BhidePhotography

The North Pole, the El Dorado Gold Mine, and a brief Glimpse of the Alaska Pipeline

2010-10-24T09:41:00.000-07:00

As we left Tok, we had the public reading of the top three moose poems, the voting, and the awarding of prizes. My prize was the little guy at the left, who became my trusty mascot for the rest of the trip.

Once again, we were trundling down the road, this time heading for Fairbanks, with a couple of planned stops along the way. And one unplanned stop. Our coach pulled in to the North Pole. North Pole, Alaska, that is.

Did you ever write a letter to Santa Clause when you were little, get your mom or dad to address it and stick a stamp on it and then drop it in a mailbox? Mom and Dad probably thought you'd be terribly disappointed if they told you it just ended up in the dead letter office, so they didn't tell you. They let you keep your dreams.

Well, it turns out you were right. Your letter went straight to the North Pole, just not to the one up there inside the Arctic Circle, or even the magnetic north pole. Those letters wind up here. North Pole, Alaska might be just one gigantic gift shop and filling station, but its real charm is in the letters. Take a look.

From the North Pole, we continued on to the El Dorado Gold Mine. The El Dorado used to be a working gold mine but now it's a piece of history that earns its keep by boarding folks on to a little train that runs next to an old dredging machine, alongside a stream, through a gold mine tunnel, and winds up at a huge shed full of sluice-ways. At that point, the passengers disembark and learn to pan for gold.

Dredge cross section

Inside the dredge

Dredge Close-up

During the train ride, we passed this reenactment of a Klondike miner, panning for gold

Our panning experience was more on the 'community' level -- several rows of would-be miners seated alongside several sluices. After the water flowed into the sluice, we did our own panning. I found $32 worth of gold.

As with any tour, the train left us stranded at the gift shop for quite a while. Once the El Dorado had finished 'mining' the tourists, we boarded our coach and headed off toward Fairbanks, with a brief stop at the Alaska Pipeline.

The permafrost that covers much of Alaska prevents the pipeline from being buried underground. Were it to be underground, the annual temperature fluctuations would quickly break it apart. After walking under and around the pipeline for a bit and reading the information signs, we headed toward Fairbanks.

Our stay in Fairbanks was brief and I took no pictures -- hotel rooms really do take on a sameness after a while. So, next stop Denali!

Tok, The Hermaphrodite Moose, and The Great Toilet Paper Scare

2010-09-28T18:32:00.000-07:00

As our plane flew towards Beaver Creek, I thought about the difference between the Klondike gold rush in Skagway the way it was handled in Dawson. Skagway, which was then and still is part of America, was known for its bars, gunfights, graft, corruption, whorehouses, and general air of lawlessness. Soapy Smith pulled his scams with impunity until he was killed by vigilantes. At the Canadian border, everything changed. The first rule was -- No Handguns. Hunting rifles were allowed, but all sidearms were surrendered to or confiscated by the Canadian Mounties. Second, no one was allowed in without a year's worth of provisions (that famous 2000 pounds that required 20 or more trips up and down the steep Chilkoot Pass). Third, theft, for example of another miner's cache as he made the numerous trips up and down the Chilkoot, was immediately and harshly dealt with by the Mounties. At Lake Bennett, the Mounties found local people who could teach boat-building to the miners. By the time they reached Dawson, the miners were a fairly civilized and orderly group.

There are numerous churches in Dawson and the brothels, while allowed, were regulated. Bars were not open all night and were closed on Sundays. While Skagway is proud of its wild west ways, Dawson is equally proud of the civilized manner in which it dealt with and kept under control the sudden influx of 10,000 or more newcomers into town.

Flying along the Yukon River toward Beaver Creek, we could see why the Yukon is referred to as a 'braided' river. Its course changes constantly as glacial silt flows along and is deposited. The silt settles, building up the river bed until eventually it becomes like a narrow island and the river must change course to go around it.

Our flight took us south toward Beaver Creek. At first, we could see the pale strip of the Klondike Highway, but it soon gave out and we flew over miles and miles of wetlands.

Everything was 'hurry up and go' in Dawson, so it wasn't until we landed in Beaver Creek that we could wander around and see the plane that had just carried us there.

The above two shots pretty well sum up our experience of Beaver Creek. We were immediately whisked back on to our coach, which had been on the road all day long, traveling over double the distance we had just flown in order to get us back on schedule for our night's stay in Tok.

