YUKON-CHARLEY RIVERS Yukon Frontiers Historic Resource Study of the Proposed Yukon-Charley National River

River travel may have carried the largest percentage of freight and passengers, but seven months of the year the rivers were frozen. Thus, other methods of travel developed. Initially horses were imported to carry winter mail and freight as they had done on other western frontiers. One early mail contract attempted an all-American route from Valdez on the coast, to Eagle. The route had hardly been explored, and the first trip killed 11 horses, cost $3,000, and delivered only 3 letters. [1]

Almost immediately mail carriers switched to the Eskimo method of winter travel—dog teams. By 1901 a mail trail existed between Eagle and Circle. The United States Post Office contracted with Northern Commercial Company and individual mail carriers to carry the mail and maintain the trail. Generally the trail followed the river but sometimes crossed a wooded portage that reduced the distance and sheltered the trail from drifting snow. Stakes or tree branches marked the trail where it crossed the river or a large lake. Occasionally the mail contractors erected mail cabins when the distance between roadhouses was greater than twenty-five miles. Here shelter, provisions, and stoves could be found. [2]

The Eagle to Circle mail trail (#15, #33, #73, #80) still exists and can be readily traced especially along those areas used by present-day winter travellers. Tall spruce trees frame the limits of the trail while ruts in the muskeg, eighteen inches wide and a foot deep, mark heavy use. Those portions of the trail no longer used have regrown with smaller spruce, willow, and rosebushes and are more difficult to discern. Occasional old blazes on the trees are all that remain.

Only one mail cabin or way-station (#79) was found in the Yukon-Charley area whose sole purpose was to provide shelter for mail carriers. Its roof has collapsed and part of its walls, yet the dimensions (twelve by twelve feet) illustrate the winter life of a mail carrier. Moreover, being less than three-quarters of a mile from Biederman depicts the rivalry among mail carriers.

If any one occupation won the admiration and praise of sourdough Alaskans, it was the mail carrier. [3] They travelled in all weathers and temperatures. Under contract to deliver the mail a certain number of times each year, they also had to keep a rigid schedule or they would hold up mail carriers all along the line. Travel between seasons—in the spring when the ice was rotten and again in the fall before it was solid—was dangerous, and risks were taken. At the same time, the mail carrier had the right-of-way along the trail and represented the most important person on the trail or at the roadhouse. [4]

Most illustrative of the Eagle to Circle mail carriers was Max (Ed) Adolphas Biederman. Born in Bohemia in 1870, Biederman talked his father into helping him find passage on an American-bound steamship. At only thirteen years old, he found himself in Philadelphia apprenticed to a baker. Later he travelled about the country doing odd jobs, winding up in San Francisco at the time of the Nome strike. Immediately he left for Nome only to find, as thousands like him had, that all the ground had been staked. He wandered down to the Yukon River and got a job with Northern Commercial Company. After cutting cordwood for a while, he became a mail carrier between Tanana and Rampart for the company. Remaining on the company's payroll all year round, he boarded dogs in the summer and functioned as a troubleshooter for company repair jobs.

Eventually Northern Commercial subcontracted with their drivers to carry the mail. Biederman received the contract between Eagle and Circle. In 1918, approximately half-way between the two towns and across from the mouth of the Kandik River, Ed built his home. Here he and his family fished and boarded dogs in the summer. On the last steamer to Eagle his family moved to Eagle to allow the children to attend school. Meanwhile with only one dog sled team, Ed carried the mail. He spent one week on the trail between Eagle and Circle. The first night out of Eagle he stayed at Miller's Camp, then Nation, home on the third night, Woodchopper on the fourth, either Twenty-six Mile or Twenty-two Mile Roadhouse on the fifth night, and finally into Circle. Resting only one day, he started back. Thirteen trips a season, he averaged. During the spring and fall, mail became irregular, but with the first hard snow Biederman made a good trail with a toboggan. Thereafter he used especially designed sleds. One year he lost his contract to John Powers who used horses, but the following year he had it back.

In 1925 when a steamboat accident killed his well-trained dogs, Ed, with green and unfamiliar dogs, accidentally drove through a creek that had overflowed—thick layers of ice had pushed warm flowing water on top of the ice which remained insulated from freezing by protective snow. Being only four miles away from Twenty-two Mile Roadhouse, he felt he could drive that far safely. Unfortunately his toes froze, and they had to be amputated. For the next four years, Northern Commercial Company subcontracted with John Palm of Nation to carry the mail. By this time Ed's oldest son, Horace, took over the route, and Ed contracted with Charlie Mayo, of Rampart to design him two special mail sleds. Horace used the sleds once and his younger brother, Charlie, used them the last three years. [5] In 1938 the Biedermans lost the mail contract to pilots with airplanes.

