The SS Klondike was built in 1937, and ran the river route until 1955. |
SS Klondike
The story here is not so much about the steamer itself as it is about the Yukon River. Rivers in the far north were, and to some extent still are, the lifeblood of the land: for fishing, transportation of goods in the summer by boat and winter by sled and plane, and for social travel.Inside the hold of the Klondike |
They were specially built to carry massive tonnage, with very low draft for the shallow waters, and powerful turbines to turn the stern paddle. It took 40 cords of wood over 36 hours to go from Whitehorse to Dawson City downstream; 140 cords of wood and 4 days to go back upstream on the return trip. Seeing the impressive log caches along the river, one realizes how much manual labor it took to keep these boats going.
My kinda place: the galley; passenger dining room beyond |
I could write more... after seeing the home movies donated by Yukoners, there must have been such a romance about seeing the land from one of these boats, watching the elk and caribou splashing along the shoreline, eagles flying above, all while playing shuffleboard on deck and eating fine food. The cruise lines now are at sea, rather than inland; I do wonder if such a line could be revived now, like the Wine Train or other tourist attractions.
House update
I came back to the visitor center to check email, and things are happening at the house. Slowly, but happening.Steve provided a preliminary rundown after he did the walk-through with the insurance estimator. Here's what he wrote:
I don’t know if you’ve seen the interior pictures but it’s pretty major. The appraiser, his consultant and I walked through and measured and assessed the damage. The items are too numerous to go into now but the major items are listed here:All of the fire investigations are done. All concurred that the point of ignition was the BBQ.
- The decks.
- The entire kitchen has to come out and be replaced.
- Half of the wood floor in the living/dining and all of the kitchen.
- All of the vinyl wood floor down stairs
- They said about half of the roof will need to be reframed so engineering and permits
- A lot of the drywall ceiling (e.g. 1/3 of the garage, the dining room, the entire downstairs area ceiling)
- Possibly the furnace ducts and maybe even the furnace.
- The glass doors and probably some windows.
- Stucco patching
So much water came in, that now the biggest immediate issue is getting the house dried out.
Front door sign. Credit: Jerri |
Because the house was built in 1948, the drywall had to be tested for asbestos (did I know older drywall had asbestos? News to me!) before the water damaged wall and ceiling material can be removed.
It tested positive upstairs, negative downstairs. So there will have to be asbestos abatement done, and the debris properly dealt with. There is some bickering between Steve and the insurance people about the asbestos vs. non-asbestos removal and who/how/when that's being paid for, but all of the damaged material, upstairs and down, will be removed.
Unfortunately this does mean the kitchen — the beautiful, almost-new kitchen — will be ripped out. When I asked about salvaging materials (cabinets, countertops) Steve said, somewhat ruefully that the people doing this work are "not precision surgeons," and they will probably take a sledgehammer to it. My recycler's heart doesn't like this, but at this point, I just have to go with it.
So I guess I do get to choose (within reason) new cabinets and countertops.
Julie's insurance people have done their evaluation and are getting her stuff packed up to be cleaned and stored this week. As of Tuesday, they now have the asbestos issue to deal with, so that's something else for them to work through.
I will need to get my stuff packed up and stored as well, since with the demolition of ceiling, walls and flooring downstairs, with dust, sealant and paint, it will just be easier for the construction guys to have it out of there. I'm getting an estimate for that to be done. Steve warned me that some of my possessions may have water damage and might not be salvageable. So I'm thinking about how to deal with that: have them take pictures?
(Thanks Karen for getting the computer out of there, and Jette for getting the rugs out, and the special clothing safe. I hope they don't think the chest is moldy and needs to be thrown out! I guess I'll be checking on that later this week.)
Steve is working on getting power to the house (in itself this is a project) so that the dehumidifiers can operate. There is some incentive to getting this done as soon as possible. He mentioned that mold is already growing; the insurance company has a threshold of 9 sq feet of mold. Once it reaches that, the insurance company has to do mold abatement in addition to the other work... Nobody wants this, but it's a possibility.
I need to get drawings done by an engineer/architect for the roof/rafter rebuild; those have to go to the county for permits. This is one of the more time-intensive bits, so the sooner than can be started, the better, so it can be done while the destruction phase is happening. After talking this over with Steve, we're letting the insurance company do this with their stable of people.
I think that's about it for now. The bottom line: estimated six months for demolition and restoration. Just in time for when I come back (I hope).
Pedestrian suspension bridge over the Yukon River in Miles Canyon |
Miles Canyon
Downstream from the bridge |
The canyon used to be about 10 meters deeper than it is now. It's still a daunting sight — I can't imagine what it must have been like to go through it with a load of goods, or people when it was truly rapids, and about twice as deep as it is now!
(While both these pictures have boats in them, they were the only two I saw enter the canyon the whole evening.)
When I got there around 9pm, a number of people were still out: dogwalkers, bicyclists, casual hikers, teens and families. Nobody wants to go inside or sleep when it's 72°F and still light, but by 10:30pm, with the sun still barely above the horizon, there was only one other vehicle in the parking lot!
Above the Yukon River |
I actually didn't make it all the way there... I was feeling slightly nervous about hiking alone, I hadn't brought a pack, it kept threatening rain, and, let me tell you, these trails are not for wusses. They are very steep and gravelly, and when I got to a place that needed hands to go up the trail, I turned back. I was nervous about slipping and taking an unwanted trip down the canyon on my hiney, or banging the camera on the rocks.
But it was nice to get back out.
Float plane on Schwatka Lake, an increasingly familiar sight! |
I street-camped near a cemetery the last couple of nights, and strolled among the gravestones this morning. I was trying to find the memorial for Martha Louise Black. I didn't find hers, but so many others: twins who died just days after birth; men and women from Sweden, Denmark, England, Scotland, Wales, Newfoundland; men who died in the war; Mounties. Or the puzzling story behind Russell Thomas Herrington and David William Magnusson, both born in 1945 and died in 1953 (both just 8 years old) and buried together with matching headstones. It makes one want to know the story behind that; the sadness and loss of losing two boys from different families, but obviously close.
I've gassed up, gotten a few things at the grocery store (the selection of fresh meat and vegetables is much decreased, even here in Whitehorse with an international airport, so I'll savor those last leaves of lettuce). I still have to find ice, and then am ready to move north again to Dawson City via the Klondike Highway.
I'm missing some things, but it's time to move, and if I'm through here in the fall, I hope to catch them then.
I hope to camp at a government camp tonight, so probably won't be able to update anything for a few days.
To the top of the world!
No comments:
Post a Comment