Alaskan Adventure

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Text originally published in 1952 under the same title.

© Papamoa Press 2018, all rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted by any means, electrical, mechanical or otherwise without the written permission of the copyright holder.

Publisher’s Note

Although in most cases we have retained the Author’s original spelling and grammar to authentically reproduce the work of the Author and the original intent of such material, some additional notes and clarifications have been added for the modern reader’s benefit.

We have also made every effort to include all maps and illustrations of the original edition the limitations of formatting do not allow of including larger maps, we will upload as many of these maps as possible.

ALASKAN ADVENTURE

BY

JAY P. WILLIAMS

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Contents

TABLE OF CONTENTS 3

DEDICATION 4

FOREWORD 5

PREFACE 6

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 7

Chapter 1—THE CHILKAT COUNTRY 8

Chapter 2—TRAPPING AND HUNTING 29

Chapter 3—THE ROCKY MOUNTAIN GOAT 45

Chapter 4—On THE ALASKA PENINSULA 54

Chapter 5—THE TONGASS NATIONAL FOREST 63

Chapter 6—HUNTING ON THE TAKU AND A COMPANION LOST 72

Chapter 7—BACK IN THE FOREST SERVICE 83

Chapter 8—THE TRAGEDIES OF LITUYA BAY 98

Chapter 9—ADMIRALTY ISLAND AND ITS WILDLIFE 106

Chapter 10—EXPERIENCES WITH BEAR, DEER, WOLVES AND EAGLES 119

Chapter 11—A SERIOUS ACCIDENT ON THE UNUK RIVER 142

Chapter 12—COUNTING BEARS AND PHOTOGRAPHING WILDLIFE 157

Chapter 13—GUIDING, SEAL HUNTING AND WORLD WAR II 174

WHAT ALASKA MEANS TO ME 187

A TOAST 188

APPENDIX I—EQUIPMENT AND TECHNIQUE FOR CAMP AND TRAIL 190

APPENDIX II 204

REQUEST FROM THE PUBLISHER 219

DEDICATION

DEDICATED TO MY WIFE WHO KEPT THE HOME FIRES BURNING BRIGHTLY, WHILE I BLITHLY SAILED THE SEA OF ADVENTURE.

JAY WILLIAMS

FOREWORD

This is a hook of the Northland.

Here is a story of spruce green islands, of mountains remote and nameless, of grumbling glaciers, of alpine meadows gay with lupine, of rivers roaring in the spring breakup.

Here are tales of the great brown bear, the moose, the caribou, the mountain sheep, the goat and of wolves, bringers of death to the wilderness.

Here are streams silvered with salmon in fatal, compulsive migration that their cycles be endless.

Here is the home of the Eskimo, the Aleut, and of the totem carving Tlinket and Tsimpsian. Here are the men and the women who lived at the end of dim trails.

Here is a land—rugged, remorseless—the life of the strong; the bane of the weak. Here is a land of challenge—a frontier defiant—the North.

Beyond this page lies ALASKA!

DON MARTIN.

PREFACE

Jay has asked me to edit the manuscript of this, his first book. The more I read, the more I was thrilled. Pioneers, as a rule, cannot and do not write books. It is but once in a generation that such an account is given us by one who has spent his whole life mastering the wilderness and its tools: the rifle, axe, packboard and snowshoe. As a human document this is priceless. As a description of wilder Alaska it is a work of art. Don Martin who wrote the Foreword felt the same way. It was impossible for me to change one word. The book is Jay’s just as he wrote it. If you love the wilderness, the vast unspoiled country, if you appreciate the struggle with the elements and nature which such a life entails, if you long for the sight of game that has never before glimpsed man, then I know this will thrill you as it has me.

TOWNSEND WHELEN

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

1. Aerial View of Lituya Bay

2. Alaskan Mountain Goat

3. Typical Stand in Tongass National Forest

4. A Bear at Close Range

5. The Bald Eagle, A Majestic Predator

6. A Kenai Moose

7. North Sawyer Glacier on Tracy Arm

8. Jay Williams and Bull Caribou

9. Typical Coastal Scenery

10. Cow Moose with Calf

11. Tracy Arm

12. Bear on Admiralty Island

13. Plan of Snowshoe for Southeastern Alaska

14. Bull Moose at Harvey Lake

15. A Wolverine at Close Range

16. Drawing of Mountain Boots

17. The Alaskan Packboard

18. Jay Williams and his Whelen Leanto

19. Two views of the Leanto Tent

20. Pattern of Hunters Leanto

Chapter 1—THE CHILKAT COUNTRY

THEN it happened! Out of the alder brush into the open, about a hundred yards below, walked two beautiful, large grizzly bears. To get the full import of this just imagine a young man whose experience with bears up to that time had been practically nil, suddenly confronted with such a hunter’s dream of a tableau. And this on his first field day in Alaska.

