Silver Trail to Keno City: Part II (again)

The road between Mayo and Keno City is quite good.

Keno City Hotel
From the walking tour brochure: The Keno City Hotel was built in 1920 and was first operated by Bob Palmer and then Robert Bruce Greaves. Greaves owned the Red Feather Saloon in Dawson City and served in WWI with George Black’s contingent before he moved to Keno City. Geordie Dobson bought the hotel in 1960 and worked long hours at the mine while rebuilding the hotel. He reopened the business in 1963, just a few years before the mine closed. Frank White’s ghost haunts the bar while the ghost of another hotel owner sits in Room #12. “Story has it” that this man shot himself after he returned home to find his business burned and his wife and sons dead.

While miners had been prospecting for gold in the area since the 1800s, it wasn't until 1919 that the "silver rush" started in the Keno City area. The name comes from the gambling game, which was played in the saloons. All through the 1930s and into the 1950s, silver and lead ore were mined from rich veins in the surrounding mountains.

Today, Keno City still relies on mining for its economic livelihood, but tourism is being encouraged. Thus, the world-class mining museum. Plus, it's also a labor of love for the historians of the town.

"Downtown" Keno City; the mining museum is on the left

Mining Museum

The mining museum is housed in the old Jackson Hall. It is packed full of exhibits and information.
I'm making this short, as I just want to get this down. Perhaps I'll come back and edit later.

A rocker box, used in placer mining

Karl, the young and drop-dead handsome caretaker of the museum took my $4 "senior" fee. When we got to chatting, he said he came to Keno City for the beautiful country and the quiet.

I can relate.

Placer mining: Placer mining for gold is still going on in the area, even though it takes a back seat to silver mining. In fact, one of the local placer miners donated a gold nugget to a promotional drawing. As Karl said, "One side of the miner's creek has gold, and the other doesn't."

To review: Placer gold can be found because it is concentrated into the rivers: it washes into gravels, and, because it is so dense, it falls out where when the river current slows and can't transport it anymore. There it can be extracted using panning, rocker boxes, sluices, long-johns or dredges. Hydraulic mining is another way of physically separating gold in streamside cliff gravels. This gold, while not perfectly pure, is usually a very high percentage of gold (80% or more). The impurities are removed with by smelting and chemical means.

Hard rock mining: Silver and lead, on the other hand, are normally obtained through hard-rock mining.

Geologically, hot mineral-rich fluids rose up through cracked overlying layers (mostly limestone), leaving veins of ore that are still in place where they formed, unlike placer gold, which has already been washed out of its country rock.

The caption read "WERNECKE BAKER: George Landers
baked for the camp in the 1930s. Caribou was a staple of the
early miner's diet, as were mountain sheep. The camp cooks
did give the miner civilized meals." This is one of my
favorite photos in the museum!

While silver and lead minerals might show on the surface, the miners followed the veins underground, as long as the veins held out. There is a lot of processing that needs to occur to mine ore of this type. From Keno City, canvas bags of heavy ore were transported by horse-drawn conveyances (sleighs and wagons) and later tractors to the Stewart River, where they were loaded onto low-draft paddlewheelers like the Keno, which is now drydocked in Dawson City as a heritage attraction. The photographs of ore bags are pretty jaw-dropping.

As one might expect, transporting all that heavy ore was expensive. Eventually, a concentrating plant was built in the area, so that they didn't have to ship the raw ore anymore.

The economics of any mining activity is dependent on the price of the metal being mined. If the price drops, mines close because it isn't cost-effective to run them. If the price goes up, old mines can be reopened, or tailings reworked.

The museum had exhibits related to hard rock mining: a miner's "cabin" complete with waffle-maker, cans of beans and tins of crackers, long johns hanging up to dry, fur mittens and hats for the cold weather, and a miner mannikin with holes in his socks. There was a blacksmith "shop" with iron tools, showing the importance of someone who could fix all manner of items; an exhibit on the tools of the trade of a geologist — Brunton and other compasses, lens, magnetometers, research papers and map books; and ore samples. I had known what galena (a lead sulfide mineral) looks like, but was unfamiliar with some of the other minerals.

Displays in the upstairs of the mining museum

Movies shown in the Hall.

Life in town: The lives of the miners were hard, but eventually wives and children followed, and the camp became a town.

Jackson Hall, where the museum is today, was a hall where meetings and dances took place, and it was also turned into a movie theater upon occasion. One room was dedicated to this, with movie memorabilia, posters, film projectors and even some theater seats. This reminded me of Larkspur, since they showed films upstairs in the Larkspur City Hall about this same time in history. It was an interesting connection.

