[Illustration: "WE OF THE FLANNEL SHIRT AND THE UNBLACKED BOOT."
_Frontispiece._]
Through
the
Yukon Gold Diggings
A Narrative of Personal Travel
BY
JOSIAH EDWARD SPURR
Geologist, United States Geological Survey
[Illustration]
BOSTON
EASTERN PUBLISHING COMPANY
1900
COPYRIGHT, 1900
by
JOSIAH EDWARD SPURR
Preface.
As a geologist of the United States Geological Survey, I had the good
fortune to be placed in charge of the first expedition sent by that
department into the interior of Alaska. The gold diggings of the Yukon
region were not then known to the world in general, yet to those
interested in mining their renown had come in a vague way, and the
special problem with which I was charged was their investigation. The
results of my studies were embodied in a report entitled: "Geology of
the Yukon Gold District," published by the Government.
It was during my travels through the mining regions that the Klondike
discovery, which subsequently turned so many heads throughout all
of the civilized nations, was made. General conditions of mining,
travelling and prospecting are much the same to-day as they were at
that time, except in the limited districts into which the flood of
miners has poured. My travels in Alaska have been extensive since the
journey of which this work is a record, and I have noted the same
scenes that are herein described, in many other parts of the vast
untravelled Territory. It will take two or three decades or more, to
make alterations in this region and change the condition throughout.
In recording, therefore, the scenes and hardships encountered in this
northern country, I describe the experiences of one who to-day knocks
about the Yukon region, the Copper River region, the Cook Inlet region,
the Koyukuk, or the Nome District. My aim has been throughout, to
set down what I saw and encountered as fully and simply as possible,
and I have endeavored to keep myself from sacrificing accuracy to
picturesqueness. That my duties led me to see more than would the
ordinary traveller, I trust the following pages will bear witness.
Let the reader, therefore, when he finds tedious or unpleasant
passages, remember that they record tedious or unpleasant incidents
that one who travels this vast region cannot escape, as will be found
should any of those who peruse these pages go THROUGH THE YUKON GOLD
DIGGINGS.
AUTHOR.
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I. The Trip to Dyea 9
II. Over the Chilkoot Pass 35
III. The Lakes and the Yukon to Forty Mile 65
IV. The Forty Mile Diggings 109
V. The American Creek Diggings 156
VI. The Birch Creek Diggings 161
VII. The Mynook Creek Diggings 207
VIII. The Lower Yukon 229
IX. St. Michael's and San Francisco 264
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
"We of the Flannel Shirt and the Unblacked Boot" _Frontispiece_
An Alaskan Genealogical Tree 12
Bacon, Lord of Alaska 21
Lynn Canal 31
Alaskan Women and Children 40
Alaskan Indians and House 63
Shooting the White Horse Rapids 93
Talking it Over 98
Alaska Humpback Salmon, Male and Female 107
Washing Gravel in Sluice-Boxes 131
"Tracking" a Boat Upstream 137
A "Cache" 140
Native Dogs 153
On the Tramp Again 165
Hog'em Junction Road-House 171
On Hog'em Gulch 177
Custom House at Circle City 190
The Break-up of the Ice on the Yukon 213
A Yukon Canoe 230
Indian Fish-traps 231
In a Tent Beneath Spruce Trees 239
Three-hatch Skin Boat, or Bidarka 261
Eskimo Houses at St. Michael's 265
A Native Doorway 266
The Captured Whale 271
The author wishes to express his indebtedness to Messrs. A. H.
Brooks, F. C. Schrader, A. Beverly Smith, and the United States
Geological Survey, for the use of photographs.
Through
The Yukon Gold Diggings.
Before the Klondike Discovery.
CHAPTER I.
THE TRIP TO DYEA.
It was in 1896, before the Klondike boom. We were seated at the table
of an excursion steamer, which plied from Seattle northward among the
thousand wonderful mountain islands of the Inland Passage. It was a
journey replete with brilliant spectacles, through many picturesque
fjords from whose unfathomable depths the bare steep cliffs rise
to dizzy heights, while over them tumble in disorderly loveliness
cataracts pure as snow, leaping from cliff to cliff in very wildness,
like embodiments of the untamed spirits of nature.
