Ballad of a Cheechako
The "Service" Road
We are soon in the Yukon again and yet once more toggling between time zones.We find ourselves pulling over to gawk at the wonderful scenery and so do not make very good time, but we are sure having one! Robert Service's verse captures the largeness of the scenery and the vast spaces the of the Yukon. Even at 55 mph . . . (sorry folks even in the Canada I don't do metric) . . . the spaces between man made landmarks are enormous.
As we follow the Hwy 2 we again think of those stampeders, pushing north in their small home made boats, on the way to the Klondike.We stop at Carcross, if we had time we would go up the Canol road to Tagish and Marsh Lake. But White Horse is slated for tonight so we push on. We arrive in White horse at 11 pm and grab a very nice motel on the edge of town which is also a RV park. We crawl into bed and turn on the television just in time to watch Martha Stewart show us how to make Smores on a gas range, hmmm - that is enough television for one vacation!
We get an early start as there is much we want to do today. We find our way back to Miles Canyon, the place so talked about in gold rush lore. It is a nice park with a bridge spanning the chasm. It is a sleepy river now, we both expected it to be a bit more turbulent. The famed White Horse Rapids which the town takes its name from is no more, now being used for hydro electric production. Robert Service writes of this beautiful place in his autobiography:
One early spring I stood on the heights of Miles Canyon, with all about me a magnificent panorama. I breathed deeply, taking the beauty of it right into me. Then suddenly the line popped into my head: I have gazed on naked grandeur where there's nothing else to gaze on. My mentor seemed to be at my ear again, prompting , whispering, and I went right on. Maybe the two -syllable rhyme helped me, for rhyme has always been a lure and a challenge. So again I hammered out a complete poem in the course of my walk. I entitled it The Call of the Wild. Its inspiration was the spring in my blood , and the wild scenery above the White Horse Rapids.
-Robert Service, Ploughman of the Moon
Click Here For The Call Of The Wild
The trip from White horse to Dawson took nearly seven hours, we had planned to stop in one of the several small listed towns on the way. But the sun being ever on the horizon we pushed on. The first stop was Lake Labarge, to pay our respects to Sam McGee. Although the mosquitoes were out in force, I had time to refresh myself on the Marge. I picked up a few interesting rocks as souvenirs, and we were on our way again.
The next stop was Five Finger Rapids which we saw from a lovely overlook. To view the rapids far closer than we did go to; Five Finger Rapids (This photo will take a while to download ) Although the hour is after 10 pm, I take a photo of the spot which had caused so many stampeders and riverboat captains such grief. We continue on our travels, finally well after 1 am we reach the Klondike River which gave this region its sir name. The piles of tailings along the road leads us into Dawson.
Robert Service came to Dawson along a similar overland route, however his trip took him 6 days in a sleigh in harsh winter weather. Here is his account of the journey from Ploughman of the moon.
From White Horse to Dawson was six days by open sleigh. It was then I realized the vastness of the land and its unconquerable reservation. The temperature was about thirty below zero. With bells jingling, we swept through a fairy land of crystalline loveliness, each pine bough freighted with lace and gems, and a stillness that made silence seem like sound. Day after day, serene and sunny solitude, as we hunched in our coon coats half doped by the monotony of bitter brightness.
Our breath froze on our fur collars; our lashes and eyebrows were hoar; our cheeks pinky bright; as we took shallow breaths of the Arctic air., Every now and then the driver would have to break icicles out of the nostrils of his horses. Sometimes the sleigh would upset, and often we would have to get out and push through waist high snow drifts. Twice a day we stopped at a roadhouse to change horses. There we would find a meal prepared and be obliged to eat. As we had no exercise, we suffered from surfeited stomachs and had to take laxatives. Meals and beds cost two dollars each. When we woke up in the morning we would say: "Six o'clock, six dollars."
-From Service's first autobiography, Ploughman of the moon
Dawson
The hour is late but the night is still young, with the sun ever hanging on the horizon. We head down to a watering hole, and soon find that all the stables are full for the evening. Dawson is filled to the brim! We toss down a couple at the Downtown Hotel, and take a walk down the boardwalk. This leads us to a raucous bar called the "Pit". The Pit is part of the Westminster Hotel, which is the oldest of the hotels in town. Unfortunately, the house band, the Pointer Brothers had the night off. (I have a CD put out by them and can highly recommend them.) Above the din of the bar, we strike up a conversation with a reporter from Canadian Broadcasting who is covering a native gathering. The conversation soon turns to politics, neither one of us of us can understand the American electorate. Four or five brews latter we decide to find a place to park for the night. We drive back a few miles and retire on a side road and catch a few hours of sleep.
We awake as we went to sleep with sunlight coming through the windows of our rental car. We make our way down to the Parks Department's Visitor Center. After cleaning up a bit in their restrooms, and having a pot of complimentary coffee we plan out our day.
The Parks Department do an excellent job of showing off Dawson and keeping the place respectfully rough. We choose a few park's tours. The Palace Grand, a walking tour, the Museum and of course the Robert Service and Jack London Cabin. We start off our day with a Scottish tour guide who shows us the Palace Grand . . . well sort of.