Another exhibit was a kitchen in the 1950s, complete with calico curtains, porcelain sink, wood-burning range, electric iron and ironing board. I was surprised to see a hardcover edition of a book that I recognized from my parents' bedroom bookshelf: The Tontine by Thomas B. Costain. It was another interesting connection.

There was an exhibit of framed color photographs of the people of Keno City, taken by one of the talented members of the community. There were hockey jerseys and skating awards, posters and medical equipment from the hospital — all the flotsam and jetsam of a busy town, now gone but preserved to remember the life gone by.

Whimsical bits: In any museum like this, there are a few items that are just sort of off the wall. The "cafeteria trolley" was just such an object. The explanation said that the men were kept themselves busy, and one enterprising soul decorated this trolley (cart) with small statues, license plates, trumpets, a working telephone, a signal light, and cast-off machine plaques. It reminded me of those cars that are covered with plastic dinosaurs!

The decorated trolley (one of the statues can be seen at right).
I couldn't tell if there was a reason for the placement of anything!

Sayer's phoebe and nestlings

Arctic butterflies: Who knew that there were arctic butterflies? Incomprehensibly, some of these insects hatch in August and OVERWINTER in weather that would make a muskox shiver. We think butterflies are fragile creatures, but obviously not! There are very strict regulations about catching these rare insects.

After spending several hours here, I couldn't believe that there were TWO MORE BUILDINGS of the museum. Fortunately, they housed things that I was less interested in: rusty antique cars, steam drills, motorcycles, tractors, ore buckets, drayage wagons, and more photographs. It was a rich collection, but by this time I was getting saturated.

I was more interested in a bird that was flying in and out of one of these buildings. Turns out that it had a rather feathery nest, and was busy catching insects and feeding them to its babies. In the picture, you might be able to just make out the gray fuzzy things at the top of the nest — these are the babies. When the parent swooped in, they all perked up, but they did not make any noise at all. The parent really didn't like me in there... it didn't quite do the "wounded wing" thing, but it definitely flew in and out and tried to entice me out of the building. I left the poor bird in peace!

There was also a kiosk with information about trails in the area, such as the "Monument Trail" and the "Silver Trail." Some looked interesting; I wasn't sure if I'd get a chance to do any of these.

Walk Around Town

Having now been immersed in the history of the town and surrounding area, it was time to stretch my legs a bit and take the Keno City Walking Tour.  Rather than write a lot, I'll just post the pictures and captions from the tour brochure.

The Grant Cabin

Victor Grant built this cabin in 1922 while he was the Territorial Agent in Keno City. It has had various owners and tenants over the years including a liquor vendor, a schoolteacher, miners, hippies and even a bootlegger. The floor has been replaced, but the rest of the cabin remains as it was built.

"Alteration Annie's" cabin
This was possibly my favorite cabin of all. It looked so neat and tidy, yet fit so organically in its space.

A prostitute named Anne Janice, or “Alteration Annie”, ran a legitimate business as a seamstress out of this cabin. It was common in the early days of the Yukon for prostitutes to run small cigar shops or to take in laundry and sewing. Annie ran a business in Whitehorse before she arrived in Keno City in the 1940s.

The Beer Bottle House
This was waay bigger than I expected!

Geordie Dobson moved this house from Calumet, an abandoned mining town nearby, in the late 1960s. Dobson was a merchant marine seaman who heard about a northern silver mine and moved here in 1952. He purchased the Keno City Hotel before there was a refund for glass bottles. Thinking there must be some insulation value in the glass, after all the oldtimers used stacked bottles instead of window panes, Dobson started to layer bottles around his house. He started the project in 1966 and took four years and used 32,000 “stubby” beer bottles to complete the job. The house is very warm, probably helped by 60cm (2 feet) of mortar. 

The Stockade
This house was not on the "tour" but it was so unusual that I had to include it. As I was passing by, sort of walking back and forth and trying to ascertain what the "man" in the lookout tower was actually doing, a woman passed by walking her dog. "Would you like to see inside?" she asked. "The owner's away on a fishing trip, but he won't mind if we go in." So she took me through the door and showed me the stone house that he'd built. It was cozy and tightly built, with a wide porch with a BBQ and hammock. And there was a volleyball court, too! The community had come together and built it. "We have such good times, here!" she exclaimed. "He got the wood really cheap, and then had to decide what to do with it, so he built this big fence, " she said. "Now everyone wants one." The wood was not quite as impressive as it seemed — I think these were log ends cut from a mill, because none of them were thicker than about three inches. But they sure made a good front!

The stockade.

