John Felder Is Veteran Trailblazer
By Warren Holloway
Undressing spuds on KP may
be a rugged deal, but at least
one sourdough in Alaska can say
he’s paid for potatoes at their
weight in gold and has had to
walk 32 miles through snow and
ten below to get them.
Forty-four years in Alaska
has brought grizzled stocky
John Felder, now of Kodiak,
many experiences. But most of
them were not easy to take at
the time, as the story of the
spuds.
For two years he had lived in
a log hut in the blizzard-scarred
mountains of the Klondike. Dur
ng that time he never saw a
potato. So one day, late in Au
gust, he struck out in 10 below
weather for Shushana, 16 miles
away. There he ordered a moose
steak dinner, $2.50, and then
asked for some potatoes He was
a happy man when he left for
home with four potatoes, cost
ing $2.
“Those potatoes looked better
than gold. I could have eaten
them with my eyes.” Felder
said. His eyes shone with the
memory.
"When I reached home, an
other 16-mile hike, I found one
of the potatoes was completely
blaek. There were still three
good ones. They tasted like a
million dollars.”
No wonder the Alaska of those
days has often been termed
the “pork and bean frontier.”
Living was hard to get.
Felder was in Fairbanks be
fore there was a Fairbanks, He
camped cn the snow near the
Tanana River where the city is
now located.
That was many years ago,
when he traveled with a few
blankets, a pack, gun and dog
team. Usually he had four
Malemutes. He broke trail with
eight for a spell, but he found
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four were enough. Each dog re
quired as much food and more
care than another person,
Now Felder lives a quiet life,
a bachelor, in his apartment
that bears his name in Kodiak.
He is rarely seen without his
favorite pipe. His square-jawed
face is still tanned from the
years spent in the winds of the
North.
“I am the happiest man in the
world,” he remarked. "I have
my own warm room, now, where
I can go to cook, sleep or read
at any time.”
That is a different story than
an experience he had in 1914.
For eleven days he and several
other prospectors lived in holes
dug on the face of Rhon glacier
while a blizzard howled over
head.
When the wind first lashed at
them they attempted t© build
a sort of lean-to to give shelter
to their pack horses. But the
wind scattered the poles. They
had to dig in for the protec ion
of the horses and themselves.
With what little wood they had
for fuel, they cooked rice. The
gale was still lashing them when
they made a “go-devil”, a crude
sled for swifter descent They
loaded on their supplies and
stumbled off the glacier into the
flat below, free of the blizzard.
Although he has panned
streams in Central as well as
Eastern Alaska and Northwest
ern Canada, most of Felder’s
prospecting was done in the
Klondike. He sifted pay dirt in
the Forty Mile River stampede
and the Sixty-Mile River stam
pede, both just west of Dawson.
In the Sixty-Mile stampede,
the rush was so heavy that he,
saw as many as 22 prospectors
jammed into one bunk room
built for only a couple. Any sort
of quarters would do. When the ■
j ice-choked river overflowed,
gold searchers paid the price
with frozen feet
One of his severest hikes was
one begun from Curry, located
between Anchorage and Fair
banks. At that time Curry was
known as Deadhorse because a
prospector’ horse died beneath
him there. Snow was beginning
to fall when he struck north to
ward Nenana. He slept at day,
because it was warmer, and ra
veled at night. At Oregon Gulch,
the snow was ankle deep. The
snow continued to fall. At Broad
Pass he waded in snow hip deep.
Going farther, he was soon strug
gling through snow chest deep.
He came to a narrow inlet to a
lake. The inlet was hidden by
snow When he attempted to
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cross it, he sank in snow over
his head.
"John, you’re gone now,” he
related he thought as he wal
lowed in the drift before he
wormed his way clear.
When asked what he consider
ed the most beautiful sight he
had ever seen in Alaska, Felder
quickly replied.
“The most beautiful scene
was a mirage. It was a sunset
on a trail through a snow-cover
ed pass. I paused and looked a
head. Before me was a mag
nificent city, with tall and clean
buildings, bright lights. . it was
more beautiful than anything I
have ever seen. It was a rare
reflection of the setting sun on
the snow and light clouds.”
As for lawlessness among the
gold-seekeis, John said it has
been exaggerated. Punishment
was too quick and severe. He
mentioned a story of a cabin on
the trail. After each traveler had
used the hut for a stopover, he
was to replenish the fuel supply
for the next camper. One fellow
didn’t. He stole the fuel and
went on with it. He didn’t go
far when he was caught. He was
forced to replace what he had
stolen and had to walk into
Dawson with a sign on his back
reading. “Theif”. It was a good
cure.
The greatest peace-maker was
the spirit of the trail. Trailmates
helped each other and saw that
man’s best friend, the dog, wes
cared for too. On the trail tra
velers set a pace fair to each
other They shared and shared
alike. They were the men who
pioneered the North.
Warning
Anyone buying liquor for a
serviceman or selling to service
men are subject upon conviction
to one year in jail, a $500 fine,
or both.
All violators will be prosecut
ed to the fullest extent of the
law.
Kodiak Liquor Dealers
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