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Published by klump04, 2018-10-10 20:23:08

Just Around The Bend Episode III Touring the Continent: Crossing the Great North

JUST AROUND THE BEND

Episode III

say like a following sea. It’s a gradual rise and
fall, not one that drops your stomach out from
under you. No its much more subtle than that.
At 60 miles per hour, after 20 or more miles of
this undulating you begin to feel nauseous. Just
like sea sickness.


























We stopped at Thomsons Pass at the Blueberry
Lake recreation park. It gets 1000 inches of
snow a year, that’s about 80 feet. It otherwise
stood out for it’s services and facility. It rates a 1.

Arlene made history here by responding to the
‘call of the wild’ by stepping outside the van, and
not using the lousy pit toilet.
These photos look like we had stopped right
beside the highway.



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Our next stop was back at mile post 1314 of the
Alaskan-Canadian Highway. A long way from
Dawson Creek, British Columbia. We had
survived the rolling, wavy road.











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However, we are not going to stop here. We were
acting like we were on a mission. Once back on
the Alaskan Highway we headed toward the
Yukon.

That night we stayed in Snag Provincial Park.
Another fine Yukon park. It was worth the long
drive to get out of Alaska. We don’t need to say
much for the difference between their
campgrounds and Yukon’s.


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CHAPTER 8
SKAGWAY: THE SECRET TO THE GOLD
FIELDS

Since leaving Valdez we have driven around the
largest National Park Preserve and Wilderness in
North America. It’s the Wrangell-Saint Elias-
Kluane National Parks and Preserve. One side is
the Gulf of Alaska, on the other the Alaskan
Highway. The difference is staggering. The
mountains rise 12,000 feet on the gulf, with ice
fields and spectacular views. On the inside, along
the highway its mostly desolate with little
vegetation around 2,000 to 3,000 ft elevation.






























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There are a number of lakes along the road and a
few provincial parks.






















































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We stopped at Snag Lake Provincial Park for the
night. There were two of Trumpeter Swans on
the lake. They say they mate for life. We had
seen a couple in Yellowstone with their chicks.
Early in the morning we left for Haines Junction
and another Yukon Park.
We had decided to go down to Haines, Alaska
and over to Skagway instead of cutting across to
Whitehorse. Our decision would take us about
300 miles further around, but Skagway was one
of the major entrances to the Klondike Gold
Rush of 1897 and we needed to see it.

This is Dezadeash Lake Provincial Park on the
Haines Highway. The topography has changed.
We’re now in forests of spruce, alder,
cottonwood, and willow brush. Our camp is on
a small spit of land that juts into the lake, with a
nice breeze and waves lapping the shore.
I woke at sunrise, around 3 a.m. to the call of
several loons on the lake. It was so beautiful I
got up and walked around camp. A duck flew
over me and skidded across the water to a quiet
landing. The orange and pink sun rose slowly
against the dark blue grey sky. Behind our camp
the bald mountain lit up like a jewel. It was a
cool, quiet nice experience. I watched for a while
longer and then climbed back into the van and
fell asleep.


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We woke again, this time around 9 a.m. Beside
our camp was a family of Ptarmigans with five
chicks still in their speckled brown summer
plumage. They quickly scurried away into the
brush.

The day deteriorated quickly, by the time we hit
the road it was overcast and raining. At the
Chilkat Pass the clouds had closed in on us and
we could hardly see the border crossing back into
the U.S. The outpost was a small cabin. I guess
there’s not much going on here as security is
pretty light.
We were headed down hill along the Chilkat
River when we saw a couple of fish pens. These
contraptions are usually used by the First Nation
People. They catch the salmon by scooping
them up in their nets and dropping them into a



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catch basin. The Indians usually club them to
death. They then smoke them for the winter.

Another method the people use to catch fish is
with a large box, four feet high. It’s placed in the
shallows of the river and they spear the fish
lifting it into the box. Again, they club them.
We have watched people catching salmon and
noticed this clubbing technique to be used
everywhere.




























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We stopped at The Council Grounds, a pull off
along the River that was under construction. It
had a new pavilion and toilets. Just the place to
spend the night. Around it were several Bald
Eagles. During the Spring there would be
hundreds.