The woman told her her story: her family had mined in the area, but they don't anymore. Now they live in Whitehorse, and just come here for summers and vacation. She had one biological daughter and two children from her second marriage. "At least they are Caucasian," she said, a comment that I'm still puzzling over. Her daughter muddled through school, then finally settled down and got several degrees, culminating in a doctorate in Marine Biology. She now lives and works in France, studying diatoms. "Pretty good for a girl from Whitehorse," said her proud mom.

All Saints Anglican Church

When we walked back to her house where the pink flamingos were taking a shower in the lawn sprinkler, she commented, shaking her head, "I do hope the lawn comes back. It's been so dry this summer that it's all gone brown." I told her I was sure it would, having had a good deal of experience with dry lawns! Not that I wish anyone a dry lawn, but personally I have been appreciating the dry weather!

All Saints Anglican Church
From the brochure: The Anglican congregation started in Keno City in 1954 and began to convert a hut obtained from the United Keno Hill Mines into a church. Charlie Mills who was the Minister’s Warden, George Pavlovich and Rolph Johanson helped Rev. R. Alcock. The All Saints Church was consecrated in 1956. Ann Zawalsky, the local school teacher, and George Esterer, who worked in the mine’s Assay Lab., were the first couple to be married in the church. The building has been used as a library for a number of years.

The library seems to be open all the time, for anyone. The sign on the door just says: "No Overnighters."

Gas Station
This wasn't on the walking tour either, but these old gas pumps sure contributed to the "ghost town" effect. The building in the back of the photo must have been an old service station, as the big double doors on the front were big enough so that cars could come in and worked on. I love the fact that there's a newer pump and an older one: the logic in these town is: if it works, there's no need to replace it! There were actually probably two service stations in the town during it's heyday, as I saw another set of pumps across the street (but they weren't nearly as evocative of a time gone by).

Old gas pumps

A new cabin

New cabin
Keno City seems to be undergoing a bit of a mini-building boom. While there are lots of old structures, and some of them are quite derelict, some are being renovated. The Keno City Hotel (first picture in this blog) was jacked up and renovated in about 2013; some of the cabins are getting the same treatment. There is also some new building.

This tidy new cabin fits in the trendy "tiny house" category, and could be featured in a Canadian Sunset magazine. I love the false front — it's a real nod to the history of the town.

It was on the same property as an older cabin and outhouse, so things aren't being torn down; they are being added to and rebuilt.

Signpost to the Signpost

The Signpost

The nice lady at the Binet House center in Mayo told me that I had to go to the Signpost. When I told Karl about this, he just nodded and smiled, and said, "Good advice."

I didn't quite know what I was in for, but the trails kiosk indicated it was a dirt road up to the top of Keno Hill.

I was game.

The dirt road was steep but fairly good, although rutted and potholed. It was a fine road, one just needed to go more slowly than on the Dempster or the road into Keno City.

As the road wound up the hill, the surrounding mountains started to come into view, finally getting above treeline.

Fields of mountain avens dotted the hillsides, and N0MAD and I finally made it to the top.

What! A! VIEW!

The Signpost and view

The Signpost is nothing more than directions and distances to world cities, but the view is incredible. Fortunately, the clouds were high enough that one could see forever.

There is also a monument to Alfred Schellinger, the geologist and mining engineer who made the first claim near this spot in 1919, thereby starting the "silver rush" that brought Keno City to life.

I wandered about and had a picnic dinner. Several other people came up: a motorcyclist from Vancouver ("I've always heard about this spot, and now I can see why," he said) and a group of ATVers. Both came, looked, and left.

I stayed. They view was tremendous, and I couldn't think of a better place to spend the night. The sky started to spit rain, but I was warm and comfortable in N0MAD, at the top of the world!

View in the other direction

Silver Trail to Keno City: Part II(0)

Well that totally sucks.
I had just finished this post, and it has disappeared.
Hours of careful writing and photo prep have disappeared because of an inadvertent keystroke and then autosave wiped it out.

I guess I'm going to learn from this, and possibly prep things off line first.
UGH.

The Silver Trail to Keno City: Part I

This was an amazing day, and will probably have to be divided into two entries, there was so much to see.

Field of wildflowers near the Stewart River

Last year, I pretty much stayed on the direct way to Alaska, without much exploration. This year is a little different. I'm taking the time to explore, talk with people and literally smell the roses.

I'd pulled over somewhere along the road the night before. Gravel pits are a great, relatively private way to stealth camp. While a few have been gated with "NO ENTRY" across them, most are wide and open and have evidently been used before, based on the fire rings found at them. 

Native bees on cow parsley

Along the Stewart River

It is coming into full summer now.

Willow catkins are releasing their fluff, so much so that in place, the air almost looks like a July snowstorm. It doesn't take much to set this off — even the slightest breeze will release the fluff. If the concentration is heavy enough, it gets blown into "fluff-banks," accumulating in corners and hollows along the roadsides, and next to people's houses, leaving an irritating mess.

