The Klondike Hwy

After leaving Whitehorse we start towards the Klondike Hwy, but first we detour to Muktuk Adventures, run by Yukon Quest legend Frank Turner (three times retired) and his wife Anne. Although Frank no longer mushes competitively anymore, he still enjoys raising and training sled dogs. Sled dogs are bred much like sheep herding dogs, that is, they're not bred for show, but rather for doing the best job pulling sleds. Each sled dog breeder has his/her own mix that they like the best. Frank and Ann tend to like huskies mixed with labs for stamina, while others like to add in some greyhound for speed.

road into Muktuk Ranch

Peter meets one of the puppies

shown to us by a German intern

A puppy mugging in the pen...

A black puppy gets interested in me

and starts licking my ear

so vigorously, he knocks me over and then starts chomping on my hat

Ohhhh yes, we would like to take you home with us, but the Ratz would riot!

Please take me home with you... pleeeease. After playing with the puppies, we look at the race sleds used to train the dogs

Sled shed

Peter tries out his mushing skills

We then wander around the to meet the other dogs by their houses.  Since it's a warm day, they're not too active.

Sas looks like he could pull anything

Valec not so much.

What a handsome fellow

Humm - wonder how he got his name?

The 1000 mile Yukon Quest is not a dog sled race to be taken lightly, nor is it as commercialized as the better known Iditarod.   It runs every February between Whitehorse and Fairbanks, alternating each year between the start and end points. Below are photos of the 20 Official Finishers from a previous year.
After having fun with the dogs and getting to meet Frank, who not only tells us more about the Yukon Quest, but also gives us some great travel tips, we head up the Klondike Hwy to Dawson.

We stop at Mom's Bakery for lunch

Trisha, aka Mom, brings our lunches

Peter wolfing down his buffalo chili

in Mom's garden patio - Now that's a Yukon sized bumble bee!

Although the history of the Yukon is fascinating, the scenery along the Klondike Hwy isn't as spectacular as others we have driven.

We stop for caffeine at Braeburn Lodge  famous for their gigantic cinnamon buns. The lady behind the counter asks if we'd like to buy one. We jokingly tell her that they're not exactly on our diet and then ask her if anyone ever eats a whole one all at once.  She says yes, but it's not the kind of person you'd think.  It's the tall skinny cyclists that come in and devour them in one fell swoop.

Braeburn Lodge

Monster cinnamon buns

and their main customers.

The towns (loosely used term for small settlements) are few and far between. If fuel's running low,  pray they have a gas station open with an operating credit card processor (no guarantees and carry cash). No David, there aren't any McDonalds to stop at so we can connect with WiFi.

Carmacks' tile welcome sign

Blue bridge over the Yukon at Pelly Crossing

We pass miles and miles of Boreal forest {yawn}. Yes, we know it's an important ecosystem.

Miles and miles of Boreal forest

as in real boring.

We amuse ourselves by passing 20 out of the 38 Airstreams in a Wally Byam Caravan

After being shut out of the RV Park of our choice by the Airstream Caravan, we aren't sure if we'd find a decent place to camp. Then we stumble into one of the nicest campsites we've had ever right next to the creek in Tatchun Creek Yukon government campground. BTW, what the Yukon Government campgrounds may lack in services, they make up for in beautiful locations and cheap prices.

our campsite

@ Tatchum Creek Hey - we should have brought a gold pan

We kick back with a Molson

The next day we enjoy views of the Yukon River before reaching Dawson.

Yukon River

The infamous Five Fingers Rapids on the Yukon River

The Cremation of Sam McGee

Two famous authors were inspired by the Yukon - Jack London and Robert Service. Both had cabins in Dawson and/or Whitehorse. While in the Yukon, we learned more about both authors. Jack London came in the first mad rush of Gold Sampeders in 1898. Like many, he went home penniless and also almost dead from scurvy. However, he also returned home to Oakland, CA with stories to tell and became one of America's best selling authors.

Robert Service "Bard of the Yukon" couldn't have been much more different than the poor, rough and tumble London.  He basically came to the Yukon after the gold rush was well established as bank teller, first in Whitehorse then in Dawson. After working for the bank, he retired early in Dawson to write his poetry.

