great tides from Cook Inlet draw through this narrow passage. My nerve
was tested a bit as the baidarka swept by the shore, for had it once got
well started we should have been drawn into the rapids and then into a
long line of angry breakers beyond. At one point it seemed as if we were
heading right into these dangerous waters, and then abruptly turning at
a sharp angle, we glided around a point into a shallow bay. Circling
this shore we successfully passed inside the line of breakers and soon
met the long ground swell of the Pacific, while Seal Bay stretched for
many miles inland on the other side.
It had been a long day, but as the wind was favorable we stopped only
for a cup of tea and then pushed on to the very head of the bay. Here,
at the mouth of a salmon stream, we came upon many fresh bear tracks,
and passed the night watching. As we had seen nothing by four o'clock in
the morning, we cautiously withdrew, and, going some distance down the
shore, camped in an old hunting barabara. It had been rather a long
stretch, when one considers that we had breakfasted a little over
twenty-four hours before. Watching a salmon stream by night is poor
sport, but it is the only kind of hunting that one can do at this time
of the year.
I slept until seven o'clock, when the men called me, and after a cup of
tea we started for the salmon stream, which we followed up beyond where
we had watched it the night previous. We were very careful to wade so as
not to give our scent to any bears which might approach the stream from
below. There were many tracks and deep, well-used trails leading in all
directions, while every few yards we came upon places where the tall
grass was trampled down, showing where bears had been fishing. These
bear trails are quite a feature of the Alaskan country, and some of them
are two feet wide and over a foot deep, showing that they have been in
constant use for many years.
That night we heard a bear pass within ten yards of us, but could not
see it. We returned to camp next morning at five o'clock, and I wrote up
my journal, for this night work is extremely confusing, and one
completely loses track of the days unless careful.
My men came to me after their mid-day sleep with very cheerful
countenances, and assured me that there was no doubt but that I should
surely soon meet with success, for the palm of Nikolai's hand had been
itching, and he had dreamed of blood and a big dog fighting, while
Lofka's eyelid trembled. My hunters told me in all seriousness that
these signs never failed.
In the afternoon we decided to watch a new place. We carried the
baidarka up a small stream and launched it in quite a large and
picturesque lake. We slowly paddled along the shores and watched near
the mouths of several salmon streams. By twelve o'clock we had not even
seen a track, so I decided to return to camp and get some much needed
sleep. The natives were to call me early the next morning, for I had
decided to return to Paramonoff Bay.
I think this was the only time in my hunting life that I was
deliberately lazy; but, although my natives called me several times, I
slept right on until nine o'clock. I was strongly tempted when we got
under way to start back by continuing around the Island of Afognak; but
Nikolai was anxious to have me give Paramonoff Bay another trial. He
thought the run of the humpback salmon might have begun since we left,
and if this was so, we were likely to find some large bears near the
streams we had watched the week before. I had great confidence in his
judgment, and therefore decided to retrace our steps.
We made a start about ten o'clock, but after a couple of hours'
paddling, when we had met a fair tide to help us on, I lit my pipe and
allowed my men to do all the work, while I lay back among my rugs half
dreaming in the charm of my surroundings. Myriads of gulls flew
overhead, uttering their shrill cries, while now and then the black
oyster-catchers with their long red bills would circle swiftly around
the baidarka, filling the air with their sharp whistles, and seemingly
much annoyed at our intrusion. Many different kinds of ducks rose before
us, and the ever-present eagles watched us from the lofty rocks. We soon
turned the rugged headland and were once more in the swift tide of
Shuyak Straits, where the water boiled and eddied about us as we sped
quickly on.
Nikolai now pointed out one of his favorite hunting grounds for seals,
and asked if he might not try for one; so we turned into a big bay, and
he soon had the glasses in use. He at once sighted several lying on some
rocks, and we had just started in their direction when Nikolai suddenly
stopped paddling, again seized the glasses, and looked excitedly across
the straits to the Shuyak shore. Following the direction of his gaze I
saw upon the beach a black speck which my native at once pronounced to
be a bear. He was nosing around among some seaweed and turning over the
rocks in search of food. Each one of us now put all his strength into
every stroke in order to reach the other side before the bear could
wander off. We cautiously landed behind some big rocks, and quickly
removing our boots my hunter and I were soon on shore and noiselessly
peering through the brush to the place where we had last seen the bear;
but he had disappeared.