We had just passed Queen Charlotte Sound, where the swells from
the open sea roll in during rough weather, and many passengers were
appearing at the table with the pale face and defiant look which mark
the unfortunate who has newly committed the crime of seasickness. It
only enhanced the former stiffness, which we of the flannel shirt and
the unblacked boot had striven in vain to break--for these were people
who were gathered from the corners of the earth, and each individual,
or each tiny group, seemed to have some invisible negative attraction
for all the rest, like the little molecules which, scientists imagine,
repel their neighbors to the very verge of explosion. They were all
sight-seers of experience, come, some to do Alaska, some to rest from
mysterious labors, some--but who shall fathom at a glance an apparently
dull lot of apparent snobs? At any rate, one would have thought the
everlasting hills would have shrunk back and the stolid glaciers
blushed with vexation at the patronizing way with which they were
treated in general. It was depressing--even European tourists' wordy
enthusiasm over a mud puddle or a dunghill would have been preferable.
There are along this route all the benefits of a sea trip--the air,
the rest--with none of its disadvantages. So steep are the shores that
the steamer may often lie alongside of them when she stops and run
her gang-plank out on the rocks. These stops show the traveller the
little human life there is in this vast and desolate country. There are
villages of the native tribes, with dwellings built in imitation of
the common American fashion, in front of which rise great totem poles,
carved and painted, representing grinning and grotesque animal-like,
or human-like, or dragon-like figures, one piled on top of the other
up to the very top of the column. A sort of ancestral tree, these
are said to be,--only to be understood with a knowledge of the sign
symbolism of these people--telling of their tribe and lineage, of their
great-grandfather the bear, and their great-grandmother the wolf or
such strange things.
[Illustration: AN ALASKAN GENEALOGICAL TREE.]
The people themselves, with their heavy faces and their imitation of
the European dress--for the tourist and the prospector have brought
prosperity and the thin veneer of civilization to these southernmost
tribes of Alaska--with their flaming neckerchief or head-kerchief of
red and yellow silk that the silk-worm had no part in making, but only
the cunning Yankee weaver, paddle out in boats dug from the great
evergreen trees that cover the hills so thickly, and bring articles
made of sealskin, or skilfully woven baskets made out of the fibres of
spruce roots, to sell to the passengers. Or the steamer may stop at a
little hamlet of white pioneers, where there is fishing for halibut,
with perhaps some mining for gold on a small scale; then the practical
men of the party, who have hitherto been bored, can inquire whether
the industry pays, and contemplate in their suddenly awakened fancies
the possibilities of a halibut syndicate, or another Treadwell gold
mine. So the artist gets his colors and forms, the business man sees
wonderful possibilities in this shockingly unrailroaded wilderness, the
tired may rest body and mind in the perfect peace and freedom from the
human element, old ladies may sleep and young ones may flirt meantimes.
All this would seem to prove that the passengers were neither
professional nor business men, nor young nor old ladies--part of which
appeared to me manifestly, and the rest probably untrue; or else that
they were all enthusiastic and interested in the dumb British-American
way, which sets down as vulgar any betrayal of one's self to one's
neighbors.
Some one at the table wearily and warily inquired when we should get to
the Muir glacier, on which point we of the flannel-shirted brotherhood
were informed; and incidentally we remarked that we intended to leave
the festivities before that time, in Juneau.
"Oh my!" said the sad-faced, middle-aged lady with circles about her
eyes. "Stay in Juneau! How dreadful! Are you going as missionaries,
or," here she wrestled for an idea, "or are you simply going."
"We are going to the Yukon," we answered, "from Juneau. You may have
heard of the gold fields of the Yukon country." And strange and sweet
to say, at this later day, no one had heard of the gold fields--that
was before they had become the rage and the fashion.
But the whole table warmed with interest--they were as lively
busybodies as other people and we were the first solution to the
problems which they had been putting to themselves concerning each
other since the beginning of the trip. There was a fire of small
questions.
"How interesting!" said an elderly young lady, who sat opposite. "I
suppose you will have _all kinds_ of experiences, just _roughing_ it;
and will you take your food with you on--er--wagons--or will you depend
on the farmhouses along the way? Only," she added hastily, detecting a
certain gleam in the eye of her vis-a-vis, "I didn't think there were
many farmhouses."