There are fields and fields of wildflowers, but, for the most part, their presence is subtle. The field above is a diverse mass of flowers: yarrow, goldenweed, cow parsley, ranuncula, strawberries, horsetail and more, but it really doesn't look like much until you get close.

Vetch blooming by the side of the road is more spectacular, lining the roadsides with deep purple, pink and white flowers. Unfortunately, this plant is highly invasive, edging out other native plants.

I spent a little time at one of the roadside rest stops (I think this one was the Stewart River stop), appreciating the flowers.

It is interesting to note that most flowers are white, yellow, blue and pink. Relatively few are red or orange.

Apparently this has something to do with how pollinators see colors: they seem to be more responsive to the blues than reds.

There was also bear poop. No bears here, just the leavings.

Showy Jacob's Ladder (Polemonium pulcherrimum)

If you don't like flower pictures, you'll have to skip this section. I'm partially taking pictures to help identify them, but also I'm quite fascinated by the intricacy, symmetry and structure of flowers.

And while I have a fair grasp of California wildflowers, the ones here are different.

The unmistakable magenta of fireweed is just starting to bloom in some places. In other places, the blossoms are already moving up the stalk.

First bloom on a fireweed stalk

I used to wonder why fireweed had its name, since the pink color didn't seem to have anything to do with yellow or red flame. However, it's called fireweed because it often grows in places that have been burned, thus the name.

It's so iconic of this northern latitude that fireweed is the Yukon territorial flower and the Alaska state flower!

They say that a blooming fireweed stalk is like a calendar countdown to fall — that in just six short weeks from first bloom, the first snow could fall.

Summer is so brief. The time just races by. It reminds us to value every single minute.

The Silver Trail

After getting back on the road again and driving south on the Klondike Highway, I didn't keep going south, but stayed on YT-2 to Mayo and Keno City.

I also needed to stretch my legs a bit and had read about a preserve where cow moose are supposed to go to have their babies. Moose cows with their babies are all over the place now — or at least I've seen pictures of them from Alaska. Here, though, I've only caught glimpses of a couple of moose, and I really kind of wanted to see more. I thought this would be a great stop and opportunity to see some safely.

I got to the parking lot, and there was a trailer with the bumper sticker "Proud to be Danish" on it, and one of those big army-type vehicles with Czech plates! Do people really ship these monster vehicles over the ocean so they can drive them?

I headed to the trail, but...unfortunately, the sign at left was just a few feet off of the trailhead.

I guess that with all the baby moose at least one bear was hanging around hoping to get lucky. I don't think they usually post these signs unless a bear has been somewhat problematic.

So... I moved on and did not tempt fate. Really, really did not want to run into a bear protecting a moose carcass, so I got back in the car and kept going.

Sure enough, just a little while later, I saw a mother black bear and her cub by the side of the road. Unlike other bears I've seen though, these did not look particularly well fed, so perhaps the moose hunting had not been going so well. Or the OTHER bear was preventing these bears from grazing at the dinner table!

Another bear: she looks kind of skinny.

It turns out that one of the best places to see animals IS by the side of the road. They are often inured to the passage of cars, and totally ignore you (a good thing). Often the side of the road will have a wide greensward of cleared land that can be 25 yards wide. It's helpful because then you're able to see animals from afar, and prepare for them to possibly cross the road. If the transportation departments did NOT keep these zones open, they would be choked with brushy willows and eventually trees, and it would be much harder to avoid hitting animal that might decide to cross the road just in front of your oncoming vehicle.

Keeping these spaces clear is a pretty massive undertaking, and it looks like they do it on a rotating basis every few years.

Mayo

By the time I made it to Mayo, I was ready to stretch my legs.

The Binet House Museum in Mayo

Mayo is a town of about 300 people, many of whom are indigenous. Named after the founder, George Mayo, the town is at the confluence of the Stewart and Mayo Rivers. While the native people have lived here forever, from the 1880s onward there was an influx of miners looking for gold in the Yukon. The Stewart River was known as the "grubstake" river because — while there was no major find like the Klondike on the river — miners could reliably pan for gold there and get enough money to let them keep searching for "the next big strike" year after year.

Mayo Centennial quilt (2003) detail, showing the Binet House

The Klondike strike in 1897 brought a lot of people into the area. Not all were miners: some saw the value in land and trade.

Gene Binet was one such man. While he came over the Chilcoot Pass in 1896 before the rush on the Klondike, he bought and sold claims rather than working them himself. He saw Mayo as a trading center and eventually built a hotel in the new town of Mayo in 1903.

