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Rudie
Carlos
Hello every body.
We are doing well and have just completed a camping trip up north to Alaska
and the Yukon. My dreams of work have reduced to almost nothing, while
Leslie still dreams of Elmwood two or three times a week.
First a bit of background to set the stage. We spend most of the time in the
Yukon, Canada's most North Western province. (Yes, I know it is a
territory, but the European readers would not know what that is.) Stretching
from the 60th parallel till well inside the Arctic Circle it is half a million
square km, an area larger than England and France combined. Whitehorse is
the capital, where half of the Yukon population of 50,000 people live. Most
of the Yukon has a summer (frost free days) of 3 months or less and the rest
of the year it get progressively colder till temperatures in mid February drop
to minus 50 - 60 degrees. This is not much of a growing season, so nearly
any vegetable must be imported or grown in green houses. It also means that
trees (only in the southern part of the Yukon) grow very slowly and even small
trees are quite old. The long winters make people do all sorts of strange
things. More about that later.
Two events shaped the history of the Yukon.
The first event occurred over a hundred years ago in 1896 to be exact, when
gold was discovered in the Yukon and the Klondike gold rush began.
Many headed North with big dreams. Contrary to those dreams, few miners
left the Klondike with pockets full of gold. Even fewer held on to their
wealth. The Canadian historian Pierre Burton estimates about 100,000 headed
for the gold fields between 1897 and 1899. About one third made it. Probably
half of them actually mined for gold. Of those only a few hundred struck it
rich. The search for gold was hard, backbreaking labor done by hand. Mining
was a wet process from start to finish: standing in chilly rivers and
streams, swirling icy water in pans and through sluice boxes. The climate
didn't offer a warm welcome either. Hordes of mosquito's were ever present
during those "three good months". When the winter came, all the miners could
do, was set fires to melt the ground. Then with picks and shovels, they'd
loosen and scrape whatever earth they could, repeating the process over and
over again. As they neared bedrock, the miner had to work alone in a smoky
hole on hands and knees, filling bucket after bucket with gravel. When the
loose gravel reached the surface it froze again. In the spring the payoff
might come, when they shoveled the hard fought for gravel into the sluices to
harvest the gold.
The second event was the creation of the Alaska highway from Dawson Creek
B.C. to Fairbanks Alasks. The Alcan highway to be more precise. After the
bombing of Pearl Harbor in December 1941, the Americans were afraid that the
Japanese would invade Alaska. The USA would need a road into Alaska to be
able to move troops and supplies for defense. The highway is 2400 kilometers
long and was build in eight months, from March 1942 till November 1942. An
heroic effort. More than 10,000 men of the US army engineer corps were moved
up North. Trucks, road building equipment, furniture, food, tents, and other
supplies all had to be located and shipped north. Road work began in April
with crews working out of the 2 largest construction camps, Whitehorse and
Fort St. John. The highway followed existing winter roads, old Indian trails,
rivers and, on occasion, sight engineering. For the soldiers and civilian
workers it was a hard life. Working 7 days a week, they endured mosquitoes and
black flies in summer and below zero temperatures in winter. Weeks would
pass without any communication between head quarters and field parties.
In June the Japanese invaded the Aleutian Islands (West of Alaska)
adding a new sense of urgency. Crews working from East and West connected at
the end of September and by October, a vehicle could travel the full length.
A moment of reflection however would point out, that after the Japanese
invaded Alaska, you would only have to wait a few weeks (till winter), before
the whole invasion army would be frozen to death. It gets cold up here!
The first part of our trip was heading north to Prince George, which is
about 800 km north of Vancouver. This beautiful drive took us up the Fraser
river at the height of the salmon run, past such interesting places as Hell's
gate and the Fraser Canyon. Then we followed the Caribou highway , which
starts at Lilloet. This is the old Barkerville gold rush highway.
In Prince George Leslie's cousins, Bob and Maxine joined us. We rented a
van because we did not want to expose Leslie's nice new car to the gravel
highways of the North. It was a minivan with a 4 wheel drive. We needed to
remove the second back seat in order to accommodate all the stuff that the
women considered necessary. We packed the van to the roof and have enough food
to feed an expeditionary army for at least 6 months. Food is apparently
expensive and hard to find in the Yukon.
