Whitehorse - Capital of the Yukon

Leaving Dawson City we followed the Klondike River east, turning south to Whitehorse, a distance of some 500 km (300 Miles). Along the way we pass Lake Laberge (the Lake Lebarge of the poem The Cremation of Sam McGee) as we re-join the Yukon River heading into Whitehorse. There was no time to lose; our vehicle was due back that morning. We had to pay excess mileage on our trip, which had covered 2,865 kms, almost 1,800 miles) so far. Myrtle at the dealership said, “Boy, you drove more in excess miles than most people drive in their whole trip.”

Historic Downtown Whitehorse

Whitehorse has been Yukon's capital since 1953 when it was relocated here from Dawson City and Dawson was downgraded to a town.

It was a beautiful warm sunny day and we walked around the capital – it seems every building has a mural – they capture the mix of indigenous and immigrant life that typifies these northern communities. We clambered aboard the magnificent SS Klondike, one of the sternwheeler steamboats that paddled from here to Dawson City and back. It’s been laid up since 1955 when the highways came and is now a Historic Site. Its sumptuous lounge has a real 1920’s ‘palm court’ feel…

Longe of SS Klondike

Yukon history is documented in the Old LogChurch, with its Communion Service made of real Yukon gold, and the MacBrideMuseum where we found the cabin of the real Sam McGee. He had lived in the area for a while but could never live down the attention he got from Service’s poem and he left to live ‘down south’. There’s a replica North West Mounted Police cabin with artefacts of these original Mounties that brought order and safety to the Gold Rush stampeders.

In the evening we ate at the Klondike Rib& Salmon restaurant; on a site that began as a tent bakery in 1900. It’s still housed in the oldest building in Whitehorse and is famous for its wonderful northern ingredients. I ordered halibut fish and chips; Carol caribou stew and we switched plates halfway through – wonderful food in an almost party atmosphere.

We checked into our west-facing room where the sun roasted us until 11pm and there was no air-conditioning. It was hot! I stripped off, put a fan on and lay on the bed, but it was no good. “I’m having a cold shower,” I said and I headed to the bathroom. I hadn’t realized how cold the water would be though. It took my breath away… that is until I could scream. I feared a heart attack as I leapt out and grabbed a towel. At least it had cooled me down but Carol’s rippling laughter still meant I couldn’t sleep.

After breakfast we strolled down to the Whitepass & Yukon Route to start the next phase of our Alaska Yukon journey – this time someone else is driving.

SS Klondike Steamboat Paddlewheel

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Dawson City and The Klondike Gold Rush

The town of Dawson City sits on the Yukon River, just before it turns west into Alaska on its journey to the Bering Sea. The Klondike River joins the Yukon here and it was the discovery of gold close-by that created the 1897 stampede to Dawson.

Gold was discovered on the Klondike’s Rabbit Creek, quickly renamed Bonanza as it was staked-out in August of 1896 by local prospectors. Many of those first miners struck it rich here, or on Eldorado a little higher up, but Joseph Ladue decided to build a town site and make his money as a supplier. He built Dawson and did very well, without lifting a shovel. Once word got out of the richness of the seam, thousands flocked north to make their fortunes, although for most it was too late. It’s said that many were running away from something, most from the economic depression that began with the ‘Panic of 1893’.

Commissioner’s Residence

But, if we were running away, it was only from the dust of the Chicken run – when we opened up the back of our vehicle everything was heavily coated. It took Carol over an hour of scrubbing, wiping, and dusting to make it liveable again!

Call me a romantic but Dawson has a magical quality that makes you want to live here. And, I’m not alone - the guide at the Commissioner’s Residence was just completing a summer substitution from Ontario: “I’ve been on the waiting list to transfer here for years,” she said, “but it’s a long list and I’m well down it.”

Palace Grand Theatre

It’s a quiet town now; it’s population of 1,300 a far cry from the 40,000 that crammed in here during the Gold Rush. Although its gold mines are still active, tourism is the main trade these days. The streets are still paved with dirt and the sidewalks are still boards above the mud. Many of its famous buildings, Diamond Tooth Gertie’s casino and the Palace Grand Theatre for example, are still intact; though many are crumbling. Perhaps, most notorious is the Downtown Hotel’s 'Sourtoe Cocktail', that featured a real pickled human toe. Unfortunately, a thrill-seeking American swallowed the last one in 2013…

Robert W. Service's Cabin

Three great writers lived here, though never at the same time. First to arrive was a young Californian, Jack London. He was a prospector arriving in 1897, at the height of the stampede; the scurvy and malnourishment he suffered there permanently damaged him. But he based his novels Call of the Wild and White Fang in the Yukon. Robert W. Service, The Bard of the Yukon, was a British-Canadian bank teller transferred to the Dawson branch in 1908. He arrived here just as his Klondike poems achieved fame: his most famous is The Cremation of Sam McGhee, recorded by many including Johnny Cash, here.

One of my favourite writers, and the one I turned to for background, is Pierre Berton who grew up here. His ‘The Klondike Fever’ is the definitive book on the subject. Pierre’s father was a prospector who arrived in 1898.

SS Keno paddle-wheeler plied the Yukon River

Most of the stampeders got to Dawson by travelling the 500 km (300 miles) along the northbound Yukon River from Whitehorse, in homemade boats, and that’s where we’re off to next.

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North to Chicken, Alaska!

The Wrangells shine over the Matanuska River

Leaving Anchorage, we headed east along Highway 1 towards the illuminated backdrop of the Wrangell Mountains, the Matanuska glacier ran along the road beside us for a mile or so – well it was crawling more than running.

