STORIES FROM NORTHERN CANADA AND ALASKA.

Shirley Balinski on Homesteading Alaska

Shirley Balinski commented on one of my posts. “Traveled that road several times, by car, as a kid (mid 1950’s to early 1960’s). We lived homesteading in Alaska. It was an experience! The road was very rough, wild territory, extremely muddy or dusty, swamps to high mountains, mostly gravel or dirt. The “berms” of dirt and logs were still visible along the sides where they had been pushed by the bull dozers.”

Another Alaska “Homesteader”

I love comments, especially the ones that come from someone who knows things I don’t about the North Country. And I responded immediately. Shirley, you should be writing a blog. I, for one, am fascinated by the tough folks who homestead up there. If you have stories, I will share here and on my blog site.

Shirley responded.

“…Yes, as a kid I lead a very interesting life, many experiences!! Some good and some not so good. I guess that is why I always related to Laura Ingalls Wilder’s adventures in her books. Life was similar. A man, our friend and neighbor, wrote a book about his adventures called “Go North Young Man”. His name was Gordon Stoddard. It is still available on Amazon. In this book, he writes about our community, Anchor Point [near Homer on the Kenai Peninsula]. He talks about our neighbors and there are pictures.

We lived in his home when we arrived until we pushed further back onto our homestead. He also gave us our beloved pet dog, Kiska. He does a much better job than I could ever do! I was born in Alaska before it was a state. My mother, ” brought me out” (to lower 48), when I was 3 months old, to see grandparents! So, many stories, of old, original Alaska, when it truly was a frontier. If you ever see Mr. Stoddard’s book, do not look at the pictures and think, ‘it couldn’t have been that rough. These people don’t look too bad.’ Believe me, it was rough.”

Cover of Gordon Stoddard’s Excellent Book

Amazon does, indeed, have Gordon Stoddard’s book, Go North Young Man. He published it in 1957 and in 1961 Pathfinder Books reissued it. I bought and downloaded the eBook, and I’ve just finished reading it. Mr Stoddard makes no claim to be a professional writer, but he’s a very good writer just the same. His memoir fascinated me, and I heartily recommend it to anyone. Most fascinating of all, he writes about Shirley’s family, how he reacted to them and how they came to live in his house. And he writes a lot about Kiska, the dog.

Exquisite Pelts brought Outsiders

Exquisite pelts from various native animals attracted, in the 19^th century, the first outsiders to the subarctic north. Russian fur traders made their way from Western Siberia across the Bering Sea to Sitka, Alaska and points south along the Alaska Panhandle.

Link to another story “A Sailor Named Bering”

From the south the North West Company dispatched traders into Canada. As early as 1805 they had trading posts at Fort Simpson and Fort Good Hope on the Mackenzie River.

From the southeast the long-established Hudson Bay Company explored and mapped and located another string of trading posts. In 1821 the Hudson Bay Company absorbed the North West Company and the new Hudson Bay Company expanded throughout the Mackenzie Valley as far north as Fort McPherson and into the Yukon River Valley.

Exquisite pelts kept the traders coming in a slow but steady stream from all directions.

A trader and several assistants would make their way over the old First Nations trails to build a trading post at a location that offered access for trappers and a way to haul the pelts back to the rest of the world for sale. Trails evolved from the long established trail systems of the First Nations.

As fur traders and explorers led the penetration of the North Country, other people with other objectives soon followed them. Missionaries came to save the souls of the natives. Russian Orthodox in Alaska, Catholic and Anglican in the interior, the missionaries lived at or near the trading posts.

And the trading posts and the traders offered opportunity and ultimately changed the lives of the First Nations. The implements and tools—everything from pots and pans to rifles – that their furs could purchase at the trading posts became part of their life and culture and changed both in the process.

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Carcross with Mt. Nares behind it–peaceful for awhile.

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Viciously Inhospitable

Viciously inhospitable, unique in the world, the remote, austere, breathtakingly beautiful area spanned by the intended route for the Alaska Highway made clear that in the subarctic north nature is a dictator, not a ‘mother’.

Link to another story “The Subarctic North Lay in Wait”

To this day the region is a vast expanse of raw nature with virtually no population. Moose outnumber people and probably always will.

Men had lived in these regions for centuries. Scattered along the length of the proposed highway, they created tiny and tenuous bits of civilization that shaped the environment awaiting the Corps.