It was early in the month of May, 1904. Our party for the demarkation of the boundary line between the United States and Canada had just been assigned the area in the vicinity of the headwaters of the Chilkat River, inland from the head of Lynn Canal. Our base camp had been completely arranged and it was Saturday afternoon. My partner and I had long been waiting to satisfy our compelling urge to get out into the mountains in this, a new land to us. Food and bedding were hastily lashed to our packboards, and we started the long hike to timber-line on a huge mountain, the lower levels of which sloped down to the river near our camp. Deep snow covered all but the floor of the valley. Climbing up for several hours through this tedious footing we finally came to a heavily limbed spruce close to the upper limits of tree growth, which offered a dry sheltered spot for our night’s bivouac.

The view from our little camp under our sheltering tree was so beautiful and fascinating that we were loathe to go to bed. Across the valley was a jumble of jagged, snow capped peaks fading out into the distance like the billows on a storm-tossed sea. The setting sun threw deep purple shadows across the valley floor. The twilight of the Alaskan summer night spread a ghostly, ethereal light which still further enriched the beauty of the scene. In such spots lurks the spell of the North.

That night, tired as we were, we tossed restlessly on our fragrant beds of boughs and blankets beneath the stars in anticipation of the ensuing bear hunt.

The night was frosty but the warm morning sunlight penetrating the foliage under our tree, woke us early. One just doesn’t get up before sunrise in the summer time in Alaska if very much rest is to be enjoyed.

After a hasty breakfast we were off to see what the country has in store. Each was armed with a new .33 caliber Winchester rifle. The cartridge was a newcomer at that time but the rifle model had been time tried and fire tested.

The upper Chilkat region was reputed to have one of the heaviest bear populations of any locality in Alaska and there is strong evidence that this condition still exists. Very little bear sign had been noted in the river bottom near camp but this was in no way discouraging, for it was nearing the middle of May and the bear should be moving around on the snow fields in the vicinity of their winter dens.

For the first two hours, traveling conditions were excellent. The cold night had frozen the upper snow into a strong crust. We separated, agreeing to meet at noon near a ridge some distance beyond. Partner planned to circle slowly in the general direction of camp. I had seen the tracks of two large bears, traveling together which appeared to have been made some time the previous day, so I intended to scout the valley beyond the ridge in the hope that the bears were still somewhere in the vicinity. If nothing showed up, we would head for camp by the middle of the afternoon. With this understanding, we parted.

When half way down the farther side of the ridge my progress was sharply arrested by an unusual and peculiar noise. It sounded like some large animal bawling. It was not totally unlike the bleat of a domestic sheep but carried more depth and volume than any sheep transmitted.

At that moment I happened to be standing beside a lone spruce tree with limbs drooping into the snow. This tree, eight or nine feet tall, was right out in the open on the snow-covered hillside. Two bears walked out into sight. A short distance below them there appeared to be a sharp drop of some sort, perhaps a cliff. Old Grandpa and Grandma were out for a spring stroll to toughen their feet. Their magnificent fur coats rippled and undulated in the sunshine with every movement of their bodies. The larger of the two would sidle up and gently nuzzle her around the head and neck.

I wanted to anchor one of those great trophies. Spring hides from this locality are particularly fine in thickness and length, for this is the very heart of the Coast range where Alaskan winters are bitter. I dropped to one knee at the side of the tree and leveled on the leader, the female.

At the sound of the shot the bear dropped in the snow and rolled out of sight. The other whirled and rushed to the spot where its wounded mate had gone. Jacking a cartridge into the barrel and slipping another into the magazine I remained snuggled against the limbs of the tree to await developments. Something must have warned me to be careful, for it certainly wasn’t the dictate of experience.

In a few seconds the unwounded bear came lunging from the brush, straight up the hill, apparently at me.