"They will ride horses, Jane," said the bluff old gentleman who was
evidently her father, so authoritatively that I dared not dispute
him--"everybody does in that country." Then, as some glanced out at
the precipitous mountain-side and dense timber, he added, "Of course,
not here. In the interior it is flat, like our plains, and one rides
on little horses,--I think they call them kayaks--I have read it," he
said, looking at me fiercely. Then, as we were silent, he continued,
more condescendingly, "I have roughed it myself, when I was young. We
used to go hunting every fall in Pennsylvania, when I was a boy, and
once two of us went off together and were gone a week, just riding
over the roughest country roads and into the mountains on horseback. If
our coffee had not run out we would have stayed longer."
"But isn't it dreadfully cold up there?" said the sweet brown-eyed
girl, with a look in her eyes that wakened in our hearts the first
momentary rebellion against our exile. "And the wild animals! You will
suffer so."
"I used to know an explorer," said the business man with the green
necktie, who had been dragged to the shrine of Nature by his wife. He
had brought along an entire copy of the New York _Screamer_, and buried
himself all day long in its parti-colored mysteries. "He told me many
things that might be useful to you, if I could remember them. About
spearing whales--for food, you know--you will have to do a lot of that.
I wish I could have you meet him sometime; he could tell you much more
than I can. Somebody said there was gold up there. Was it you? Well
don't get frozen up and drift across the Pole, like Nansen, just to get
where the gold is. But I suppose the nuggets----"
"Let's go on deck, Jane," said the old gentleman;--then to us,
politely but firmly, "I have been much interested in your account, and
shall be glad to hear more later." We had not said anything yet.
We disembarked at Juneau. We had watched the shore for nearly the
whole trip without perceiving a rift in the mountains through which
it looked feasible to pass, and at Juneau the outlook or uplook was
no better. Those who have been to Juneau (and they are now many) know
how slight and almost insecure is its foothold; how it is situated on
an irregular hilly area which looks like a great landslide from the
mountains towering above, whose sides are so sheer that the wagon road
which winds up the gulch into Silver Bow basin is for some distance in
the nature of a bridge, resting on wooden supports and hugging close to
the steep rock wall. The excursionists tarried a little here, buying
furs at extortionate prices from the natives, fancy baskets, and little
ornaments which are said to be made in Connecticut.
In the hotel the proprietor arrived at our business in the shortest
possible time, by the method of direct questioning. He was from
Colorado, I judged--all the men I have known that look like him
come from Colorado. There was also a heavily bearded man dressed in
ill-fitting store-clothes, and with a necktie which had the strangest
air of being ill at ease, who was lounging near by, smoking and
spitting on the floor contemplatively.
"Here, Pete," said the proprietor, "I want you to meet these
gentlemen." He pronounced the last word with such a peculiar intonation
that one felt sure he used it as synonymous with "tenderfeet" or
"paperlegs" or other terms by which Alaskans designate greenhorns.
I had rather had him call me "this feller." "He says he's goin' over
the Pass, an' maybe you can help each other." Pete smiled genially and
crushed my hand, looking me full in the eye the while, doubtless to see
how I stood the ordeal. "Pete's an old timer," continued the hotel-man,
"one of the Yukon pioneers. Been over that Pass--how many times, Pete,
three times, ain't it?"
"Dis makes dirt time," answered Pete, with a most unique dialect, which
nevertheless was Scandinavian. "Virst time, me an' Frank Densmore,
Whisky Bill an' de odder boys. Dat was summer som we washed on Stewart
River, on'y us--fetched out britty peek sack dat year--eh?" He had a
curious way of retaining the Scandinavian relative pronoun _som_ in his
English, instead of _who_ or _that_.
"You bet, Pete," answered the other, "you painted the town; done your
duty by us."
"Ja," said Pete, "blewed it in; mostly in 'Frisco. Was king dat winter
till dust was all been spent. Saw tings dat was goot; saw udder tings
was too bad, efen for Alaskan miner. One time enough. I tink dese
cities kind of bad fer people. So I get out. Sez I,--'I jes' got
time to get to Lake Bennett by time ice breaks,' so I light out." He
smiled happily as he said this, as a man might talk of going home,
then continued, "Den secon' dime I get a glaim Forty Mile, Miller
Greek,--dat's really Sixty Mile, but feller gits dere f'm Forty Mile.