There was a guy there that looked like he’d been
in the wilderness too long. He had a patch over
one eye and was missing most of the fingers on
one hand. He was a trapper and guide, named
Ernie. One Eye Ernie was a real character.
It didn’t take long for him to realize that we
didn’t fish. Never-the-less he told us we had to
have a picture with one of his fish. He grabbed
Arlene’s hand and stuck the gills of the salmon
on it. Then stood back and waved for me to start
shooting. Brave Arlene.


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Notice the Ace Bandage around her knee. She
hurt it a couple of days ago. So we are taking
good care of it and her.

Ernie would tell us more than we needed to
know.
FISHING: The government tried many different
ways to catch salmon. Fishing pens were a real
boondoggle. They never came around to clean
them out . Consequently the fish usually rotted.





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HUNTING: He didn’t wander through the
woods searching for bear. Nope, he collected
trash from the grocers in town and planted it
around the base of a tree, where he was perched.
Then he’d shoot the unsuspecting bear.






















A few more miles and we entered Haines.


























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This was a swell place, small, and clean. We first
stopped to get our tickets for the ferry to
Skagway. Because of a dispute between the U.S.
and Canada over salmon we had to wait in line
for a few hours. Our Ferry would be a midnight
voyage the next day.
While waiting in line we met a couple from
Kissimmee, Florida. Shelly and Bernie
Waterman. They told us about the Council
Grounds’ pull off outside of Haines. They were
going to stay there overnight also.






















Shelly was quite the handyman. He had bought
this Dodge Van and renovated it with a new top,
windows, generator, head, sink and bed. He
converted it into a Class B traveling RV. We
became friends and have kept in touch back in
Florida. They were waiting for the ferries to




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start running again so they could go down along
the coast through Juneau to Prince Rupert.

We had a lot of chores, so once we got our
tickets we headed for the laundry. We hit the
jackpot. The laundry was right beside the
showers. I didn’t think Arlene would ever return
from the shower. When she did she looked like a
new women. I asked if she had any change left.
She showed me her three quarters.
Afterward we headed up a valley to the Chilkat
Lake. It was another Eagle preserve. On the way
we observed a flock of 400 black and white ducks
in the water. They were acting strange ducking
under the water, 100 at a time, and popping up
like corks. We watched a while and then
continued up to the lake.

Along the shore were 10 fishermen. All were
men except one. Rita Buchanan, a lady from
Stowe, Vermont. She and her husband liked
Haines and had been coming here for several
years. He was probably 80 and she a little
younger.
They had a small four cylinder Class C Toyota
Camper. He had attended Loomis school in
Connecticut and knew Tom Watson the IBM
Chief.

It was fun talking to him, about Stowe, Vermont,
and sailing in Long Island Sound and Old
Saybrook, Connecticut, where our sloop Citizen
was moored.
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We watched and talked while she fished. The
men cast far out into the lake, but Rita
effortlessly out did all of them, 40 or 50 feet into
the lake past all the men. I mentioned how far
she cast, and her husband said she ought to, after
$6,000.00 worth of Orvis instruction.

She caught a pink salmon, and played it until it
was tired. No clubbing on her part. She lifted it
from the shore and offered it to the fellows.

























We saw 12 to 15 immature eagles, and a half
dozen mature ones.
At the camp site we woke to the sound of a
dump truck unloading a pile of rocks along the
shore line at the Council Grounds. They were up
and working early. Bernie came over and invited
us to breakfast in their camper. Boy was that


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great, eggs, coffee and toast. We visited for a
while and then took off south of Haines along
the Mud Flat Bay.

It was a nice day to drive around. We stopped
several places. Watched several small planes fly
along the Bay into the Haines Airport. We
noticed that few airports had conning towers or
any traffic controls. Mostly, everyone flew by the
seat of their pants, with only radio
communication.
We had seen a lot of bear berrie’s along the road.
So named because the bears loved them. They
were known to eat thousands of them daily. The
bears evidently eat so many of them that they
leave red trails in the forest.

We don’t eat them ourselves, but we did come
across a large patch of blueberries.
We picked a small bucket full. Arlene watched
while I picked. These were real wild
‘Huckleberries’. The ones that were for sale back
in Idaho for $21.00 a pie.

We boarded our ferry about 10 p.m. Shelly and
Bernie were there to send us off and take this
picture of us going on board.











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And sailed down the Lynn Canel into Skagway.


























