Chapter 119: Dog Sledding

After plummeting for several hundred meters, Hua Feng deployed his parachute, pinpointing a landing spot and adjusting his flight posture. Yun Meng and Bai Feng followed his descent. As they neared the riverbank, he spotted a large number of sled dogs waiting nearby. Checking their maps, they realized the extraction point was 80 kilometers away. The mission brief stipulated that those who reached it in the shortest time without using Force as a propellant would qualify for enrollment.

Everyone who touched down raced to find suitable sled dogs. Hua Feng, Yun Meng, and Bai Feng quickly secured a sled capable of carrying three people and set off without hesitation.

The Alaskan Malamute is one of the oldest polar sled dog breeds, named after the Mahlemut tribe of the Inuit people. This tribe once lived along the shores of Kotzebue in western Alaska. Before Alaska became a U.S. territory, the region was called Alashak or Alyeska—names given by the Russians who discovered the land, translating to "Great Land."

Unlike other breeds in the region, the Alaskan Malamute possesses powerful limbs and well-developed muscles, bred for endurance rather than speed due to their primary role as sled pullers. Adult Malamutes exhibit a quiet, dignified temperament and remain deeply loyal to their masters.

As an ancient breed, they are robust and powerful, with a deep chest and muscular build. Their paws provide good traction, their stance is alert, and their heads are held high with eyes full of curiosity and interest. Their ears are triangular and stand erect when alert, and their muzzles are broad, tapering slightly toward the nose without being pointed, long, or stubby.

They possess a thick double coat, with a coarse, long outer layer protecting a woolly undercoat. Their coat colors vary, and their facial markings are distinctive, often featuring a cap-like pattern or solid white masks. Their tails are well-furred and carried over the back like a waving plume. With heavy bone structure, sturdy legs, and high-efficiency gait, they are perfectly suited for their labor.

Hua Feng knew that on their path lay a town called Inar. The name originated from a gold prospector named Inar. In 1880, guided by local indigenous people, he and his companions discovered natural gold nuggets the size of fava beans. Subsequent exploration revealed rich reserves, marking it as one of the three largest gold mines in the world.

Prospectors flocked to the area, transforming a desolate wilderness into a bustling town. By 2012, the mines had long ceased production, yet the shops, banks, saloons, theaters, and gambling halls that once served the miners remained, preserving their century-old appearance for modern tourists.

As the American West developed and the transcontinental railway was completed, Chinese laborers moved north into Canada and Alaska. Following the failure of China's Hundred Days' Reform in 1898, Liang Qichao toured the New World. In his *Travels in the New World*, he wrote, "British Canada is divided into seven provinces, with British Columbia along the Pacific coast. There are about twenty thousand Chinese in Canada, sixty to seventy percent of whom reside in British Columbia. The capital of British Columbia is Victoria, and the nearby metropolis is Vancouver, commonly known to the Chinese as 'Salt Water Port'..."

Liang Qichao’s journey ended at the Victoria harbor, just south of Alaska. He never set foot in Alaska, leaving no written records of Chinese immigrants there, forcing us to piece together their history from scattered clues.

Gold mines were early hubs for Chinese immigrants. Initially, they panned for gold in rivers with rudimentary tools before moving into underground mining. After 1913, technological revolutions in Alaskan mining significantly increased yields. By 2012, these abandoned mines became tourist attractions; visitors could walk through a 360-foot tunnel to the mining vein, pan for gold in troughs, and exchange their findings for cash at gift shops.

Life for 19th-century prospectors was far from the romanticized experience of modern tourists. Their work was grueling, and the rewards were meager. To escape the crushing loneliness, many turned to drink, gambling, and prostitution, leading to the rise of saloons and brothels.

To maintain daily life, restaurants, shops, barbershops, laundries, and theaters were essential. The "three knives"—the kitchen knife, the scissors, and the razor—were the tools of the Chinese immigrants, who dominated the restaurant, laundry, and barber trades. They served the miners while carving out their own livelihoods. Chinese restaurants, often called "chop suey houses," reportedly trace their origins to Li Hongzhang’s visit to the United States.

These restaurants survived by catering to the dietary habits of Chinese immigrants, who remained their primary clientele. Similarly, Chinese-run grocery stores imported goods from China, Hong Kong, and Taiwan that were unavailable locally. As towns grew, civic infrastructure—city halls, courthouses, jails, churches, and fire stations—emerged. I once saw a wooden plaque on a city fire station dated 1898, the reign of the Guangxu Emperor in the Qing Dynasty.

Beyond mining, the railways were another major gathering place for Chinese laborers. Building the transcontinental railroad was a human miracle, though the hardships faced make one shudder even today. In Skagway, Alaska, lies the "White Pass" railway, built in 1898. Known as the "Scenic Railway of the World," it winds twenty miles up a 3,000-foot mountain. It is only passable from May to September due to the harsh winters, earning its name from the snow.

If Thailand’s "Death Railway," built by prisoners of war during WWII, is infamous for its heat and disease, Alaska’s "White Pass" is feared for its brutal cold. One can only imagine how many Chinese laborers left their bones in those snowfields.

Since the 20th and 21st centuries, the contributions of Chinese laborers to the development of the American West have gained increasing recognition, reflected in historical accounts and permanent monuments. Liang Qichao noted in his travels that while Japanese immigrants in Canada focused on fishing, the Chinese were relegated to processing fish, as local laws restricted fishing rights to those with British citizenship.

Today, the exact number of Chinese living in Alaska remains unclear, but their economic and social status has vastly improved. Where once there were small, humble shops, now there are large supermarkets. Customers browse aisles filled with souvenirs—T-shirts and cultural artifacts—often labeled "Made in China," a testament to the business acumen of modern Chinese merchants.

Beyond the resident population, many Chinese tourists now visit Alaska. Whether at famous landmarks or in the most remote corners, one can easily spot the familiar faces of the Chinese diaspora.

In the 22nd century, little has changed. Much like the biting wind currently howling in Hua Feng’s ears, what lies ahead remains to be seen only upon arrival.