The first human inhabitants of the North Country, the people American’s call Indians and Canadian’s call First Nations survived for thousands of years by treading lightly on the land—accepting at the very core of their culture and way of life the absolute dominion of viciously inhospitable nature.

They lived in small family groups, moving constantly to eke subsistence from the environment. They sheltered in huts and teepees made of tanned animal hides and wood, brush or bark that could be taken down, moved and reconstructed easily. Their trails and paths curled like tiny ribbons over the mountains and through the forests.

The migratory patterns of animals and fish determined those of the natives. The spring salmon run found them camped near streams and rivers. Other times of the year found them settled near the paths of migrating moose and caribou.

Ephemeral ribbons of trail through the wilderness reflected constant changes in the environment. Paths over muskeg, permafrost and frozen lakes and streams served only in winter. The rains and thawing temperatures of spring and summer turned the paths into bogs of bottomless mud and muck and melted the ice on the lakes and streams into raging cataracts.

Over millennia small family groups evolved into loosely organized tribes, each with its own language and culture, each dominating a specific area bounded by the limits of their trail systems. Tlingits, for example, lived along the coast in the area that would, one day, include Skagway and Dyea, Alaska. The rugged coastal mountain range separated them from the Inland Tlingits in what would one day be Carcross, Tagish and Teslin, Yukon.

The Tlingits found passages up what would one day be called the Chilkoot, the Chilkat and the White Pass. These passes offered intermittent, occasional passage for travel and trade with the tribe of the interior.

A thorough and more scholarly take on subarctic people

Sad Comment—Marl Brown

A sad comment appeared on one of my posts last night. Aaron OrKaden wrote “Hey folks. Sadly, this great man just passed a few days ago. I’m honored to be one of his grandkids. He will be sadly missed.” The sad comment appeared on the following post about Aron’s grandpa, Marl Brown. Everyone who has driven the Alaska Highway during the past forty years, knows Marl. And they all know the world is a lesser place without him.

In 1957 the Canadian Army stationed Marl Brown on the Alaska Highway; put him to work fixing its new vehicles. But Marl fell in love with the old vehicles scattered along the road, rusted hulks with trees growing through them. The waste bothered him, so he devoted his life to rescuing them. Sixty odd years later you can visit Marl and his collection in his incredible British Columbia museum.

The Road from Ft Nelson

Fifteen years earlier soldiers and civilians, in a wartime emergency, had dug the Alaska Highway out of the mountains of British Columbia. They broke equipment doing that. And they didn’t have the luxury of time to make major repairs. When they couldn’t quickly put a bulldozer, grader, or truck back into service they simply shoved it out of the way and kept going.

Fifteen years later other men on the road saw junk, Marl saw historic treasure. In the 70’s he decided to collect it in a museum in Fort Nelson to share it with those who travelled the Alaska Highway. He founded the Fort Nelson Historical Society and they set about raising money to build a log building. It took time. To the horror of his wife, Marl even auctioned off his locally famous long beard—agreed to let the high bidder shave it.

The museum finally opened in 1987. Since then the town has moved its most historic buildings to the museum site—an Anglican Church, the old post office, a trapper’s cabin and a blacksmith shop. But pride of place goes to the old vehicles. Twenty-one automobiles sit in a car shed—two more than a century old and still running.

The Museum

The Caterpillars and trucks from the Alaska Highway Project scatter among the buildings. The sight of them hammers home the immensity of the epic job they helped do.

The single most important attraction, though, is octogenarian Marl Brown. His Beard grew back snow white to match his shoulder length hair and he walks the site, answering question, charming and entertaining the thousands of visitors who pass through each summer, crossing the Alaska Highway off their Bucket Lists.

And then there’s his unique bicycle…

Following are other comments made on the original post.

Jaime Pacheco says:

June 5, 2020 at 10:05 pm

I spent 15 years in Fort Nelson, and had the privilege of knowing and befriending Marl Brown. He is quite a character. I spent many hours working on a 1920 Willys Overland with him, and since moving away, he is one of few people I miss. If you are planning to travel the Alaska Highway, the Fort Nelson Museum is a must-see. Marl will turn 88 in July, so go see him while you have the opportunity to sit and chat with the most photographed man on the Alaska Highway.

Anonymous says:

June 9, 2020 at 1:57 pm

My 1949 Ford Prefect found a very good home there, as Marl saw it and fell in love and took it home great place to visit.