Several thoughts flashing through my head. The bear was approaching much faster than a man could travel in the soft snow. My first reaction was to start firing. This was crowded out by a more sober thought, wait until the bear is fairly close then deliver a single killing shot, or at least administer a knock down shot, which would provide time for others, if necessary. Now the animal was less than sixty feet away. As he lifted his head for another lunge, a shot was eased off, aimed at the center of his massive chest. He dropped as though hit with a sledge. A struggle started the bear rolling down hill leaving a crimson trail on the snow to the spot where he disappeared in the brush.

The situation called for some serious thought. There was nothing in sight and no evidence as to whether they were dead or just wounded, either or both. My partner was probably a long distance away, either in camp or near it by this time. Any follow up on the bears would have to be undertaken alone. However the thing had to be worked out. Lacking actual experience although a great deal had been read and heard about wounded grizzly bears, I realized that plenty of caution was indicated as it was highly desirable to locate the bear, if possible before he located me.

With these thoughts in mind, I eased down towards the brush very alert and ready for trouble. The soft snow now made walking noiseless. The bear that had been shot last was soon spotted a short distance in the brush. The bloody trail led right up to the animal. The first look showed almost conclusively that the bear was dead with its head doubled under and buried in the snow. It was closely watched for several moments, just in case. There was no movement of the lungs and a snowball landing on the head brought no results.

The hide was a beauty and the task of skinning was begun at once. Under the influence of the warm spring sun alder bushes were being released from the melting snow and they would straighten up with an audible swish. Each time this occurred the knife would be hastily dropped and the rifle seized. Later this part of the incident has seemed ridiculous. I have never quite understood why the skinning was not postponed and the status of the other bear determined before anything else was done. Well, I was so pleased with this fine trophy and so anxious to get it onto my packboard that I didn’t investigate that’s all.

After the hide was removed and lashed onto the packboard, my interest was centered on the other bear. Its trail could be seen for some distance ahead. Apparently it had lodged temporarily at the point where the mate had gone back to it for a few moments then it rolled again. From all the signs, it was probably dead. Possibly it had been nudged by the other animal or brought into motion by the relaxation of death. From this spot the trail led to the brink of a cliff more than a hundred feet high. By hanging onto a brush with one hand the body of the animal could be seen some distance down the snow field slanting away from the base of the cliff. It would be a long, tough job to get down and around to this carcass. The afternoon was well advanced and I knew that packing the hide back to camp in the soft snow would take all the energy I had left, so I elected to return. About a half mile from camp a shot was fired which brought my partner out to meet me and help with the pack. After a meal and a short rest we dropped down into camp before darkness descended.

Experience has demonstrated that the bear which came towards me was not charging as I believed at the time; it was simply leaving the scene of consternation in a frightened state, and it knew nothing of my whereabouts. Had it run in another direction it would have been successful in its escape.

We have enjoyed a good many bear hunts since then but few of them gave us the thrills as did this one. Of course a great deal of this was due to inexperience but I have never become blasé to bear hunting. Probably because no two of them follow quite the same pattern.

*****

After the sale of Alaska to the United States, by Russia, in 1867, the location of the boundary line was vague and unmarked on the ground. A few years of tranquility were interrupted by a sudden increase of mining development, both on the Canadian and United States side of the vaguely defined fine, and this quickly brought the issue into sharp focus.

The Stikine River was the natural gateway to the newly discovered placer developments at Dease Lake and in the Cassiar area. By the year 1875 production in the Cassiar had reached one million dollars. The first cause of friction between Canada and the United States arose over the questionable status of a trading post, which had been established on the Stikine in 1876.

The discovery of gold in the Klondike in 1897 and the rush to the new fields made the exact location of the boundary an acute issue. Previous negotiations, which had been more or less desultory, were immediately revived because of necessity. There followed a period of shadow boxing by the representatives of each government marked by proposals and counter proposals.

The nub of the dispute was whether or not Canada was entitled to a deep sea port at the head of Lynn Canal. This in turn, hinged upon the vague and indeterminate language of the treaty of 1825 between Great Britain and Russia. The issue was clear cut. Settlement rested on the proper method of measuring the ten league width of the coastal strip.

The Canadians held that it should be measured from the general line of the coast; the United States representatives maintained that the extreme width should be measured from the head of all the inlets, even the deepest. This was more in conformity with the wording in the old treaty, which stated, a distance of ten marine leagues inland, following the contours and sinuosities of the coast line. There was a somewhat minor point of disagreement over how the line should be carried up Portland Canal. This involved the ownership of four small islands at the mouth of the Canal. This issue was finally compromised by assigning possession of two islands to each government.