It was pouring rain and pitch black when we
arrived. Blindly we drove off the ferry taking left

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turns around, finally jumping a curb and parking
in a empty lot. The next morning we woke up in
the parking lot in the downtown Railroad Station.
Welcome to Skagway.

Skagway represents a special historical story for
Alaska that prevails today.
Alaska has had several major events that impact
its history. The great purchase of the territory in
1867 by Secretary Steward of the Andrew
Johnson Administration stands among the
greatest, at 2 cents an acre for 586,000 square
miles or 640 acres per mile.

















The purchase of Alaska from Russia preceded the
America depression of the late 1880’s by 20 years.
That was just long enough for it to play a major
role in the resurrection of the country’s economy
by the discovery of gold. That was just 20 years

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before the American depression of the late 1880’s
and of all things the resurrection of the countries
economy by the discovery of gold and the
Klondike Gold Rush.

The rush across the country caused by the
discovery of gold grew, first in Nevada then
California and became destinations for
easterner’s. Men and women migrated by land
and sea across the country by the thousands.
Voyaging around Cape Horn and up the South
American continent. Many crossed the country
by rail.

























Once the news of the Klondike gold discovery
became known Seattle became the point of
debarkation to reach the north.

There were several paths to the Yukon gold
fields. A long one by steamer through the Bering
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Straits and up the Yukon River from Seattle. By
land across the Canadian Shield, Manitoba,
Alberta and the Canadian Rockies. Few were
successful taking those routes. The path that
drew thousands went through two towns in
Alaska. Towns that were 10 miles from each
other; Skagway and Dyea. Although close
together each offered a different pathway and
level of success.

Individual success was measured. It could mean
they discovered gold. Or that they reached the
gold fields. Or they became wealthy merchants.
Or they just survived and returned to Seattle. All
could be considered successful depending upon
how important each became.
Throughout our travels in the Northwest, one
trait stood out. It was defined by individuals,
with few rules or laws to follow. It could be
summarized in our fantasy as the great
frontiersman’s attitude and character. The so-to-
speak rugged individual who took control of their
own destiny. A land where they struggled more
to survive than to build.
We were in a land where life was much simpler.
Survival took more time in a day, where plans
relating to the weather and seasons of the year
were far more important.

This trait which was the most outstanding story
in Alaska. We shared some of this experience
from the rugged roads, the great distances

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between townships, the forest, and wild animals,
the Northwestern people and even with the
tourists.

Everywhere, the thread that drew all of them
together was the Klondike Gold Rush, which
began here in these two towns; Skagway and
Dyea.
But, before we could investigate these towns we
needed to find a place to stay. Last night had left
us parked right in the middle of town. On one
side was the deep harbor. Several cruise boats
towering over everything except the mountains,
the tourist helicopter pads, and the Single Gage
railroad, the White Pass and Yukon.































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On the other side was the town. The one that
had transformed itself into a tourist attraction.
They had rebuilt main street with 1890 facades.
Bars, saloons, restaurants, and brick-brack shops,
selling souvenirs.


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The town is situated in a small valley, just before
the road climbs into the mountains toward the
White Pass. Fortunately, because of our small
size, we were able to find a spot just out of town.

Back in town we walked to the Railroad Station.
There we discovered the overriding issue for all
would-be Rushers. The baggage they had to take
into Canada.
Everyone had brought their favorite baggage
from home, which was very little. The Rushers
traveled light. That would do okay in the United
States, as there were no laws that really inhibited
them. However, Canada required all visitors or
Rushers to bring a year’s supply of goods into the
country.

This was a huge issue.
It was estimated that these supplies would weigh
over 2000 pounds. That’s a lot of beans, flour,
and bacon. It’s also, a lot of picks, shovels, pots
and pans. Then if you were planning to carry on
some kind of retail you might want to lug laundry
basins or even a sewing machine.

It doesn’t take much imagination to realize how
big a deal this was. Although we’ve never been
much for back country camping we do know that
a backpack can get heavy really fast, and may
weigh 60 or 70 pounds.
Those youngsters we saw camping in Denali with
backpacks were probably carrying that much.


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They carried, with them the lightest gear; a tent,
sleeping bag and pad, dried food, cooking
utensils, water the heaviest, a camera and
additional clothes. All for about 5 days. Not a
year.

