Part 4

[Footnote N4: Report on the population, etc., of Alaska.]

Our party, I regret to say, is responsible for the name “Ooglaamie” or “Uglaamie,” which has appeared on many maps since our return. Strictly speaking this name should be used only as the official name of the United States signal station. It arose from a misunderstanding of the name as heard the day after we arrived, and was even adopted by the natives in talking with us. It was not until the second year that we learned the correct form of the word, which has been carefully verified.

The inhabitants of these two villages are so widely separated from their neighbors--the nearest permanent villages are at Point Belcher and Wainwright Inlet, 75 miles southwest, and Demarcation Point, 350 miles east[N5]--and so closely connected with each other by intermarriage and common interests, that they may be considered as a single people. In their hunting and trading expeditions they habitually range from the neighborhood of Refuge Inlet along the coast to Barter Island, going inland to the upper waters of the large rivers which flow northward into the Arctic Ocean east of Point Barrow. Small parties occasionally travel as far as Wainwright Inlet and more rarely to Point Hope, and some times as far as the Mackenzie River. The extent of their wanderings will be treated of more fully in connection with their relations to the other natives of the Northwest. They appear to be unacquainted with the interior except for about 100 miles south of Point Barrow.

[Footnote N5: Capt. E. E. Smith, who in command of a steam whaler penetrated as far east as Return Reef in the summer of 1885, says that the natives told him there was no permanent village west of Herschel Island.]

The coast from Refuge Inlet runs nearly straight in a generally northeast direction to Point Barrow, and consists of steep banks of clay, gravel, and pebbles, in appearance closely resembling glacial drift, bordered by a narrow, steep beach of pebbles and gravel, and broken at intervals by steep gulleys which are the channels of temporary streams running only during the period of melting snow, and by long, narrow, and shallow lagoons, to whose edges the cliffs slope gradually down, sometimes ending in low, steep banks. The mouths of these lagoons are generally rather wide, and closed by a bar of gravel thrown up by the waves during the season of open water. In the spring, the snow and ice on the land melt months before the sea opens and flood the ice on the lagoons, which also melts gradually around the edges until there is a sufficient head of water in the lagoon to break through the bar at the lowest point. This stream soon cuts itself a channel, usually about 20 or 30 yards wide, through which the lagoon is rapidly drained, soon cutting out an open space of greater or less extent in the sea ice. Before the sea opens the lagoon is drained down to its level, and the tide ebbs and flows through the channel, which is usually from knee-deep to waist-deep, so that the lagoon becomes more or less brackish. When the sea gets sufficiently open for waves to break upon the beach, they in a short time bring in enough gravel to close the outlet. The cliffs gradually decrease in height till they reach Cape Smyth, where they are about 25 feet high, and terminate in low knolls sloping down to the banks of the broad lagoon Isûtkwɐ, which is made by the confluence of two narrow, sinuous gulleys, and is only 10 feet deep in the deepest part.

Rising from the beach beyond the mouth of this lagoon is a slight elevation, 12 feet above the sea level, which was anciently the site of a small village, called by the same name as the lagoon. On this elevation was situated the United States signal station of Ooglaamie. Beyond this the land is level with the top of the beach, which is broad and nearly flat, raised into a slight ridge on the outer edge. About half a mile from the station, just at the edge of the beach, is the small lagoon Imérnyɐ, about 200 yards in diameter, and nearly filled up with marsh. From this point the land slopes down to Elson Bay, a shallow body of water inclosed by the sandspit which forms Point Barrow. This is a continuation of the line of the beach, varying in breadth from 200 to 600 yards and running northeast for 5 miles, then turning sharply to the east-southeast and running out in a narrow gravel spit, 2 miles long, which is continued eastward by a chain of narrow, low, sandy islands, which extend as far as Point Tangent. At the angle of the point the land is slightly elevated into irregular turf-covered knolls, on which the village of Nuwŭk is situated. At various points along the beach are heaps of gravel, sometimes 5 or 6 feet in height, which are raised by the ice. Masses of old ice, bearing large quantities of gravel, are pushed up on the beach during severe storms and melt rapidly in the summer, depositing their load of gravel and pebbles in a heap. These masses are often pushed up out of reach of the waves, so that the heaps of gravel are left thenceforth undisturbed.

