The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1897-08-04
ALASKA
Along the Coast 1t Is Rather Agree
able for Most of the Year.
John Muir, in the Century

John Muir, in the Century.
The climate of all that portion of the
coast that IS bathed by the Japan current,
extending from the southern boundary OF
the territory northward and westward 20
the island of Atoo. a distance of nearly
twenty-five hundred miles, Is remarkably
bland. and free from extreme heat and
cold throughout the year. 1t is rainy, how
ever; but the rain is of good quality, gen.
tie in it's fall. filling the fountains of the
streams, and keeping the whole land fresh
and fruitful, while anything more delight
ful than the shining weather after the rain
the great, round sundays OF June, July
and August-can hardly be found else
where. An Alaskan midsummer day is a
day without night. In the extreme north
ern portion of the territory the sun does
not set for weeks, and even as far south
as Sitka and Fort Wrangel it sinks only
a few degrees below the horizon, so that
the rosy colors of the evening blend with
those OF the morning, leaving no gap of
darkness between. Nevertheless, the full
day opens slowly. AT midnight. from the
the dawn, a low arc of light is seen steal
ing along the horizon, with gradual in
crease OF height and span and intensity Of
tone, accompanied usually by red clouds,
which make a. striking advertisement of
the suns progress long before he appears
above the mountain tops.
For several hours after sunrise every
thing in the landscape seems duh and un-
communicative. The clouds fade, the ISL
andS and the mountains, with rufus of mist
about them, cast ill-detined shadows, and
the whole armament changes TO pale pearl
gray with just a trace of purple in 1t.
But toward noon there is a glorious aWak-
ening. The cool haziness of the air van
ishes, and the richer sunbeams. pouring
from on high, make all the bays and chan
topped ripples about the edges of the ISL
ands, and over many a plume-shaped
streak between them, where the water is
stirred by some passing breeze. D
On the mountains of the mainland. and
in the h~igh-walled iords that fringe the
coast, still finer is the work of the sum
chino Tho broad u-hito hnGnToC of tho
glaciers glow like silver, and their crystal
fronts, and the multitude of icebergs that
linger about them. drifting, sWirling, turn
ing their myriad angles TO the sun, are
kindled into a perfect blaze of irised light;
The warm air throbs and waivers. and
makes itself felt as a life-giYing, energiZing
ocean embracing all the earth. Filled with
ozone, our pulses bound, and we are warm
ed and quickened into sympathy with every
thing, taken back into the heart of nature,
whence we came. We feel the life and mo-
ton about us, and the universal beauty;
the the tides tides marching back a%i5s and fba fo 6eau Ti{h
shores. and swaying the purple dulse of
the broad meadows of the sea where the
fishes are fed; the wild streams in rows
white with waterfalls, ever in bloom and
ever in song, spreading their branches over
a thousand mountains; the vast forests
cell in a whirl of enjoyment; misty Hooks
of insects stirring all the air; the wild
sheep and goats on the grassy ridges above
the woods, bears in the berry tangles, mink
and beaver and otter far back on many
a river and lake; Indians and adventurous
pursuing their lonely ways; birds tending
their young-everywhere,
beauty and life. and glad, rejoicing action.
Through the afternoon all the way down
to the west the air seems to thicken and De
come soft, without losing its fineness. The
breeze dies away, and everything settles
into a deep, conscious repose. Then comes
the sunset with its purple and gold-not
a narrow arch of color, but ottent1mes NIL
ing more than half the sky. The horizontal
clouds that usually bar the horizon are fired
on tho p6QeS and the SDacoS of clear SKY
between them are filed in with greenish
yellow and amber: while the fiocks of thin;
overlapping cloudlets are mostly touched
with crimson, like the outleaning sprays
of a maple grove in the beginning of In
dian summer and a little later a smooth,
mellow purple fushes the sky to the zenith.
and fills the air, fairly sleeping and trans
figuring the islands and mountains, and
changing all the water to wine