The United States was most fortunate in having Theodore Roosevelt for its President at this time. In his usual forthright manner, he pressed for immediate settlement of the boundary dispute. He promptly rejected the British proposal for an odd number of commissioners, five or seven. He came out positively for a tribunal of six commissioners, three on each side. He specifically warned that this was not an arbitration, and that, in no case were our representatives to yield any part of the United States claim.

President Roosevelt promptly appointed Elihu Root, Senator Lodge of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts and Senator Turner of the State of Washington as the United States Commissioners on the tribunal. Great Britain’s representatives were Sir Louis Jetté, with later Alan B. Aylesworth, to succeed the former upon his death and two others.

Following the selection and appointment of representatives the President drove hard for immediate settlement. The tribunal was directed to answer seven specific questions, only one concerning the port at the head of Lynn Canal being of real importance.

It was soon realized that the interpretation of a vague and bad treaty would be a very difficult job, a fact previously emphasized by sporadic attempts to run the line on the ground.

It appears that the decision of the tribunal, awarding all of Lynn Canal, including the port, to the United States, created some dissatisfaction both in Canada and abroad, however it is difficult to understand how a strict interpretation of the treaty could have resulted otherwise. It is probable that the mutual consideration of much graver issues that have arisen as a result of the two World Wars, has caused the matter to be forgotten. The threat to world peace which exists today has brought the two governments into much closer agreement on more vital issues.

*****

It was in the Chilkat River drainage that our Boundary Survey party worked three successive seasons. The Chilkat Country and its native inhabitants have several distinctive features that deserve description.

The river itself is a typical short, swift glacial stream. It originates on the ocean side of the Coast Range where it emerges from underneath a large glacier and snow field of the same name. The main river has two branches which come in from the south west, with several creeks of lesser importance. One of these, Bear Creek, drains a long narrow valley which extends some distance inland into British Columbia. It is a proven fact that there is considerable gold on the bed rock in Bear Creek, however, the gorgelike character of the valley and the very short periods in spring and fall when the water is sufficiently low make placer mining impractical. The river has two main branches which come in from the south and west. The first is the Salmon River, which joins the Chilkat near the old native town of Klukwan and the second is the Kleheni which also comes into the main stream a short distance above Klukwan. It was on the Kleheni that the early mining development of this region took place. Jack Dalton and associates placer mined on the Kleheni near the mouth of Porcupine Creek with varying success during the summer of 1904 and a few later years. The annual recurrence of excessively high water resulted in permanently discouraging this venture.

The climate of the Chilkat valley is good. Rainfall is not excessive, being in contrast with coastal areas south of Berners Bay. This latter place marks a sharp climatic break or change. The moisture-laden winds from the Pacific Ocean drain on the high mountain slopes of the Berners Bay region, resulting in the entire part of the Lynn Canal area being comparatively dry.

The climate of the Chilkat valley is also favorable to crop growth. Several varieties of wild berries grow in abundance, while it has been demonstrated at the town of Haines at the mouth of the river that cultivated varieties do very well, especially strawberries which have a considerable local reputation.

The scenery in this valley, especially in the upper part, is exceptionally beautiful, something like a bit of Switzerland set down in America. The dark rich green of the coniferous timber is brightened, in autumn by the flaming colors of several varieties of deciduous tree growth. The colors on the lower elevations merging into the dazzling white of rugged snow-capped peaks and hanging glaciers complete a picture of magnificent grandeur.

Wild roses grow along the river banks in such riotous profusion that when in bloom the air is heavy with their delicate fragrance. There are hundreds of acres of wild flowers of wide variety, on the mountain meadows, above the limits of tree growth. This valley in summer is a far cry from the picture of Alaska which the movies present to the public, depicting the country as a land of ice and snow, Eskimos and polar bears.

The Chilkat valley is also the ancestral home of the native tribe of that name, which is of Thlinget origin, a generic term, which includes several of the native tribes of Southeastern Alaska. We found our contacts with these people extremely interesting. At that time they numbered several thousand with possibly as many as one thousand males of warrior status. This word is used advisedly because in the full flower of their strength they were a fierce and warlike people. Their prowess was much respected by the tribes which surrounded them.