Between Imernyɐ and Elson Bay (Tă´syûk) is a series of large shallow lagoons, nearly circular and close to the beach, which rises in a regular sea-wall. All have low steep banks on the land side, bordered with a narrow beach. The first of these, I´kpĭlĭñ (“that which has high banks”), breaks out in the spring through a narrow channel in the beach in the manner already described, and is salt or brackish. The next is fresh and connected with I´kpĭlĭñ by a small stream running along behind the beach. It is called Sĭ´n-nyû, and receives a rivulet from a small fresh-water lake 3 or 4 miles inland. The third, Imê´kpûñ (“great water”), is also fresh, and has neither tributary nor outlet. The fourth, Imêkpû´niglu, is brackish, and empties into Elson Bay by a small stream. Between this stream and the beach is a little fresh-water pond close to the bend of Elson Bay, which is called Kĭkyûktă´ktoro, from one or two little islands (kĭkyû´ktɐ) near one end of it.

Back from the shore the land is but slightly elevated, and is marshy and interspersed with many small lakes and ponds, sometimes connected by inconsiderable streams. This marsh passes gradually into a somewhat higher and drier rolling plain, stretching back inland from the cliffs and growing gradually higher to the south. Dr. Simpson, on the authority of the Point Barrow natives, describes the country as “uniformly low, and full of small lakes or pools of fresh water to a distance of about 50 miles from the north shore, where the surface becomes undulating and hilly, and, farther south, mountainous.”[N6] This description has been substantially verified by Lieut. Ray’s explorations. South of the usual deer-hunting ground of the natives he found the land decidedly broken and hilly, and rising gradually to a considerable range of mountains, running approximately east and west, which could be seen from the farthest point he reached.[N7]

[Footnote N6: Arctic papers, p. 233.]

[Footnote N7: Report U.S. International Polar Expedition to Point Barrow, p. 28.]

The natives also speak of high rocky land “a long way off to the east,” which some of them have visited for the purpose of hunting the mountain sheep. The low rolling plain in the immediate vicinity of Point Barrow, which is all of the country that could be visited by our party when the land was clear of snow, presents the general appearance of a country overspread with glacial drift. The landscape is strikingly like the rolling drift hills of Cape Cod, and this resemblance is increased by the absence of trees and the occurrence of ponds in all the depressions. There are no rocks in situ visible in this region, and large bowlders are absent, while pebbles larger than the fist are rare. The surface of the ground is covered with a thin soil, supporting a rather sparse vegetation of grass, flowering plants, creeping willows, and mosses, which is thicker on the higher hillsides and forms a layer of turf about a foot thick. Large tracts of comparatively level ground are almost bare of grass, and consist of irregular hummocks of black, muddy soil, scantily covered with light-colored lichens and full of small pools. The lowlands, especially those back of the beach lagoons, are marshes, thickly covered with grass and sphagnum. The whole surface of the land is exceedingly wet in summer, except the higher knolls and hillsides, and for about 100 yards back from the edge of the cliffs. The thawing, however, extends down only about a foot or eighteen inches. Beyond this depth the ground is perpetually frozen for an unknown distance. There are no streams of any importance in the immediate neighborhood of Point Barrow. On the other hand, three of the rivers emptying into the Arctic Ocean between Point Barrow and the Colville, which Dr. Simpson speaks of as “small and hardly known except to persons who have visited them,”[N8] have been found to be considerable streams. Two of these were visited by Lieut. Ray in his exploring trips in 1882 and 1883. The first, Kua´ru, is reached after traveling about 50 miles from Point Barrow in a southerly direction. It has been traced only for a small part of its course, and there is reason to believe, from what the natives say, that it is a tributary of the second named river. Lieut. Ray visited the upper part of the second river, Kulugrua (named by him “Meade River”), in March, 1882, when he went out to join the native deer hunters encamped on its banks, just on the edge of the hilly country. On his return he visited what the natives assured him was the mouth of this river, and obtained observations for its geographical position. Early in April, 1883, he again visited the upper portion of the stream, and traced it back some distance into the hilly country. The intermediate portion has never been surveyed. At the time of each of his visits the river was, of course, frozen and the ground covered with snow, but he was able to see that the river was of considerable size, upwards of 200 yards wide where he first reached it, about 60 miles from its mouth, and showing evidences of a large volume of water in the spring. It receives several tributaries. (See maps, Pls. I and II.)