So to start with 70 pounds may be a limit to the
amount of things you could carry at a time. That
means you would need about 30 trips into
Canada before they’d let you stay. We figured
the best way to get the stuff over the border was
to hire ‘Sherpa’s’ to carry it. Sherpa’s in 1897
were the Tinlet Indians. Strong fellows that
learned quickly how valuable their backs were.
Here are two photos that depict the kind of
goods that might have been lugged over the
mountains and down the River to the Gold
Fields.

The latter raises yet another issue with the
‘Goods’. About 70% of the supplies weight was
packaging. These boxes are examples of the
lightest in modern packaging. They are Bass
wood. The gunny sacks were light weight burlap.
Oh Yea. Light my eye. Try carrying around a sack
of potatoes.












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This discovery leads us back to the difference
between Skagway and Dyea.
For the ‘Rushers’ Skagway and Dyea had two
advantages, both offered the best way up to the
Yukon River and onward to Dawson Creek in
the Klondike. Skagway had a natural deep water
harbor, while Dyea was at the end of a long
shallow inlet.

We drove over to Dyea. Down at the end of a
long narrow valley, where only the remains of
this famous town still exist

You can see in this Photo how shallow the inlet









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is today. 100 years ago it was deeper, with a pier
that ran far into the water.

They say the weight of the snow and glaciers was
enormous and had pushed the land mass
downward making the inlet deeper. In the last
100 years it’s believed that the land, without the
weight of the ice has rebounded, and has risen a
yard, or 36 inches.
From this photo you can see that ships arriving in
Dyea, dropped their supplies at the end of the
pier, a mile long, then carried it’s length to dry
land. We walked along the old harbor, among
the tall grasses, and the posts left by the pier.






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Around town a mature forest had grown back.
We walked around the ravines, the small hills,
down Main Street, Fifth Avenue, and Trail Street.
There were tin cans, with lead seals, probably
causing them Rushers a little ‘slowness of mind’
from the poisoning, thick glass fragments,
champagne bottles and pieces of thick pottery.














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This cabin wall was the last of any standing
structure.


























Walking up Trail Street we crossed the Yeaia
River to the beginning of the Chilkoot Trail.


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The trail climbed up the mountain. Steps had
been fashioned from stone boulders and
wooden ties from the railroad. The climb was
steep, 65 degrees. We climbed up until it became
even steeper. Along the way there were rusted
cans, bottle fragments and a metal frame of what
could have been a sewing machine.
We stopped a the first break, overlooking the
valley.

This climb was too much for us. We again
realized how different we are today compared to
yesterday. Not only the Rushers, but the great
settlers of America. We’ve come a long way.

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The ‘Stampeders’ climbed this mountain side
again and again with their supplies. Climbing up
took hours returning, sliding on your back, only
moments.

Because it took many trips supplies would be
dropped off and stacked at the Canadian border.
There was reportedly little crime. The Canadian
Mounties were primarily responsible for the low
crime. They had several rules;
Don’t shoot. Call a Mountie.

Don’t gamble, drink, toil, or see prostitutes

on Sundays.
Don’t take someone elses gear or food or

equipment.
Such terrible crimes were punished by whipping,
some by hard labor like cutting fire wood for
months. The worst punishment was to be given
a ‘Blue Ticket’. A ride out of town never to
return.

Thousands passed through Dyea and climbed the
Chilkoot Trail, over the pass to Lake Bennett. It
was so successful and there was so little crime
that the town became a ghost town. After the
Stampede, which lasted only a couple of years
Dyea was left to history.
The alternative town, Skagway had a totally
different story. One that lives on today through
tourists, and may be the reason the great gold


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rush of the Yukon is remembered as a national
event for Canada and the United States.




























From this hillside photo you can see all of
Skagway. The town lies between the cruise ships
in the harbor and the air strip at the base of the
mountain.

We returned to see hundreds of tourists
disembarking from one cruise ship. There were
so many of them we called them knats. Like the
insects. They swarmed the rail station and then
in a tsunami wave up main street into every shop
and restaurant. We ran ahead of them escaping
to the solitude of our camp.

These large tourists autos were originally built by
the Railroad’s during the 1920’s to shuttle tourists



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around our national parks. They have been
rebuilt and in many cases using propane fuel.







































This is downtown Skagway with a few of the
knats.
We went over to the airport. It was characteristic
of the freelance attitude of the frontier. There
was no Control Tower. Each plane used on its
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radio. We watched as they flew off the Lynn
Canal down along the mountain side, circled and
landed. If they couldn’t see or if the clouds
settled I don’t know how they could land or take
off.