Ed continued to maintain Biederman Camp until after World War II. He boarded dogs during the summer for miners and trappers who did not want the problems of caring for dogs in the off season. In addition, he caught, smoked, and dried fish for the table as well as for dog food. [6] In 1945 when Ed died at the age of seventy-five, the family moved permanently to Eagle.

Biederman Camp (#77) is associated not only with Ed Biederman but with his sons, Horace and Charlie, and his daughters and sons-in-law who carried on the "Biederman Tradition". The camp has a large house, shed, cache, dog barn, and dog houses. It also has the largest standing fish drying rack on the upper river and the accompanying fish-wheel baskets. The atmosphere reflects one of hard work and permanence, from a terraced garden to a number of hand-made boats to the substantial structures themselves. Although slightly worn by time, the camp represents and illustrates many themes in the history of Yukon-Charley—roadhouses, mail carriers, trapping, fishing, steamer landings, and even a base for miners. No where else on the river are winter and summer activities so graphically felt. Here the 1920's and 1930's can be viewed as if one walked backward through time.

One other major user of the trails were the freighters. Generally these freighters used dog teams and occasionally horses. Like the mail carrier, the freighter preferred the malemutes, dogs native to Alaska, whose strong, short, stocky build favored pulling heavily loaded sleds. Because of the narrow trails, the dogs were most often hitched tandem with padded leather collars and harnesses similar to horses rigs. The leader responded to verbal calls of "gee", "haw", and "whoa". The weight of the load depended upon the condition of the trail, the terrain, and the number of dogs. Mail carriers made twenty-five miles a day with fifty pounds per dog. [7] Freighters, on the other hand, loaded three sleds with 600, 400, and 200 pounds apiece, or about 150 pounds per dog. [8] By using three sleds the load was distributed over twenty-one feet of bearing surface instead of twelve feet. Moreover, the three sleds allowed winding through narrow forest trails and up and down hills. The dog food of both mail carriers and freighters consisted of dried fish, rice or oatmeal, and tallow. Good dog handlers preferred to cook the food to stretch the diet rather than give a single dried fish per dog. [9] Freighters earned seven cents a pound per trip but had to deduct the cost of the dogs, their year-round maintenance, and the sleds. Mail carriers, on the other hand, earned only $125 per month after all costs were deducted. [10]

Arthur Walden spent five years freighting by dog team between Circle and Birch Creek and later between Dawson and Lake Bennett. With a minister for a father and a writer for a mother, Walden was mentally prepared to record his Alaskan adventures. He left for Alaska at the age of twenty-four. Reaching Circle City at its peak in 1896, he preferred to freight supplies to the mines rather than mine for gold. He claimed credit for bringing the news of the Klondike to Circle City. Later he joined the rush and continued his freighting operation from Dawson. He even tried Nome and Kotzebue. Finally in 1901 he climbed on board a steamer for Seattle and home. His Alaskan experiences, however, remained an important part of his life.

To accommodate the winter travellers, roadhouses sprang up. Supplied by steamers during the summer, these roadhouses were often self-sufficient entities. Some doubled as roadhouses but functioned mainly as home base for traplines or mining operations. Others like Woodchopper Creek and Washington Creek roadhouses depended on and catered to the winter traveller. Most roadhouses had several characteristics in common. They often had associated outbuildings—a stable or corral for the dogs, additional bunkhouses, and sheds. Each meal cost two dollars and so did a bunk or, at least a place to throw a bedroll. [11]

Judge James Wickersham immortalized one of the earlier roadhouses, Webber's. [12] The ten-by sixteen-foot cabin and adjacent dog stable typified the general accomodations. But the dirt floor spattered with grease, and the rough-hewn table, bunks, and three-legged stool provided only minimal furnishings. Moreover, the meal could hardly be regarded as typical, "In fact we begrudged our animals the hot pan of rice and bacon we had prepared for them." [13] The landlord prepared his rabbit stew in a large kerosene can that perpetually simmered on top of an ancient Yukon stove. As the guests reduced its contents, more water, rabbit, caribou, bear, or lynx were added. "The odor and steam from this ragout of wild meats permeated the tavern, glazed the half-window with beautiful icy patterns, and filled the two-inch air-hole above the door with frost." [14] Yet other roadhouses won Wickersham's praise—Star, Montauk, Washington Creek, Nation, and Coal Creek. [15] In fact any winter traveller and the few summer walkers enjoyed and appreciated the hospitality furnished by these Alaskan institutions. [16]