He was fascinated by both words and the stories of sourdoughs. Like London, much of what Service wrote was true... that is, with a hefty dose of poetic license.  For example, Sam McGee was a business man in Dawson and a close friend; however, he wasn't from Tennessee. Service simply liked the sound of Sam McGee's name and asked permission to use it in a poem. Sam McGee's cabin was in Whitehorse, but he had adapted well to the long Yukon winters and didn't mind the cold. Also, Lake Labarge really is a lake close to Whitehorse... but the rest of the poem is mostly a tall tale.

So indulge me by my reciting this well-loved poem.

Robert service in front of his Dawson cabin in which he lived for many years after retiring as a bank teller.

The Cremation of Sam McGee

There are strange things done in the midnight sun By the men who moil for gold; The Arctic trails have their secret tales That would make your blood run cold; The Northern Lights have seen queer sights, But the queerest they ever did see Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge I cremated Sam McGee.

The marge by Lake Lebarge

the real Sam McGee's cabin

Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows. Why he left his home in the South to roam 'round the Pole, God only knows. He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell; Though he'd often say in his homely way that "he'd sooner live in hell.

On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail. Talk of your cold! through the parka's fold it stabbed like a driven nail. If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldn't see; It wasn't much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee.

And that very night, as we lay packed tight in our robes beneath the snow, And the dogs were fed, and the stars o'erhead were dancing heel and toe, He turned to me, and "Cap," says he, "I'll cash in this trip, I guess; And if I do, I'm asking that you won't refuse my last request."

Well, he seemed so low that I couldn't say no; then he says with a sort of moan: "It's the cursed cold, and it's got right hold till I'm chilled clean through to the bone. Yet 'taint being dead — it's my awful dread of the icy grave that pains; So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, you'll cremate my last remains."

A pal's last need is a thing to heed, so I swore I would not fail; And we started on at the streak of dawn; but God! he looked ghastly pale. He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day of his home in Tennessee; And before nightfall a corpse was all that was left of Sam McGee.

There wasn't a breath in that land of death, and I hurried, horror-driven, With a corpse half hid that I couldn't get rid, because of a promise given; It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say: "You may tax your brawn and brains, But you promised true, and it's up to you to cremate those last remains."

Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code. In the days to come, though my lips were dumb, in my heart how I cursed that load. In the long, long night, by the lone firelight, while the huskies, round in a ring, Howled out their woes to the homeless snows — O God! how I loathed the thing.

And every day that quiet clay seemed to heavy and heavier grow; And on I went, though the dogs were spent and the grub was getting low; The trail was bad, and I felt half mad, but I swore I would not give in; And I'd often sing to the hateful thing, and it hearkened with a grin.

Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge, and a derelict there lay; It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice it was called the "Alice May." And I looked at it, and I thought a bit, and I looked at my frozen chum; Then "Here," said I, with a sudden cry, "is my cre-ma-tor-eum."

Some planks I tore from the cabin floor, and I lit the boiler fire; Some coal I found that was lying around, and I heaped the fuel higher; The flames just soared, and the furnace roared — such a blaze you seldom see; And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and I stuffed in Sam McGee.

Then I made a hike, for I didn't like to hear him sizzle so; And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled, and the wind began to blow. It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I don't know why; And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky.

I do not know how long in the snow I wrestled with grisly fear; But the stars came out and they danced about ere again I ventured near; I was sick with dread, but I bravely said: "I'll just take a peep inside. I guess he's cooked, and it's time I looked;" . . . then the door I opened wide.

And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar; And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and he said: "Please close that door. It's fine in here, but I greatly fear you'll let in the cold and storm — Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it's the first time I've been warm."

There are strange things done in the midnight sun By the men who moil for gold; The Arctic trails have their secret tales That would make your blood run cold; The Northern Lights have seen queer sights, But the queerest they ever did see Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge I cremated Sam McGee.

Whitehorse, Yukon

 Whitehorse is Yukon's biggest "city" at a population of around 26K and is also the capitol.