Whitehorse was our first destination. It is a 2000 km drive to the North
West of Prince George. We decided to take inside BC roads up and return
over the Alaska highway. The Cassiar highway was just the ticket.
Heading straight north, it joins the Alaska highway about 450 km before
Whitehorse and has many interesting stops.
An early stop was Kitwanga fort, which was on a rather small but steep hill
beside a Native village by the same name. We learned all about the native
warrior Nek't , who donned armor made of grizzly bear skin, reinforced with
slate and wooden boards. This must have weighed quite a bit, but he still
managed to swing his club named "Strike Only Once". He built a fortress on
this hill and rolled "tree trunks of death" down on his enemies. Girls were
taken to puberty pits to learn how to behave as women. Little information was
provided about what that actually entailed. This might be something for
Elmwood (the private girls' school where Leslie used to teach) to
consider. It would not require any new buildings, just some pits, dug into
the school yard. No mention of similar rites for boys. I guess they just
knew naturally how to behave as men.
Further on we had an interesting stop at Moricetown canyon. The Bulkley
river thundered through it with great speed and the waters at the base of the
falls were swarming with salmon trying to swim up the falls. A Indian man
was fishing with a gaff, hooking salmon. He stood right at the edge of the
falls with a rope tied around his waist to prevent him from falling into the
raging river. We saw him spearing three salmon in the space of half and
hour.
A 70 km side trip took us to Stewart, which is right on the Alaska border.
We crossed over into Alaska at the Hyder border crossing . No American
customs official in sight. So for the first time in my life I entered the
States without extensive questioning about my intentions and background. Then
a 37 km drive took us along a pothole ridden road with spectacular views of
the Salmon river with large gravel beds. Salmons love them for procreation.
After about 10 km the road began to climb and eventually we were more than 2
km above sea level. The road was originally a mining road to service a number
of copper and silver mines from the 1920's till the 1960's. We saw a black
bear on the road, but approaching tourists in an 4 wheel drive scared it off.
When we reached the toe of the Salmon glacier, we observed a number of bright
green Kettles (holes in the rock created by ice blocks that later melted and
filled with water). A bit further up we spotted a hoary marmot. Leslie was
a bit slow and managed only to photograph it's tail. Then the road took us
above the glacier. Rock slides had taken bites out of the road and the view
of the 300 meter drop down was sort of dizzying. At the end of the road we
looked down upon the ice field and were impressed by the sheer size of the
various glaciers it was feeding. We could clearly see how the shape of the
rocks underneath created crevasses on the convex surfaces, while closing them
up on the concave surfaces. At this point in time it was close to 7:00 p.m.
and it was getting rather cold. Many insects were out and considered us easy
game. On the way back we stopped at Fish creek to watch salmon spawn. A
stimulating sight.
Once we hit the Alaska highway, it started to get colder quickly,
especially at night. So Bob and Maxine kept each other warm. I am quite
warm in my arctic sleeping bag and Leslie's hot flashes are keeping her warm.
The next side trip was two hours along a bumpy gravel road to Atlin, one of
the gold rush towns in 1898. At the height of the rush it had a population
of over 10,000. It was a thriving community with a boat service. The town
right now has a population of around 500 people. There are a lot of rusted
out pieces of equipment lying around to remind you of days gone by. The town
itself has a stunning view of the mountains and glaciers across the lake. It
is one of the last places in the world where gold nuggets are mined, and is
known as an artistic community. We camped just outside the town along Pine
Creek. This was an unserviced campground run by volunteers from the community
and was very pleasant. We had to get water from a small natural spring about
a kilometer and a half down the road. At the local cemetery we saw the
graves of the original discoverers of the gold deposit. They lived only to
about 30 years of age. Not much time to enjoy their new found riches. Some
interesting stories about the deaths of pioneers included: starving to death
for an aviator whose plane crashed, and a train accident on the two mile
portage railroad. A 16 year old boy was mistaken for a bear and shot to
death. A number of very young children died when 10 to 25 days old, and a
number of old timers reached 85 - 90 years old. All together an educational
experience.