After silver was discovered in Keno in 1919, Mayo became a major shipping point for the silver ore. (The paddlewheeler "Keno," now a historic drydocked attraction in Dawson, was one of the ore-haulers on the Stewart River.) Binet, now a successful businessman, married a young woman named "Jewel" and built the "Chateau Binet" for her in about 1920. She declined to live there during the winter, preferring to stay at their home in California, but she did visit Mayo during the summers.

Beaded moccasins in Mayo

The house has been turned into home-grown and well-loved museum, with displays on geology; a 3D map; a stuffed grizzly that made the mistake of breaking and entering into a local B&B and creating havoc; photographs of early residents and visitors; studies on climate change and the ecology of the area; plus a fine collection of medical and dental equipment dating from the 1940s and '50s. Some medical equipment hasn't changed that much!

There was an associated "welcome" building for staff, tourist brochures, gifts and more memorabilia, including the lovely Centennial quilt — it was evidently a labor of love.

Mayo Centennial Quilt: the detail is beautiful

The historical committee has done an enormous amount of work. They even published a book in 1990: Gold and Galena by Linda & Lynette Bleiler MacDonald, that was eerily reminiscent of Larkspur Past and Present, chock full of photos and historic details.

The staff ladies were founts of information, as well. One of them regaled me with tales of how she had come to the Yukon from Australia, first to Whitehorse and then to Mayo. She found a property nearby on  "Froggy Pond" and pretty much bought it on the spot. She's had bears breaking and entering into the cabin, despite the fact that she doesn't have food there since she "lives day to day."

They were selling the soap that the sister of Fran (from Danoja Zun) makes, but unfortunately they did not have the "Mosquito" herbal variety that I would have considered purchasing.

I checked out the Canada 150 activities for Canada Day: they were going to have a parade ("all of four cars," the helpful lady said), plus a pie-eating contest, a $20 steak dinner and a dance in the evening. It sounded much more my speed than the non-stop music and celebrations scheduled in Whitehorse...

It was a lovely visit, but it was getting on in the afternoon, and I really wanted to get to Keno City before dinner. They assured me that it really didn't take long to get there (maybe 45 minutes), but knowing how find places to dawdle, I knew it could take much longer.

Back on the Silver Trail

I confess I was just a teensy bit nervous about going on another gravel road with repaired tires. However, the road was quite good, with not much loose gravel, and a drizzle here and there kept the dust down.

I did stop at Five-Mile Lake, where there was a campground and day-use area. I wanted to scope it out in case I needed a place to stay. It was a pretty little lake, and actually might have been a nice place to put in with the kayak, had there not been a few too many annoying mosquitoes. Nothing like Inuvik had, but enough to be annoying (may MI=5).

Five-Mile Lake

I'll continue this in Part II, another day!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I've been forgetting to put in my maps! This was the route from Dawson City to Keno City, via the "Silver Trail."

Leaving Dawson

It was tough, but I did it. I got outta Dodge Dawson.

I spent the morning writing in the visitor center, with reasonably reliable wifi. I got there early, so had my pick of plugs. Don't laugh, this is important. I've been writing so much, and generally late in the day that the solar panel is just not quite enough to keep up with the demand of both phone and laptop. I can charge everything while driving, but I tend to stop alot, which isn't that good for the batteries.

So I just worked at the visitor center.

One friendly gal came up to connect her devices, and we got to chatting. Mary Katherine is a writer and was researching a historical novel, name as yet undecided, but possibly something with "Amelia" in it... maybe something like "Everything for Amelia." To really understand what she was writing about, she had hiked over the Chilkoot Pass and then come by canoe from Lake Bennett to Dawson (hear that Warren??), which is the route that many of the Argonauts (aka Gold Rushers) used. She admitted that she only went over the pass ONCE, and had not gone back and forth with a 100lb pack!

I told her about a writing contest for which I'd seen a poster. 2500 words of poetry or prose on the Northern Experience. Could be fun!

I also wrote a bunch of postcards and took them to the Post for mailing. I was a little shocked that it cost $1.35 to mail each postcard to the USA. Somehow, I didn't think it would be quite so expensive! I did ask about "General Delivery" service, and they do that in Canada, just like they do in the US, so that may be how I get my next DakotaPost deliver, but THAT will probably cost about $25 to get to me here. This is one of the hidden costs of being a nomad!

Canada Day is coming

Flags going up along Front Street.

The town was starting to get decorated for Canada Day, with balloons and flags in the visitor center, and banners and more flags on the buildings. I bet by July 1, it would be bedecked. Canada Day in Dawson did sound like a lot of fun, but it would have meant a VERY long drive to get to Whitehorse for my class on July 2, so... I reluctantly left.

It's very possible I will come back.

