The year before I had made all arrangements to hire for this season a small schooner, which was to take us to our various shooting grounds.  I was now much disappointed to find that the owner of this schooner had decided not to charter her.  We were, therefore, obliged to engage a very indifferent sloop, but she was fortunately an excellent sea boat.  Her owner, Charles Payjaman, a Russian, went with us as my friend’s hunter.  He was a fisherman and a trapper by profession, and had the reputation of knowing these dangerous island waters well.  His knowledge of Russian we expected to be of great use to us in dealing with the natives; Alaska was under Russian control for so many years that that language is the natural local tongue.

It was the first of April before we got our entire outfit together, and it was not until four days later that the weather permitted us to hoist our sail and start for the shooting grounds, of which it was of the utmost importance that we should make good choice.  All the natives seemed to agree that Kiliuda Bay, some seventy-five miles below the town of Kadiak, was the most likely place to find bear, and so we now headed our boat in that direction.  It was a most beautiful day for a start, with the first faint traces of spring in the air.  As we skirted the shore that afternoon I sighted, through the glasses, on some low hills in the distance, bear tracks in the snow.  My Aleuts seemed to think that the bears were probably near, having come down to the shore in search of kelp.  It promised a pretty fair chance for a shot, but there was exceedingly bad water about, and no harbor for the sloop to lie, so Payjaman and my natives advised me not to make the attempt.  As one should take no chances with Alaskan waters, I felt that this was wise, and we reluctantly passed on.

The next forenoon we put into a large bay, Eagle Harbor, to pick up a local hunter who was to accompany us to Kiliuda Bay, for both my Aleuts and the Russian were unacquainted with this locality.  Ignati Chowischpack, the native whose services we secured, was quite a character, a man of much importance among the Aleuts of this district, and one who had a thorough knowledge of the country chosen as a hunting ground.

We expected to remain at Eagle Harbor only part of the day, but unfortunately were storm-bound here for a week.  Several times we attempted to leave, but each time had to put back, fearing that the heavy seas we encountered outside would crush in the baidarka, which was carried lashed to the sloop’s deck.  It was not until early on the morning of April 12, just as the sun was topping the mountains, that we finally reached Kiliuda Bay.

Our hunting grounds now stretched before us as far as the eye could see.  We had by this time passed the tree area, and it was only here and there in isolated spots that stunted cottonwoods bordered the salmon streams and scattered patches of alders dotted the mountain sides.  In many places the land rolled gradually back from the shore until the mountain bases were reached, while in other parts giant cliffs rose directly from the water’s edge, but with the glasses one could generally command a grand view of this great irregular bay, with its long arms cutting into the island in all directions.