[Footnote N8: Op. cit., p. 235.]

The third river is known only by hearsay from the natives. It is called Ĭ´kpĭkpûñ (Great Cliff), and is about 40 miles (estimated from day’s journeys) east of Kulu´grua. It is described as being a larger and more rapid stream than the other two, and so deep that it does not freeze down to the bottom on the shallow bars, as they say Kulu´grua does. Not far from its mouth it is said to receive a tributary from the east flowing out of a great lake of fresh water, called Tă´syûkpûñ (Great Lake.) This lake is separated from the sea by a comparatively narrow strip of land, and is so large that a man standing on the northern shore can not see the “very high” land on the southern. It takes an umiak a day to travel the length of the lake under sail with a fair wind, and when the Nunatañmiun coming from the south first saw the lake they said “Taxaio!” (the sea).

On Capt. Maguire’s map[N9] this lake is laid down by the name “Taso´kpoh” “from native report.” It is represented as lying between Smith Bay and Harrison Bay, and connected with each by a stream. Maguire seems to have heard nothing of Ikpikpûñ. This lake is not mentioned in the body of the report. Dr. Simpson, however,[N10] speaks of it in the following words: “They [i.e., the trading parties when they reach Smith Bay] enter a river which conducts them to a lake, or rather series of lakes, and descend another stream which joins the sea in Harrison Bay.” They are well acquainted with the Colville River, which in their intercourse with us they usually called “the river at Nĭ´galĕk,” Nĭ´galĕk being the well known name of the trading camp at the mouth. It was also sometimes spoken of as the “river of the Nunatañmiun.” The Mackenzie River is known as “Kupûñ” (great river). We found them also acquainted with the large unexplored river called “Kok” on the maps, which flows into Wainwright Inlet. They called it “Ku” (the river). The river “Cogrua,” which is laid down on the charts as emptying into Peard Bay, was never mentioned by the Point Barrow natives, but we were informed by Capt. Gifford, of the whaler _Daniel Webster_, who traveled along the coast from Point Barrow to Cape Lisburne after the loss of his vessel in 1881, that it is quite a considerable stream. He had to ascend it for about a day’s journey--20 miles, according to Capt. Hooper[N11]--before he found it shallow enough to ford.

[Footnote N9: Parl. Rop., 1854, vol. 42, opp. p. 186.]

[Footnote N10: Op. cit., p. 265.]

[Footnote N11: Corwin Report, p. 72.]

CLIMATE.

The climate of this region is thoroughly arctic in character, the mean annual temperature being 8° F., ranging from 65° to -52° F. Such temperatures as the last mentioned are, however, rare, the ordinary winter temperature being between -20° and -30° F., rarely rising during December, January, February, and March as high as zero, and still more rarely passing beyond it. The winter merges insensibly by slow degrees into summer, with occasional “cold snaps,” and frosty nights begin again by the 1st of September.

The sun is entirely below the horizon at Point Barrow for 72 days in the winter, beginning November 15, though visible by refraction a day or two later at the beginning of this period and a day or two earlier at the end. The midday darkness is never complete even at the winter solstice, as the sun is such a short distance below the horizon, but the time suitable for outdoor employments is limited to a short twilight from 9 a.m. to 3 p.m. There is, of course, an equal time in the summer when the sun is continually above the horizon, and for about a month before and after this period the twilight is so bright all night that no stars are visible.