The wind was favorable, and we knew that he had not been alarmed. It
took us some time to hit off his trail, for he had wandered in all
directions before leaving this place; but after it was once found, his
footprints in the thick moss made tracking easy, and we moved rapidly
on. We had not expected a long stalk, and our feet were badly punished
by the devil clubs which were here most abundant. We could see by the
tracks that the bear had not been alarmed, and knew that we should soon
come up with him. After a mile or so the trail led in the direction of a
low marsh where the coast line makes a big bend inward, so apparently we
had crossed a long point into a bay beyond.
I at once felt sure that the bear was near, having probably come to this
beach to feed, and as Nikolai looked at me and smiled I knew he, too,
felt that we were on a warm trail.
We had just begun to descend toward the shore when I thought I heard a
slight noise ahead. Keeping my eyes fixed in that direction, I
whispered to Nikolai, who was standing a few feet in front of me,
intently peering to the right. Suddenly I caught just a glimpse of a
tawny, brownish bit of color through the brush a short distance
ahead. Quickly raising my rifle I had just a chance for a snap shot, and
the next instant a large hear made a dash through some thick
underbrush. It was but an indistinct glimpse which I had had, and before
I could throw another cartridge into the barrel of my rifle the bear was
out of sight. Keeping my eyes moving at about the rate of speed I
judged he was going, I fired again through the trees, and at once a deep
and angry growl told me that my bullet had gone home.
Then we raced ahead, my hunter going to the left while I entered the
thick brush into which the bear had disappeared. I had gone but a short
distance when I heard Nikolai shoot three times in rapid succession, and
as quickly as I could break through I hurried in his direction. It
seemed that as we separated, Nikolai had at once caught sight of the
bear slowly making away. He immediately fired but missed; at the report
of his rifle the bear turned and came toward him, but was too badly
wounded by my first two shots to be dangerous. At close range Nikolai
fired two more shots, and it was at this moment that I joined him. The
bear was down, but trying hard to get upon his feet, and evidently in an
angry mood, so I ran up close and gave him another shot, which again
knocked him over.
Now for the first time I had a good view of the bear, which proved to be
a very large one. As my men declared that this was one of the largest
they had ever seen, I think we may safely place it as a fair example of
the Kadiak species. Unfortunately I had no scales with me, and could
not, therefore, take its weight; but the three of us were unable to
budge either end from the ground, and after removing the pelt the
carcass appeared to be as large as a fair sized ox. We had much
difficulty in skinning him, for he fell on his face, and it took us some
half hour even to turn him over; we were only able to do this by using
his legs as levers. It required over two hours to remove the pelt.
Then we had tea and shot the bear all over again many times, as we sat
chatting before the fire.
It seemed that at the time when I had first caught sight of this bear,
Nikolai had just located the bear which we had originally seen and were
following, and it was a great piece of luck my taking this snap shot,
for the other bear was much smaller.
We took the skin and skull with us, while I made arrangements with my
natives to return some months later and collect all the bones, for I
decided to present the entire skeleton to the National Museum.
It was six o'clock when we again made a start. I had a deep sense of
satisfaction as I lay lazily back in the baidarka with the large skin at
my feet, only occasionally taking the paddle, for it had been a hard
trip, and I felt unlike exerting myself. We camped that night in a
hunting barabara which belonged to Nikolai, and was most picturesquely
situated on a small island.
My natives were extremely fond of bear meat, and they sat long into the
night gorging themselves. Each one would dig into the kettle with his
fork, and bringing out a big chunk would crowd as much as possible into
his mouth, and holding it there with his teeth would cut off with his
hunting knife a liberal portion, which he would swallow after a munch or
two.
I had tried to eat Kadiak bear before, but it has rather a bitter taste,
and this one was too tough to be appetizing. The flesh of the bears
which we had killed on the Alaska Peninsula was excellent and without
this strong gamy flavor.[5]
[Footnote 5: The true Kadiak bear is found only on the Kadiak Islands
and not on the mainland.]