As we watched several landed and took off.




















There was also a series of commuter planes at the
end of the airstrip. All were owned by the


























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Skagway Air Service. One look at the tail insignia
and it became clear. The Can Can; Can do. I
suppose after the Gold Rush the town cleaned up
it’s image. The prostitutes were chased out of
downtown Skagway. They reorganized their
services and came back stronger than ever. They
were clearly the largest air service in Skagway.
And their most popular destination was the
political hotbed and capital, Juneau.

So we asked ourselves why Skagway survived the
Gold Rush and Dyea didn’t. One answer would
be the deep harbor. It’s accessible. But, even
more important it was riddled with crime. Some
say no one left town without being fleeced.
Soapy Smith was the leader of the gangsters. He
had every kind of racket going. He had come to
Alaska after a long stay across the west, from
Silver City Nevada and Montana.

One racket we heard about was a telegram
scandal. He charged $5 a telegram, but there
wasn’t a connection to the outside world. He
also had spies in every saloon and store. A
couple of upstanding citizens finally shot him
down and ended his rein.

But, for a Stampeder the most important
objective was to get to Lake Bennett where they
could build a boat and float down the Yukon to
the Klondike. To accomplish this fete they
would have to go over the White Pass, not the
Chilkoot.

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If the Chilkoot was almost impossible the White
Pass was even more difficult. First you had to
get past Soapy Smith and his men. Then climb
the mountain with horses carrying supplies.
Even so it required several trips. One account
described an area called Dead Horse Gulch.

The steep trail was only 18 inches wide. It fell
off on each side. There were so many on it that
if you got out of line it could take an hour before
you could get back. Horses were used to carry
supplies up this rugged trail. They were abused,
over worked to the point of exhaustion and
underfed. Some thought that these horses would
leap off the trail committing suicide. An
alternative to continuing under such horrible
conditions.
The worst account was from a Stampeder that
was headed up the trail and came across a horse
that died lying across the trail. He had to step up
and over the horse. No one would take the time
to remove it. Five hours later the man returned
and found that the horse had been completely
trampled into the trail with only it’s head showing
on one side and tail on the other.
Once on the top, at the White Pass these Rushers
still had miles to go before reaching Lake
Bennett.

We drove up the White Pass on our way out of
Skagway. It was a moonscape of rugged stone
and mountain tops with clouds covering most of

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the way. It was no picnic for us much less a
Rusher.

There was a railroad built, later through the pass
to Whitehorse. It’s called the White Pass and
Yukon. This is a painting of it climbing up the
valley. It’s believed to be the steepest railroad
climb in the world.




























The story of the great Gold Rush continues and
Skagway one of the entrance points to the Yukon
is probably responsible for it’s continued life.

The town that failed has a new life that
contributes to the legend of the Northwest.

We’re on our way back up to the Alaskan
Highway. But were not heading toward British
Columbia. Nope we’re going back to
Whitehorse. It’s only 50 rugged, rough, dusty
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miles, one way. And 50 back. But, Whitehorse
had these beautiful banners celebrating The
Centennial of the Klondike Gold Rush decorated
on every lamppost. We wanted one.



































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CHAPTER 9
NWT: 58,000 IN THE BOONIES


Climbing out of Skagway up the steep passage to
the White Pass we marveled at how difficult it
had been to get over the mountains. We were in
the clouds. The earth’s surface was desolate,
covered with rocks and granite with small ponds.
There were no trees or bushes. It was an alien
environment.

What an unfriendly environment it was for us in
the middle of the summer. Imagine how it must
be in the winter. One small indication of how
bad it may be is the railroad’s ‘snow shovel’. We
had seen it on display in the rail yard. It was
round, the size of an 747 jet engine and covered
the front of the 4 wheel engine. It plowed the
tracks clearing the way for most of the winter.
All the way up the canyon we had seen the single
gage rail. It’s tracks were across from us, cutting
its own path on the other side of the mountain.
A train had left before us so by the time we
reached the pass they had already stopped for a
break. We stopped also to use the primitive
facilities, a couple of pit toilets.
Among the passengers was a couple we knew.
We talked a while and heard about their fishing
adventure off the Kenai Peninsula. Mary Ann


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had caught a 100 pound halibut. After she
hooked it she had to land it by herself. It took
her an hour to get it inside the boat. What a
story. They had 50 pounds of halibut cut, canned
and sent home. .