South on the Klondike Highway

The drive south on the Klondike Highway is starting to feel like an old friend. Having been over it several times now in the past year or so, I'm getting to know the pullouts and interpretive signs. Gravel Lake is one of my favorite stopping points.

Gravel Lake

It's always a pretty spot, but with the constantly changing light show of sun and clouds, and the low sun making the blues and greens "pop," it was particularly appealing. Birds like this lake, too, so I got the spotting scope out with the tripod, and started swatting mosquitoes to see what I could see.

Can you find the three bufflehead chicks in the lilypads?

Turns out it really wasn't much.

There were some buffleheads with baby chicks, which is always a treat, but they were REALLY hard to photograph.

Diving ducks just don't stay put, especially in their constant quest for food. Even the babies have learned their lessons well, and it seemed like they spent more time under the water than above it.

Plus, the lily pads, make it hard to find them in the first place, and they don't just bob up in the same place that they disappeared!

I spent quite a frustrating time trying to photograph them, then finally just gave up and enjoyed just trying to find them in the spotting scope and binoculars.

There was a pair of swans that was waaaay far away on the opposite shore. A lady that passed by on her way to the loo, said, "Oh, they were much closer this morning." Well, unfortunately I wasn't there then so had to make do with peering at them through the spotting scope. Even that was pushing the limits as to what looked like floating white spots with sticks.

Probably trumpeter swans

But it was a treat to see them. There is just something about these birds — maybe it is their pure whiteness, or the way they glide on the water, or their somewhat incongruous necks. Anyway, they are kind of fun to watch.

It had been a nice day, but I was tired and pulled over to get a good night's rest.

Dawson: Life new and old

I've been enjoying myself here, not really wanting to leave, so I haven't. This is the joy of having no agenda, no reservations.

Iconic Dawson buildings on Front Street, by the light of the setting sun

Morning

I woke at 6am to sun streaming into the car. While N0MAD had been in welcome shade at midnight last night, the sun had swung around on the horizon so it was really coming in strongly early in the morning. I was still tired, so turned over and went back to sleep.

At 9am, a thundering noise woke me up again. It was one of the Yukon Air planes taking off (this gives you a clue where I spent the night: in the long-term parking lot of the airport. Don't laugh: it was very quiet until a civilized hour, and no one was walking around, peering at the car and admiring my license plate! Lest you have high expectations of the "long-term parking lot" — it's an open field.

This is the Yukon, after all.

I was checking mail and sending messages when my sister called. It's really nice to be in touch with loved ones, something that I did miss last year while I was in Canada. It may be one of the reasons I keep hanging around towns, rather than really heading off into the bush.

Life: Today

So it was not that interesting a day, perhaps, to you folks reading this. On a long trip like this, "real life" intervenes. I have to pay bills, check mail, I needed ice. I haven't had ice since leaving home almost three weeks ago. What I'd stored in the Yeti lasted for almost 10 days, but I haven't been able to keep milk or other perishables more than a couple of days, especially with the car heating up with the 24-hour sunlight. And it has mostly been sunny, not overcast or rainy!

I'd tried in town, asked at the visitor center without success, but did find a sign for ice at one of the RV parks. So I got a small bag (maybe 5 lbs of cubed ice), and one of the last three bags for $3CA. At least it will last for a few days, and I should be able to get more in Whitehorse. I guess this is mostly for mixed drinks, but I'll take it.

They also had a car wash.

N0MAD gets a shower

This is a necessary part of life out here, with the dirt roads and calcium additive that is both corrosive and cakes on a car like cement. Last year, I had the luxury of having the rain wash it off, but this year's rains haven't been strong enough — or lasted long enough — to make a difference.

Not that I'm complaining, mind you!

One car wash was 2 loonies for 5 minutes; another was 1 loonie for 3 minutes. I chose the latter. So you put your loonie in the slot, and the timer on the compressor starts running. There's a wand with a trigger for a pressure nozzle with a flat spray, and you merrily squeeze the trigger and wash off the car. The transformation is miraculous.

N0MAD is (mostly) clean again.

Life: Yesteryear

I wanted to go to the Dawson Museum, as I had not been last year. It's an imposing building that used to be the Territorial administration building, including the courthouse, and actually it still does act as a circuit courthouse a few times a month.

The Old Territorial Administrative Building now houses the Dawson City Museum

It is chock full of artifacts from the city and surrounding area.

I think this is locomotive #2; loved girl in costume on the right!

I had no sooner paid my money, than I was told that the train shelter tour had just started, and I was welcome to go "catch it." So off I went to look a the railroad engines.

Trains
The Klondike Mines Railway ran from the Bonanza Creek goldfields to Dawson City. It ran for both passengers and freight.