At least fourteen roadhouses once existed along the mail trail from Eagle to Circle—Fox (#18), Star (#27), Miller (#29), Montauk (#34), Nation (#52), Washington (#68), Tom King (#76), Biederman (#77), Slaven cabin (#119), Woodchopper (#132), Webber (#133), Thanksgiving (#137), Twenty-six Mile (#138), and Twenty-two Mile (#140). Woodchopper Creek Roadhouse (#132) was among the most elaborate. Today more fabric remains here than any other roadhouse except Slaven Cabin (#119). The roadhouse is a large two-story logbuilding that stands twenty feet high. Its roof is intact but the bottom story has been flooded so often that the floor has been destroyed. The second story, however, is solid and divided into four individual bedrooms with closets, beds, and nightstands. Woodchopper Roadhouse marks the peak of accommodations along the upper Yukon. Wallpaper, rocking chairs, stoves, and brass beds are a far cry from Webber's tavern.

In 1905 Norwegian Roald Amundsen, the first man to negotiate the Northwest Passage, mushed a dog team along the mail trail to telegraph from Fort Egbert his achievement. The tall, gaunt, Arctic scientist had, from the beginning, shown strong determination and faith in his project. Rather than press his claims for appropriations from the Norwegian government, he defrayed most of his own expenses. Outfitting a small but stoutly built walrus sloop, the Gjoa, with a small gas engine and supplies for four years, the crew of eight men set sail on June 1, 1903, to establish the existence of a Northwest Passage and at the same time, verify or redetermine the exact location of the magnetic North Pole. Without resorting to blasting, Amundsen skillfully navigated from Godhaven, Greenland, around Boothia, Canada, where he located exactly the magnetic North Pole, and onto King's Point (near Herschel Island), where the Gjoa wintered in Mackenzie Bay. Several American whaling ships, caught unexpectedly by winter, found themselves locked in ice along with the Gjoa.

Captain William Mogg of the whaler Bonanza offered to outfit an expedition to the nearest telegraph office. Without funds but filled with great eagerness to tell the world of his achievement, Amundsen reluctantly accepted the offer. Although he engaged two Eskimos with two dog teams, Captain Mogg, as commander of the expedition, decreed that sacks of cooked beans rather than the nutritious pemmican provide food for both dogs and men. With the short, fat Captain insisting on being carried by dog team, the trip turned into a nightmare. Down the Herschel River, over 9,000-foot mountains, and down into Fort Yukon, over unbroken trail, and with only beans for food, the two Eskimos and Amundsen found the rations inadequate to replace the drain on their muscles. They grew hungrier and thinner every mile. At Fort Yukon they learned that the telegraph station was at Fort Egbert. Between Fort Yukon and Fort Egbert, Captain Mogg, anxious to reach civilization, arbitrarily decided that all would forgo lunch. Amundsen objected and threatened to leave the dictatorial Captain alone with the dog team while he returned to a roadhouse. Mogg thereupon immediately recanted. Finally, after six weeks, with the temperature at sixty degrees below zero, they arrived at Fort Egbert. [17]

From around the world telegrams swamped Fort Egbert station. Scientists proclaimed Amundsen's expedition as one of the most important scientific achievements of the century. [18] Explorers of three centuries with the resources of wealthy nations had failed to find the Northwest Passage. The world was captivated by the modest, unassuming man: the State Bank of Seattle wired him $500, the Seattle Post-Intelligencer wired him a three-year condensation of Norway's news, and the Norwegian government offered all the aid he might require.

While Amundsen waited for the mail, his three-year voyage, topped by the exhausting dog sled trip, demanded a two-month recuperative period. Finally on February 13, 1906, with medicines for the stranded American whalers, Amundsen left Eagle. The return trip to his ship proved uneventful and considerably easier. When the ice broke up the Gjoa continued its voyage on to San Francisco, where it remained as a monument to a historic exploration.

