June 21, 2025 • 15 mins
I have stood before many glaciers.
But none like this. Columbia Glacier—once known as Fremantle—doesn’t just tower. It throbs. It breathes. It sings in silence and then roars like thunder when its cathedral spires crash into the sea. We sailed in slowly, our ship weaving through floating palaces of ice—blue, green, rose-tinted. Long before we saw it, we felt it. Like some vast, unseen life-force calling us forward. And when it finally came into view… A four-mile wall of gleaming ice. Three hundred feet high.
Alive with color—opal, sapphire, lavender, fire. The sun didn’t set that night—it lingered, like a lover reluctant to leave beauty behind. Midnight came, and still the glacier shimmered. We longed to stay. I still long to return—to watch the shifting hues of Northern Light ripple across its face while the hours thunder down in crashing columns of ice. Even the woman who ruined every view on the voyage by chirping, "Oh, George, that mountain looks good enough to eat!"—even she fell silent. That alone was a miracle. Alaska holds many marvels—Port Nell Juan, Passage Canal, Port Wells—but nothing rivals Columbia. Since the destruction of Muir Glacier, it stands alone. It is the crown of ice. And about that Alaskan climate?
Let’s settle the myth: it’s better than Montana. Better than the Dakotas. I've spent golden days sailing its coastlines, basking in sun, sea breeze, and the perfume of snow and wildflowers. No, it’s not the cold—it’s the silence that frightens. The loneliness of winter. The hush of frozen rivers, empty white valleys, dark homes, and darker nights. It is not for the timid heart. But for those who love this land, truly love it—there is no pity.
Only awe. And longing.
But none like this. Columbia Glacier—once known as Fremantle—doesn’t just tower. It throbs. It breathes. It sings in silence and then roars like thunder when its cathedral spires crash into the sea. We sailed in slowly, our ship weaving through floating palaces of ice—blue, green, rose-tinted. Long before we saw it, we felt it. Like some vast, unseen life-force calling us forward. And when it finally came into view… A four-mile wall of gleaming ice. Three hundred feet high.
Alive with color—opal, sapphire, lavender, fire. The sun didn’t set that night—it lingered, like a lover reluctant to leave beauty behind. Midnight came, and still the glacier shimmered. We longed to stay. I still long to return—to watch the shifting hues of Northern Light ripple across its face while the hours thunder down in crashing columns of ice. Even the woman who ruined every view on the voyage by chirping, "Oh, George, that mountain looks good enough to eat!"—even she fell silent. That alone was a miracle. Alaska holds many marvels—Port Nell Juan, Passage Canal, Port Wells—but nothing rivals Columbia. Since the destruction of Muir Glacier, it stands alone. It is the crown of ice. And about that Alaskan climate?
Let’s settle the myth: it’s better than Montana. Better than the Dakotas. I've spent golden days sailing its coastlines, basking in sun, sea breeze, and the perfume of snow and wildflowers. No, it’s not the cold—it’s the silence that frightens. The loneliness of winter. The hush of frozen rivers, empty white valleys, dark homes, and darker nights. It is not for the timid heart. But for those who love this land, truly love it—there is no pity.
Only awe. And longing.
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Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter twenty three. When seen under favorable conditions, the Columbia
Glacier is the most beautiful thing in Alaska. I have
visited it twice, once at sunset and again on en
all day excursion from Valdez. The point on the western
side of the entrance to Puerto de Valdes, as it
(00:20):
was named by Fidalgo, was named Point Fremantle by Vancouver.
Just west of this point, in three miles north of
the Conde or Glacier Island, is the nearly square bay
upon which the glacier fronts. Entering this bay from the
Puerto de Valdez, one is instantly conscious of the presence
(00:41):
of something wonderful and mysterious, long before it can be seen.
