyon as the
borings were being made, so had to be rigged up at a convenient point
on the opposite wall near the upper end of the gorge, the power being
transmitted through piping. In order to carry the latter across the
gulch a temporary suspension bridge 130 feet long was erected, and as
it was also employed for the purpose of conveying materials and men
from one cliff to the other, was made heavier than otherwise.
In addition to perforating the shoulders of the mountains, deep clefts
in the mountain faces had to be spanned or masses of obstructing rock
had to be blown out of the way. In one instance there was a couloir
which required a 90-foot span bridge to cross from one side to the
other, while in another case 300 feet of solid rock, aggregating over
50,000 tons of rock, had to be torn down to enable the grade to proceed
from one tunnel to the other. About thirteen months were required to
carry the line through this stretch of 4,800 feet.
The struggles with the rock were equalled by the wrestles with Nature
in the valleys. These are to all intents and purposes beds of rivers
whose boundaries are the bases of the mountains on either side. As a
result, the whole of the depression is practically a swamp, with the
river cutting a tortuous path apparently through the centre. The word
“apparently” is used because what is the main channel of the river
to-day will be semi-dry land probably next year, because in the flood
season, when the rivers are fed by melting snows, to speed along
with fiendish velocity, they are just as likely as not to cut out an
entirely new path through the soft soil. If the railway embankment
bars its passage the whole obstruction is swept away. Hundreds of feet
of completed line have been demolished in this manner. If the rushing
river is unable to break through the embankment it swirls around the
obstruction, rapidly undermining the foundations, with the result that
a bad cave-in ensues, which is in every way as bad as a clean wash-out,
except that perhaps the railway metals and sleepers can be retrieved.
Even the mountain-sides, solid though they appear, are not free from
Nature’s playful antics. When the spring sun comes round and melts
heavy masses of snow on the higher levels there is trouble looming
below. The snow slips on the crest. Gathering impetus with every
succeeding foot in its descent, the avalanche picks up boulders,
trees and other debris, to hurl them with terrific force against the
handiwork of man, wiping it completely out of existence. One slide
caught the unfortunate railway in this manner, tore up 1,200 feet of
permanent way, and threw it, a twisted mass of iron and splintered
timber, a third of a mile away.
Considering the overwhelming odds against which the engineer was
pitted, it is not surprising that work was brought to a standstill.
The situation was summed up very graphically by one of the engineers
whom I met. “If Nature would only leave us alone once we have built
the line, we should not care what kind of fight she put up against us
to delay our advance. But all the money which could be devoted to new
construction is devoured in rebuilding track which is either washed
away or buried.”