Further down the road was Grotto Creek. Here a creek came bubbling out of a
cave in the rock wall. It was a cool and shady place, the sort where Adam
could have met Eve, if it only had been a little warmer. As it was, Adam
would have frozen his uhh toes off. Of course we visited the Pine creek
waterfalls. Without a doubt these are the most artistically impressive
waterfalls, that I have ever seen. The falls are in a deep gorge. A number
of increasingly steep rapids, lead to a steep water fall, which cut sharply
at a right angle, and led into another set of falls, ending in a large
circular pool, which cut a pothole in the wall of the gorge. The speed of the
water setup a large, whirlpool motion. The water, turned 270 degrees and then
the pool emptied out into another waterfall, which flowed into a longer set of
small waterfalls and rapids. The whole setup provided a spectacular display
of water works and the deep gorge with the large trees surrounding it, made
it look like something out of the dinosaur age.
On to Whitehorse. Once we arrived in Whitehorse, we had some trouble finding
the campground until we realized that the town map had North pointing toward
the bottom of the map. The street names are numbers and the highest street
number was Eight. That evening we had dinner in a huge miner's tent
converted into a restaurant, where the prices ranged from expensive to
outrageous. This is par for the course we were told. Some restaurants charge
prices between "Say What??" and "You got to be kidding!!".
That evening we graced the "Frantic Follies" with our presence. This was a
reenactment of the Follies during the gold rush. It was great fun. These
cancan gals sure can kick. Great costumes and great show. The jokes were
also about 100 years old! And of course, a number of rather unwilling
volunteers from the audience were dragged onto the stage and made fools of.
The next part of the trip was a circle, from Whitehorse to Skagway, on the
Alaska coast, by Ferry to Haines Alaska and back to Whitehorse.
The road to Skagway follows the White Pass into Alaska. It is quite
forbidding and I wondered how anybody could have cross this on foot or with a
supply train. Apparently, during the gold rush, the Mounties would not let
anybody cross the pass without at least a four month supply of food. Someone
actually build a railroad across it in 1898. Quote of the day of the
contractor: " Give me enough smooze and dynamite and I"ll build you a road to
hell". This sounds like the American way. We do not know what smooze is.
Maxine says that snoose is chewing tobacco. I think it is slang for booze.
The ferry to Haines was large and comfortable. Haines is inside one of
Alaska's fjords. We found a great campsite along a boulder strewn creek about
200 meters from the ocean in a heavily wooded area. The evenings were getting
colder now. We were playing cards in the flickering light of our lantern in
our warmest clothing. Strip poker is not a good game here. Leslie and Maxine
were wearing gloves and Leslie is also wearing her woolen headband to keep her
ears warm.
Haines did not really turn up anything interesting or noteworthy. This
seemed to be a good time to leave Alaska, so we drove up to the Canada border
along the Chilkat river on our way to Haines Junction. This was an
alternative route leading to the Klondike over the Chilkat Pass . The pass
offered beautiful vista with many glaciers visible from the highway.
We made a stop at Million Dollar Falls campsite. No one was there. The
campsite had a large wood lot for camp and cooking fires. A large sign warned
of 2 year prison terms for stealing firewood. I presume that in this climate
stealing firewood can be the difference between life and death most of the
time.
Further up the highway, at Dezadeash lake, was a large rock glacier. A rock
glacier is a Glacier, which is close to dying. Large amounts of broken up
rocks and gravel are still lying on top of the remaining ice field and the
whole mass is slowly sliding down hill. We hiked up the rock glacier where
life in the form of lichen and small plants had already taken hold over the
last few hundred years. The whole surface had an undulation shape caused by
the glacier stresses underneath.
We all have been wearing winter clothing since Whitehorse. Leslie is bundled
up day and night. This is only the end of August. I have trouble imagining
what February would be like.
We finally settled in at Kluane National Park Campsite at Kathleen lake.
This National park is 22,000 square km, one and a half times the size of
Holland. The national park campsites have wheelchair accessible outhouses and
bilingual signs. I have not seen anyone in a wheelchair so far, and this far
north no one speaks French.