This presence is felt like that of a living thing. Quick, vibrant, thrilling,
and inexpressibly sweet. Its breath sweeps out to salute the
voyager and lure him on, and with every sin once alert,
he follows, but with no conception of what he is
(01:03):
to behold. One may have seen glaciers upon glaciers, yet
not be prepared for the splendor and the magnificence of
the one that palisades the northern end of this bay.
The Fremantle Glacier was first seen by Lieutenant Wildby, to
whose cold and unappreciative eyes so many of the most
precious things of Alaska were first revealed. He simply described
(01:28):
it as a solid body of compact, elevated ice, bounded
at no great distance by a continuation of the high
ridge of snowy mountains. He heard thunder like noises, and
found that they had been produced by the breaking off
and headlong plunging into the sea of great bodies of ice.
(01:50):
In such wise was one of the most marvelous things
of the world, first seen and described. The glacier has
a frontage of about four miles, and its gloe uttering
palisades tower upward to a height of from three to
four hundred feet. There is a small island named Heather
in the bay. Pro would be felt the earth shake
(02:11):
at a distance of three miles from the falling ice.
In ordinary light, the front of the glacier is beautifully blue.
It is a blue that is never seen in anything
save a glacier or a floating iceberg. A pale, pale
blue that seems to flash out fire with every movement
(02:31):
at sunset. Its beauty holds one spellbound. It sweeps down
magnificently from the snow peaks which form its fits setting,
and pushes out into the sea in a solid wall
of spired and pinnacled opal which, ever and anon breaking off,
flings over it clouds of color which dazzle the eyes.
(02:52):
At times there is a display of prismatic colors across
the front, grow, fade, and grow again the most beautiful
rainbow shadings. They come and go swiftly and noiselessly, affecting
one somewhat like northern lights, so still, so brilliant, so mysterious.
(03:12):
There was silence upon our ship as it throbbed in
slowly and cautiously among the floating icebergs, some of which
were of palest green, others of that pale blue I
have mentioned, and still others of an enchanting rose color.
Even though woman who had during the whole voyage taken
the finest edge off our enjoyment of every mountain by
(03:35):
drawling out, Oh, how pretty, George, Will you just come
here and look at this pretty mountain? It looks good
enough to even this woman was speechless. Now for which
blessing we gave, thanks to God. Of which we were
not even conscious at the time. It was still fired
(03:56):
as brilliantly upon our departure as upon our entrance into
its presence the June sunset and Alaska draws itself out
to midnight. And ever since I have been tormented with
the longing to lie before that glacier one whole June night,
to hear its falling columns thunder off the hours, and
to watch the changing colors play upon its brilliant front.
(04:20):
Even in the middle of the day. A peculiarly soft
and rich rose color flashes from it and over it.
One who has seen the first snow sifting upon a
late rose of the garden may guess what a delicate,
enchanting rose color it is. There are many fine glaciers
barricading the inlets and bays in this vicinity, in port
(04:41):
Nel Juan Applegate, arm Port Wells, Passage Canal, which leads
to the portage to cook Inlet, and Unaquick Bay, but
they are scarcely to be mentioned in the same breath
with the Fremantle. The latter has been known as the
Columbia since the Harriman expedition in eighteen nine twenty nine.
(05:01):
It has had no rival since the destruction of the mirror.
Either the disagreeable features of the Alaskan climate have been
grossly exaggerated, or I have been exceedingly fortunate in the
three voyages I have made along the coast town Alaska
and down the Yukon to Nome. On one voyage, I
(05:22):
traveled continuously for a month by water, experiencing only three
rainy days and three cloudy ones. All the other days
were clear and golden, with a blue sky, a sparkling sea,
an air that was sweet with sunshine, flowers, and snow.
