As a teenager, I was fascinated by everything about the Klondike Gold Rush in the late 19th century. Had it happened even ten years later, its history would have been completely different.
Briefly, a rich deposit of gold was discovered on Bonanza Creek in 1896, near Dawson City in Canada’s Yukon Territory. Outside of the Yukon, nothing was known about this until several sourdough prospectors arrived by steamboat in Seattle and San Francisco in 1897. It took that long for them to do the journey down the more than a thousand miles of the Yukon River’s length (after it had thawed from the winter freeze), to an Alaskan port where they caught steamships south. The prospectors had moosehide bags filled with gold nuggets and gold dust, and lust for that gold sparked the Klondike Gold Rush.
More than a hundred thousand people gave up their lives, sold everything they owned, and headed however they could to the Klondike Gold field. There were four routes one could take, but all of them were filled with hardship and disappointment. Many died along the route, many turned back after being defeated by the journey, but a few made their way to the gold fields, only to find that all the claims along Bonanza Creek were long taken, and the best they could hope for was to work for these lucky few. Had there been a telegraph line, or telephone, or the internet, none of this would have happened because people would have known not to bother coming.
The hardest route to the Klondike was from the Canadian prairies, up through the Northwest Territories and then on to Dawson. No one is know to have survived this particular route. The second hardest route was to have hiked the Chilkoot Trail with all of your supplies, build a boat on Lake Bennet (near the head waters of the Yukon River), and then sail down to Dawson. It was my intention as a young and adventurous man to duplicate this route, but under much different circumstances. I had modern hiking equipment and food. I was traveling with a group that had a guide, and I didn’t have to do it in the winter.
Some day I’ll share the story of my trek on the Chilkoot Trail. It was a tough journey, especially the steep climb between the USA/Alaska and Canadian/B.C. border. But I was proud to find out that I summited Chilkoot Pass on the same day in August that Jack London had done, except mine was exactly 100 years later.
The second part of the journey was a trip down the Yukon River. The stretch from Lake Bennett to Dawson City is just over 500 miles in length, and to cover that stretch would take more time than I had. So I took a guided tour covering about the final 250 miles of this stretch. It gave me a terrific taste of this river and its scenery, and it was a unique experience.
The summer weather along our journey was pleasant, and the scenery was absolutely lovely! It was an almost completely unpeopled place. We’d often cover more than 50 miles on the river without spotting any signs of human habitation. The river grew wider as we headed downstream, and it was just fantastic to be immersed in nature in this way!
The Yukon is a powerful river, with a current of about 3-5 miles an hour. So when we grew tired of paddling, we’d “raft up” — tying our canoes together and drifting downstream — just taking it easy as the current moved us along. It was a bonding experience among this diverse group or travelers.
We always camped on islands located in the middle of the river. It was peaceful and quiet, although it provided us with a few challenges. First was landing on the island. It’s challenging to ‘drift’ onto an island while fighting the current, but after several failed tries, we figured out how to do this. Another challenge was to make sure we had high enough ground on our island. The river could rise or fall a foot at a time, depending on rainfall upriver. I’m told that if a tributary to the Yukon freezes, the drop in its level is even more dramatic..
As I’d previously mentioned, there were just a few signs of human civilization along the way. I think the building below is probably a trapper’s or hunter’s cabin, but it might also have been a home.
This looks like a more permanent residence. Though the people who live here must enjoy living in near complete isolation. There are no neighbors anywhere nearby.
As we approached the junction of the Klondike and Yukon Rivers, we saw the first signs of Dawson City. Back in the days of the Klondike Gold Rush, around 40,000 people lived here. Today it’s home to just 1,000 people.
I spent a few days exploring Dawson City and the Klondike Gold field, before taking the day long trip to Whitehorse, the territory’s largest city and only commercial airport.
I close this post with some more photos of scenes from our journey down the Yukon….
Finally, a rather late sunset photo (remember, this is the land of the midnight sun)