We stopped along the way for 25c coffee at Frimpels Café, miles from anywhere. It was filled with a group of youngsters cycling from Texas to support cancer research.

The highway turns north at Glenallen and we entered the Visitor Centre there to enquire if the Top of the World (Taylor) Highway from Chicken, Alaska to Dawson, Yukon had re-opened. The ranger was full of doom: “People ‘bin washed away up there this week,” he said, “ask at Tok.” So, we continued north to Tok, where Highway 1 meets the Alaska Highway.

I stopped to photograph a bald eagle in a tree. An old native guy approached: “Could you give me a ride home? It’s about 2 miles along the way you’re going.”

‘Sure,’ I said, ‘Hop in.’ It seemed the Alaskan thing to do. We dropped him at his driveway.

I expected the inevitable news about the Taylor highway as we arrived at the Tok log cabin Visitor Centre. I was feeling down; I’d always wanted to visit Dawson City but we didn’t have enough time to drive there and back from Whitehorse – the Taylor was our only chance.  “I just got a call to say the first convoy is leaving from Chicken at 8am tomorrow,” the Tok ranger said. We were elated and we headed north, once more.

Moose takes a breath

The thing that hits you as you drive this desolate road is the evidence of forest fires. Living in southern Canada, you always hear of huge fires in the north destroying many square miles, but here they are, burned out trunks as far as the eye can see, with signs citing the dates going back to the 1950’s with very little apparent growth since; this far north trees grow slowly. One of the biggest fires in recent US history occurred here in June 2004, a year when fires destroyed more than 10,000 square miles of Alaskan forest, the most in recorded history.

Just before we pulled into Chicken we spotted a moose feeding in a pool. Fortunately, I only had to wait a few minutes for him to take a breath before I could snap – moose can hold their breath for up to an hour.

Chicken strip

Chicken, population 7, is an odd place; with its dirt parking/camping lot filled with RV’s and its tiny strip mall, it feels like a mix of building site and wagon train stop. There are no phones here nor flushing toilets but the Wi-Fi is free. It was surreal to see the RV’ers all massing to join the 8am convoy in such a sparse, remote community. And we made the mistake of walking the kilometre or so to the couple of stores, without spraying for bugs first. It took a while, but soon the mosquitoes were eating us alive!

Wagons Roll!

We were up early in order to get in the convoy - we were 7^th in line but by the time we started to roll there were more than 50 vehicles. The distance to the Canadian border at Poker Creek was only 30 kilometres (20 miles) but it was a weaving, rough, dirt road at times so narrow you could see the drop-off into the valley just beside your door. Perhaps the worst thing was the dust although we didn’t realize it at the time… …and we both needed to pee. The journey took two hours and being in a convoy made it impossible to stop and nip behind a bush. Carol managed to jump out and get into the back of the truck to use the facility, when we stopped at a deep rut but unfortunately, I had to drive on before she could finish…

The view from the Canadian section of the road really earned its ‘Top of the World’ label, as it runs along a ridge atop mountains – you could see all the way to the mountains in the Arctic Circle. Finally, we descended to the Yukon River and the little ferry across to Dawson City. It was only then that we realized the inside of our living space was completely coated with dust.

View looking North from the Top of the World

Next week – Dawson and the Klondike Gold Rush.

Earthquakes & Glaciers - Anchorage

With Carol & Ptarmigan Captain

The largest earthquake in North American history, and one that was felt around the world, occurred near Anchorage on Good Friday 1964, and this was our next stop.

We had breakfast beside Denali – Mt McKinley peak was still shrouded in mist as we headed south, so we never did see it. Pity, but that’s the risk of a road trip.

All that’s left of Portage town

With a population of 300, 000, Anchorage is by far Alaska’s largest city, although the people are as friendly as Alaskans. The earthquake caused massive damage, permanently lifting land more than 30 feet in places, and killing at least 139 people.  Twelve died in California from the resulting tsunami. We’d booked a boat trip across Portage Lake to take us to the Glacier. To get to the lake we passed through what had been the town of Portage. Here the land had dropped during the earthquake, causing the town to sink below the high tide mark. As a result, Portage was abandoned; little remains today.

Fresh blue hole in Portage Glacier

Portage Glacier inches its way down into the lake – in the summer, bergs calve from the toe and float out into the lake where they gradually melt. And, you can see where the most recent bergs have calved because the glacier is a deep blue colour there; glacial ice may be up to 100 years old and over the years the ice compacts forcing out air bubbles and absorbing the red spectrum. Our vessel, the Ptarmigan, took us right up to the glacier – we could almost reach out and touch it, it seemed.

Anchorage’s most well known resident, these days anyway, is Sarah Palin, who famously said she could see Russia from her backyard. More than a stretch, and there were plenty of posters poking fun bearing her image. 

Iditarod Route

I trod carefully around the topic of Mrs P though, she is something of a hero here – she fought for an extra-large PFD (Permanent Fund Dividend) during her term as governor. This is the annual sum, largely from oil revenues, paid to every resident of Alaska, including children.

Talking of Russia, the westernmost city of any size in Alaska is Nome, the end of the annual Iditarod, the world’s most famous dog-sled race. The race follows a thousand mile (1,600km) course, west from Anchorage, over a collection of native trails in use for many hundreds of years. The trail was immortalized by the 1925 winter trek when 20 dog teams brought diphtheria serum to quell an outbreak in Nome.

Everything is wild and fresh in Alaska. That’s what Sacks Café in Anchorage promises – fish farming is illegal in the State. Several people we’d met recommended this café and we ate there - the food was all we’d hoped for…

Portage Glacier from the Lake

Next week we head for Chicken!