I have never been in Alaska in winter, but I
(05:44):
have for three years carefully compared the weather reports of
different sections of that country with those of other cold countries,
and no intelligent, thoughtful person can do this without arriving
at conclusions decidedly favorable to Alaska. Where Alaska possessed of
the same degree of civilization that is enjoyed by St. Petersburg, Chicago,
(06:07):
Saint Paul, Minneapolis, and New York, we would hear no
more of the rigors of the Alaskan climate than we
hear of those of the cities mentioned. It is more
agreeable than the climate of Montana, Nebraska or the Dakotas,
with large cities, rich and gay cities, prosperous inhabitants clad
(06:28):
in costly furs, luxurious homes, well warmed and brilliantly lighted,
railway trains, slaves and automobiles for transportation, splendid theaters, libraries,
art galleries. With these, and the hundreds of advantages enjoyed
by the people of other cold countries, Alaska's winters would
(06:49):
hold no terrors. It is the present loneliness of the
winter that appalls. The awful spaces and silences, the limitless
snow plains, the end less chains of snow mountains, the
silent frozen rivers, the ice stated cataracts, the bitter moaning sea,
the hastily built homes lacking luxuries, sometimes even comforts, the
(07:13):
poverty of congenial companionship, the dearth of intelligent amusements. These
be the conditions that make all but the stoutest heart's pause.
But the stout heart, the heart that loves Alaska, pity
him not. Though he spend all the winters of his
life in its snow bound fastnesses, He is not for pity.
(07:36):
Joys are his, of which those that pity him know not.
According to a report prepared by Lieutenant Colonel Glassford of
the United State's Signal Course Service, on February fifth, nineteen
o six, the temperature was twenty six degrees above zero
in Grand Junction, Colorado, and in Salkia, Alaska. Twenty two
(07:58):
degrees in Flagstaff, Arizona, Memphis, Salt Lake, Spokane, and Summit, Alaska.
Fourteen degrees in Cairo, Illinois, Cincinnati, Little Rock, Pittsburgh, and
Della Alaska. Twelve degrees in Santa Fe and in Fort
egbertant Eagle on the Yukon, ten degrees in Helena, Buffalo
(08:19):
and Workman's Alaska. Zero in Denver, Dodge, Kansas, and Fairbanks
in China, Alaska. Five degrees below in Dubuque, Omaha, and
Copper Center in Matanuska, Alaska. Ten degrees below in Huron,
Michigan and in Gacona, Alaska. Fifteen degrees below in Bismarck
(08:42):
Saint Paul and in tananaw Crossing, Alaska. Twenty degrees below
in Fort Brady, Michigan, and in Ketchumstock, Alaska. Copyright by E. A. Heg.
Juno Whitehorse Rapids copyright by E. A. Heg. Juno white
Horse Rapids statistics giving the absolute mean minimum temperature in
(09:04):
the capital cities of the United States, proved that out
of the forty seven cities, thirty one were as cold
or colder than Sica, and four were colder than Valdez.
On the southern coast of Alaska, there are a few
points where zero is recorded, the average winter weather at Juno, Sitka, Valdez,
and seward being milder than in Washington, d c. In
(09:28):
the interior the weather is much colder, but it is
the dry, light cold. At Fairbanks, it is true that
the thermometer has registered sixty degrees below zero, but it
has done the same in the Dakotas and other states,
and is unusual. Severely cold weather occurs in Alaska as
(09:49):
rarely as in other cold countries and remains but a
few days. Alaska has unfortunately had the reputation of having
an unendurable climate thrust upon her, first by such chill
blooded navigators as would be and Vancouver, and later by
the gold seekers who rushed frenziedly into the unsettled wastes
(10:11):
with no preparation for the intense cold, which at times
prevails almost every winter in Wyoming, Nebraska, Montana, and the Dakotas.
Children of the prairies and their teachers freeze to death
going to or from school, and it is accepted as
a matter of course in Alaska, where hundreds of men
(10:33):
traverse hundreds of miles by dogs, sleds, and snow shoes,
with none of the comforts of more civilized countries, and
with road houses few and far. If two or three
in a winter frees to death, the tragedy is wired
to all parts of the world. As another mute testimony
to the tremendously horrible climate of Alaska. The intense heat
(10:57):
of which dozens of people perish every summer in New
York and other Eastern states, is unknown. In Alaska. Cyclones
and cloud bursts are unchronicled. Fatal epidemics of disease among
white people have never yet occurred. As for the summer
climate of Alaska, both along the coast and in the interior,
(11:19):
it is possessed of a charm and fascination which cannot
be described in words. You can just taste the Alaska climate,
said an old Klondiker on a White Pass and Yukon train.