It was also extremely short-lived. First conceived late in 1898 (gold was discovered in 1897, but the "rush" wasn't until 1898), construction didn't begin until 1903. This was partially because the railroad would cross many claims along the route. Compensation for the claim-holders was complicated and costly, and permission took time to arrange.

Engine No. 1

Construction was completed in 1906; the first train ran in November of that year. By this time, the "rush" was over; population in Dawson was decreasing as disillusioned miners left. Demand for service declined, and the railroad eventually shut down its passenger service. It became a freight-only railroad, mainly hauling cordwood for the wood-hungry dredges and steam generators along the creek.

Just six years after it was completed, the trains stopped running in 1912.

The engines were abandoned. Why just abandon them, you may wonder? Shipping costs were prohibitive, and it didn't pay to transport them to where they actually could be used. This is one of the reasons that Dawson is so historically rich — people just discarded everything when they left.

I'm not really a train buff, but these are beautiful engines, and look to be lovingly restored, although only one of them actually can operate. The detailed information about each of the engines went right over my head, so I'm sorry if I can't provide details. But if you are curious here are some links:
- Short article from the Copperbelt Museum (which I hope to visit when I'm in Whitehorse)
- Longer Wikipedia article with lots of details

A miner's cabin, based on the photograph at left.

Galleries
Having gotten my fill of trains, I headed back to the museum galleries. On display are a number of scenes from historic life around Dawson. These were peopled by wax figures whose appearance was based on real (contemporary) residents of Dawson. The commentary on the displays included not only explanations about the scene, but also about the models for the figures, and also the residents who had allowed their hands to be cast for the figures. It was evident that the development of the displays was a community effort!

Bicycles were used in Dawson during the Gold Rush!

There was a miner's cabin, cut open so that you could see inside. It was an original "tiny house!"

There was a saloon display, an apothecary, a canvas tent bank...

And then one of the museum staff came to say that the short black-and-white 1957 documentary "City of Gold" would be showing in a few short minutes.

So off I went to the theater. I was glad I did; the film was excellent. It was narrated by Pierre Berton, who was born and raised in Dawson. Last year, I had read Berton's book "Klondike" in preparation for coming to Alaska and really enjoyed reading it; he's a natural-born story-teller. The film used Berton's memories to introduce the town as it was in the 1950s, then went further back in time to include his recollections of his father's memories — his father was one of the "rushers." It blended live action from the 1950s with photographs from the time of the Klondike Gold Rush. Notably, in order to make the still photographs come to life, the filmmakers panned over the still photos, in a technique we now know as the "Ken Burns effect."

It was fascinating to see the town — which Berton grew up in — during the 1950s. At that time, it was just a town, with kids playing baseball, people having coffee in the sole restaurant, and old men sharing memories on the boardwalks outside the shops. Buildings had not been restored. In fact, Berton said that growing up in the town was growing up with history: the children scampered in and out of the abandoned buildings, playing on the trains and making believe they were sea captains on the beached paddlewheelers.

Girls riding bikes in Dawson, 1906.
After the "rush," Dawson quickly became a city for "ordinary" folk.

Now, of course, the town is a designated "historic complex, so kids nowadays cannot do that. It does provide an interesting take on history, though, and the metamorphosis of a town.

I went back to the galleries, but no sooner had done that when the same staff member said that a "rocker" demonstration would take place outside in a few minutes.

I was beginning to wonder if I would ever get to see the exhibits!

Rocker demonstration
I was interested in this because, while I've read about this, I've never actually seen it done. I should have taken a movie!

The staff member was so quick (and I was so fascinated) that I didn't even get to take a picture.

A bucket of "paydirt" (donated by a nearby mine on French Creek) was dumped into the top of the rocker. Water dipped from a can on a stick was poured into the top, and the rocker was vigorously sloshed back and forth. Large rocks (about 1" and larger) were kept out by the large screen on the top. Smaller rocks and gravel fell through to the "apron" below. The apron is made from canvas, with a couple of large riffles. The vigorous action made larger gravel pop out of the apron and into the sluice below. Heavier bits of gold remained on the apron. Additional water was poured into the rocker, and the rocking was decreased to a more gentle and regular pace. This encouraged the gold flakes to settle to the bottom of the silt in the apron. This is not where the fine dust would accumulate. When there was mostly just fine particles in the apron, this residual, gold-bearing material was put into a gold pan and washed (swirled and dipped and "bathed") to remove the silt and black sand from the gold.

Pouring gold from the smelter

I must admit that it was pretty exciting to see the gold bits in the pan. It really IS THERE.
— Here's a video that shows how a similar model works

GOLD! from the smelter!