Had a pardner, but he went down to Birch Greek, den I work my glaim
alone."
He put his hand down in his trousers pocket and brought up a large flat
angular piece of gold, two inches long; it had particles of quartz
scattered through, and was in places rusty with iron, but was mostly
smooth and showed the wearing it must have had in his pocket. He shoved
the yellow lump into my hand. "Dat nugget was de biggest in my glaim
dat I found; anoder feller he washed over tailin's f'm my glaim efter,
an' he got bigger nuggets, he says, but I tinks he's dam liar. Anyhow,
I get little sack an' I went down 'Frisco, an' I blewed it in again.
Now I go back once more."
We talked awhile and finally agreed to make the trip to Forty Mile
together, since we were all bound to this place, and Pete, unlike most
miners and prospectors, had no "pardner." We were soon engaged in
making the rounds of the shops, laying in our supplies--beans, bacon,
dried fruit, flour, sugar, cheese, and, most precious of all, a bucket
of strawberry jam. We made up our minds to revel in jam just as long
as we were able, even if we ended up on plain flour three times a day.
For a drink we took tea, which is almost universally used in Alaska,
instead of coffee, since a certain weight of it will last as long as
many times the same weight of coffee: moreover, there is some quality
in this beverage which makes it particularly adapted to the vigorous
climate and conditions of this northern country. Men who have never
used tea acquire a fondness for it in Alaska, and will drink vast
quantities, especially in the winter. The Russians, themselves the
greatest tea-drinkers of all European nations, long ago introduced
"Tschai" to the Alaskan natives; and throughout the country they will
beg for it from every white man they meet, or will travel hundreds of
miles and barter their furs to obtain it.
[Illustration: BACON, LORD OF ALASKA.]
Concerning the amount of supplies it is necessary to take on a trip
like ours, it may be remarked that three pounds of solid food to each
man per day, is liberal. As to the proportion, no constant estimate can
be made, men's appetites varying with the nature of the articles in the
rations and their temporary tastes. On this occasion Pete picked out
the supplies, laying in what he judged to be enough of each article:
but it appeared afterwards that a man may be an experienced pioneer,
and yet never have solved the problem of reasonably accurate rations,
for some articles were soon exhausted on our trip, while others lasted
throughout the summer, after which we were obliged to bequeath the
remainder to the natives. Camp kettles, and frying-pans, of course,
were in the outfit, as well as axes, boat-building tools, whip-saw,
draw-shave, chisels, hammers, nails, screws, oakum and pitch. It was
our plan to build a boat on the lakes which are the source of the
Yukon, felling the spruce trees, and then with a whip-saw slicing off
boards, which when put together would carry us down the river to the
gold diggings.
For our personal use we had a single small tent, A-shaped, but with
half of one of the large slanting sides cut out, so that it could be
elevated like a curtain, and, being secured at the corners by poles or
tied by ropes to trees, made an additional shelter, while it opened
up the interior of the tent to the fresh air or the warmth of the
camp-fire outside. Blankets for sleeping, and rubber blankets to lay
next to the ground to keep out the wet; the best mosquito-netting or
"bobinet" of hexagonal mesh, and stout gauntleted cavalry gloves, as
protection against the mosquitoes. For personal attire, anything. Dress
on the frontier, above all in Alaska, is always varied, picturesque,
and unconventional. Flannel or woollen shirts, of course, are
universal; and for foot gear the heavy laced boot is the best.
As usual, we were led by the prospective terrors of cold water in the
lakes and streams to invest in rubber boots reaching to the hip, which,
however, did not prove of such use as anticipated. We had brought with
us canvas bags designed for packing, or carrying loads on the back,
of a model long used in the Lake Superior woods. They were provided
with suitable straps for the shoulders, and a broad one for the top of
the head, so that the toiler, bending over, might support a large part
of the load by the aid of his rigid neck. These we utilized also as
receptacles for our clothes and other personal articles.
