Sam O. White, Alaskan, livre ebook

"This was an excellent book about a true pioneer! A very interesting story about the life of an amazing man. Sam was generous, courageous, and a friend to everyone who had the privilege of knowing him." Sam O. White was a tough, deep-voiced, six-foot-tall, two-hundred-pound former Maine lumberjack and guide. From 1922, for half a century he crisscrossed wild Alaska by foot, with packhorses, dog teams, canoe, riverboat, and airplane. He helped map the Territory, trap fur, and became the world’s first flying game warden. White wrote exciting tales about his Alaska adventures, and those writings make up the bulk of this volume. 

In 1927, he arrived at Fort Yukon as a game warden when millions of dollars worth of fine arctic furs annually arrived there. The hardy frontier trappers considered the new game warden a joke, but he quickly taught them to respect conservation laws. 

He was frustrated by the impossibility of adequately patrolling thousands of square miles by dog team, boat, and on foot, so with his own money, he bought an airplane. Pioneer pilots Noel and Ralph Wien taught him how to fly it. White then startled remote trappers and others by suddenly arriving from the sky. 

In 1941, lack of backing from Juneau headquarters caused him to resign as a wildlife agent. At Fairbanks, Noel Wien made him Chief Pilot for Wien Airlines. For the next two decades White flew as an Alaskan bush pilot, admired for his flying skill and the superior service he provided residents who flew with him, and who depended upon him for receiving mail and supplies. 

He had countless friends—one hundred arrived for his seventieth birthday party. His integrity and principles were of the highest. Decades after his death, he is still spoken of with awe by the long-time Alaskans. 

Near Clear Creek Buttes, as we came to a straight stretch of trail, we saw a contraption moving toward us. A man was pulling it. Smoke was rising from it. I stopped and looked, but couldn’t figure it out.
Todd stopped his team near mine and explained, “That’s Old George Nelson. He traps here, and lives on Clear Creek. His sled is twenty-two inches wide with canvas stretched over it like a covered wagon. He has a tiny wood-burning stove in it, with his sleeping bag. When he hits the trail, he has his camp right with him. He’ll go out for several days with it and camp whenever he gets tired. Or, he’ll stop and snooze whenever he feels like it. He has no dogs.”
We came to Old George and he insisted we have a hot cup of coffee. George sat inside his covered sled and reached out and poured for us as we sat on the edge of my sled.
I couldn’t help but think, “What country this is, with people like Van Bibber, the Johnsons, and the Nelsons. Who could resist its call?”