Anonymous says:

June 10, 2020 at 7:02 pm

Wow, now thats a name I haven’t heard for 30 yrs. Not sure if he still has the log cabin museum, my ex partner helped him with it way back

Anonymous says:

June 21, 2020 at 2:21 pm

I definitely need to try and meet Marl Brown, before it is too late for me or him…!!!

Descending on Dawson Creek

Main Street Dawson Creek, 1942 Signal Corps Photo

Descending on Dawson Creek, British Columbia in the early spring of 1942, the Alaska Highway building soldiers of the United States Army came as a complete and very sudden surprise.

Li nk to another story “Dawson Creek and the North Country”

Trappers Rose Mould and her husband left their cabin one morning to walk their trap lines through the deep woods. Returning home, they discovered that in their absence someone had bulldozed a road through the woods near their cabin.

Rose Wilson was a teacher in her early twenties when the soldiers arrived in her town and military trucks created what was probably the first ever traffic jam on Main Street. Shocked villagers had no idea why they were suddenly inundated with soldiers. Were the Japanese coming?

Mrs. Catherine Edwards, “Aunt Kate”, a respected early settler observed the addition of more than 10,000 military and civilian personnel to the population of her tiny village with equal amazement.

Ann Campbell lived with her husband above Bowe’s and Herron Garage. She glanced out her window one day and spotted a large army truck down on the street. Seventeen soldiers climbed out.

Dawson Creek’s 540 residents had survived the “hungry thirties”. They formed a tight knit community, looking after one another and celebrating heritage events. Dawson Creek had formally become a village in 1936.

Then, in two months beginning that first week in March, a total of three engineering regiments, one topographic company, a pontoon company and a quartermaster detachment detrained at Dawson Creek.

And it didn’t stop there. Within another five weeks that spring, six hundred carloads of PRA men and equipment arrived by rail at Dawson Creek in preparation for their part in the construction of the “the Truck Trail”.

Dawson Creek Today

Steep Ridges—Choosing the Alcan Path

Steep ridges came one after another, one so steep they had to put three dog teams on each sled and haul the three sleds up one at a time. Two survey teams had set out together from the Hudson’s Bay post at Sikanni on the winter trail between Fort St. John and Fort Nelson. Looking for high ground, they found it.

Link to another story “Willis Grafe, Civilian Roadbuilder”

Choosing a path through 1200 miles of wilderness confronted the Alaska Highway builders with one of their toughest problems. Maps existed, inaccurate ones. Local hunters and guides knew how to get from one place to another, but many of their routes only worked when winter froze mud and muskeg solid.

The United States Public Roads Administration (PRA) had civilian reconnaissance crews in the north woods by late March and two of these crews found themselves struggling up to the high ground about halfway between the two settlements. From W. H. Willison’s report on the trip the “rugged, snow covered chain of the Rocky Mountains” lay due west of where they stopped.

The next day, the two crews split—one headed for Fort St. John, the other for Fort Nelson. Willison’s report describes how they travelled. Up at three am they headed out on foot, the mushers would clean up, pack up and head out after them. Since the dog teams travelled much faster than men on foot they would pass them and set up down the trail for lunch. After lunch, the routine repeated, men walking, mushers staying behind to clean up and pack up. The mushers would pass them again and have camp set up for the evening on down the trail.

Musher’s through the ice on this river en route to Fort Nelson

Willison’s crew made Fort Nelson on April 8. Melting snow had stuck to snowshoes and balled up on the dogs’ feet. Two of the mushers had gone through the ice into a frigid river. On the last day, the nearly empty sleds offered room for the walking surveyors so they covered the last thirty miles bouncing over the rough ground.

Fort Nelson Today

Urine and Moccasins

Urine, human urine, cured moccasins made from moose hide. Donald “Smitty” Schmitt didn’t know that when he admired the ones of the feet of guide, Johnny Johns. When Donna Blazor-Bernhardt interviewed Schmitt, an officer in Company D of the 93^rd, about his experience on the Alaska Highway project, he had lots of memories, but the smell of new moccasins stood out.

Link to Anther story “Johnny Johns from Paul Erlam’s Memory”

At Camp Claiborne in Louisiana an adjutant in the 93^rd asked whether he had a wife and a car. He had both. The adjutant answered, “Sell your car and send your wife home, you’re shipping out in two days.” A few weeks later he found himself living in Yukon Territory, sharing with his company commander a square tent with a Sibley stove, a table and two chairs and what belongings they had brought with them.