The next morning we made an early start, for to save this large skin I
had decided to push on with all haste to the little settlement of
Afognak, where I had arranged to meet my friend some days later. It was
a beautiful morning, and once more we had a favoring breeze. Some forty
miles across Shelikoff Straits was the Alaskan shore. The rugged,
snow-clad mountains seemed to be softened when seen through the hazy
blue atmosphere. One white-capped peak boldly pierced a line of clouds
and stood forth against the pale blue of the sky beyond; while the great
Douglas Glacier, ever present, wound its way down, down to the very
sea. It was all grandly beautiful, and seemed In keeping with the day.
We paddled steadily, stopping only once for tea, and at six o'clock that
evening were back at the little fishing hamlet of Malina Place. Here I
was asked to drink tea with a man whom my hunters told me had killed
many bears on these islands.
This man said that at times there were no bears on Shuyak, and that
again they were there in great numbers, showing that they freely swim
from Afognak across the straits, which, at the narrowest point, are some
three miles wide.
[Illustration: BAIDARKA.]
While I was having tea in one of the barabaras I heard much shooting
outside, which announced the return of a sea otter party that had been
hunting for two months at Cape Douglas. It was a beautiful sight, this
fleet of twenty odd baidarkas, the paddles all rising and falling in
perfect time, and changing sides without a break. There is nothing more
graceful than one of these canoes when handled by expert Aleuts. These
natives had already come forty miles that day, and were now going to
stop only long enough for tea, and then push on to the little settlement
of Afognak Place, some twenty-five miles away, where most of them
lived. In one of the canoes I saw a small chap of thirteen years. He was
the chief's son, and already an expert in hunting and in handling the
baidarka. So is the Aleut hunter trained.
As it had been a very warm day I feared that the skin might
spoil. Therefore I concluded to continue to Afognak Place without
camping for the night, and so we paddled on and on. As darkness came,
the mountains seemed to rise grander and more majestic from the water on
either side of us. At midnight we again stopped for tea, and while we
sat by the fire the host of baidarkas of the sea otter party silently
glided by like shadows. We joined them, for my men had much to tell of
their four months with the white hunter, and many questions were asked
on both sides.
Some miles from Afognak the baidarkas drew up side by side in a long,
even line, our baidarka joining in. _Drasti_ and _Chemi_[6]
came to me from all sides, for I had from time to time met most of the
native hunters of this island, and they seemed to regard me as quite one
of them.
[Footnote 6: Russian and Aleut for "How do you do?"]
When all the straggling baidarkas had caught up and taken their places
in the line, the chief gave the word _Kedar_ ("Come on"), and we
all paddled forward, and just as the sun was rising above the hills we
reached our journey's end.
Two days later my friend joined me. He also had been successful, and had
killed a good sized male bear in Little Uganuk Bay on Kadiak Island.
Our bear hunt was now over, and we had been fortunate in accomplishing
all we had hoped for.
IV.
THE WHITE SHEEP OF KENAI PENINSULA
The last of July Blake and I sailed from the Kadiak Islands, and one
week later were landed at the little settlement of Kenai, on the Kenai
Peninsula.
The mountains of this region are unquestionably the finest big-game
shooting grounds in North America at the present day. Here one may
expect to find four different kinds of bears--black, two species of
brown, and the Alaska grizzly--the largest of moose, and the Kenai form
of the white sheep (_Ovis dalli_).
These hills lie back from the coast some thirty miles, and may be
reached by one of several rivers. It takes a couple of days to ascend
some of these streams, but we determined to select a country more
difficult to enter, thinking it would be less often visited by the local
native hunters. We therefore chose the mountains lying adjacent to the
Kenai Lake--a district which it took from a week to ten days to reach.
On August 14, shortly after noon, we started up the river which was to
lead us to our shooting grounds. One cannot oppose the great tides of
Cook Inlet, and all plans are based on them. Therefore we did not leave
until the flood, when we were carried up the stream some twelve
miles--the tide limit--where we camped.