Despite the value of the mail trail, in 1931 the United States Post Office contracted with pilot C. Harold Gillam to carry the mail by airplane from Cordova to Eagle. [19] Some uproar resulted from people who resided away from settlements with airstrips: how would they be serviced? Furthermore, computations showed that the government spent $275,000 annually on mail contracts. Not only mail carriers expressed concern but all those who benefited from the $275,000—fishermen, drivers, supply towns, and roadhouses. [20] In 1939 the airplane pilots took over all mail contracts for the upper Yukon. [21] Roadhouse owners and mail carriers turned to trapping, mining, freighting, and fishing for a livelihood. Slowly the roadhouses closed up, and the mail trail fell into disrepair. The large number of winter travellers dwindled down to an occasional drifter. Dawson's population showed only seventy-two people and Eagle City elections boasted only twenty-six voters. [22] The hurry-scurry of the Klondike era had slowed to a quiet shuffle.

Wagon roads that helped to settle the west only tangentially touched Yukon-Charley. Very few roads or trails existed in the whole state until 1904 when Congress compelled the United States Commissioners to appoint a road overseer in each district. Congress however, did not appropriate any funds, instead declared that every man in the district must work two days on roads each year or pay a head tax of eight dollars. [23] Although no massive road system developed, smaller road projects did succeed. Trappers, miners, townsmen all worked on various roads such as Fourth of July Creek road, Seventymile trail, Eagle to Fortymile road, and Washington Creek road. They built bridges, cleared trees, brushed out trails, blasted through canyons, and did a minimum amount of grading. [24] The men even took pride in their work, as one remarked, "The work was done well and will stand for years." [25]

The Fourth of July Creek road (#54) began as a trail in 1898 but under the 1904 legislation the trail was improved and widened. The road builders constructed bridges strong enough to hold wagons. Later a private mining company, Yukon Placers, improved the trail even more by widening and grading a road high enough to remain dry throughout the summer. That road is still an impressive road to follow as twenty feet or more was cut from the hillside for the last four miles. Although some underbrush and fallen trees have blocked the road, most of it is still passable.

Meanwhile Eagle and Valdez city councils lobbied strongly for a connecting wagon road. [26] Miners, however, pushed for a shorter connective road with the Fortymile to allow Eagle rather than Dawson to supply the miners in that area. [27] Even a railroad joining the Yukon with the coast still held Eagle's fancy. [28]

Finally in 1905 Congress passed a law providing for a Board of Road Commissioners for Alaska to consist of one officer of the Corps of Engineers and two officers of the Army stationed in Alaska. Their task was to locate, lay out, construct, and maintain wagon roads and pack trails. The Commissioner in charge was none other than Major Wilds P. Richardson, Fort Egbert's co-founder. [29] Although he initiated funds for a survey of the Eagle to Fortymile road, the wagon road from Valdez to Fairbanks (Eagle was once again eclipsed) consumed most of his energies and funds. Until 1917 Richardson's work dominated road construction. During World War I, however, road construction stagnated. A shortage of labor, expertise and funds resulted in Richardson's handiwork falling into disrepair. But after 1920 Congress allotted greater appropriations while the World War developed new methods of road building. Technology and power-driven machinery replaced the pick and shovel construction work. [30]

Alaskan road construction demanded time, money, and labor. After the road was located, timber cut, stumps grubbed out, moss and vegetation removed, drainage ditches dug, and grading completed, it required three years for the subsoil to thaw the ground water and for the subsoil to reach a stage of equilibrium. [31] Next came the corduroy process using scrub timber to support the road bed and the gravel. In 1929, at long last, Alaskans had their wagon road from the coast to the Yukon—not from Valdez to Eagle but from Valdez to Circle. [32] By 1950, the Alaska Road Commission had completed the road from Eagle to Fortymile mining district. [33] So road construction did affect those living within the Yukon-Charley area.

The transportation frontier differed in part from the trans-Mississippi West. Early movement followed the rivers using rafts, scows, canoes, poling boats, or sternwheelers. Settlers along the rivers confronted the problem that more than half the year these rivers were frozen. From this dilemma arose a network of trails that connected winter settlements. Roadhouses and way stations accommodated these hardy travellers—never so large in number as the summer influx. This system of trails contrasted greatly with western trails primarily in the Alaskan use of dog teams instead of horses for freighting and carrying the mail. Although the Alaska Railroad terminated hundreds of miles from the Yukon-Charley area, it affected the area immensely. Greater quantities of supplies were available more quickly and cheaply, allowing opportunity for greater development. But the improved transportation provided avenues to escape the demanding Yukon. Other areas lured miners, trappers, and townspeople. Eventually the river could no longer afford the luxury of steamboats. Steel tugboats replaced the wooden sternwheelers just as airplanes replaced dog teams. Technology brought radical change as it did across the nation. Only nostalgia remained to feed on memories of the glorious "good old days".