TO KADIAK 77 



an experienced hunter who had a camp on shore, they 

 concluded that on our return in July the prospects would 

 be better. On the afternoon of June 30th, therefore, we 

 left the inlet and were off for the island of Kadiak, a 

 hundred miles to the southwest. 



KADIAK. 



We were now about to turn over a new leaf, or indeed 

 to open a new book, and to enter upon an entirely different 

 type of scenery — the treeless type. Up to this point, or 

 for nearly 2,000 miles, we had seen the mountains and 

 valleys covered with unbroken spruce forests. Now we 

 were to have 2,000 miles without a tree, the valleys 

 and mountains green as a lawn, and to the eye as smooth; 

 all of volcanic origin; many of the cones ideally perfect; 

 the valleys deepened and carved by the old glaciers, and 

 heights and lowlands alike covered with a carpet of grass, 

 ferns, and flowers. 



The forests begin to fail at the mouth of Cook Inlet. 

 As we came out my eye was drawn to rolling heights 

 where were groups and lines of trees amid broad green 

 expanses. The suggestion of hill farms at home with 

 orchards and groves, and trees along the fences, was very 

 strong, but one looked in vain for the houses and barns 

 of the farmers. We were going into a milder climate 

 too. During nearly all the month of June, despite our 

 extra winter clothing, I had suffered with cold. In 

 Prince William Sound and in Yakutat Bay we were in 

 vast refrigerating chests. The air had all been on ice, 

 and the sunshine seemed only to make us feel its tooth 

 the more keenly. With benumbed fingers I wrote to a 

 friend in this strain: " Amid your summer weather do re- 

 member us in our wanderings, a-chill on these northern 

 seas, beleagured by icebergs, frowned upon by glaciers, 

 and held as by some enchantment in a vast circle of 