We were standing between cars clinging to the brakes, soudy eyed,
worn out with joy as we neared white Horse, but
(11:39):
standing and looking still, unwilling to lose one moment of
that beautiful trip. It tastes different every hundred miles, he
went on, with that being in his eye, which means
love of Alaska in the heart. You begun to taste
it in Grenville Channel. It tasted different in Skagway, and
(12:00):
there's a big change when you get to white Horse.
I golly at white Horse, You'll think you never tasted
anything like it. But it don't hold the candle there
to the way it tastes going down the Yukon. If
you happen to get into the Arctic Circle, say about
two in the morning, you dress yourself and hike out
(12:21):
on deck, and I darn you can taste more in climate.
You can taste the Arctic Circle itself. Say can you
guess what it tastes like? I could not guess what
the Arctic Circle tasted like, and frankly confessed it. Well,
say weep in sinew It tastes like icicles made out
(12:42):
of them durned little blue flowers you call tooilets. I
pick them out from under the snow once and eat. Mmm.
There was moisture froze all over them, so I know
how they taste. And that's the way the Arctic Circle
tastes with, well, maybe a little rum mixed in the
way they fix things up at the butler down in Seattle.
(13:05):
I darn. Just you remember when you get to the
circle and say straight goods if cyanide Bill ain't right
talking about climate, he resumed as the train hesitated in
passing the Grand Canyon. There's a well out white Horse
that's got the climate of the hull Yukon country in it.
(13:26):
It's about two blocks toward the rapids from White Pass Hotel.
It stands on a vacant lot, about fifty steps from
the sidewalk on your right hand going toward the rapids. Well,
I darn, I've traped over every country on this earth,
and I never tasted such water, not anywheres you see.
(13:49):
It's dug right down into solid ice and the sun
just melts out a little water at a time, and
everything nice an Alaska tastes in that water, ice and
snow on flowers and sun. Do you write poetry, i asked, smiling,
his face lightened. No, but say there's a young fellow,
(14:10):
and white horse that does. He's rode whole book of it.
His name's Robert Servis. Say I'd shoot up anybody that
said his poetry wasn't the real thing. I'm sure it is,
said I hastily. You bet it is. You can hear
(14:30):
the Yukon roar and the eyes break up and go
down the river, standin up on end in chunks twenty
feet high, and carry in everything with it. You can
wade through miles and miles of flowers and gather your
hands full of emmon. Think there's a woman somewhere waitin
for you to take end to her. You can tromp
through tunder and over rocks to your feet bleed. You
(14:52):
can go blind lookin for gold. You can get kissed
by the prettiest girl in a Dawson dance hall and
then get jilted for some you, fellow. You can hear
glaciers grinding up and avalanche is tearing down the mountains.
You can starve to death and freeze to death. You
can strike a gold mine and go home to your
family a millionaire and have them like you again. You
(15:15):
can drink champagne and eat sour dough. You can feel
the heart break up inside of you, and yes, I God,
you can go down on your knees and say your
prayers again like your mother showed you. How you can
do every one of them damned fool things when you're
reading that Service Fellows poetry. So that's why I'm ready
(15:36):
to shoot up anybody that says or intimates that his
poetry ain't the genuine article.
Chapter twenty three. When seen under favorable conditions, the Columbia
Glacier is the most beautiful thing in Alaska. I have
visited it twice, once at sunset and again on en
all day excursion from Valdez. The point on the western
side of the entrance to Puerto de Valdes, as it
(00:20):
was named by Fidalgo, was named Point Fremantle by Vancouver.
