Wanderings in Alaska. A Lovely Sail-Majestic Mountain Views-More Glaciers. Visit to a Deserted Indian Village. Habitations of the Natives-Carved Images and Other Relics-Indian Rites-A Doomed Race. Fort Wrangel, October 12, 1879.
SAN FRANCISCO, S. WANDERINGS IN ALASKA A Lovely Sail—-Majestic Mountain Views—More Glaciers. Tisit to a Deserted Indian Yiliage. Habitations of the Natives—Carved Images and Other Relics- Indian Rites —A Doomed Race. Foet Wrangel, October 12,1S79. Steaming solemnly down the coast after leaving the G...
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Language: | English |
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Scholarly Commons
1879
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Online Access: | https://scholarlycommons.pacific.edu/jmb/185 https://scholarlycommons.pacific.edu/context/jmb/article/1184/viewcontent/96.pdf |
Summary: | SAN FRANCISCO, S. WANDERINGS IN ALASKA A Lovely Sail—-Majestic Mountain Views—More Glaciers. Tisit to a Deserted Indian Yiliage. Habitations of the Natives—Carved Images and Other Relics- Indian Rites —A Doomed Race. Foet Wrangel, October 12,1S79. Steaming solemnly down the coast after leaving the Great Glacier—the cylinder-heads still hanging well on their shoulders—the fair islands and mountains again passed in review to capital advantage, For the day was fine and the clouds that so oiten hide the mountain tops even in good weather were now floating high above them, and scarce cast a perceptible shadow on the white fountains of the ice. So abundant and novel are the objects of interest hereabouts that unless you are pursuing special studies it matters but little where you go, or how often to the same place. Wherever you chance to oe always seems at the moment of all places the best j and you feel that there can be no happiness in this world or in any other for those who may not be happy here. The bright hours were spent in making notes and sketches and in getting more of the landscape into memory. In particular a second calm view of the mountains made me raise my first estimate of their height. Some of them must be eight or nine thousand feet at the least, Also the glaciers now.seemed larger and more numerous. I counted nearly a hundred of all sizes between a point ten or fifteen miles beyond Cape Fanshaw and the mouth of the Stickene river. We made no more landings, however, that day, until we had passed through the Wrangel Narrows and dropped anchor for the night in a small sequestered bay. This was about sunset, but I eagerly seized the opportunity, small as it was, to go ashore in fr.e canoe and see what I could of the noble woods. It is here only a step from the marine algae to terrestrial vegetation of almost tropical luxuri- rance. Parting the alders and huckleberry bushes, and the crooked stems of the prickly panax, I made my way back to where the spruces were about a hundred feet high, and from two to ... |
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