At first, we passed the time by searching through the windows for wildlife. We were rewarded by beaver dams (above) and moose on several occasions. Even a moose standing still is difficult to shoot from a bus moving along the bumpy Alaska Highway at 35 miles per hour, but I did manage to get one relatively clear shot of this cow, who only looked up from her underwater grazing long enough to make sure we were the usual sort of traffic.

(Note: This is not the hermaphrodite moose listed in the title.)

Not long after leaving Beaver Creek, we had a couple of brief stops at the United States/Canada border. One stop was to allow the customs officials to check our passports. The other stop was to look at the world from two countries simultaneously. The border is very well marked. In fact, you can see it for miles and miles, stretching out on either side of the road. With another hundred or so miles to go, we settled in to watch the world go by, little knowing that our creative tour guide, Juli, had something quite different in store for us.

Juli began handing out half sheets of white paper to everyone, along with a colored marker -- a different color for everyone in the coach. "We're going to play Moose Crossing," she announced, "In the lower right corner, write your name." We all looked a little skeptical but nobody wanted to disappoint Juli and, after all, what else was there to do?

Here's how the game is played. Juli would shout out a body part for us to draw. Just one part. Then we were to pass our sheet to the person in front and grab the drawing from the person behind and each time we passed the sheet, everyone would yell out "Moose Crossing!". It went on this way with Juli shouting out parts and us drawing, until we were about two thirds of the way through drawing our complete moose. Okay, now take a quick peek at the final results and you might see why suddenly the words we were calling out were changed to "Moose Abomination!" The drawings were getting more and more silly, especially as we followed the direction to 'give your moose a gender'. Some people chose one and some chose the other. Of course, this was well after we'd been told to add the antlers. . . . do you see where this is going? (Hint: males don't have udders and females don't have antlers.)

At the end, we all retrieved the sheet we had started with. But we weren't done. The next task was to study our moose -- deeply, thoroughly, becoming 'one with the moose'. "Now write a poem about your moose." My poem took a bit longer to write because I had one of those very, very special moose that seldom, if indeed ever, occur in nature . . . . .

Here's my moose and my poem (it did win first prize later on in the trip or I wouldn't be bothering you with it).

The poem goes like this:

The night was hot
And so was he
He sniffed the air
"Ah, yes! A she!"
He turned and turned
Round and round
That dagblamed cow
Nowhere to be found!
The moon came out
He looked around . . . .
Only to find . . . . that he
Was a she!

And so we rumbled on along the Alaska Highway, looking forward to whatever awaited us in Tok. Meanwhile, Greg, the driver, was carrying on a serious and low conversation over the two-way radio in the front of the bus. After a bit, Juli and he had a conference and Juli stood up quite seriously and said she had an announcement to make:

"You probably heard Greg talking on the radio a little while ago. He was talking with the hotel manager and they have a little bit of a problem. Tok is way out in the middle of nowhere and everything they get has to be trucked in. Now, they've got just about everything they need to make your stay comfortable and I know these folks go out of their way to entertain you, since there is absolutely nothing else to do in Tok. So, first of all I want to tell you that they've extended their annual Christmas in July celebration to August, just for your benefit. On the downside though, they have run out of one item. The truck that was to bring in the toilet paper hasn't arrived. They expect it some time during the night. But right now, they've asked us to pass out whatever is left on the bus and have you each take what you think will be sufficient for your needs this evening."

The usually ebullient Juli was clearly dead serious so we dutifully passed the roll around and then sat there each contemplating his or her small wad of the precious commodity. When we got into Tok, the manager came on board and also apprised us of the situation. He encouraged us to each take a sheet or two from the roll of paper towels he was holding. So, we did.

Greg, with the last of the supply from the bus.

We got up to our rooms and pretty much all went through the same process. First, you pulled your luggage inside and then you stood there wondering just how long you could 'hold it'. In my case, I happened to look over at the sink vanity area and noticed a box of facial tissues and thought, "well this isn't really so bad. . . " Then, on a hunch, I went into the little room where the toilet paper was and -- two full rolls! I think we all made our discovery simultaneously because all around the central hotel courtyard I suddenly heard a lot of whooping and laughing! We'd been had.

In the end, it was Juli who paid the price for her prank. She got into her own room and -- no toilet paper -- anywhere! It wasn't until she went to bed that she discovered two rolls under the pillows. Turns out someone at Tok has a sense of humor, too.

As we had been warned, there was very little to see or do in Tok. However, they tried hard to make it up to us. . . . the food was amazing and the decorations very, well, very seasonal. . . .


