Trails and Tramps in Alaska and Newfoundland

In Short

This collection of field notes and observations documents the author’s wanderlust-driven expeditions through the wilderness of Alaska and Newfoundland. Rather than a singular narrative, it is a series of personal accounts detailing hunting trips, travel logistics, and the quiet study of wildlife. The book serves as a time capsule of a frontier era, blending the practical realities of early twentieth-century outdoor exploration with a budding appreciation for natural history. It remains a valuable, modest record of a bygone age, capturing both the beauty of the landscape and the character of those inhabiting it.

The Story

The journey begins in the vast, untamed territories of southeastern Alaska, where the author navigates coastal ports and investigates the cultural history of the native Tlingit people. Through his observations, he demystifies the totem pole, framing it not as a religious idol, but as a sophisticated family register and historical archive. The narrative shifts from anthropology to the daunting geography of the region, detailing the arduous efforts of engineers to carve railroads through a landscape dominated by shifting glaciers and volatile weather.

As the expedition pushes westward, the focus turns to the rugged life on the Kenai Peninsula and the isolation of small, remote settlements. The author encounters a variety of characters, from miners dealing with the harsh justice of the frontier to delicate travelers struggling against the logistical failures of underfunded transportation projects. These vignettes highlight the precariousness of life in Alaska, where a simple trip across an inlet can become an ordeal of survival and community reliance. The author’s experiences are punctuated by the mechanical challenges of navigating small boats through high tides and unpredictable seas, often requiring a blend of grit and improvisation to reach the next campsite.

The narrative arc then transitions to the wilds of Newfoundland, shifting from the grand, icy scale of the North to the intimate, quiet observations of a naturalist. Here, the tone becomes more reflective as the author documents the habits of local fauna. He captures the subtle interactions between predator and prey, the architecture of birds’ nests, and the endurance of animals against the harsh elements. The final sections move closer to home, exploring the woods of Pennsylvania. Through the lens of a sportsman, the author reflects on the ethics of the hunt. He moves away from the raw desire for conquest, advocating for the camera as a tool for preservation, and shares the quiet, contemplative joy of watching wildlife in its natural habitat without the immediate intent to kill. The journey concludes not with a final destination, but with a lingering sense of respect for the natural world, leaving the reader with a clearer understanding of the "varied language" of the outdoors.

How It Unfolds

The coastal introduction The author arrives in southeastern Alaska, detailing the craftsmanship of native totem poles and their role in preserving tribal legends. He sets the stage by contrasting these cultural monuments with the immense, indifferent force of the Alaskan glaciers.

Navigating the frontier The narrative moves to the logistical struggles of life in the north, including the failed railroads and the perilous boat trips between settlements. These beats emphasize the isolation of the settlers and the constant threat posed by the environment.

The shift to naturalism The perspective narrows as the author moves to Newfoundland and, eventually, his home woods, focusing on the specific behaviors of local birds and animals. He catalogs the nesting habits of thrushes and the agility of opossums, grounding the reader in the details of the wilderness.

The ethical reflection The concluding chapters explore the transition from the rifle to the camera, emphasizing observation over slaughter. The book ends with a series of quiet, observant moments that highlight the dignity of the wild creatures he once pursued.

The People

The author, William S. Thomas, acts as both participant and observer. He is driven by a profound wanderlust and a genuine desire to interpret the "visible forms" of nature. While he begins as a traditional sportsman, he undergoes a subtle, internal shift toward the role of a naturalist and photographer.

The "Cheechalker" and various guides serve as essential companions, providing the practical skills necessary to traverse the treacherous terrain. They represent the diverse cross-section of frontier society—fishermen, prospectors, and indigenous people—each navigating the harsh demands of the wilderness with varying degrees of humor and resignation.

The local figures, such as the "delicate little lady" crossing Cook’s Inlet, highlight the human vulnerability inherent in these rugged landscapes. Their stories illustrate the fragility of life on the edge of civilization, where a missed connection or a lack of resources can lead to genuine desperation. Finally, the various "old-timers" and miners add a layer of color to the narrative, showcasing the gritty, often lawless spirit of the Alaskan expansion, where health and safety were secondary to the brutal realities of survival.

In Its Own Voice

"Not all of the narrative is concerned with the chase, but all has to do with, or is in some way attributable to, the wanderlust that from boyhood days has cast its spell over the author at uncertain intervals."

(The author explains the motivation behind his lifelong pursuit of the wilderness.)

"The gnarled and picturesque old birch, with its smooth white-spotted bark twisting and curling in every direction, covered with ages of moss and lichen, spread its drooping limbs gracefully over the water."

(The author describes a quiet moment observing the flora of Newfoundland.)

What It's Really About

At its core, the book examines the relationship between humanity and the untamed environment. It asks how one can exist in the wilderness without destroying the very thing that draws them to it. The author grapples with the transition of the wilderness from a space of conquest to a space of communion. There is a clear tension between the "sportsman's" desire for the thrill of the hunt and the developing conscience of the observer who finds more value in a photograph than in a trophy. The book argues that by changing our tools—from the gun to the kodak—we fundamentally change our interaction with the natural world, moving from a position of dominance to one of respectful, studied appreciation.

Why Read It Today

Reading this work today feels like stepping into a time machine. Those who enjoy the literature of early twentieth-century travel and natural history will find much to admire in its precise, unadorned descriptions. It is a quiet book, best suited for readers who value observation over action and who possess an interest in the historical context of the American frontier.

However, modern readers should be prepared for the realities of its era. The attitudes toward indigenous peoples and the casual mention of hunting methods that are now frowned upon reflect the period’s perspectives, not contemporary ethics. The writing style is formal and occasionally slow-paced, reflecting a time when travel was measured in weeks rather than hours. Despite these hurdles, the book’s genuine warmth and the author’s evolving philosophy make it a rewarding read. You will likely walk away with a lingering appreciation for the author’s patience—his willingness to sit quietly in the woods to catch the flicker of a bird’s wing or the precise moment a "Bunny" makes his escape. It is a humble, sincere document that reminds us that, even in an age of speed, there is immense value in simply stopping to look at the world around us.