'West of North'
By K.E. Hoover; self-published, $14.99; 336 pages
What it's about: Josh Campbell grew up without a family. After a personal betrayal, he flees to a small town along the Inside Passage, where he makes a near fatal mistake. Rescued by an old prospector, Silver Jack, and his wolf dog, the three form a unique friendship that takes them into the wild backcountry in search of riches.
Josh's new life in Alaska gets complicated. He meets Anne, a single mom working at a local cafe; Katie, a fisheries biologist who loves working outdoors; and sexy, rich Claire, who makes getting Josh into her bed the first priority.
But when Josh and Silver Jack file mining claims, Josh's life changes forever. Will he and Silver Jack outsmart claim jumpers ready to do anything — including murder — to get what they want?
Excerpt: We pass Point Highfield and enter the Eastern Passage. With a westerly breeze pushing us from behind as well as a flood tide, we make good time as we pass tiny Simonof Island and head toward Babbler Point. Simonof Island looks to be less than 100 feet across and boasts two trees and a lot of underbrush. I remember passing close by it on the ill-fated day when I capsized the canoe.
Silver Jack points and shouts to be heard, "This is where Chinese workers were allowed to bury their dead." He looks directly at me, "Prejudice can be a mean thing. There's no dirt on this island, only rocks."
"Why were the Chinese here?" Josh asks.
The old prospector shakes his head, "Not sure. It was well before I arrived. My guess is they worked in the canneries mostly.
A moment later dolphins breach portside and Silver Jack booms, "Those are Dall's porpoises."
I watch as the pair easily overtake the boat and ride our bow wave. The porpoises are black with a striking white patch on their bellies and flanks. They have horizontal tail flukes, with the trailing edges of the flukes trimmed in white. Their dorsal fins are small, and their heads slope steeply to a short, indistinct beak. I remember reading that one major difference between dolphins and porpoises is dolphins have pointed teeth while porpoises have shovel-shaped teeth.
The creatures entrance me. I've never been this close to any marine mammal and watch in fascination as they play with the boat for five minutes. Finally, as we pass Babbler Point, the pair break off and streak away to the south. I watch them leave with a tinge of regret.
We pass the shoreline where I waded ashore after capsizing the canoe. Sitting dry and warm in Jack's skiff, it doesn't look remote or deadly. I am not fooled. The water is frigid due to glacial runoff, and I want no rematch with its icy embrace.
'Spirits of Southeast Alaska: The History & Hauntings of Alaska's Panhandle'
By James Devereaux; Epicenter Press, $15.95; 129 pages
What it's about: Ghostly footsteps and flickering lights, a silhouette in the window of an abandoned building, a restless presence at the scene of a sunken ship, spectral wails and poltergeist theft of office supplies, mythical Native American legends, and other paranormal happenings scattered across the Alaska Panhandle come together in "Spirits of Southeast Alaska," a grand adventure into the historical hauntings of the southeastern corner of the Last Frontier.
Author James Devereaux lived in Alaska for years, working as an archaeologist. Inspired by ghost stories as a child, and by accounts by Alaska residents of paranormal phenomena in the area, he set out to collect the ghost stories of Southeast Alaska.
Excerpt: On August 11, 1897, an unfortunate soul named Dwight B. Fowler was crossing the Skagway River with a full pack of goods. As was far too often the case on the White Pass, Fowler's ambitions exceeded his abilities. The sheer force of the rushing Skagway River on his 100-plus pound pack proved too much, and he found himself swept downstream. Even without the weight of a pack, the Skagway River can be fatal to the unwary traveler …
After fishing Fowler's body out of the river, a hastily assembled committee decided Cleveland was to bring the remains back to his packing operation in Skagway. To the dismay of the miners, Cleveland would not perform the deed unless he received his customary $10 packing fee. The miners refused to pay, so Cleveland simply fished through the pockets of the dead man until he procured his fee. He continued on his way down the slopes to his waterfront lots, where Fowler's mortal remains were stored in the exposed and swampy lot. Where he was eventually interred is lost to history, though the tidelands of Alaska have been known to swallow cars. Could the brutality of life and death on the tidelands and man's indifference to fellow man have provoked Fowler's spirit?
Regardless of his final resting place, the soul of Dwight B. Fowler could very well be the source of reported ghostly activity in the Mascot Saloon. Over the years, visitors and employees have seen the Mascot's first-floor bathroom faucets turn on and off by themselves and have felt icy, cold spots pass through the premises. There are reports of the men's bathroom hand dryers turning on when no one is nearby. Park Service employees have also reported doors on the first floor locking and unlocking by themselves without anyone with keys near the building.