Beyond the White Pass we came to Carcross.
Carcross is on the Northern end of Lake Bennett
and the mouth of the Yukon River.
























Lake Bennett was at the end point of the
Chilkoot Trail. During the gold rush it was the
beginning of the water trail to the Klondike.
Some accounts say there were 7,000 boats built
to make the trip down the Yukon. Pictures show
that the countryside was denuded of trees.
Stampeders, with little experience building boats,
or for that matter as outdoorsmen or pioneers
continued their quest toward the north. Their
boats were mostly flat bottom, simple rafts.


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We were glad to get to Carcross. Our sirst sign
of civilization since Skagway. It also represented


























a milestone for us. Here was a bridge across the
Yukon River. We took advantage of it and drove
across and back. That might not seem like a big























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deal. Who keeps count of the crossing of the
Mississippi; except us. This is the only other
bridge across the 2,300 miles of river. We had
now crossed both of them. The other was on the
Haul Road near the Arctic Circle. Every other
time it was by ferry. At Dawson Creek we
crossed at least 5 times. And yes, we know every
bridge across the Mississippi, and several that no
one should ever travel across.


































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We would follow the river up to Whitehorse.
The valley was everything we had learned to
expect of the Northwest. Look at how beautiful
the river is as it heads for Whitehorse.

We were in and out of Whitehorse in a flash. At
our third stop we found a shop that sold the
banners. There were several colors. We chose
purple.
We then turned back to the Alaskan Highway to
recover from our back tracking. Our stop that
night was at one of the worst campgrounds we
had been to. It was Marsh Lake. It is any
wonder that it was terrible with a name like that.

Despite the pleasant view of this photo it was
missible, the mosquitoes were horrible. We
would never get use to them, and worst, our no-
see-um netting didn’t seem to be working that
well. Every night after we were asleep some
mosquitoes would get into the van and pester us.















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We left early, without breakfast, but fortunately
we were on the path to ‘Mukluck Annie’s’. Every
few miles the brilliant orange sign invited us to
breakfast. How could we refuse.



























We stopped, filled ourselves with pancakes,
bacon, sausages, blueberries, strawberries,
cantaloupe, eggs and coffee. And before we left


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we took a high powered hose and washed away
all the mud that had caked on our van.

By night fall we had arrived at Watson Lake The
lakes along the highway were beautiful. When













































the sun shone on them their glacial silt reflected
greenish blue. Unfortunately, the weather wasn’t
cooperating.



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I was able to practice my fire building skills.
Some call me ‘One Match Zimmerman’ because
my skills are honed. With one match I’m able to
build the best campfires. Fires that burn in any
weather. The marvel is they are smokeless.

It’s not a simple skill. Yet, campers all over
North America would die for it. And despite
their inability to build a smokeless fire it’s on the
top of their list. We abhor campfire smoke.
When we left Denali we were worried about
coming to the end of the road. Concerned that
once we turned East we would want to be home
long before we could get there. Our experience
in Anchorage, Kenai, and Skagway diverted us
from those feelings. But now that we’re back on
the highway and moving along across familiar
ground we were beginning to lose interest.

At this point we were searching for a little
diversion. Going over Stone Mountain again, we



















encountered lots of traffic and construction. By


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now, in late July, it had become pretty busy. The
first opportunity came outside of Stone
Mountain.

We saw a couple in a field with small pails. It
turned out they were picking wild strawberries.
Berries that were so small they hid below the
plants leaves. Smaller than the tip of a pencil
eraser. We stopped and in less than a half hour
we had picked a cup full. Not too many, but they
tasted really good, like strawberries and were
good on our cereal.
Another distraction came along shortly afterward.
This distraction came in the form of a lake. Have
you ever heard of the Great Slave Lake. I had,
on maps from an early age. It’s the second
deepest lake in the world, over 2,000 feet deep. I
thought this large lake in the Northwest was
named after enslaved people. It’s not, rather it’s
a language the local First Nation People spoke.
However, the Great Slave Lake is in the
Northwest Territories, and we had seen road
signs for it. This time the road sign, Route 77,
was too much to resist.










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