The snowfall during the winter is comparatively small. There is probably not more than a foot of snow on a level anywhere on the land, though it is extremely difficult to measure or estimate, as it is so fine and dry that it is easily moved by the wind and is constantly in motion, forming deep, heavy, hard drifts under all the banks, while many exposed places, especially the top of the sand beach, are swept entirely clean. The snow begins to soften and melt about the first week in April, but goes off very slowly, so that the ground is not wholly bare before the middle or end of June. The grass, however, begins to turn green early in June, and a few flowers are seen in blossom as early as June 7 or 8.

Rain begins to fall as early as April, but cold, snowy days are not uncommon later than that date. There is a good deal of clear, calm weather during the winter, and extremely low temperatures are seldom accompanied by high wind. Violent storms are not uncommon, however, especially in November, during the latter part of January, and in February. One gale from the south and southwest, which occurred January 22, 1882, reached a velocity of 100 miles an hour. The most agreeable season of the year is between the middle of May and the end of July, when the sea opens. After this there is much foggy and cloudy weather.

Fresh-water ponds begin to freeze about the last week in September, and by the first or second week in October everything is sufficiently frozen for the natives to travel with sledges to fish through the ice of the inland rivers. Melting begins with the thawing of the snow, but the larger ponds are not clear of ice till the middle or end of July. The sea in most seasons is permanently closed by freezing and the moving in of heavy ice fields from about the middle of October to the end of July. The heavy ice in ordinary seasons does not move very far from the shore, while the sea is more or less encumbered with floating masses all summer. These usually ground on a bar which runs from the Seahorse Islands along the shore parallel to it and about 1,000 yards distant, forming a “barrier” or “land-floe” of high, broken hummocks, inshore of which the sea freezes over smooth and undisturbed by the pressure of the outer pack.

Sometimes, however, the heavy pack, under the pressure of violent and long-continued westerly winds, pushes across the bar and is forced up on the beach. The ice sometimes comes in with great rapidity. The natives informed us that a year or two before the station was established the heavy ice came in against the village cliffs, tearing away part of the bank and destroying a house on the edge of the cliff so suddenly that one of the inmates, a large, stout man, was unable to escape through the trap-door and was crushed to death. Outside of the land-floe the ice is a broken pack, consisting of hummocks of fragmentary old and new ice, interspersed with comparatively level fields of the former. During the early part of the winter this pack is most of the time in motion, sometimes moving northeastward with the prevailing current and grinding along the edge of the barrier, sometimes moving off to sea before an offshore wind, leaving “leads” of open water, which in calm weather are immediately covered with new ice (at the rate of 6 inches in 24 hours), and again coming in with greater or less violence against the edges of this new ice, crushing and crumpling it up against the barrier. Portions of the land-floe even float off and move away with the pack at this season.

The westerly gales of the later winter, however, bring in great quantities of ice, which, pressing against the land-floe, are pushed up into hummocks and ground firmly in deeper water, thus increasing the breadth of the fixed land-floe until the line of separation between the land-floe and the moving pack is 4 or 5 or sometimes even 8 miles from land. The hummocks of the land-floe show a tendency to arrange themselves in lines parallel to the shore, and if the pressure has not been too great there are often fields of ice of the season not over 4 feet thick between the ranges of hummocks, as was the case in the winter of 1881-’82. In the following year, however, the pressure was so great that there were no such fields, and even the level ice inside of the barrier was crushed into hummocks in many places.

After the gales are over there is generally less motion in the pack, until about the middle of April, when easterly winds usually cause leads to open at the edge of the land-floe. These leads now continue to open and shut, varying in size with the direction and force of the wind. As the season advances, especially in July, the melting of the ice on the surface loosens portions of the land-floe, which float off and join the pack, bringing the leads nearer to the shore. In the meantime the level shore ice has been cut away from the beach by the warm water running down from the land and has grown “rotten” and full of holes from the heat of the sun. By the time the outside ice has moved away so as to leave only the floes grounded on the bar the inside ice breaks up into loose masses, moving up and down with wind and current and ready to move off through the first break in the barrier. Portions of the remaining barrier gradually break off and at last the whole finally floats and moves out with the pack, sometimes, as in 1881--a very remarkable season--moving out of sight from the land.