Before we went to bed we were served hot chocolate (neat or 'otherwise') from a trolley that rolled door to door.

Next stops: The North Pole, the El Dorado Gold Mine, and a brief Glimpse of the Alaska Pipeline.

Dawson, the Destination of the Klondike Gold Rush

2010-09-26T14:35:00.000-07:00

Even today, the Yukon, Dawson and the Klondike River, as well as tiny Rabbit Creek, are remote. A hundred years ago, it was an arduous trek just to get in or out, accomplished largely on foot. It took nearly a year for word of the strike to reach the outside world. Once it did, though, tens of thousands of people world-wide simply stopped what they were doing and headed for the Yukon. One of the most popular points of embarkation was Seattle, where people could board ships headed north. Almost overnight, all sorts of more or less seaworthy vessels were converted to carry passengers. For the vast majority, the destination was either Skagway or Dyea. There were other routes, but they were either much longer or prohibitively expensive.

So prospectors, mostly people with absolutely no mining experience who were ill-prepared for the rigors of the far north, streamed onto the ships, headed out over the Chilkoot or Whitehorse trails, floated down the Yukon in hastily made boats, and arrived in Dawson.

The Yukon River, full of glacial silt, which gives it a brown-gray color and gritty texture.

On the left is the Klondike River. Fed by mountain run-off and springs, it is sparkling and clear. In the top right-hand corner, it meets the Yukon River. Interestingly, the two rivers don't mingle easily and a clear line of separation can be seen between the two waters for quite a distance down the river after they join.

The water on the bottom of the picture is the Klondike, with the Yukon above.

When the Klondikers reached Dawson, they were in for a devastating surprise. The Yukon was not empty. Even before the Rabbit Creek discovery, there were many people there, both from the First Nations and pioneers from other parts of the world. Virtually all of the claims along the Klondike and its associated creeks had already been claimed. There was nothing left.

Dawson today survives chiefly by selling its history to tourists. As such, it has been preserved in its 'glory days', making the entire town a living museum. A walk around outdoor Dawson reveals almost nothing (apart from vehicles) that is new. The streets are spread with fresh sandy soil, rather than being paved, for example, although this may have more to do with climate than history. The harsh conditions imposed by periodic deep freezes alternating with warming make asphalt and concrete buckle. Packed earth and raised, wooden walkways actually make more sense.

We didn't have any alternate excursions planned, so spent a great deal of time simply walking around town enjoying the photographic 'eye candy'.

Above three pictures, The El Dorado Hotel, a photograph inside the hotel taken in around 1898 and the way it looks now.

The Masonic Lodge (above) just looks like it's built of stone. However, stone doesn't do well in a land where the temperature goes between -80 degrees F and +90 degrees F. This building, and one other less well kept building in town, are faced with sheet metal that has been formed around wood to give the appearance of stone.

The local radio station.

A mural on a wall.

Many establishments consisted of bars on the ground floors, with a brothel above. To give the same feel, one finds provocatively clothed manikins in the upstairs windows of several buildings around town.

A shop window.


Diamond Tooth Gertie's puts on a really fun 1890's musical review. Note the woman and little girl on the left -- they were practicing Tai Chi.

Diamond Tooth Gertie

The old post office is only open to people who sign up for the tours that start from the Palace Grand Theater. The same is true for the original British bank and the El Dorado Hotel.

The residential area shows signs of both the past and the present, along with a lot of northern ingenuity and whimsy.

The poet Robert Service (perhaps most famous for "The Cremation of Sam McGee") lived in this cabin on the edge of town. The cache above is adjacent to his cabin.

Being a photographer, I insisted we spend a little time inside the camera obscura, letting our eyes get used to the dark and viewing the world outside in full color and motion, but upside down.

On our second day in Dawson, we took a walk up the road leading out of town, looking for the old cemeteries. There is one right on the last street before one heads into the woods, but there are also several more along the roadside higher up. They include two Masonic cemeteries and a Jewish cemetery. Most of the headstones and wooden markers are now quite old. However, the air in Dawson is so dry that a lot of the wooden markers can still be read. Here's a brief glimpse.

People came to the Klondike from all over the world. This stone was erected in memory of a man born in 1855 in Denmark. He came to the Yukon in 1886, well ahead of the gold rush, and died in 1900.

Our hike up the hill and a short hike out to Crocus Bluff gave us a breathtaking view of Dawson, the Klondike, and the Yukon.

