Pelly River

The Robert Campbell trail starts here and provides a convenient footpath into the hills alongside the creek. Temperatures drop into the low 40’s. Warm sleeping bags beckoned.

Next day after breakfast we headed up the trail – fishing rods in hand – to huff and puff our way up a tall bluff. We lunched at the top. Then back down to the creek to hook a couple of grayling. It was fish fillets for dinner. Feeling slight nausea today – too much sun perhaps. Had to lie down for an hour or so.

This was our tenth day on the river. Some serious rain overnight and we rose to dark and grey skies. A stiff wind promised to make paddling arduous and frustrating.

About 24 k’s from our campsite, we visited the Wilkinson homestead. The Wilkinsons were the last family trying to live off the river. Brothers Jared and Eddie have resided here since 1964 but no one was home when we arrived. But we were given a howling welcome by 10 vicious looking huskies – lucky for us none was unleashed.

Further downstream at Pelly crossing, we met one of the Wilkinson’s at an outfitting store – think it was Jared. Nice guy. Says his brother is hospitalized with a bad back and he’d been living alone for 3 weeks. He spoke of the loneliness of living in the wilderness. We of course were here to enjoy the wilderness. For him ‘wilderness’ was another word for desolation. He talked of raging forest fires that have wiped out huge tracts of forested areas. He talked of trapping, his only means of support and the hard times eking out a solitary existence. Our hearts went out to him.

We reached Yukon Wilderness Unlimited at the confluence of the Pelly and Yukon Rivers and decided to drop in. It was home to John and Polly Lammers both ardent naturalists and we joined them for coffee and chat. The conversation was so interesting we stayed for dinner – home-grown peas, beets, potatoes and bread along with wine, coffee and fresh strawberries – the sweet small ones…my, my.

John is a Dutch agronomist who has lived in the wilderness for 20 years. He is well read and educated and a thorn in the side of the Yukon government lobbying against the destruction and exploitation of the wilderness by mining and other commercial interests. A brilliant man who was, quite literally, a voice in the wilderness. We talked and argued for hours over drinks before turning in to overnight in a small cabin on his premises.

Up the next day to a bright sunny day and a walk around the gardens. And then strode down the old Dawson Trail – still here 70 years later. Shows how delicate and fragile life can be in this place. Trees take a long time to grow. Soil is extremely shallow and a scar on the ground can remain for an eternity. A great breakfast, more talk about nature and government and then we were on our way.

Within 20 minutes of launch – the great wide Yukon River. What a sight! A mile from side to side. Just below the Pelly – Fort Selkirk built in 1898 to defend the town of Selkirk.

July 31. Chilly and damp. We bathed in the river, ate breakfast, and packed up quickly for another day on the Yukon. Many abandoned cabins along the way conjuring up images of the gold rush and the struggle north to stake out land claims.

Head winds and more tough paddling. Spectacular scenery – high mountains on both sides of the river. More abandoned cabins. In the late afternoon we explored a desolate hamlet of Kirkman Creek. One homestead was left completely intact with bed, magazines, books and cooking utensils – very eerie. In a building at the rear, a storage room with Christmas decorations and stacks of letters. One was from the husband to his wife about problems he was having in Whitehorse and how he missed his home. What happened here? Was there a tragedy? With this mystery weighing on our minds we hit the river again in search of a campsite.

Aug 1. Nice sunny day to start but scattered showers later. About 3:00 we arrived at Stewart Islands. Used to be a small thriving town with shops and post office now reduced to one re-furbished homestead and a few cabins – many others having been washed down the river as a result of high water and erosion. The width of the river at this point was double what it used to be. This has been home for Rudy and Yvonne Burian for some 40 years. The met us on the riverbank. Where they explained the mystery of Kirkman Creek (where they once lived).

16-year-old Jack Meloy came to the Yukon in 1906. Did some prospecting before meeting his wife Hazel and they lived on the Yukon River till 1968. Jack died at the ripe old age of 84 of an apparent heart attack. He fell out of a canoe while on a hunting trip, was saved by a friend but died later on shore of an apparent heart attack. 82-year-old Hazel moved to Dawson City where she still resides.