Other men were in Juneau also, bound for the Yukon,--not like the
hordes that the Klondike brought up later from the States, many of
whom turned back before even crossing the passes, but small parties
of determined men. We ran upon them here and there. In the hotel we
sat down at the table with a self-contained man with a suggestion of
recklessness or carelessness in his face, and soon found that he was
bound over the same route as ourselves, on a newspaper mission. Danlon,
as we may call him, had brought his manservant with him, like the
Englishman he was. He was a great traveller, and full of interesting
anecdotes of Afghanistan, or Borneo, or some other of the earth's
corners. He had engaged to go with him a friend of Pete's, another
pioneer, Cooper by name, short, blonde and powerfully built. Between
us, we arranged for a tug to take us the hundred miles of water which
still lay between us and Dyea, where the land journey begins; after
which transaction, we sat down to eat our last dinner in civilization.
How tearfully, almost, we remarked that this was the last plum-pudding
we should have for many a moon!
We sailed, or rather steamed away, from Juneau in the evening. Our
tug had been designed for freight, and had not been altered in the
slightest degree for the accommodation of passengers. Her floor space,
too, was limited, so that while ten or twelve men might have made
themselves very comfortable, the fifty or sixty who finally appeared
on board found hard work to dispose of themselves in any fashion. She
had been originally engaged for our two parties, but new passengers
continually applied, who, from the nature of things, could hardly be
refused. So the motley crowd of strangers huddled together, the engines
began clanking, and the lights of Juneau soon dropped out of sight, as
we steamed up Lynn Canal under the shadow of the giant mountains.
Our fellow-passengers were mostly prospectors; nearly all newcomers,
as we could see by the light of the lantern which hung up in the bare
apartment where we were. They had their luggage and outfit with them,
which they piled up and sat or slept on, to make sure they would not
lose it. There were men with grey beards and strapping boys with down
on their chins; white handed men and those whose huge horny palms
showed a life of toil; all strange, uneasy, and quiet at first, but
soon they began to talk confidentially, as men will whom chance throws
together in strange places.
There was a Catholic priest bound to his mission among the Eskimos
on the lower Yukon,--calm, patient, sweet-tempered, and cheerful of
speech; and near him was a noted Alaskan pioneer and trader, bound
on some wild trip or other alone. There was another Alaskan--one of
those who settle down and take native women as mates and are therefore
somewhat scornfully called "squaw-men"; he had been to Juneau as
the countryman visits the metropolis, and had brought back with him
abundant evidence of the worthlessness of the no-liquor laws of Alaska,
in the shape of a lordly drunk, and the material for many more, in a
large demijohn, which he guarded carefully. The conversation among this
crowd was of the directest sort, as it is always on the frontier.
"Where are _you_ goin', pardner? Prospectin', I reckon?"
Then inquiries as to what each could tell the other concerning the
conditions of the land we were to explore, mostly unknown to all: and
straightway Pete and Cooper were constituted authorities, by virtue of
their previous experience, and were listened to with great deference
by the rest. The night was not calm, and the little craft swashed
monotonously into the waves. One by one the travellers lay down on the
bare dusty floor and slept; and so limited was the room that the last
found it difficult to find a place.
Glancing around to find a vacant nook I was struck with the
picturesqueness of the scene. Under the lantern the last talkers--the
Catholic priest in a red sweater, smoking a bent pipe, the professional
traveller and book-maker, and another Englishman with smooth face
and oily manners,--were discussing matters with as much reserve and
decorum as they would in a drawing-room. Around them lay stretched
out, over the floor, under the table, and even on it, motley-clad men,
breathing heavily or staring with wide fixed eyes overhead. The pioneer
had gone to sleep lying on his back and was snoring at intervals, but
by a physical feat hard to understand, retained his quid of tobacco,
which he chewed languidly through it all. The only space I could find
was in a narrow passageway leading to the pilot-house. Here I coiled
myself, hugging closely to the wall, but it was dark and throughout the
night I was awakened by heavy boots accidentally placed on my body or
head; yet I was too sleepy to hear the apologies and straightway slept
again.
It was natural, under the circumstances, that all should be early
risers, and we were ravenously hungry for the breakfast which was
tardily prepared. The only table was covered with oilcloth, and was
calculated for four, but about eight managed to crowd around it: yet
with all possible haste the last had breakfast about noon. We sat down
where a momentary opening was offered at the third or fourth sitting.