From Dawson, we flew to Beaver Creek, which gave us an amazing view of the Klondike River and the results of all of the mining that's gone on there to get the gold. The piles of earth are 'tailings' from mining operations -- the residue as dredging equipment moves along the river in the quest for gold. It was so extensive, that they are visible from very high altitudes, as you can see.

The view from our little plane.

A shot from Google Earth.

And still higher up (also from Google Earth). The Klondike is the dark line just above the massive, worm-like piles

We landed in Beaver Creek and were immediately transferred to our coach, which would take us on to Tok.

Next installment: Tok, The Hermaphrodite Moose, and The Great Toilet Paper Scare.

On the Road to Dawson

2010-09-24T14:18:00.000-07:00

Thank goodness for comfortable coaches! Alaska and The Yukon Territory are vast lands with miles and miles of wildlands on either side of narrow roads. Our coach stopped every couple of hours, though, so that people didn't become cranky and uncomfortable. The Klondike Highway between Whitehorse and Dawson was one such long road (about 250 miles), punctuated by odd little stops along the way -- places where people keep themselves in business by the simple act of having something, interesting, useful, or necessary for the wanderer.

We left Whitehorse fairly early in the morning. A couple of hours later found us at a place called Braeburn Lodge, most well known, as it turns out, for their enormous cinnamon buns.

Braeburn Lodge

These cinnamon buns look just like any other cinnamon buns, don't they? Well, in addition to their absolute scrumptiousness, they are also about a foot in diameter! One cinnamon bun was enough to give everyone on the coach a taste.

Of course, while everyone else was buying and eating the sticky cinnamon bun, I wandered around a bit. Braeburn Lodge struck me as being one of those quintessential northern, open-country sorts of places. The main industry seemed to be us -- or that is, us and coachloads of folks like us -- as well as people traveling along the Yukon Highway who simply needed a place to get out and stretch a bit. There was an old piano sitting on a moving dolly, a yard full of rusting vehicles, and a stack of what looked to be old telephone poles that had been sawed into even lengths,

And that was Braeburn. We continued on to our lunch stop -- Carmacks Inn. Carmacks is actually on the maps. It's a cluster of buildings around a bend in the river. The name probably should have been simply Carmack, without the 's', after George Carmack who, along with Tagish Charley and Skookum Jim, found gold in their pan on Rabbit Creek (later renamed Bonanza Creek) on August 17, 1896. However, when a painter was asked to paint up a sign for the town, the 's' was added in error and the name has been Carmacks ever since.

Perhaps this is a good time to insert a little bit about the original strike that led to the Klondike Gold Rush. There are several versions of the discovery of gold, some more credible than others. One of the more believable involves a long-time prospector in the area by the name of Robert Henderson, who had found a bit of gold on Gold Bottom Creek, not far from Rabbit Creek. As was the custom, since any single person could only stake out just so much land as his or her claim (yes, women did stake claims), it was to their advantage to let others know about the strike. The additional miners often lent each other support. So Robert Henderson told George Carmack about his find.

To the pile of tales, I'm going to add my own. The 'official' version of George Carmack's discovery has him wandering down to Rabbit Creek with a bunch of dirty pots and pans to wash them. George was actually married to an Indian woman by the name of Kate. Tagish Charley and Skookum Jim were her relatives. I tried hard to imagine ol' George gathering up all the dirty cookware to do up the dishes and, well, it just didn't fly. Think about it. Who would have been doing the dishes? Certainly not George, Charley, or Jim. What were women for, if not to do up the laundry, wash the dishes, and along the way birth a baby or ten? So, in my version, the gold of Rabbit Creek, aka Bonanza Creek, is actually discovered by Kate. Spread the word. We can correct history. . . .

We had lunch and then wandered down the board path to enjoy the river.

After Carmack's, our next stop was a little place called Moose Creek Lodge. Moose Creek Lodge is somewhat loosely named, as I didn't see any signs of actual lodgings (or any moose, for that matter). But it was a kind of fun little place, the purpose of which was again to feed and refresh weary travelers. It had the added bonus of being quite entertaining, as well. There were old cabins fitted out with rusting bits and pieces to replicate Klondiker digs, a horseshoe pit, an ice cream shack, and lots of whimsical sculptures made of scraps of found materials fitted together to form recognizable forms. My favorite was the gigantic mosquito, aka the Alaska State Bird. The only drawback to exploring and enjoying Moose Creek Lodge was the guard turkey. Apparently, we were passing through during an avian mating season. The lone tom turkey wandered through, chasing his hens and warning off anyone, including humans, who might impede his progress in the mating game. Very few of us wandered back beyond the ice cream shack. I think I may have gone the farthest afield, but even I was daunted by the prospect of a sharp, angry beak on a three foot tall, testosterone-fueled fowl!