The next morning it was freezing and I was caught between the opposing
forces of needing to pee and staying in a nice and warm sleeping bag. While
this power struggle took place I made a number of observations and deductions
on camping in freezing temperatures.
Our tent is pretty air tight and water tight, but lets out heat easily. The
condensation from our breath makes the inside of the tent and the outside of
the sleeping bag rather wet. If you curl up in your sleeping bag and do not
keep your feet in the foot end, it gets cold there. When you try to
circulate the air inside your sleeping bag to warm that part up, you will suck
cold air inside your bag. This is unpleasant. It takes some skill to cover
up the air holes at your shoulders and then pump your sleeping bag. It is not
possible to dress yourself inside a mummy type sleeping bag. You have to get
out first and get cold. It pays to keep your clothes inside the sleeping bag
for a while to warm them up first.
Observations after I got up: Frost covered outhouse seats are very cold.
The women said it was worse for them. It was hard to start the kerosene stove
(Gas line frozen??). There was frost on the picnic table and it looked like a
small curling rink. This inspired us to play curling on the picnic table
with the metal coffee cups, while we were waiting for the tea water to boil.
An early morning campfire was a necessity to keep warm.
Back to Whitehorse. We have not had a shower for four days, as all campsites
were rather primitive. This started to get noticeable. Driving with the
windows open is really not a good alternative. We revisited the campground
for an hour, because it had hot showers.
Greatly refreshed we headed down the Alaska highway back to Prince George.
That night we are stayed in Liard which has a hot spring. It was about a 15
minute walk through the forest and warm swamp over a wooden walk way. The
hot springs themselves are a cascade of two large natural pools. They have
gravel bottoms and are about a meter deep. The first, higher one, had the
water bubbling up at 52 degrees C. By the time it cascaded as a small hot
water fall into the second pool, it had cooled down to 42 degrees C. The
second pool also had a cold spring feeding in from the far end. By moving
towards it, you could get into quite cold water. Because it was a natural
pool, the forest grew right up to it, and the hot water allowed tropical
species to grow, which are not found anywhere else this far north. It was now
about 10:30 p.m. and quite dark. There were no lights except the moon and
stars. The whole pool was covered by a large cloud of steam, visible in the
flashlight. A very romantic setting.
The road back to Prince George was uneventful. There were a fair number of
animals along the road. Buffaloes, a flock of thin horned mountain sheep and
6 caribou. Ahead of us a caribou buck got off to his side of the highway to
avoid an oncoming truck, but the caribou cow on the other side, ran across
the road to follow the buck and nearly got run over.
The last two days were spend in a lot warmer area and the last night we had
the nicest campsite to date along the Peace River. We enjoyed a beautiful
evening with the full moon coming up somewhat later. The moon light was
scattered by the ripples of the fast flowing river and the fragments of light
played hide and seek with the rocks in the water and the leaves of the trees.
The whole area had a fairy tale ambiance. How is that for Rudie getting
poetic?
PS Anybody who wants to be dropped from the distribution list please say so.
People who have not received letter #1 (Visit to Churchill Manitoba), or #2
(Banff National park) and still want it, please drop us an e-mail.
Please note the this is our preferred e-mail address. (dehoogr@netscape.net).
We can access it from any internet cafe. The other one
(leslie.baird@sympatico.ca) is only visited every two weeks or so.
Rudie..
Hello Rudy/Leslie...very nice recount of your journey to the North. I came
into work today not expecting to learn a darn thing. I'd like to learn more
about the "puberty pits" though....yikes! Hello to everyone on this
list...and hello to my kin.
I think about you from time to time and wonder where the heck you are, it's
a delightful surprise to hear that the adventure is in full swing. We have
felt the leading egde of Fall over the last couple of nights here, I imagine
at your parallel things are even more chilly.
In answer to your call below, by all means keep me on the mailing list. I
truly enjoy reading about your travel.
I will print a copy of this message and present at the next gathering. Maybe
Tina can do likewise.
Take care both of you, I'm looking forward to your next trip
report...cheers!
Carlos Dwarka
A/Chief, Messaging and Network Services
993-7367