Just west of this point, in three miles north of
the Conde or Glacier Island, is the nearly square bay
upon which the glacier fronts. Entering this bay from the
Puerto de Valdez, one is instantly conscious of the presence
(00:41):
of something wonderful and mysterious, long before it can be seen.
This presence is felt like that of a living thing. Quick, vibrant, thrilling,
and inexpressibly sweet. Its breath sweeps out to salute the
voyager and lure him on, and with every sin once alert,
he follows, but with no conception of what he is
(01:03):
to behold. One may have seen glaciers upon glaciers, yet
not be prepared for the splendor and the magnificence of
the one that palisades the northern end of this bay.
The Fremantle Glacier was first seen by Lieutenant Wildby, to
whose cold and unappreciative eyes so many of the most
precious things of Alaska were first revealed. He simply described
(01:28):
it as a solid body of compact, elevated ice, bounded
at no great distance by a continuation of the high
ridge of snowy mountains. He heard thunder like noises, and
found that they had been produced by the breaking off
and headlong plunging into the sea of great bodies of ice.
(01:50):
In such wise was one of the most marvelous things
of the world, first seen and described. The glacier has
a frontage of about four miles, and its gloe uttering
palisades tower upward to a height of from three to
four hundred feet. There is a small island named Heather
in the bay. Pro would be felt the earth shake
(02:11):
at a distance of three miles from the falling ice.
In ordinary light, the front of the glacier is beautifully blue.
It is a blue that is never seen in anything
save a glacier or a floating iceberg. A pale, pale
blue that seems to flash out fire with every movement
(02:31):
at sunset. Its beauty holds one spellbound. It sweeps down
magnificently from the snow peaks which form its fits setting,
and pushes out into the sea in a solid wall
of spired and pinnacled opal which, ever and anon breaking off,
flings over it clouds of color which dazzle the eyes.
(02:52):
At times there is a display of prismatic colors across
the front, grow, fade, and grow again the most beautiful
rainbow shadings. They come and go swiftly and noiselessly, affecting
one somewhat like northern lights, so still, so brilliant, so mysterious.
(03:12):
There was silence upon our ship as it throbbed in
slowly and cautiously among the floating icebergs, some of which
were of palest green, others of that pale blue I
have mentioned, and still others of an enchanting rose color.
Even though woman who had during the whole voyage taken
the finest edge off our enjoyment of every mountain by
(03:35):
drawling out, Oh, how pretty, George, Will you just come
here and look at this pretty mountain? It looks good
enough to even this woman was speechless. Now for which
blessing we gave, thanks to God. Of which we were
not even conscious at the time. It was still fired
(03:56):
as brilliantly upon our departure as upon our entrance into
its presence the June sunset and Alaska draws itself out
to midnight. And ever since I have been tormented with
the longing to lie before that glacier one whole June night,
to hear its falling columns thunder off the hours, and
to watch the changing colors play upon its brilliant front.
(04:20):
Even in the middle of the day. A peculiarly soft
and rich rose color flashes from it and over it.
One who has seen the first snow sifting upon a
late rose of the garden may guess what a delicate,
enchanting rose color it is. There are many fine glaciers
barricading the inlets and bays in this vicinity, in port
(04:41):
Nel Juan Applegate, arm Port Wells, Passage Canal, which leads
to the portage to cook Inlet, and Unaquick Bay, but
they are scarcely to be mentioned in the same breath
with the Fremantle. The latter has been known as the
Columbia since the Harriman expedition in eighteen nine twenty nine.
(05:01):
It has had no rival since the destruction of the mirror.
Either the disagreeable features of the Alaskan climate have been
grossly exaggerated, or I have been exceedingly fortunate in the
three voyages I have made along the coast town Alaska
and down the Yukon to Nome. On one voyage, I
(05:22):
traveled continuously for a month by water, experiencing only three
rainy days and three cloudy ones. All the other days
were clear and golden, with a blue sky, a sparkling sea,
an air that was sweet with sunshine, flowers, and snow.