After that, we got to see smelting. All the little bits of bold that have been recovered from the rocker had been added to the smelter, and then heated up. Gold melts at about 1100° — as you can see, the crucible is red-hot!! The gold is poured into a mold. It cooled very rapidly, and we all got to hold the raw, now-cold metal. Because this is raw gold, it has impurities in it, so it's not really yellow gold. It had black on the top, and was sort of a rose gold.

I must admit, it was sort of a thrill to hold that slab of gold. Also, we were encouraged to bend it — it's so pure (even given the impurities) that it's actually malleable, almost like copper. One does not do this with gold jewelry!

Back in the galleries
I was beginning to think that I would never get to see all the exhibits, but finally made it through the displays in the north gallery.

One of the displays with native tools and artifacts

The south gallery exhibits were basically a walk through time, starting with the geology of the area. I still marvel at the marked changes to the fluvial patterns when the ice blocked the south-flowing Yukon River (and others, such as the Porcupine). When the ice melted, the rivers reversed direction and started flowing north into the Bering Sea.

Exhibits proceeded to the First Nations people and the coming of the white hunters and trappers, and concluded with the gold rush.

Even though I know the general history, I always learn something when looking at these displays, and enjoy seeing native handwork.

There are subtle differences between areas, too, in color and patterns and manner of construction.

(Just in knotting thread, I learned a new, more reliable way to do this from Fran when she was teaching me beading.)

Beaded moccasins

I'm actually taking even closer attention to examples of beading, since I'll be doing this for real next week. For instance, some beaders do work in straight lines (like the moccasins at left), others use a more curvilinear technique.

And I'd only covered the downstairs exhibits!!

Upstairs
The upstairs exhibits included a series of photographs of children in the town from the museum's archives (the girls on bicycles was from this exhibit).

There was also a small series of displays on toys found in Dawson: tops, marbles, game boards, dolls, tennis rackets and lacrosse sticks.

Another set of displays was on the "ladies" of Dawson: the "soiled doves" who provided much appreciated services to the miners. Where there is gold, there are miners; where there are men with wealth, the women follow. There were occasional crackdowns on prostitution, but for the most part, the women were left to ply their trade without too much interference. At one point, they were moved across the river to West Dawson, but they soon migrated back to the main town. The last brothel, run by "Ruby" Scott, closed in 1961. She donated freely to local charities, which may have contributed to the longevity of her establishment.

Silver: part of the "visual archive"

Also upstairs was access to the "visual archive" — artifacts that the museum retains, but that are not part of the displays for a variety of reasons: they may have multiple examples, or they may become part of rotating exhibits (like the toys, for instance). It's staggering the number of items: typewriters, boxes, bottles, cups, saucers, eggbeaters, picks, shovels, tea kettles, gold pans, eyeglasses — all the flotsam and jetsam of life.

The courtroom, which is used as a courtroom a few days a month, had a marvelous exhibit of "lantern slide" photographs. While I've seen quite a number of photographs from the gold rush now, I had not seen any of these. They were of mushing, skating, horsing around, If you want to see some of the photos, the museum does make them available online, and to order prints:
— Dawson City Museum photo archives

St Paul's Church by the light of the setting sun, 10pm

Back to life today

Now that I had ice, I went shopping for victuals to tide me over for the next few days, until I get back to Whitehorse. Milk! Eggs! Vegetables! Chocolate macaroons! Luxury! I felt like the steamer had just come in.

I went to the picnic tables by the river to make dinner and charge up my devices, since the sun was pretty strong. A couple from Vancouver in a hefty camper asked about the solar array. It does charge the phone quickly: was at 30% and went to about 70% while I was making dinner.

However, with all the writing I've been doing late in the day (after 5pm), the solar array isn't quite able to keep up with the demand, due to the low sun angle. I managed to fully charge the phone, but the computer lagged behind and is only at 50% charge. It's not falling below that, it's just not charging more than that.

I had a nice dinner by the river. My friend with Bella the golden retriever, came by on her nightly walk and gave me some tips about places to go for the night.

Canada Day events in Dawson (in English and French)
LOVE the red and white push pins!

I'll spend the night here, then go on to Mayo and Faro on my way back to Whitehorse. Still not sure where I'm going to spend Canada Day. There are fun events here in Dawson, and also in Whitehorse, although the Whitehorse events seem to be aimed at music, which isn't really my thing. The pancake breakfast (dejeuner de crépes) does sound good, but to be frank, Dawson's sounds like more fun.

ASIDE: Not being fully powered up while heading into the bush has made me nervous, so I'm finishing writing this the next morning in the visitor center, where there is wifi and reliable electricity. It's just often crowded, and you can't always get a plug! This morning I got here early, and, in the good Klondike tradition, staked my claim on an outlet!