So here is probably about one half of Moose Creek Lodge. . . .

Apparently, the gazebo is in Dawson and the lodge and gift shop are in either Vancouver or Whitehorse. . . .

And that is the road to Dawson.

Next installment: Dawson, the Destination of the Klondike Gold Rush.

Kluane Rock Glacier

2010-09-18T18:29:00.000-07:00

The relief map above is of Kluane (pr. kloo-WAH-nee), showing the inaccessible ice fields that comprise most of the park. On the close-up, I've marked the approximate site of our hike. We began just off the main road.

I signed us up for the Kluane Rock Glacier hike because of two words: 'glacier' and 'short'. Little did I know that the emphasis should have been on 'rock' with the words 'crumbly' and 'steep' added to the description. Evidently, other people did know about those attributes of an otherwise innocuous-sounding hike in Kluane National Park. We were the only two people on the hike.

The hike started out gently enough, as we moved through a stand of alders, bear berries, and fireweed.


Bear berries. Bears love these and if you find yourself surrounded by them, keep a sharp eye out for bears.

But quite soon, the terrain began to change. . . .

The beginning of Rock Glacier, edged by a stand of fireweed. Fireweed gets its name, not from its color, but from the fact that it's the first flowering plant to grow back after a forest fire.

The trail quickly became nothing but loose, sharp rock. I'd probably have settled for climbing just to the first level, where lots of folks stop and opt to use the rest of their time building inukshuit.

This figure with arms and a head is not actually an inukshuk. The traditional inukshuk is a formation of rocks, but not a depiction of a person. In the Inuit language, the figure above would be called 'inunguak' (sp?), which means a depiction of a person.

The traditional inukshuk would look more like this.

Although British Columbia has adopted the inukshuk as one of its provincial icons, inukshuit are found throughout the Arctic Circle. Polar tribes built them as a way of saying "I was here". They serve as guideposts and a sort of reassurance to other nomads of ice-covered lands that they are not alone. For more background, check out this interesting video.

As I say, I probably would have opted to pause about halfway up, perhaps build my own inukshuk, and then head back down. But since there were only two of us, we were able to take our time and pick our way all the way to the top.

Our guide, looking out over the Lake Dezadeash (DEZ-dee-ash) valley.

This is as close as I could get with my 20x zoom. To my unaided eye, this hawk was a too-large blob on top of a white spruce.

After the climb, and slowly picking our way down (note the climbing pole our guide is holding), we drove over to Lake Kathleen for lunch. Gorgeous day, all around!

Next installment: On the Road to Dawson.

On the Klondike Trail -- the White Pass Railroad

2010-09-18T11:23:00.000-07:00

The gold seekers of 1898 started out at either Skagway or Dyea (pr. di-EE) and then took one of two trails -- either the gentler but longer White Pass Trail, or the shorter but more arduous Chilkoot Trail. We would be taking the White Pass Railroad, which was completed in short order by 1899, and ran between Skagway and Lake Bennett. The Chilkoot Trail, a mere 33 miles from Dyea to Lake Bennett, is arguably the more famous of the two trails, however, thanks to the efforts of a number of photographers who documented it. In particular, there are numerous images of the infamous "Golden Staircase".

One of the most famous of the many photographs of the Golden Staircase

The Golden Staircase was a steep 1400 foot climb that would have been difficult to do even once. But the Klondike miners each had to make the trip 20 times.

Most people associate the Klondike Gold Rush with Alaska. However, the Klondike is well into Yukon Territory. To avoid unnecessary loss of life -- and unnecessary use of Mountie time and energy spent in rescue operations -- the government quickly took over at the Alaska/Canada border and instituted a number of safety measures. The most famous of these was the requirement that every single person crossing into Canada was required to bring with them a full year's worth of provisions. The total weight of each person's provisions was right around 2,000 pounds.

The scales at the base of the pass.

On average, unless he or she could afford to hire local Chilkat Indians to help transport goods, a person carried about 100 pounds at a time while ascending the Golden Staircase. At the top, they each created a 'cache' for their goods and then slid down the mountainside to load up and begin the climb all over. An estimated 20,000 to 30,000 people traveled the Chilkoot in 1897-98, a number of them being women. Many, if not most of them were saved from almost certain disaster by the stiff regulations imposed by the Canadian government.