I have never been in Alaska in winter, but I
(05:44):
have for three years carefully compared the weather reports of
different sections of that country with those of other cold countries,
and no intelligent, thoughtful person can do this without arriving
at conclusions decidedly favorable to Alaska. Where Alaska possessed of
the same degree of civilization that is enjoyed by St. Petersburg, Chicago,
(06:07):
Saint Paul, Minneapolis, and New York, we would hear no
more of the rigors of the Alaskan climate than we
hear of those of the cities mentioned. It is more
agreeable than the climate of Montana, Nebraska or the Dakotas,
with large cities, rich and gay cities, prosperous inhabitants clad
(06:28):
in costly furs, luxurious homes, well warmed and brilliantly lighted,
railway trains, slaves and automobiles for transportation, splendid theaters, libraries,
art galleries. With these, and the hundreds of advantages enjoyed
by the people of other cold countries, Alaska's winters would
(06:49):
hold no terrors. It is the present loneliness of the
winter that appalls. The awful spaces and silences, the limitless
snow plains, the end less chains of snow mountains, the
silent frozen rivers, the ice stated cataracts, the bitter moaning sea,
the hastily built homes lacking luxuries, sometimes even comforts, the
(07:13):
poverty of congenial companionship, the dearth of intelligent amusements. These
be the conditions that make all but the stoutest heart's pause.
But the stout heart, the heart that loves Alaska, pity
him not. Though he spend all the winters of his
life in its snow bound fastnesses, He is not for pity.
(07:36):
Joys are his, of which those that pity him know not.
According to a report prepared by Lieutenant Colonel Glassford of
the United State's Signal Course Service, on February fifth, nineteen
o six, the temperature was twenty six degrees above zero
in Grand Junction, Colorado, and in Salkia, Alaska. Twenty two
(07:58):
degrees in Flagstaff, Arizona, Memphis, Salt Lake, Spokane, and Summit, Alaska.
Fourteen degrees in Cairo, Illinois, Cincinnati, Little Rock, Pittsburgh, and
Della Alaska. Twelve degrees in Santa Fe and in Fort
egbertant Eagle on the Yukon, ten degrees in Helena, Buffalo
(08:19):
and Workman's Alaska. Zero in Denver, Dodge, Kansas, and Fairbanks
in China, Alaska. Five degrees below in Dubuque, Omaha, and
Copper Center in Matanuska, Alaska. Ten degrees below in Huron,
Michigan and in Gacona, Alaska. Fifteen degrees below in Bismarck
(08:42):
Saint Paul and in tananaw Crossing, Alaska. Twenty degrees below
in Fort Brady, Michigan, and in Ketchumstock, Alaska. Copyright by E. A. Heg.
Juno Whitehorse Rapids copyright by E. A. Heg. Juno white
Horse Rapids statistics giving the absolute mean minimum temperature in
(09:04):
the capital cities of the United States, proved that out
of the forty seven cities, thirty one were as cold
or colder than Sica, and four were colder than Valdez.
On the southern coast of Alaska, there are a few
points where zero is recorded, the average winter weather at Juno, Sitka, Valdez,
and seward being milder than in Washington, d c. In
(09:28):
the interior the weather is much colder, but it is
the dry, light cold. At Fairbanks, it is true that
the thermometer has registered sixty degrees below zero, but it
has done the same in the Dakotas and other states,
and is unusual. Severely cold weather occurs in Alaska as
(09:49):
rarely as in other cold countries and remains but a
few days. Alaska has unfortunately had the reputation of having
an unendurable climate thrust upon her, first by such chill
blooded navigators as would be and Vancouver, and later by
the gold seekers who rushed frenziedly into the unsettled wastes
(10:11):
with no preparation for the intense cold, which at times
prevails almost every winter in Wyoming, Nebraska, Montana, and the Dakotas.
