CHILKOOT TRAVAILS [and] INCIDENT AT KOIDERN

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chilkoot_Trail

On every outdoor-oriented Alaskan's to-do list at least once is the Chilkoot Trail. The old route followed by thousands of Klondike Gold seekers in the 1897-98 gold rush and immortalized in the works of Jack London and Robert Service, among many others.

 

I never had the chance to hike this amazing 33 mile trail when I lived in Juneau from 1998-2001, so this year my friend Erik and I decided to do it.

Only we wanted to do it in just one day, as a fast-pack, rather than the 3-5 days most people take. Fast-packing means carrying only emergency shelter (bivvy sack, therma-rest, sleeping bag), and food/water, plus a little extra. Meaning, no tent, cookstove, bottle of wine :), or other goodies.

Traveling light and fast, with just 15-20 lbs. on our backs, barely enough to really affect our agility and speed. With our schedules though, we planned on only hiking the 29 miles to Bare Loon Lake, then 7 miles down the White Pass and Yukon Railroad tracks, back to the highway, for 36 total, so we could get on our stashed bikes. Which we would then ride 27 miles back to Skagway on, much of which would be steep downhill. That was the plan anyway, and we reckoned it would take a total of 15-17 hours. One thing we had working in our favour, and a big thing, was perfect weather. The terrible drought affecting all of interior Alaska and the Yukon, responsible for large wildfire growth, promised to hold through the time we'd be there, bringing clear, dry weather with light winds. Not bad for late summer!

We met up for dinner thursday evening 30 July in Tok, then drove down a few hours to our first camp site of the trip, near Kluane Lake, which is the lobster-claw looking one there on the map. Very beautiful with it's clear blue glacial-fed water, surrounded by mountains.

We decided to camp in Eric's 1984 Volvo DL station wagon, which he bought last year for $600.00! It has 320,000 miles on it, and is still going strong! Eric lives in it in Valdez! Yes, that's right, he is our highest paid vagrant in AK. As an engineer for a large corporation, he could certainly afford a real place, but he has a nice cabin in Copper Center above the Copper River, and never intended to stay in Valdez for too long. And since the Volvo is shaped like a coffin, it sleeps one or two perfectly.

Volvo Camp I was established late thursday night at Burwash Landing, on the shores of Kluane Lake. We got to bed around midnight and had a restful sleep in it's padded, lengthy rear section. One thing I really dig about it, is that it has the original AK license plate, BPG 116. In AK, the oldest cars had plates beginning with A, then B, then C, etc.. We're up to F now for new cars. So, this car is an AK veteran, worthy of respect!

One definite item on our agenda was to try out our new Alpacka pack rafts, which we had both just gotten a few days before. These are very durable, tough inflatable rafts that fold up into a bag that then weighs 5 lbs. You can then pack this and a collapsible paddle into a backpack with your other gear, opening up many options in AK back-country travel in the non-frozen months.

They inflate quickly using a light, inflatable squeeze-bag, which takes only a little practice to learn.

After Erik's good coffee and breakfast, we drove about 35 km down the road, and put our rafts in at the Congdon Creek campground, on Kluane Lake. It was a beautiful warm, sunny day with south Chinook winds. These were producing about two foot swells on the lake with a few small whitecaps. Perfect for me, because I plan on using my Alpacka alot for coastal paddling when I'm in San Diego, Florida, or anywhere else I happen to be. It's going everywhere with me. They performed magnificently, and we spent a couple hours having fun paddling around in the relaxing swells and bright sun.

Seeing this though, reminded me how bad a drought year this is for interior Alaska and the Yukon. The first of a couple large wildfire plumes we saw, driving southeast toward Whitehorse, on Friday, 31 July.

After a brief stop in Whitehorse for dinner, we kept heading south toward Skagway. Of course, we had to stop at the chain of beautiful lakes just north of White Pass, the border between the AK panhandle and British Columbia.

For those who can remember, one of our favorite movies, Never Cry Wolf, was filmed here. All the scenes in the movie where the wolf researcher sets up his camp and interacts with the wolves were filmed in there. Just for the scenery alone, that movie is worth seeing, though it is a good story too. If you liked that movie as much as Erik and I, as soon as you see these lakes, and their sparkling blue colour, you'll remember.

We got into Skagway friday evening, and set up Volvo Camp II in the parking lot of the boat docks, where fishing craft and sail boats tie up. It seemed ideal, as it had bathrooms at one end, but unfortunately, a small building nearby had an annoying generator which came on at odd times all that night, disrupting my sleep. We had to get up at 0530, as we wanted to be on the trail at 0700. We had a ride pre-arranged to the trailhead in Dyea, 9 miles away, which picked us up at 0630. So, we got to the trailhead on time at 0700, though I was a little groggy.