The soldiers of the 93rd worked between Whitehorse and Teslin Lake and they encountered all the usual problems and obstacles—vehicles stuck in mud, cold temperatures that could leave two inches of frost on the inside wall of the tent. “Once it got to 68 below zero and my shaving mug froze before I finished shaving.”

The road behind them, the men of the 93^rd transferred to the Aleutians where they worked on airfields through the rest of the war.

But in Yukon, Schmitt had the privilege of working with the famous hunting guide from Carcross—Johnny Johns who wore the impressive pair of moccasins. And Johns got his wife to make Schmitt a pair cured, of course, with human urine.

He, “found it prudent to leave them on top of the tent during the day to let them air out.”

Singing and Laughing at Their Work

Singing at their work? Twichell never expected to see and hear that. But he did. Southern Sector commander O’Connor, convinced by his black soldiers’ performance at Sikanni Chief that they could build bridges, gave them more bridges to build, made bridge building something of a specialty for the 95th.

Link to the last story in the series “Five Days to a Bridge”

And the soldiers of the 95^th built bridges. Colonel Twichell reported in a letter to his wife that as the regiment entered an area of ravines the road needed bridges every few miles. “Physically our men are superb, and there are many fine woodmen and carpenters among them. It is a thrilling thing to hear them singing and laughing at their work, felling and hewing heavy timbers and, and shaping them into the job.”

The men took to posting signs at their bridges along with the tonnage they could support. Finally, one company built one that supported a load of 50 tons. In the interest of speed, the Colonel “suggested that..” somewhat lower load limits might prove sufficient.

Major Miles Thompson, one of Twichell’s subordinate commanders, took, every now and then, to concentrating the small complement of heavy equipment available to him on a short stretch of road. His soldiers left it, not pioneer road but finished Highway.

That done, Thompson would have his men place a signpost. “Model Road: Built by 2^nd Battalion, 95^th Engineers.” The soldiers knew that the civilians who followed them, turning the pioneer road into a finished highway, tended to make disparaging remarks about their abilities and the condition of the road they left behind them.

What did the sign really say to the civilians? The soldiers of the 95^th could build road as well as anybody given enough time and equipment.

The men who built the highway

Five Days to a Bridge

Five days, that’s what the Southern Sector commander gave the 95^th to bridge the Sikanni Chief. The soldiers got to work.

Link to last episode in the series “Morale Leads the 95th to Sikanni Chief”

In the surrounding woods, Sgt. Harvey and Pvt. Hickens selected trees—monsters for trestles that would stand up out of the water and support the bridge; long, straight ones for bridging timbers that would run horizontally from trestle to trestle; and an endless number that could be turned into the decking that would span the bridging timbers and provide the roadbed. As fast as Harvey and Hickens could select them, their fellows swarmed to cut them down, lop off limbs and hew them into timbers and planks. And as fast as bridge members emerged from the raw timber, others swarmed to drag them down to the riverbank. Pvt. Dulin remembered his platoon “that trimmed the trees, sawed them and made posts of the bridge. It was a big thing to do.”

The point platoons worked in the water. Anchored to the shore with ropes, they waded, chest deep, icy water surging around them. They built cribs up from the bottom; floated the massive trestles to them and stood them upright; filled the cribs with rocks to stabilize the trestles. The soldiers rotated into and out of the water. Numb and stiff, one group would struggle ashore to warm themselves at roaring fires, while another took their place in the torrent.

When they had trestles in place, the men in the frigid water hoisted bridging timbers to span from trestle to trestle. Then, finally beginning to emerge from the water, they spanned the bridging timbers with decking.

The whole area around the emerging bridge hummed with activity. The men in the woods made music; sang spirituals; kept time with their ringing axes. And the work didn’t stop when the sun went down. At night a line of trucks cast their headlight beams into the darkness to illuminate the site.

Pfc’s Wilmore and Waldrum were bridge carpenters; worked thirty hours at a stretch. Sgt. Price supervised dynamite settings and blasted over twenty cuts into the mountain. Cpl. George Hack built bridge abutments.

And, if the men worked day and night, so did the cooks. They provided warm meals three times a day and midnight snacks of hot coffee and biscuits.

Not five days; not even four days; in just three days the frantic activity ground to a halt. The 95^th had bridged the Sikanni Chief.

Another take after a Replacement Bridge Went In