Klondike Highway

It is, and for awhile still will continue to be, a parade of iconic highways over here. After picking up SS in Whitehorse, we turned off the west-bound Alaska Highway and headed north to Dawson City on the Klondike. It was an 8-hour drive with the various stops we made, which included braking for a big beaver crossing the road--which might be the first time I've ever gotten a good look at a beaver in the wild! Then, there was a gorgeous view of the mighty Yukon River at Five Forks Rapids.

We also got out of the car here to take the long boardwalk/staircase down closer to the river to stretch our legs.

The next time we got out of the car was at Moose Creek Lodge, where our Whitehorse CouchSurfing host had told us there was a phone in the tree and she wanted us to stop and use it to ask God to call her. The nice ladies (I think their accents were...German?) in the kitchen of this remote lodge are the ones who answer the old, old phone that is not connected to anything else, and they were just as confused as we were, though it was hard to do anything but appreciate the kooky, random fun of this novelty. And I'm grateful not to have fallen off the ladder.

The creative mosquito sculpture in front of the lodge would be a good warning for the conditions anywhere in the forest in this neck of the woods.

But we pressed on to historic Dawson City, Yukon Territory.

When I visited Skagway three years ago and took the train inland that kind of follows the path of the Chilkoot Trail, I don't think I really absorbed the context of that place. Now that I'm in Dawson, things are much clearer. This is where everyone was headed during the goldrush at the very end of the 1800's. Bonanza Creek, the Klondike River--it's all just outside of town, here. So people from all over North America heard that gold was found, made their way via ship up the west coast of the States and Canada, eventually landed in Skagway, endured all variety of crooks and theives and the freezing elements that claimed many lives as the prospectors climbed their way inland over frozen, forbidding Chilkoot Pass, carrying 1000 lbs of supplies. Those that even made it that far then found some sort of floating device to carry them down the Yukon to Dawson City.  And plenty made it that far, though most of them found no more gold claim stakes available by the time they arrived. This is a picture taken in 1904, toward the end of the gold frenzy, but Dawson had in the meantime become the commercial hub of this part of the world.

And here is Dawson City today. A bit different, though the incredible history of the town echoes around every corner, and it has thankfully avoided becoming a kitchsy tourist trap.

The slowly receding permafrost that was once stronger in this area is having a serious effect on many of the older buildings that used that disappearing permafrost as their foundation.

And the locals seek to preserve this and every type of history, including that of the First Nations people of this area, one of whom was at the local cultural museum making the native favorite of bannock (with local jams--the best part!) for anyone who wanted some.

We would return to Dawson for more, as this town totally charmed beyond expectations. But first, there was another highway calling our names--one that would take us on a journey into the Arctic Circle, the northern acme of my adventures this year and the reason I've been lugging around not one but two spare tires for the past 20,000 miles. So stay tuned....