OUR GREATEST NATIONAL MONUMENT 



247 



back; and, besides, one has the satisfac- 

 tion of knowing that he has accomplished 

 three times as much. 



But when the wished- for high water 

 came we found that it was another story. 

 Later in the summer the river rose three 

 feet, covering all the shoals and rising up 

 over the grassy bank. Then we had our 

 troubles, sure enough. 



The last time we tried the rapids was 

 when Kolb, Helt, and I had gone down 

 to Naknek to attend to some business at 

 the cannery, late in July. We found at 

 once that the increased swiftness of the 

 water far outweighed the advantage of 

 greater depth. In many places where we 

 had been able before to find good footing 

 on the bare gravel bars, we were now 

 driven to cling to the steep, slippery bank 

 with water, too swift to stand against, 

 racing beneath. 



Many were the places where, in spite 

 of our best efforts, we slid off into the 

 river with a splash. If there had not 

 been two of us we could never have held 

 the line, much less hauled the boat for- 

 ward; but when one fell, the other held, 

 often having to take a turn around one of 

 the tree trunks, which were otherwise un- 

 mitigated nuisances, as we clambered 

 under and around their leaning branches. 



But, to our surprise, we found the 

 worst going along the comparatively level 

 grass banks, where the water, working 

 among the clumps of grass roots, had 

 eaten away great holes which could be 

 neither seen nor avoided. 



As we went pushing along, shoulder 

 deep in the tall grass, splashing through 

 shallow water, we would suddenly drop 

 clear out of sight into a little pocket of 

 a hole deeper than it was wide. Out 

 again, over a yard of resistent grass roots, 

 and then plump into another hole ! 



In places there were stretches of up- 

 ward of a hundred yards where the 

 ground was honeycombed with holes of 

 this sort. Long before we reached the 

 head of the swift water we were dog 

 tired, but there was nothing to do but 

 keep on. 



Toward the end our incentive to keep 

 going was the knowledge that if we could 

 only stick to it a little longer we could go 

 ahead across the lake on the morrow with- 

 out further occasion for getting wet — no 



small matter when we had only one 

 change of clothes and no chance of dry- 

 ing out. 



We were surprised to find that the sea- 

 son was later on the south side of the 

 peninsula than on the Bering Sea side. 

 We had feared that the lake might not 

 break up in time to permit Sayre's party 

 to reach the head of navigation at the 

 appointed date. But, as it turned out, it 

 was we on the other side who were de- 

 layed. It was the first day of June before 

 we were ready for a try at the pass and 

 the valley beyond. 



first trip to the smokks 



The calm of the early morning, which 

 had induced us to believe it a suitable day 

 for the attempt, gave way soon after we 

 had started to squalls of rain, sleet, and 

 snow, which, driven by fierce cold wind 

 into our faces, made us almost sorry we 

 had started. 



Everywhere, except on the lowlands 

 close to camp, the ground was covered 

 with soft, wet snow, through which we 

 had to plow our way, sinking halfway to 

 our knees at every step. 



In the monotony of the weary grind 

 up hill we scarcely realized how hard we 

 were working until, coming to little 

 patches of bare ground where we could 

 swing out free, we felt as though we had 

 suddenly taken wing, so great was the 

 relief. 



As we neared the pass our nerves tight- 

 ened with expectancy — Kolb, who alone 

 was with me, wondering whether the 

 thing would after all be as wonderful as 

 the stories; and I, my mind full of the 

 picture of that memorable day two years 

 before, when I had taken leave of my 

 wonderful valley, anxious to see what 

 changes time had wrought. 



When we reached the pass we found 

 the upper flat all blanketed with snow. 

 The little twin fumaroles that had first 

 beckoned me into the valley were no- 

 where to be seen. I knew that they had 

 maintained faithful watch all through 

 1 91 8, but I could not help wondering 

 whether they had really gone out or 

 whether they were merely overcome by 

 the mass of snow that had drifted over 

 them. 



I peered over the rise, half a mile be- 