We roll into Whitehorse about mid day and find another beautiful day in store for us to wander the streets and get the layout of the town before settling down at the Hi Country RV Park. Whitehorse got it's name for the infamous Whitehorse rapids, a major obstacle for the Gold Stampeders floating down the Yukon River to the Klondike gold fields.  The miners thought these rapids resembled a stampeding herd of white horse with their manes flying.  It's been told that many would-be miners lost their lives running these rapids in their flimsily built and overloaded log rafts/boats. Today the rapids have been flooded due the building of a hydro-electric dam to power the city.

Entering Whitehorse

Early photo of a successful run of Whitehorse rapid

Walking around Whitehorse we find many tributes and references to the miners who brought the city into being. We are surprised to learn that gold wasn't the only metal mined in the area.

Statue commemorating the miners

The largest copper "nugget" ever found in the region

Close up of copper nugget

We quickly find the Informational Center along the lovely river walk. We notice many pamphlets are in German as well as English.  After meeting many Germans in the Yukon, we learn that Condor Airlines runs direct flights of airbuses from Hamburg Germany to Whitehorse. No wonder! Apparently Germans love the wilderness and sparse population. As one we met explained to us, here in the Yukon you can drive 200 miles and be lucky to find a gas station, while in Germany he'd be in Spain in 200 miles.

River walk along the Yukon

Information Center

Tribute to the native tribes

We decide to explore the MacBride Museum of Yukon History. It's inconceivable to us in our comfy Navion the hardships the early miners and pioneers suffered. We especially get a kick out of the Sourdough Thermometers consisting of different liquids in bottles, each freezing at different temperatures - anywhere from -40 to -75 degrees centigrade. Brrrr... glad we're just here in summer.

We also learn the early gold rushers were mostly after placer gold - the kind found in nuggets and gold dust along streams and rivers. Apparently there's still gold in the Yukon, but it's "hard rock" which has to be dug out in more elaborate mining operations especially to break through the permafrost.

Now that's a BEAR! He's got to be over 8' tall

Geeze - can't fathom Yukon winters in a canvas tent

Fossiliferous limestone

Big chunk of "hard rock" gold (veined quartz)

First locomotive over the White Pass & Yukon Railroad

We walk back along the river to see the SS (Steam Ship) Klondike - a wonderfully restored paddle-wheel riverboat.

Old docks along the Yukon River

Yukoners' sense of humor painted transformer

The SS Klondike

Once the mines got more established, shallow drafted riverboats were used in the summers (dog sleds in the winter) to ship supplies down river to Dawson and bring more refined gold back to Whitehorse and over the White Pass Railroad to be shipped out at Skagway.

Examples of cargo to go down river

more cargo in burlap bags.

1

But the most important cargo going either up or downriver was wood as the steamer used 2-3 cords an hour to move forward.

Wood for

the hungry boiler.

As the Yukon became more civilized, the riverboats started to carry passengers as well. First class passengers were able to travel in comfort.

Observational deck

1st class cabin

dinning room.

Still the journey wasn't without it's perils, such as Five Finger Rapids where the ships had to be cabled up river between the dangerous narrow passage.

Lifeboats

Buckets ready for fighting fires

Anchor

Wheel room

Paddle wheel

Before we leave town, we stop at the Beringia Interpretive Center. Beringia is a lost continent of sorts that formed during several of the past Ice Ages (17 of them to be more exact) when ocean levels fell and the land bridge between Siberia and Alaska was exposed. Due to the surrounding mountains, this area was kept ice free and supported vast plains of nutritious grasses to feed the mega mammals that flourished there.

Wow - Wooly Mammoths were BIG

Ride'm Bucky the Giant Beaver

These see these well packed motorcycles in the parking lot

Entry to Beringia Center

Now that's a BIG Mammoth

Map of how Beringia covered the norther plains

The Center also covers the first peoples to migrate into these lands from Siberia.

Crow creating the lands

Wonderfully carved wood wall panel

Although we don't actually go inside the Transportation Museum next door, we do check out the "World's Largest Weather Vane" made from a DC-3... and yes it does move when the wind blows.