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THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE 
tory birds, the big-game animals and 
smaller fur bearers, the minerals and 
methods of mining, and in the magnifi- 
cence and variety of the scenery, repre- 
sented in well-defined mountain ranges 
and isolated peaks, the foaming cascades, 
the giant glaciers and ice fields, the 
rivers and intervening lakes, and the 
hundreds of unexplored fiords of the 
eastern and southern shore. 
Here and there snow-capped moun- 
tains drop to plateaux, rough and shaggy 
in crimson coats of moss or yellow- 
barked willows, and further down the 
green coniferous forests touch the tun- 
dra, dotted with glistening ponds, the 
feeding place for moose and the home of 
the black fliy and mosquito. 
Here during the summer solstice are 
weeks of brilliant weather and periods 
of wet and fog, while the frequent seis- 
mic disturbances give notice how super- 
ficial are the ice fields and the blizzards 
in a country of great volcanic energy. 
Here is a mid-year season, when the 
calendar days are separated by an hour 
of twilight, and again when the trapper, 
in his sheltered winter cabin, cannot see 
the sluggard sun above the horizon of 
the surrounding mountains. 
Here are tidal waves and rip-raps of 
Turnagain Arm, like those of the Bay of 
Fundy, and here so rare the atmosphere 
that at times Mt. McKinley, distant 200 
miles to the north, can be seen from the 
higher mountain tops. 
So many accurate and graphic accounts 
have been written of trips along the 
Alaskan coast that any effort to duplicate 
or vary the same may be dispensed with 
here. 
On leaving Lake Superior and at the 
last moment I was obliged, owing to 
sickness in his family, to get a substitute 
for my old Michigan guide, John Ham- 
mer, who for 25 years had accompanied 
me on various trips. Charles Anderson, 
who took his place, had frequently been 
employed by me in various capacities, 
and possessed a fair knowledge of the 
woods and waters. 
On July 8 we left Seattle for Seward, 
and had pleasant weather throughout 
most of the voyage. 
Toward sunset on the evening of July 
14 the steamer entered Resurrection Bay, 
which penetrates deeply into the Kenai 
Peninsula, forming the most wonderful 
harbor on the Alaskan coast and open, 
throughout the winter, when the Great 
Lakes and connecting rivers are closed 
for many months. 
After a run of ten miles between two- 
snow-covered ranges paralleling the bay, 
we reached the town of Seward, and the 
first responding to the shrill and echoing 
whistle were a hundred or more dogs, of 
every breed and color, who amicably 
ranged themselves in several compact 
rows along the edge of the dock, in hopes 
that some portion of the garbage saved 
by the kindly steward would fall to their 
lot (see page 431). In their home 
grounds or street fronts these shaggy 
beasts maintain a dead-line against all 
canine intruders, but at the wharf there 
was no distinction based upon race, size, 
sex, or relationship. Whenever a steamer 
whistled at night, or any unusual noise 
aroused them, the wolf-like howl, rising 
and falling in chorus, told plainly of the 
near kinship of many of these to the 
gaunt and ravenous creatures of the 
forest and rocky gulches. 
On disembarking we were met by an 
obliging inn-keeper and soon were in. 
earnest confab with our local guide, 
Thomas B. Towle, who had just come in 
from his mining camp, on the upper 
Kenai River, with the information that a 
launch would meet us at the lake, two 
days later, on the arrival of the motor 
train. 
At Seward so varied and reasonable 
are the supplies needed on a camping 
trip that little need be brought from the 
outside, while the courteous and reliable 
character of the inhabitants, private and 
official, makes the entry and return to 
this little town a source of pleasure and 
kindly recollection. In fact this may be 
said of most Alaskans, for their trials 
and struggles, like placer mining, have 
removed the rough and undesirable from 
their midst. 
On the morning of July 17 we boarded 
a gasoline car of the Alaskan Northern 
Railroad, en route to the upper Kenai 
Lake, 22f miles to the north, while the 
canoe and bulk of the provisions were to 
be forwarded by freight several days 
later. The railroad in question extends 
