I Left Fort Wrangell The 16th Of August, Accompanied By Mr. Young, In
A Canoe About Twenty-Five Feet Long And Five Wide, Carrying Two Small
Square Sails And Manned By Two Stickeen Indians - Captain Tyeen And
Hunter Joe - And A Half-Breed Named Smart Billy.
The day was calm, and
bright, fleecy, clouds hung about the lowest of the mountain-brows,
while far above
The clouds the peaks were seen stretching grandly
away to the northward with their ice and snow shining in as calm a
light as that which was falling on the glassy waters. Our Indians
welcomed the work that lay before them, dipping their oars in exact
time with hearty good will as we glided past island after island
across the delta of the Stickeen into Soutchoi Channel.
By noon we came in sight of a fleet of icebergs from Hutli Bay. The
Indian name of this icy fiord is Hutli, or Thunder Bay, from the
sound made by the bergs in falling and rising from the front of the
inflowing glacier.
As we floated happily on over the shining waters, the beautiful
islands, in ever-changing pictures, were an unfailing source of
enjoyment; but chiefly our attention was turned upon the mountains.
Bold granite headlands with their feet in the channel, or some
broad-shouldered peak of surpassing grandeur, would fix the eye, or
some one of the larger glaciers, with far-reaching tributaries
clasping entire groups of peaks and its great crystal river pouring
down through the forest between gray ridges and domes.
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