Their home base was the upper Lynn Canal country, centering around the native town of Klukwan, or The Old Town, or Mother Town which is the native translation of the name. They stubbornly defended this territory against any outside encroachment and were put to a severe test many times in doing so.

The artistry of this native people was displayed in several distinctive ways. While they possessed a few large cedar canoes such as those common farther south among the Hydahs and others, it is probable that canoes of this type were acquired either in trade or war. These were called Whale Killers and were undoubtedly used for that purpose at times. There is no red cedar in the Chilkat country, so they must have been thus obtained. In fact, there is no Western Red Cedar north of Wrangell Narrows.

The canoes which the Chilkats made themselves, were dugouts fashioned from the largest and soundest cottonwood logs obtainable. They were seldom more than 18 or 20 feet in length. Much ingenuity and skill was shown in their construction and the models and lines were excellent. The outside of the craft was first worked into almost the finished shape with native adzs. Numerous small holes were bored from the outside to a predetermined depth which was regulated by a stop collar on the auger bit. These holes were then plugged with fire charred dowels. In hewing out the inside of the canoe when one of these charred sticks was nicked, it showed that the wood had been cut away to the desired thickness at that spot.

Probably the best and most widely known of their arts and crafts was their famous Chilkat blanket. There are none being made today. These unique and much sought-after blankets were woven from the wool of their native mountain goats and brilliantly colored with native dyes. Some excellent specimens of these blankets may be seen in the Alaska Territorial Museum at Juneau.

Most outstanding was a visit to the Oolican grounds at the mouth of the river, Eulachon, Oolican is another name for the candle fish, a small smelt-like fish, which derives its name from its extremely oily character. Each year is the spring there were, and still are in some places, heavy runs of these fish in several coastal rivers of Southeastern Alaska, and at least one, the Skeena, in British Columbia. These fish, so rich in oil, comprise a much valued addition to the Chilkat food supply. The fishing was extremely simple and consisted of dipping the fish out of the silt-laden water with a small dip net, where the current set in strongly against the bank. They were then dumped into an old unseaworthy canoe which had been sunk flush with the ground. Time, assisted by a warm spring sun accomplished the rendering process. This oil, thick and jelly-like when cold, was stored in five gallon cans and other obtainable containers for use during the long winter. Native blueberries, very abundant throughout the region, were frequently mixed with it, and later generously ladled onto smoked salmon. This made what was to the Chilkats a very tasty dish. Our most lasting impression of this fishing operation was the tremendous assault to our olfactory sense.

The Indians were engaged to transport our party up the river. They used their large cedar canoes, the Whale Killers, for this work. Each one was capable of handling several tons of weight. Their long, high, rakish-looking bows and brilliant, fresh mineral paint gave them a very racy appearance.

These canoes, which were thirty feet or more in length, and six feet wide, were very seaworthy when skilfully handled. A white man, who was raised with the Haidahs on the southwest coast of Prince of Wales, said that he, and others of his family, had made trips to outlying Forester Island with the Indians in these canoes.

On our trip immediate use was made of the prevailing summer wind which invariably blows up channel during the daylight hours. Huge sails, set wing and wing in the old native custom, were added during the lulls. Lusty strokes of the paddle by the native canoe men avoided undesirable positions in the channel. Big Johnson, a Tyee man among the Chilkats, was seated in the stern of the leading canoe with a huge paddle trailing over the end. He was boss and attended at steering, skilfully reading with an experienced eye, the thick, muddy water ahead, in order to select the best route. These natives were old hands at this work and expert with the paddle. Because of the nature of their living conditions, a great deal of time from babyhood to old age was spent in canoes. Consequently, they were exceptionally well developed in the arms, shoulders, and upper bodies.

Because we were newcomers, and the entire procedure strange to most of our party, the trip was most enthralling. Snow-covered mountains, several thousand feet high, rose abruptly from the valley floor on each side. The river banks were lined with cottonwood, alder, and some birch interspersed with the rich green of the spruce. The stream itself glistened like a silver ribbon in bright sunlight. Because of the tortous channel, twisting across the valley in the typical manner of glacial streams, we were able to observe the country from many different angles.