Children of the prairies and their teachers freeze to death
going to or from school, and it is accepted as
a matter of course in Alaska, where hundreds of men
(10:33):
traverse hundreds of miles by dogs, sleds, and snow shoes,
with none of the comforts of more civilized countries, and
with road houses few and far. If two or three
in a winter frees to death, the tragedy is wired
to all parts of the world. As another mute testimony
to the tremendously horrible climate of Alaska. The intense heat
(10:57):
of which dozens of people perish every summer in New
York and other Eastern states, is unknown. In Alaska. Cyclones
and cloud bursts are unchronicled. Fatal epidemics of disease among
white people have never yet occurred. As for the summer
climate of Alaska, both along the coast and in the interior,
(11:19):
it is possessed of a charm and fascination which cannot
be described in words. You can just taste the Alaska climate,
said an old Klondiker on a White Pass and Yukon train.
We were standing between cars clinging to the brakes, soudy eyed,
worn out with joy as we neared white Horse, but
(11:39):
standing and looking still, unwilling to lose one moment of
that beautiful trip. It tastes different every hundred miles, he
went on, with that being in his eye, which means
love of Alaska in the heart. You begun to taste
it in Grenville Channel. It tasted different in Skagway, and
(12:00):
there's a big change when you get to white Horse.
I golly at white Horse, You'll think you never tasted
anything like it. But it don't hold the candle there
to the way it tastes going down the Yukon. If
you happen to get into the Arctic Circle, say about
two in the morning, you dress yourself and hike out
(12:21):
on deck, and I darn you can taste more in climate.
You can taste the Arctic Circle itself. Say can you
guess what it tastes like? I could not guess what
the Arctic Circle tasted like, and frankly confessed it. Well,
say weep in sinew It tastes like icicles made out
(12:42):
of them durned little blue flowers you call tooilets. I
pick them out from under the snow once and eat. Mmm.
There was moisture froze all over them, so I know
how they taste. And that's the way the Arctic Circle
tastes with, well, maybe a little rum mixed in the
way they fix things up at the butler down in Seattle.
(13:05):
I darn. Just you remember when you get to the
circle and say straight goods if cyanide Bill ain't right
talking about climate, he resumed as the train hesitated in
passing the Grand Canyon. There's a well out white Horse
that's got the climate of the hull Yukon country in it.
(13:26):
It's about two blocks toward the rapids from White Pass Hotel.
It stands on a vacant lot, about fifty steps from
the sidewalk on your right hand going toward the rapids. Well,
I darn, I've traped over every country on this earth,
and I never tasted such water, not anywheres you see.
(13:49):
It's dug right down into solid ice and the sun
just melts out a little water at a time, and
everything nice an Alaska tastes in that water, ice and
snow on flowers and sun. Do you write poetry, i asked, smiling,
his face lightened. No, but say there's a young fellow,
(14:10):
and white horse that does. He's rode whole book of it.
His name's Robert Servis. Say I'd shoot up anybody that
said his poetry wasn't the real thing. I'm sure it is,
said I hastily. You bet it is. You can hear
(14:30):
the Yukon roar and the eyes break up and go
down the river, standin up on end in chunks twenty
feet high, and carry in everything with it. You can
wade through miles and miles of flowers and gather your
hands full of emmon. Think there's a woman somewhere waitin
for you to take end to her. You can tromp
through tunder and over rocks to your feet bleed. You
(14:52):
can go blind lookin for gold. You can get kissed
by the prettiest girl in a Dawson dance hall and
then get jilted for some you, fellow. You can hear
glaciers grinding up and avalanche is tearing down the mountains.
You can starve to death and freeze to death. You
can strike a gold mine and go home to your
family a millionaire and have them like you again. You
(15:15):
can drink champagne and eat sour dough. You can feel
the heart break up inside of you, and yes, I God,
you can go down on your knees and say your
prayers again like your mother showed you. How you can
do every one of them damned fool things when you're
reading that Service Fellows poetry. So that's why I'm ready
(15:36):
to shoot up anybody that says or intimates that his
poetry ain't the genuine article.
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