The next morning we were up at daylight, for at this point began the
hard river work. There was much brush on the banks, but our natives
proved themselves most expert in passing the line, for from now on until
we reached the lake our boats had to be towed against a swift current.
That day we made about eight miles, and camped shortly after five
o'clock. It rained hard during the night, and the next morning broke
cloudy. The river for the first two days wound through the lowlands, but
from this point on the banks seemed higher and the current perceptibly
swifter, while breaking water showed the presence of rocks under the
surface. The country back from the stream began to be more rolling, and
as the river occasionally made some bold bend the Kenai Mountains could
be seen in the distance.
Again it rained hard during the night and continued well on into the
next morning, so we made a late start, breaking camp at eight o'clock.
Spruce, alders, willows, and birch were the trees growing along the
banks, and we now passed through the country where the moose range
during the summer months. Already the days had become perceptibly
shorter, and there was also a feeling of fall in the air, for summer is
not long in this latitude.
At this point in the river we encountered bad water, and all hands were
constantly wet, while the natives were in the glacial stream up to their
waists for hours at a time. Therefore we made but little progress. That
night there was a heavy frost, and the next morning dawned bright and
clear. The day was a repetition of the day before, and the natives were
again obliged to wade with the tow-line most of the way. But they were a
good-natured lot, and seemed to take their wetting as a matter of
course. About ten o'clock the next morning we reached the Kenai Rapids,
where the stream narrows and the water is extremely bad, for the current
is very swift and the channel full of rocks. We navigated this place
safely and came out into the smooth water beyond. Here we had tea and a
good rest, for we felt that the hardest part of this tiresome journey
was over. Above the rapids there are a few short stretches of less
troubled water where the oars can be used; but these are few and far
between, and one must count upon warping the boat from tide water to
within two miles of the lake--an estimated distance of between
thirty-five and forty miles.
We had hardly got started the following day before it began to rain
heavily. We were soon wet to the skin and thoroughly chilled, but we
kept on until late in the afternoon, when we camped in a small Indian
cabin some three miles from the lake.
It stormed hard during the night with such heavy wind that we much
feared that we should be unable to cross the lake the next day. In the
morning, however, the wind had gone down, and we made an early
start. Just before reaching the mouth of the river we sighted game for
the first time. A cow moose with her calf were seen on the bank. They
stood idly watching our boats for a short time, and then slowly ambled
off into the brush.
Occasionally as the river had made some big bend we had been able to
sight the mountains which were to be our shooting grounds. Day by day
they had grown nearer and nearer, and finally, after one week of this
toilsome travel, we glided from the river to the crescent-shaped lake,
and they now rose close before us.
This range of hills with their rough and broken sides compares favorably
in grandeur with the finest of Alaskan scenery. Half way up their slopes
was a well defined timber line, and then came the stunted vegetation
which the autumn frosts had softened into velvet browns in deep contrast
to the occasional berry patches now tinged a brilliant crimson; and
beyond, the great bleak, open tablelands of thick moss sloped gently
upward to the mountain bases; and above all, the lofty peaks of dull
gray rock towered in graceful curves until lost in the mist. Great banks
of snow lay in many of the highest passes, and over all the landscape
the sun shone faintly through leaden and sombre storm clouds.
Such was my first near view of the Kenai Mountains, and, as I learned to
know them better, they seemed to grow more awe-inspiring and beautiful.
When we reached Kenai Lake, Blake and I decided that it would probably
be the wisest plan to divide things up into two separate shooting
outfits. We could then push over the hills in different directions
until we came upon the sheep. Each would then make his own shooting
camp, and our natives would carry out the heads we might shoot to our
united base of supplies on the lake, and pack back needed provisions.
At noon of August 22 Blake and outfit started for his shooting grounds
at the eastern end of the sheep range, and shortly after my outfit was
under way. My head man and the natives carried packs of some sixty
pounds, while I carried about fifty pounds besides my rifle, glasses,
and cartridges; even my dog Stereke had some thirty pounds of canned
goods in a pack saddle.
