Today’s post was written by Alan Walker, Archivist at the National Archives at College Park.
It’s all well and good to have defined boundaries between countries, but somebody has to go out and make sure that they are accurate. And that’s what survey teams from the Coast and Geodetic Survey did for many years, especially after boundary treaties between the United States and Canada were concluded in 1908 and 1925.
The survey parties submitted their final reports to the International Boundary Commission. Here is a box full of them, from surveys of the Alaska-Canada boundary, in the series Reports of Surveyors, 1906-1922 (NAID 1411901):
The survey leaders kept daily diaries of their work. Here is a page from Frank H. Brundage’s diary (from the series Diaries, 1906-1940 NAID 1406970); his party surveyed the Vermont-Canada boundary:
What’s fun about these records is that the survey parties took a lot of photographs on their travels. Here is a view of Labonte’s Line House, mentioned in Brundage’s diary:
These line houses straddled the boundary; many survive today, with lines marked along the floors. A great tourist attraction, no matter which country you’re in.
Now you might think that the reports would be dry recitations of distances traveled, triangulation points established, and so on. Well, they do have those in abundance, but they also offer up flavorful accounts of daily life on the trail. Here is an excerpt from the report of O. M. Leland’s survey party in Alaska:
Great quantities of equipment were required for these surveys, which could last for months. The heliotrope, pictured here, was essential for establishing triangulation points on sunny days. These were in use until GPS rendered them obsolete.
Sure-footed companions (of the four-legged variety) were also necessary:
Boats were a necessity on many of these trips, and would certainly have been preferable to endless hiking.
But boats had their own problems:
One advantage of having your own survey party was that you could name your vessels with whatever struck your fancy. This survey party had a hankering for German food:
The party also named one of its triangulation markers “Sauerkraut.”
But even with such lighthearted moments, the parties faced many dangers. The going could be quite treacherous. Would you want to venture along these icy passages?
Especially in Alaska, with its nearly 1,500 miles of shared border, the parties had to endure seemingly endless hikes over mountains and glaciers. This surveyor takes a well-earned rest atop one of them. Note the triangulation marks etched into the photograph:
Finally, a haunting double exposure. The Idaho Store and Hotel still exists at the border entry station at Eastport, Idaho. This was taken during a 1936 boundary survey by Thomas Riggs:
The records of these surveys are rich in many kinds of detail, and as you read them you can almost imagine you’re out on the trail with these intrepid souls. I could imagine working on one of these parties for a summer; where do I sign up?