Once past Fort Selkirk, although the surrounding country is at least as impressive as ever, the trip seemed to be rather anti-climactic. Possibly it's a combination of the
increasing amount of traffic on the river and the increasing size of the river itself that weaken the aura that has been so strong up to this point. Certainly there is no
shortage of historic sites along the banks, with long-abandoned farms becoming more prevalent among the woodcamps as we get nearer the formerly large markets of Dawson City.
The relatively fertile islands were particularly popular spots for combined wood-cutting/farming operations.
Little or nothing remains at most of these sites - some have been lost to river erosion, and, due to the increasing ease of transportation as we go downstream, many of
the buildings were moved to new locations when the original site was no longer viable. As well, the closer
we get to Dawson, the larger the number of old sites that have been taken over by new owners, with new cabins being built, or the ghosts being chased out when the old
cabins are rebuilt.
Near Isaac Creek, 45 miles downriver from Fort Selkirk, we camped on a small island with fairly fresh tracks of a sow
black bear and her cub, and the following morning were treated to one of the most fascinating events that I've ever seen in the wild. Four peregrine falcons
spent at least 10 minutes "playing" with a little sandpiper, knocking it into the water over and over. They would let their victim fly a hundred feet or so,
then knock him into the river again. Finally, when the little bird was totally exhausted, one of the falcons snatched him in mid-air, and took him to the far
end of the island, where all 4 falcons argued over what must have been a very small meal.
The main channel in the river can be rather difficult to follow, even for a canoe, even at extreme high water as it
was during our trip. Several times, we skimmed over gravel bars in very surprising spots. At locations like Kirkman's Crossing, the government spent
large amounts of money in the early years, dredging channels through the gravel bars for the sternwheelers - in some cases
(when the gravel was fairly fine), the boats would use their
paddlewheels to dig a channel.
Due to heavy rains (most of which missed us), the river was carrying much more silt and debris than normal, but even so,
once the water from the White River was added, there was a dramatic difference in the colour (and the sound) of the Yukon River. It looks rather like
slowly adding cream to your morning coffee - quite fascinating to watch, and complete mixing of the waters takes several miles. The colour of the White
River is the result of a combination of glacial silt, and ash from a volcanic eruption about 1,250 years ago. The ash layer now makes a convenient
dating tool for archeologists at sites throughout most of the south and central Yukon.
Seeing Stewart Island, at the mouth of the large Stewart River, was a shock. We had been warned that the river was
reclaiming Stewart City, but it was much more
dramatic than I had expected. Canoes and kayaks filled every possible landing spot along the cutbanks, so we weren't able to stop and see what is left, but
this appears to have been a particularly bad year - one more like this one, and Stewart City will be but a memory.
The Stewart River was one of the earliest of the Yukon's placer mining areas. Prospectors were probably working on the
river by 1880, and in 1885, several fairly rich bars were discovered. Arthur Harper soon set up a post at the mouth of the river to serve these miners, but
everybody moved to Fortymile when much richer deposits of gold were discovered there in 1886. The Stewart didn't attract much attention again until the
Klondike rush, when a fair-sized town was built, with a sternwheeler dock, a NWMP post, a large warehouse, two hotels, a large number of cabins, and an even larger
number of tents - the population may have reached 1,000 over the winter of 1898-1899. Although the boom ended as the rush did, the island maintained a population
of between 25 and 50 into the late 1930s. David and Margaret (Peggy) Shand operated a particularly
popular roadhouse (which had a huge vegetable and flower garden) until 1918, and many other businesses, including Taylor & Drury and the Hudson's Bay Company,
came and left at various times. Several buildings have been moved back from the river's edge in recent years. However, the residence for the employees of the Hudson's
Bay Company store, built about 1940, slid into the river this spring, and the roof,
still intact, is now lodged on a
gravel bar about a mile downstream. Jocelyn Rourke informed me that she and her husband
Mike helped move about 5 tons of the Burien family's personal articles and
artifacts to safety in Dawson this year, so there is little left on the island now.
The remains of farming equipment on Ogilvie Island, 22 miles below the Stewart River, give little indication of the former
importance of this location. A trading post was set up here in 1891 by Arthur Harper and Joe Ladue to serve the Sixtymile mining district. Three years later, Ladue
set up the Yukon's first sawmill here, putting himself in a near-perfect position to capitalize on the Klondike strike in August 1896 - within a month of the
Bonanza Creek discovery, Ladue had staked the Dawson townsite and relocated his mill. Several farms operated over the years, but none were very successful -
Lewis Cruikshank wrote to the Lands Office in 1918, telling them that he had been there for 20 years, and "the longer I stay the poorer I get." Much of his farm was
washed away in 1925, but today, there are still 2 cabins (in poor condition), and implements such as a plow, harrow, harnesses and a steamer chest are scattered
through the trees. The hay meadow closest to the cabins is now used as a helicopter landing site and fuel cache.
Despite the fact that Dawson City was the goal of the trip, I wasn't at all anxious to leave the river, and on the last day,
we set up camp in the early afternoon, only 3 miles from town. Steven didn't want to leave the river either, but really wanted to, not so much get to Dawson, but to
see Dawson as we come around the last bend in the river. As it turned out, we were both really disappointed in that first glimpse of town from the river - the dyke
that was built for flood protection about 10 years ago has totally destroyed Dawson's visual connection with the river -*sigh*.
Anybody who goes to the Yukon (or Alaska) and doesn't visit Dawson, hasn't really seen the North. Although the town is rapidly
being ruined by rampant capitalism, the back streets, the unkempt cemeteries and the goldfields can still tell you stories for as long as you care to listen.
For both Steven and I, the 11 days spent on the river was an experience far more intense, more positive, and opened more doors, than
we had thought possible. We are already discussing which sections of the river to do in more detail next year, and the 300+ photos that I shot will provide us
with memory-triggers for decades to come.
Part 1 - Lake Laberge to Hootalinqua
Part 2 - Hootalinqua to Fort Selkirk
Photo Album - Lake Laberge to Dawson
Books About the Yukon River