Our first march led up the mountain over a fairly steep trail, a gale
accompanied by rain meeting us as we came out from the timber on to the
high mossy plateau. The wind swept down from the hills in great gusts,
and our small tent tugged and pulled at its stakes until I greatly
feared it would not stand the strain. It had moderated somewhat by the
next morning, and we made an early start.
Our line of march, well above timber, led along the base of the summits
for some miles, then swinging to the left we laboriously climbed over
one range and dropped into the valley beyond. A strong wind made it hard
going, and sometimes turned us completely around as it struck slanting
upon the packs which we carried. During the day sheep were seen in the
distance, but we did not stop, for we were anxious to reach before dark
a place where Hunter--my head man--had usually made his hill camp. It
must be remembered that at such an altitude there is very little fuel,
and that good camping places are few and far between.
The next morning we were up early, intending to take our first hunt, but
the small Killy River, on which we were now located, was much swollen by
the heavy rains, and could not be crossed. We devoted the forenoon to
bridging this stream, but during the afternoon a small bunch of sheep
was sighted low down on the mountains, and I started with Hunter to see
if it contained any good rams. We left camp about noon and reached the
sheep in a little over an hour. There was one ram which I shot for
meat, but unfortunately his head was smaller than I thought, and
valueless as a trophy.
As sheep hunting in these hills is at best hard work, I decided to move
the camp as high up as we could find wood and water. The next morning as
we started on our first real hunt, we took the native with us, and after
selecting a spot at the edge of the timber line, left him to bring up
our camp to this place while my man and I continued over the mountains
in search of rams. The day was dull and the wind was fortunately light.
After a stiff climb we came out upon a mossy tableland, intersected by
several deep gulches, down which tumbled rapid glacial streams from many
perpetual snow banks. Above this high plateau rose sharp and barren
mountains which seemed but glacial heaps of jagged boulders and slide
rock all covered with coarse black moss or lichen, which is the only
food of sheep during the winter months.
It is generally supposed that when the heavy snows of winter set in the
sheep seek a lower level, but my guide insisted that they work higher
and higher up the mountain sides, where the winds have swept the snow
away, and they are able to get this coarse but nourishing food.
The sky-line of these hills made a series of unbroken curves telling of
the mighty power of the glaciers which once held this entire country in
their crushing grasp.
We passed over the great plateau, which even at this latitude was
sprinkled generously with beautiful small wild flowers. Crossing gulch
after gulch we continually worked higher and higher by a gradual and
easy ascent.
We had been gone from camp but little over an hour, when, on approaching
a small knoll, I caught sight of the white coat of a sheep just beyond.
At once dropping upon my hands and knees I crawled up and carefully
peered over to the other side. We had unknowingly worked into the midst
of a big band of ewes, lambs, and small rams. I counted twenty-seven on
my left and twenty-five on my right, but among them all there was not a
head worth shooting.
This was the first great band of white sheep I had seen, and I watched
them at this close range with much interest. Soon a tell-tale eddy in
the breeze gave them our scent, and they slowly moved away, not
hurriedly nor in great alarm, but reminding me much of tame sheep, or
deer in a park. Man was rather an unfamiliar animal to them, and his
scent brought but little dread. From this time until darkness hid them,
sheep were in plain view the entire day. In a short while I counted over
one hundred ewes and lambs.
We worked over one range and around another with the great valley of the
river lying at our feet, while beyond were chain upon chain of bleak and
rugged mountains. Finally we came to a vast gulch supposed to be the
home of the large rams. My men had hunted in this section two years
before, and had never failed to find good heads here, but we now saw
nothing worth stalking. By degrees we worked to the top of the gulch,
and coming to the summit of the ridge paused, for at our feet was what
at first appeared but a perpendicular precipice of jagged rock falling
hundreds of feet. The clouds now lifted a bit and we could see below a
vast circular valley with green grass and rapid glacial streams. On all
sides it was hemmed in and guarded by mighty mountains with giant cliffs
and vast slides of broken rocks reaching from the bottom to the very
summits. Opposite was a great dull blue glacier from which the north
fork of the Killy River belched forth, while other smaller glaciers and
snow banks seemed kept in place only by granite barriers.