The first several miles of the trail were alternately swampy, with boardwalks, like this.

Or, had short, but steep, uphill sections like this, as it followed the Taiya river upstream in it's canyon. Overall though, a slow ascent, with decent footing, allowing us to make good time. We early-on decided to hike 2 hours, take a short break for food/water, then another 2 hours, etc... with a lunchbreak and a dinnerbreak, when we felt like it, over the course of our long planned day.

It was kind of humid, and in the 60sF

that morning, and as we stopped, about four hours in, I was pretty sweaty. Right after this stop, our only real potentially serious incident on our hike occurred. I was walking briskly, and looked backward to talk to Erik. The trail curved a little, and I didn't see it coming, because of my grogginess from the previous night. I fell straight down into a hole. Shit, ten miles in, if there was a serious injury, we'd be in trouble. My left leg got folded up and jammed into the trail, and was hurting behind the knee. I decided to just hold it right there for a minute, collect myself, and slowly pull back out onto the trail. Once I calmed down and did that, I realized there was no serious injury. Just some bruising. So after a few minutes rest, we continued on our way.

As we got higher, towards 2000 feet or so, at miles 14-15, the trees began thinning out. We had our lunch resting on some boulders in the bright sun around here, very relaxing.

After lunch, in the next mile or so, the actual Chilkoot pass became visible in the distance. Here Erik is on the approach up to it. This pass is where that famous scene of gold-rushers winding up a steep, frozen slope is from. The one that is on many Alaska license plates and memorabilia.

Here is the actual pass, the notch in the middle. About 600 vertical feet of boulder hopping to it's summit of 3525 feet. All around from it's base to summit, were the remains of old cables and hauling systems that were used to haul the mandatory 1000 lbs. of supplies the Canadian government made prospective miners bring north with them in 1898.

It was quite steep and precarious at times. I sure glad to have a light pack on, with dry, non-slippery rocks!

This is the view looking back to the south, at the base of the pass. Now to ascend the "Golden Stairs" as that rock face is called. It took us a fair while. I went very slow, my leg was hurting a little, and after a fall in 2007, where I smashed my left knee on a pointy rock at the base of the Gulkana Glacier, I was being very careful. Here we leave behind the milder, wetter, maritime climate of the coastal fringes, and head in to the much colder (in winter) and forbidding interior.

It took us at least an hour to come up and over the pass. At the top is a Canadian Ranger Station, staffed by a trail ranger. Heading up the face, on the American side, we ran into his US counterpart. We chatted with him and commented on our great fortune with the perfect weather. He patrols from Sheep Camp station, at mile 12, right before the trail starts steeply ascending, to the border at the top of the pass.

Coming up and over the pass was great, the first 16.5 miles were over, and we knew it would be mostly downhill from here on out. Here is the view looking north on the other side of Chilkoot pass. The cold, interior side. Note how barren it looks, and the beautiful blue lakes. It is rarely ever above 60F here in the summer. The interior far to the north heats up, and pulls the cool maritime air inland through the pass, air which at 3000 feet is usually only 45-55F during the day. This day it was 60-70F! Walking on these snowfields was sketchy in our running shoes. We wore these for speed, but the traction on the slanted melting snow patches was not good, and we had to go very slow on them. The possibility of sliding into a shallow icy lake was there on some of them, or holes filled with rocks.

The first 2-3 miles below the pass had many shallow stream crossings, so in spite of my best efforts, I got totally soaked once. I changed my socks, and got partially soaked again. From now on, I will always wear my neoprene storm socks and multi-sport shoes on fast-packs. These shoes are almost like sandals, but with nearly as much cushioning as running shoes, allowing all day cruising over rocks and through streams, even running, if need be. My favourite view and picture of the whole trip is this, to the right. The clear blue lakes are incredible. These stunted mountain hemlocks only grow near the coastal passes to the interior, because they need alot of moisture. They can tolerate the winter cold, but not too much summer drought. This was a little further down, around mile 20. A mile or so back from there, I passed two women around 50 years of age or so, taking a rest break, and said hello (Erik was up ahead of me a bit). They were clearly doing a multi-day outing, judging by their heavier packs.

We stopped at the Happy Camp camping area (there are five of these at different places with outhouses and wood tent platforms) for a break. We were not happy, it was 5 pm, 10 hours after our start, and we'd only hiked 20.5 of the 36 miles we needed. To be followed by a 2 hour bike ride to Skagway. I had miscalculated, I didn't figure the trail would be so rocky and rough, it was very difficult to keep up a sustained fast pace because of that, without risking serious injury. So, we considered our options. Finish hiking at Bare Loon lake, at mile 29, sleep there, then walk the tracks, and bike the next day, seemed to be our best option.