A moment later a couple of prospectors appeared who apparently had
counted on places, and the hungry stomach of one of them prompted some
very audible mutterings to the effect that all men were born free and
equal, and he was as good as any one. The priest immediately got up,
and with sincere kindness offered his seat, which so overcame the man
with shame that he politely refused and retired; but the rest of us
insisted on crowding together and making room for him. And for the
remainder of the trip a more punctiliously polite individual than this
same prospector could not be found.
After each round of eaters, the tin plates and cups and the dingy
black knives and forks were seized by a busy dishwasher, who performed
a rapid hocus-pocus over them, in which a tiny dishpan filled with
hot water that came finally to have the appearance and consistency of
a hodge-podge, played an important part; then they were skillfully
shyed on to the table again. I looked at my plate. Swimming in the
shallow film of dish-water, were flakes of beans, shreds of corned-beef
and streaks of apple-sauce, which took me back in fancy to all
the different tables that had eaten before: the boat was swaying
heavily and I gulped down my stomach before I passed the plate to the
dishwasher and suggested wiping. He was a very young man, remarkably
dashing, like the hero of a dime novel. He was especially proficient in
profanity and kept up a running fire of insults on the cook. He took
the plate and eyed me scornfully, witheringly.
"Seems to me some tenderfeet is mighty pertickler," said he, with a
very evident personal application, then swabbed out the plate with a
towel, the sight of which made me turn and stare at the spruce-clad
mountain-sides, in a desperate effort to elevate my mind and my stomach
above trifles.
"This is no place for a white man," said a prospector who had
been staring out of the door all day. "Good enough for bears
and--and--Siwash, maybe." Most, I think shared more or less openly his
depression, for the shores of Lynn Canal are no more attractive to the
adventurer than the rest of the bleak Alaskan mountain coast.
[Illustration: LYNN CANAL.]
It was a chilly, drizzling day. The clouds ordinarily hid the tops
of the great steep mountains, so that these looked as if they might
be walls that reached clear up to the heavens, or, when they broke
away, exposed lofty snowy peaks, magnificent and gigantic in the mist.
We caught glimpses of wrinkled glaciers, crawling down the valleys
like huge jointed living things, in whose fronts the pure blue ice
showed faintly and coldly. Here and there waterfalls appeared, leaping
hundreds of feet from crag to crag, and all along was the rugged brown
shore, with the surf lashing the cliffs, and no place where even a boat
might land. All men, whether they clearly perceive it or not, find in
the phenomena of Nature some figurative meanings, and are depressed or
elevated by them.
We anchored in the lee of a bare rounded mountain that night, it being
too rough to attempt landing, and the next morning were off Dyea,
where we were to go ashore. The surf was still heavy, but the captain
ventured out in a small boat to get the scow in which passengers and
goods were generally conveyed to the shore; for the water was shallow,
and the steamer had to keep a mile or so from the land. In the surf
the boat capsized, and we could see the captain bobbing up and down
in the breakers, now on top, now under his boat, in the icy water.
The dishwasher, who evidently knew the course of action in all such
emergencies from dime-novel precedents, yelled out "Man the lifeboat!"
The captain had taken the only boat there was. The entire crew, it may
be mentioned, consisted, besides the dishwasher and the captain, of the
sailor, who was also the cook. The duty of manning the lifeboat--had
there been one--would thus apparently have devolved on the sailor,
but he grew pale and swore that he did not know how to row and that
he had just come from driving a milk-wagon in San Francisco. A party
of prospectors became engaged in a heated discussion as to whether,
if there had been a boat on board, it would not have been foolish to
venture out in it, even for the sake of trying to rescue the captain;
some urging the claims of heroism, and others loudly proclaiming that
they would not risk _their_ lives in any such d----d foolish way as
that.
However, all this was only the froth and excitement of the moment. The
captain hauled his boat out of the breakers, skillfully launched it
again, and came on board, shivering but calm, a strapping, reckless
Cape Breton Scotch-Canadian. In due course of time afterwards the scow
was also got out, and we transferred our outfits to it and sat on top
of them, while we were slowly propelled ashore by long oars.