This final departure of the ice may take place at any time between the middle of July and the middle of August. East of Point Barrow we had opportunities only for hasty and superficial observations of the state of the ice. The land floe appears to form some distance outside of the sandy islands, and from the account of the natives there is much open water along shore early in the season, caused by the breaking up of the rivers. Dr. Simpson[N12] learned from the natives that the trading parties which left the Point about the 1st of July found open water at Dease Inlet. This is more definite information than we were able to obtain. We only learned that they counted on finding open water a few days’ journey east.

[Footnote N12: Op. cit., p. 264.]

THE PEOPLE.

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS.

In stature these people are of a medium height, robust and muscular, “inclining rather to spareness than corpulence,”[N13] though the fullness of the face and the thick fur clothing often gives the impression of the latter. There is, however, considerable individual variation among them in this respect. The women are as a rule shorter than the men, occasionally almost dwarfish, though some women are taller than many of the men. The tallest man observed measured 5 feet 9½ inches, and the shortest 4 feet 11 inches. The tallest woman was 5 feet 3 inches in height, and the shortest 4 feet ½ inch. The heaviest man weighed 204 pounds and the lightest 126 pounds. One woman weighed 192 pounds and the shortest woman was also the lightest, weighing only 100 pounds.[N14] The hands and feet are small and well shaped, though the former soon become distorted and roughened by work. We did not observe the peculiar breadth of hands noticed by Dr. Simpson, nor is the shortness of the thumb which he mentions sufficient to attract attention.[N15] Their feet are so small that only one of our party, who is much below the ordinary size, was able to wear the boots made by the natives for themselves. Small and delicate hands and feet appear to be a universal characteristic of the Eskimo race and have been mentioned by most observers from Greenland to Alaska.[N16]

[Footnote N13: Simpson, op. cit., p. 238.]

[Footnote N14: See Report of Point Barrow Expedition, p. 50, for a table of measurements of a number of individuals selected at random from the natives of both villages and their visitors.]

[Footnote N15: Op. cit., p. 238.]

[Footnote N16: Davis (1586) speaks of the “small, slender hands and feet” of the Greenlanders. Hakluyt’s Voyages, etc. (1589), p. 782.

“Their hands and feet are little and soft.” Crantz, vol. 1, p. 133 (Greenland).

Hands and feet “extremely diminutive,” Parry 1st Voy., p. 282 (Baffin Land).

“Their hands and feet are small and well formed.” Kumlien Contrib., p. 15 (Cumberland Gulf).

“Feet extraordinarily small.” Ellis, Voyage, etc., p. 132 (Hudson Strait).

Franklin (1st Exp., vol. 2, p. 180) mentions the small hands and feet of the two old Eskimo that he met at the Bloody Fall of the Coppermine River.

“. . . boots purchased on the coast were seldom large enough for our people.” Richardson Searching Exp., i, p. 344 (Cape Bathurst).

“Their hands and feet are small.” Petroff, Report, etc., p. 134 (Kuskoquim River).

Chappell (Hudson Bay, pp. 59, 60) has a remarkable theory to account for the smallness of the extremities among the people of Hudson Strait. He believes that “the same intense cold which restricts vegetation to the form of creeping shrubs has also its effect upon the growth of mankind, preventing the extremities from attaining their due proportion”!]

The features of these people have been described by Dr. Simpson,[N17] and are distinctively Eskimo in type, as will be seen by comparing the accompanying portraits (Figs. 1, 2, 3, and 4, from photographs by Lieut. Ray) with the many pictures brought from the eastern Arctic regions by various explorers, some of which might easily pass for portraits of persons of our acquaintance at Point Barrow.[N18]

[Footnote N17: Op. cit., p. 238.]

[Footnote N18: One young man at Point Barrow looks remarkably like the well known “Eskimo Joe,” as I remember him in Boston in the winter of 1862-’63.]