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June 17. Nenana: This is a small town on the Tanana, mostly railroad buildings, with a hospital; there is one street of stores (three short blocks), most of them now empty. About half a mile off a small Indian settlement about an Episcopalian mission.

Country flat on both sides of the rather large river, except for some hills back of the right shore beyond the railroad bridge, for a short distance. The river flats seem scarcely 3 or 4 feet above water, overgrown with brush and a few scrubby trees, later spruce thickets. Purple flowers (fireweed) strike the eye.

No relics found at Nenana; no information concerning old sites or abandoned villages along the stream.

Physically, the Indians seen at Nenana were submedium brown, good many still full blood, pure Indian type, brachycephalic, faces (nose, etc.), however, of but medium prominence. Moderate to good stature.

They are all fairly "civilized," wear white men's clothing, to which on gala occasions are added bands or collars of beadwork, and speak more or less English. The younger men are evidently good workers.

The distance from Nenana to Tanana is given as about 190 miles by the river.

The government boat Jacobs, on which we shall go down the Tanana, is a moderate-sized, shallow-bottomed stern-wheeler, and, like all such boats on these rivers, will push a heavily laden freight barge before it. There are about a dozen passengers, the boat labor, a trader or two. All kindly, open. A few women—most of both sexes of the Scandinavian type. On barge some horses, a cow, pigs, chickens.

Leave after lunch—very good, generous, and pleasant meal in a local restaurant that would do credit to a large city; only the people are better, more human. Meals $1, the almost universal price in Alaska.

Some quaint expressions: When anyone has been away, especially to the States, they say he was "outside." I am an "outsider;" show it "by my collar." Underdone bacon is "easy." To assent they say "you bet." In a restaurant, to a decent, cheerful girl: "May I have a little hot coffee?" "You bet!" Which bright answer is heard so often that one finishes by being shy to ask.

Dogs, of course, do not pull, but "mush." This is from the Canadian French "marche." Dogs do not understand "go" or "go on," only "mush."

Extensive flats. Below Nenana these flats, plainly recent alluvial, are said to extend up to 60 miles to the left (southwestward) and to 20 miles to the right. As one passes nearer they are seen to range from 3 up to about 8 feet above the level of the river at this stage of water.

Cabins and fishing camps along the river, mostly flimsy structures, with a few tents. Indians in some. The Indians are said by the whites to be pretty lazy, living from day to day; yet they seem industrious enough in their own camps and in their own way.

Storage or caches, little houses on stilts. Dog houses in rows. Curious wheel fish traps, revolving like hay or wheat lifting machines, run by the current. They scoop out the fish and let them fall into a box, from which the fisherman collects them twice a day. It is the laziest fishing that could be devised. The contraption is said to come from the northwest coast, but has become one of the characteristic parts of the scenery along the Tanana and the Yukon. An Indian camp—stacks of cordwood—canoes.

The day is sunny, moderately warm and rather dry—about as a warm, dry, fall day with us. The river shows bars, with caught driftwood; also considerable floating wood. There are seagulls, said to destroy young ducks and geese and water birds' eggs. Shores now wooded, mainly poplar, not large. Farther back and farther down, spruce.

The river averages about 200 to 300 yards but differs much in places and there are numerous side channels (sloughs). It is crooked; many bends. The current is quite marked, stated to run 4 to 6 miles an hour. The water is charged with grayish-brown silt, part from glaciers higher above, part from banks that are being "cut." The banks are entirely silt, no trace of gravel or stone. Indian camps getting very scarce. Boat making good time, but now and then requires careful manipulation, with its big, heavy barge in front. Once driven to shore, but no damage, and after some effort gets away again. No trouble yet from mosquitoes, but there are some horseflies.

Pass a large camp—a Finn married to a squaw, and three or four Indian families—all snug in a clearing of the fresh-looking woods on the bank of the river.

Bend after bend in the stream, and boat has to follow them all, and more, for the current and deeper water are now near this bank and again at the opposite bank.

The water in many places is undermining the bank, exposing frozen strata of silt. The top often falls in without breaking, with trees and all, and it then looks like heavy, ragged mats hanging over the bank, with green trees or bushes dipping into the water, and perhaps a clump of wild roses projecting from the sward. There are many low bushes of wild roses in this country, pink and red kinds, now blooming. Also many small bushes of wild berries—cranberries (low and high), raspberries, dewberries or blueberries.

Meat is imported even to here from Seattle, and carried far down the Yukon. When received they place it in a "cellar" or hole dug down to the frozen ground and place the meat there—a natural and thoroughly efficient refrigerator.

Past Old Minto, a little Indian village, a few little log houses in a row facing the river, with a wheel fish trap in front (pl. 1, a). Later a few Indian houses and a "road house" with a store at Tolovana. Most Indians there (and elsewhere here) died of the "flu" in 1918, the bodies being left and later buried by the Government. A few isolated little Indian camps.

The boat ties to trees along the banks. No docks or anything of that nature. Not many mosquitoes yet, more horseflies, which, however, do not bother man very much.

After reaching Hot Springs (right bank), there is seen a long range of more or less forested, fairly steep-sloped hills along the right bank, coming right down to the water's edge for miles, with bush and forested flats opposite. At the end of one of the ravines with a little stream, right on the bank, remnants of a little glacier melting very slowly in the sun. Strange contrast, ice and green touching. Boat making good time along the hills.

June 18. Hardly any sleep. Sun set after 10 and rose about 2.30, with no more than dusk between. Then heat in the cabin, and above all the noises. The boat stuck five hours on a bar and there were all sorts of jerks and shudders and calls.

Flats again on both sides, but hills beyond, with just one little spot of snow. Will be warm day again.