The Palace Grand was one of the hot spots in Dawson's early years. Financed by showman Charlie Meadow who profited from the boredom and lonely miners, willing to share their pokes for a dance and a floor show. Unable to save the structure, Parks Canada, has rebuilt the Palace to it's original splendor. They have done a wonderful job of recreating the structure, and the Scottish Lass who was decked out in period costume did a fine job of regaling us with stories of the Grand. The Palace Grand also has entertainment in the evening in the form of a vaudeville troupe called the Gaslight Follies. We sprung for tickets for the evenings show. I was not impressed with the show, a tired melo-drama. I think our time would have been better spent wandering the streets with Dawson's ghosts of the past.
Click Here to see the Palace Grand(this photo will take a while to download)
Hello, little cabin
After a lunch at Klondike Kate's, a fine eating establishment, we make our way up to "Authors Avenue". It is 2 pm and the Robert Service tour does not start until three. I spy the small cabin which I have seen so many times. A mock Robert Service in the form of Parks Canada tour guide Charlie Davis stands at the doorway. I ask Charlie if it would be All right to recite a ballad off of the porch, not that he could have held me back. I had thought about which verse I wanted to spout here. I wanted to do one that he had written here. and I chose Barwire Bill. . With just a few tourists hanging around I launched into verse.
At Dawn of Day the White Land Lay
All Gruesome like and Grim
When Bill McGee He says to me
We've got to do it Jim
As I rambled through the verses I thought, it does not get much better than this! When I came to the end of the last lines, I heard warm applause from the small audience. I clapped as well as the honor was all for Robert!
Here was Dawson's oldest tour attraction. Although just a small portion of his life's work was achieved in this small cabin it will always be a mecca for those who love his work. Silly as it sounds, I must admit I was a bit choked up over it all.
Karen and I took our seats on the bleachers which stand in front of the cabin, and listen to Charlie give an nice talk about Robert's life in the Yukon, and to his credit also talked about his later years and accomplishments. He ended his talk, as he should, with a reading of "Goodbye Little Cabin.
Click Here To Read "Goodbye Little Cabin" and read Robert's autobiograpy note on it.
Literary Mecca
Its only fitting that Robert Service's Cabin overlooks the Berton house. Frank Berton was one of the early residents of Dawson who lived through he rush. His wife Laura wrote the book I Married the Klondike for which Robert supplied the foreward to. In this introduction Service writes this bit of verse to Laura Berton, who at the time was Laura Thomson;
Dear Lady I will not forget,
Though fifty years ago,
Your maiden tresses black as jet
-Now white as snow.
The Berton's son Pierre would wrote the premiere book about the great gold rush, Klondike Fever. (Read This Book, You Won't Be Able To Put It Down!) What Robert would immortalize in verse, Pierre would document in text. I remember seeing in high school the wonderful documentary, City of Gold, which was produced by Berton.
It is also fitting that Parks Canada chose this area to place the restored Jack London Cabin. London's stories of the Yukon are pure gold! He wrote from first hand experiences as he tried to strike it rich in the North. Jack London had to leave the North due to a life threatening case of Scurvy. Although his gold claim would not pay dividends his books from those times would launch him to fame.
So there you have it, one man who's fame was built from experiencing the event, one's from from romanticizing it in verse, and a third from documenting it. All brought together in this small area, a literary mecca!
Oh, Those Dawson Days
Dawson is steeped in history, you can walk down the streets and kick up the dust of those who passed here before. Although the buildings have been taken over by modern shop keepers, the structures are true to their beginnings. Parks Canada has done a great job of keeping the spirit of the place intact. Skagway was for the tourist, White Horse was metropolitan, Dawson seems closer to the real thing.
We visited the very nice Dawson Museum, and I talked with the curator about what they might have in way of Service items. The archivists were very helpful and I had many documents photo copied for future study. We walked down the street past the Robert Service School., another honor bestowed on Robert. After the Gas Light Follies, Karen and I strolled around town. We headed back up to eighth Street, and came across one of the Dawson Cemeteries. High on the hill above the town, I think those early pioneers would be proud that Dawson has kept some of the character that embodied those amazing times.
The next day we took the walking tour with our Scottish tour lass, seems Parks Canada personal do many different jobs. At the end of the tour I gave a Service recital to the group offering up "The Parson's Son" which seemed to fit the occasion. The final event in Dawson was Tom Burne's Robert Service Show. If you are in Dawson, don't miss this fine performance. Tom's Irish accent seems to fit well with Services Scottish bur.
Tom's small theater is across the street from the Bank where Service spent so many hours as a teller. Click here to go to there! This photo will take awhile to download) This yellow building is an interesting mix of materials painted to appear to be made of stone. It seems to be in a state of decapitation, but also appears to be in the process of being restored. Next to the bank one of the many steamboats which traveled up and down the Yukon is in dry dock.
I wish we had more time to explore Dawson, but Karen reminds me this is a "whirlwind tour" and we must hit the road again. As we wait for the Dawson Ferry to shuttle us across the Yukon River we bid farewell to Dawson and our "Trail of Ninety Eight" tour. We could have easily spent another week in this area. I would someday like to take a trip up Hwy 5 which winds its way up past the Arctic Circle to Fort Mcpherson on the old Edmonton Trail.
Click Here to Continue Tim's Travelogue