Unfortunately they couldn’t move things out of the Kirkman Creek homestead because it was bequeathed to the government but sadly neglected. The property and house proper have been ransacked, lived in by transients and in total disrepair. What a shame! It’s a marvellous piece of history. And that’s the ‘secret’ of the Meloy story. (We would later meet Hazel in Dawson City. (Read Craig’s story about Hazel here.)

Traffic on the river had now increased dramatically as we neared Dawson – canoeists, kayakers, boaters, etc. We got mired in some swampy water and couldn’t find a decent campsite in higher water until late night. We were exhausted – 9 gruelling hours of paddling covering about 70 kms. We slept in and not till 2:00 the next day did we hit the river.

Nothing much to see along the way. About the only excitement – the wind blew Craig’s hat into the water and it was a mad dash to recover what was considered to be a keepsake. It had been through too much to lose now. To bed at 11:30 pm. Tomorrow – Dawson City.

It was an easy paddle to the historic Dawson – its name is synonymous with the 1898 Klondike Gold Rush – conjuring up images of Robert Service, Jack London, Bonanza Creek and the multitude of prospectors, gamblers and prostitutes that raided the area during the gold rush to stake their claim to hidden fortunes.

Today, gold seekers still visit Dawson City and still prospecting for gold and finding it. This living cultural and historic oasis was once referred to as the ‘Paris of the North’.

As we approached and from a distance – a glimpse of the SS Keno sternwheeler – a visual legacy of the steamboats that plied the Yukon to deliver the tons of supplies to the booming Dawson City. Unfortunately none of the steamers in service at the time have survived but the Keno, built in Whitehorse (1922) has been preserved as a typical vessel of gold rush times. It played an important part in the fleet of steamers moving minerals out of the territory. In 1960, the Keno was moved to her present berth on Dawson’s waterfront as an historical reminder of an era now passed forever.

We pulled up our canoe on the river bank where it would be later picked up by the rental company. We schlepped our gear downtown and booked into a local inn – the Downtown Hotel.

What a way to end a canoe trip – Dawson City – site of the 1896 Klondike Gold Rush – so much to do and see. Old historical buildings are still scattered throughout the city. The famous and impressive Palace Grand Theatre built in 1899 where we took in ‘Gaslight Follies’ a musical memoir of the Klondike. There were tours of the Discovery Claim and Klondike goldfields. I even did a little panning at a tourist site. The cabin of Robert Service – the man who’s poems immortalized the gold rush. Law of the Yukon and The Shooting of Dan McGrew. He wrote his most famous ballads before ever seeing Dawson or the Klondike fields. Songs of the Sourdough was written in Whitehorse but Service eventually moved to Dawson in 1908. I took this photo of his cabin perched on a hillside overlooking the valley of the Yukon.

However, our biggest adventure was in Diamond Tooth Gertie’s gambling saloon. Sitting at the blackjack table things were going my way. Then Craig sat in and my luck changed dramatically. As the dealer worked us over, a young Italian lady approached the table. She was a journalist for L’Europeo – a kind of Italian Life magazine – and wondered if she could snap a few pictures of us. Sure, no problem. We should have asked what the story was about but what the heck, she was a nice looking young woman – what did it matter. Months later we received a copy of the publication – the picture and caption tell the story. We were props for a crime story and after another fast shuffle from the dealer – flat broke.

Hey, who’s complaining. It was a trip we’d remember for the rest of our lives.

Diamond Tooth Gertie’s Gambling Saloon

Will leave you with a few of my favourite lines from Robert Service.

This is the law of the Yukon, and ever she makes it plain:
Send not your foolish and feeble; send me your strong and your sane.
This is the Law of the Yukon, that only the Strong shall thrive;
That surely the Weak shall perish, and only the Fit survive.
Dissolute, damned and despairful, crippled and palsied and slain,
This is the Will of the Yukon, — Lo, how she makes it plain!

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