There were about ten other people at this area camping, and some commotion appeared. A couple people came down the trail hurriedly to camp. One of the two women I had seen earlier had broken her leg badly, both the Tibula and Fibula, the bones of the lower half of the leg. There was no satellite phone, and since we were the only ones heading out, it was our job to get word to the Rangers at the Lindemann Camp at mile 26. We knew the poor woman, who I think I was the last one to see before her accident, would be in great pain. Fortunately a couple people were staying with her. We took off down the trail.

The trail got progressively less steep and rocky as we descended toward the Deep Lake camp at mile 23, with boardwalks in sections. We only stopped for a short water/energy break, knowing we had to get to Lindemann.

On the way down, around mile 24, Erik stopped and held something up. A toad! We were both amazed, it was so dry there, and gets so cold in the winter. Apparently they have some sort of special anti-freeze in their blood.

We got to Lindemann at 730 pm and immediately talked to the Ranger, Diane. She got on the radio to the Ranger at the Pass. While talking to her, two hikers who had hiked back from Happy Camp and up to the injured woman, reached the Pass Ranger and confirmed the injury. An airlift from the Whitehorse hospital was called for, then the Ranger lit out for the injured woman's position, after some EMT coaching from Diane. Since I used to be an EMT with our local VFD, I listened intently. They were doing the same things we would have done, except, she forgot to tell the Pass Ranger to check the woman's foot on the injured leg for PSMs (Pulse/Sensory/Motor functions). If these were impaired in any way, major artery/vessel/nerve damage could be present, which if not treated quickly, could result in the loss of the limb. This took over 30 min., and by that time, after 8 pm, at only mile 26, we were bummed. After telling them of our plans the Ranger and her assistant, a First-Nations man from the area named John, recommended we stay there in one of the tents. So we took them up on it, and chatted, between radio traffic.

Fortunately for the injured woman, the Pass Ranger reached her at 9pm and splinted her leg. The helicopter from the Whitehorse hospital had a 45 min. flight time to that area, and took off at 930 pm, plucking her out just in time! Because they won't fly after 2300 hours. Otherwise she would have had a very painful night, with risk of losing her leg. Even luckier for her, the weather closed in overnight, a weak front came through with low clouds and smoke from the interior. The helicopter may not have even been able to make it in there the next day. So she got to the Whitehorse hospital by 11pm, about six hours after her injury.

We had a pleasant evening at Lindemann chatting with Diane and John, and slept exceedingly well in those wall tents with foam beds!

After breakfast around 0730, we hit the trail around 0800 for the last 10 miles of walking. We were disappointed we couldn't do the whole thing in one day, but at least we were able to help in the rescue efforts.

The last three miles to Bare Loon Lake and the cutoff to the railroad tracks were through a mix of lodgpole pine and pacific silver fir. Beautiful trees, but showing signs of severe drought stress, just like in interior Alaska. Bummer.

There were some bridge crossings, over nice fast-moving streams. Would have been nice to float down these in our Alpackas, but they were moving a little fast for our comfort.

We got to the railroad tracks around 0900, and just started heading down.

It was a cool grey day, with low clouds, a few sprinkles, and smoke from the interior wildfires hazing things up. Good thing we made the pass yesterday! It was probably foggy up there, and quite cool.

It took us two more hours to hike the six miles back to the highway, and our bikes stashed there.

Along the way, a passenger train, the one from Skagway to Whitehorse came through, and everyone waved and took our pictures.

There was alot of bear scat along the tracks! I'm guessing it was mostly black bear, but it could have been brown too, some of it. Any prospective scatologists out there? What's in it? Alot of berries, for sure, and other plant material.

We reached our bikes around 1100 and took an energy/fluid break. Our bikes were still there, three days after we stashed them. We had twelve rolling miles to pedal to White Pass, 3212 feet (we were around 2800 there), then 13 steep downhill miles, then two level ones, coming into Skagway. It was somewhat tiring for those first 12, neither of us are real cyclists, and we went very slowly uphill. With the monstrous RVs and Semis roaring past us.

It was sure nice making the pass, knowing it was all downhill from now on. Cold up there too, probably 45F or so, had my gloves and shell with hood on. Even so, as I zoomed down 3000 feet at 30 mph or so on the bike I got quite cold. When I got to the US border station, six miles north of Skagway, I was thoroughly chilled. After checking through, I had a water/energy break, and waited for Erik, who was taking longer. He showed up 15 min. later, and we rolled into town around 1330.