With a probable stop of several weeks, our first camp was made across the river from Wells, a post office and mining recorder’s office on the old Provisional Boundary Line. These offices at the time were maintained by the Canadian government and the official incumbent was a genial gentleman of the old school, Captain McKenna, whose one great weakness was his devotion to a single Deity, Bacchus. When our impressive flotilla tied up to the bank in front of the Captain’s buildings, he greeted us most heartily, strengthened no doubt by the hope that the party would yield at least one kindred spirit, well fortified, to observe the social amenities.

Two jobs were the next order of work, after a comfortable camp had been established from our amply supply of tentage. The first job, because those in authority had decided upon a system of high triangulation, was to erect triangulation stations on the surrounding mountains at several thousand feet elevation. These stations were rock cairns, surrounding a six or eight foot flagstaff, topped with two foot squares of red, white and black muslin. It was later found that the choice of colors, which included red, was a fortunate one. The flag could be picked up in the telescope of the theodolite or with a powerful binocular much more readily because of the red color. The two young assistant engineers, Don and Polk, were selected to carry on this work with the help of two field men.

The second job was relaying food and other supplies up river several miles, to be stored in a cache which remained to be built. These articles would be picked up later as the work advanced. This proved to be gruelling work with the inadequate floating equipment that we possessed. There were three canvas canoes with hardwood frames, a small canvas canoe, useless for freighting, and a new native cottonwood canoe. The canvas boats were marked collapsible, on the outside of their packing covering. This designation later proved to be very accurate. They collapsed all right and they did so without the slightest warning. One of the large cedar canoes, such as the Indians used when moving us to Wells, could have carried all our entire flotilla and would have handled well. Too bad we did not have one.

It became increasingly evident that this boundary work had been inadequately financed. This was embarrassingly emphasized later when we were able to compare our equipment with that of the Canadian party which was working on the headwaters of the Kleheni River. Our lack of suitable equipment was through no fault of the Chief. He was greatly disturbed and irritated because he had been unable to procure it. He bought the little native canoe after we landed in Haines, from his personal funds, and two years later had not been reimbursed. This was a very short-sighted policy, because working days suitable for high triangulation are few, at best, for an entire summer because of interference from fog, smoke from forest fires, and rain.

Slim and I assisted with the freighting work for a week or two. Much to our delight, the small native canoe had been assigned to us personally for this work. It was a nice little craft to handle and could be poled against the current in most places where it was necessary. This was impossible with the canvas boats. This arrangement was short-lived. The triangulation stations were not being located satisfactorily. It was absolutely necessary that they be intervisible and this was not being done. The scope of the work called for a complete round of angles for the full 360 degrees, to be taken from each station on every other station in the network. This seemed rather simple to Slim and me and we decided that the previous failure had been due to inexperience in mountain work. We suggested that with the aid of a good binocular we could do the work satisfactorily. The Chief decided to try us out, and from that time on for the next two seasons we worked as the Chief’s personal assistants, and in my case much of my time was devoted to meat hunting.

Now the mountain climbing impressed us with the beauty and charm of the region in ever increasing measure. There were misty spring mornings when lower elevations were shrouded with fleecy wraithlike veils, while higher ghostlike pictures of snow-topped peaks appeared to have no connection with the earth and literally hang in the sky. There are few natures which do not respond in some manner to such surroundings. Nature was waking from a long winter sleep and it seemed that almost in a matter of hours spring passed and summer came. Under the influence of almost continuous daylight and a warm sun leaves came out with mushroom-like growth. Roses were blooming in the lowlands and the mountain meadows were splashed with color.

Occasionally on a day when there was no climbing to be done we would take a load of supplies to the cache, which had been built several miles up stream. One day on arriving there we found everything wrecked, food stuff scattered all over and the place in utter confusion. The cache had consisted of a heavy, tarred, tarpaulin, suspended well out on a strong limb of a spruce tree with a three quarter inch rope. The bottom of this tarp was more than nine feet from the ground. However, the cache had failed to protect the food and there had been much feasting and fighting with some blood and bear hair all over the place. Amusing theories were advanced as to how the seemingly impossible had been accomplished. One man suggested that a bear pyramid had been formed, similar to acrobats in a circus, with a small bear for top mounter, who did the job of tearing the tarp open. The true facts remained a mystery.

Our next camp was on the tip of a timbered flat where Bear Creek, (this name certainly lacks originality and is very trite, especially in Alaska), a sizeable tributary of the Chilkat, joins the main river.

This was to be the base camp for the