After stashing things in the Volvo, we drove to a seafood restaurant for a good meal and lots of coffee! We were both smelly and gross, so we told our waitress. After that, we found coin-operated showers at the boat marina, perfect! Man did those feel good. Ten minutes for two dollars.

We decided just to head north then, and as we went north back into Canada, it got smokier. Into Whitehorse, it was quite bad, about a mile visibility. We had a great dinner at a new restaurant called Ernie's, which seemed very upscale and urban for Whitehorse, not bad. We were anxious to see how far we could get though before establishing Volvo Camp III, and if the air would get better.

Sure enough, about 30 or so miles west of Whitehorse, the smoke thinned, and the air was much better. We both saw something up the road, and a few cars were stopped.

Elk! About thirty of them on both sides of the road. They sure were beautiful in the dim evening light, around 2200. My camera took interesting photos. I hadn't seen any since I left Montana in 1998. They are not native to the Yukon, but were introduced many decades ago, and now thrive. We spent about 15 minutes admiring them, then pressed on.

We wanted to set up Volvo Camp III at the Congdon Creek campground, near Destruction Bay, around 2330. It was basically dark now, but the campground was closed, due to brown bear sitings! So we just drove a mile back to an old construction camp, and set up VC III. A big yellow lab from a house nearby came up barking. I tried my best to get him to come up to us, but the best he would do was roll around. Still, at least he stopped barking. Then, we heard him get called back.

 

The next morning we heard him nosing around, and then he was all over us! Erik says I am a "Dog Whisperer". He is right, in a way, I relate very well to all animals, but seem to have a special way with canines. They sense your intent and feelings, and if you use the right tones of voice and gestures, and are sincere, good things always result. I've defused many dog attacks when running. And fights between strangers, and Mattie and Homer, when they have been attacked. This big, fuzzy guy just couldn't get enough of us, but we had to pack up and head home, so we said goodbye. Fortunately he didn't try and follow us. We got back to Tok, Alaska in the afternoon, where we split up, Erik heading back to Valdez, and me to Fairbanks. Both grateful our trip went well, and happy for the memories. But something happened between Kluane Lake and the Canadian Border.

INCIDENT AT KOIDERN

After leaving our VC III, and driving for a few hours north, we were both a litttle dazed, and needed a rest stop. Erik wanted some coffee, since he was driving, and to go pee. I just wanted a diet 7Up, since my stomach was a little tense from all the coffee I had earlier. We stopped at a little run-down place called the Koidern Lodge, about 40 miles south of the US border.

As a little background, Erik is growing longer hair, after undergoing a "Paradigm Shift" last year, living more for himself now, rather than caring what others think. So, he wears a bandanna around his semi-long hair now to keep it out of his face. It's not quite long enough yet to tie back. Does he look dirty or dangerous to you?

I noticed there were a few other people at the Koidern Lodge, and it also said Rock Shop. As one who's always been obsessed with crystals and minerals, an added attraction. So we stopped and went in, and browsed. We were both tired and dazed, and I didn't really look at my surroundings much, other than to check out the crystals, many of which I already had. Erik noticed there was no coffee, so he headed out to go pee. I walked over to a small drinks cooler, but all they had there were colas, which I didn't want. I didn't really notice the older couple, in their 70s, running the place, until I made my decision to leave. I just nodded to the woman at the register. As I turned to leave, she said to her husband, who I hadn't really noticed before, "What do you think they want?"

He said "Who knows what the f..k these rude people want!" very loudly. I barely glanced over to him, and just strode out. F..k that! As I strode past him, he bellowed out "Have a great one" very sarcastically. I just walked out, and he followed me.

As I came out the door, he spied Erik looking for a pee spot. The man immediately yelled "You, you over there, get out of there!". Erik wasn't sure he was even the one being yelled at, so he asked. And the man said again, "get out of there!". At this point, I just couldn't help it, and bust out laughing. At the absurdity and surprise of the situation. Who'd of thought? The man was clearly not happy at that, but I made sure he heard me! I wished I'd snapped a picture of the old sourpuss, but wasn't thinking fast enough. He might have run for a shotgun though, if I did that! So, beware all you Yukon travelers...of the Sourpuss of Koidern Lodge!

 

Erik and I both agreed, it's better if you look different, that way if people are that biased, at least you know right away. Rather than, if you fit in visually, and then get to know someone a little who then casts abuse because they find you are different, you've just wasted alot of time and energy. I feel sorry for that man and his wife, they must have a very unhappy life there!

Cheers!