At the top of the Chilkoot Pass

Still other miners followed the longer White Pass Trail. In contrast with the Chilkoot, which was open all year round and steep, the White Pass Trail was longer and gentler, but also closed down for part of the year. Miners in a hurry were more likely to take the Chilkoot, regardless of conditions. The White Pass Trail also proved to be a far better location to build a railroad. Within weeks of the start of the rush to the Klondike, discussions were under way to get a rail line through to Lake Bennett. Construction began on May 27, 1898, to build a rail line along an old wagon road, and reached the summit of White Pass on February 18, 1899. A bottle of scotch, some fancy talk, and a little trickery later, the line continued into Canada. The tracks were completed there on July 6, 1899. Currently, they go as far as Carcross.

The narrow gauge White Pass Train, starting at Skagway

Views along the White Pass Trail up to Lake Bennett:

Shot from the end of the train. The tight curves this train takes make going slow (we covered the 40 miles in around 6 hours, which includes our lunch stop), but they are great for photographers! The space between cars was open and we were free to shoot without interference from glass.

The thin, pale green line across the center of the picture is part of the original White Pass foot trail.

Wooden trestle, part of the original rail line.

Abandoned station at the approach to Bennett

Lake Bennett and Bennett, where the White Pass Trail and the Chilkoot Trail meet

Station and our train at Bennett

Lunch at the Bennett railway station

Lake Bennett

The Presbyterian church at Bennett is no longer in use. At present, there is only one family in full-time residence in the town of Bennett.

Lake Bennett

Artifacts left by miners

The end of the Chilkoot Trail

Lots of folks pack the Chilkoot Trail these days, starting at Dyea and then catching the train here at Bennett into Carcross.

Hiker and her dog, at the end of their 4-day trek.

From Lake Bennett, miners could build a boat and float down the Yukon River to Dawson. Here again, the Mounties, under the command of Sam Steele, took over. They hired local boat-builders to teach the miners how to build craft that would be watertight and strong enough to withstand the rapids.

This is a reproduction of a typical Klondiker's boat.

The miners may have floated on down to Dawson on the Yukon River, but our route took us on to Carcross. It was the end of the line for the train and from there we boarded a coach to take us on to Whitehorse.

Carcross

As we spent almost no time in Whithorse -- next stop: Kluane

Note: Thanks to Google Image Search for historical photographs of the Chilkoot Pass. I sincerely believe these images to be in the public domain and hope that if that isn't the case, whoever owns the rights to them will contact me so that I can remove them from the blog.

Skagway, Gateway to the Klondike

2010-09-17T18:21:00.000-07:00

We disembarked from the Volendam in Skagway, to begin the inland portion of our journey. In Skagway, our history lesson on the Klondike gold rush of 1898 began. The Klondike was Skagway's reason for being. It was the gateway to the Gold of The Yukon Territory. Ships full of gold-seekers left Seattle arrived in droves after the news of the Klondike finds were announced to the world. There were other routes to the Klondike, but they were either more difficult or more expensive. Skagway and nearby Dyea (pr. Di-EE) were the popular routes. From Dyea one could take the Chilkoot Trail 40 miles overland on foot to Lake Bennet, build a boat, and then float down the Yukon to the goldfields near Dawson in The Yukon Territory of Canada.

The distance from Skagway to Lake Bennet was the same, but the route was over the White Pass trail, a slightly longer but less steep route than the Chilkoot. Being further up the Lynn Canal than Skagway, at the end of the Taiya Inlet, Dyea couldn't accommodate as many incoming ships as its twin down in Skagway and never did become as large. Within a year, the White Pass Railroad had been completed and Dyea was abandoned altogether. All that remains today are some post stumps in the boggy ground and scattered bits of wood that were once houses and stores.

Meanwhile, Skagway's population exploded almost overnight as tens of thousands streamed into the narrow, muddy strip of flat ground that Capt. William "Billy" Moore had claimed and laid out as a town a few years earlier. Skagway quickly became known for its graft, corruption, gunfights, numerous houses of prostitution and just general lawlessness. Goldseekers jumped all over Billy Moore's would-be township and decided to declare his claims to the land as void. Years later, Capt. Smith won it back in a court battle.

The practice of 'mining the miners' became a major industry in Skagway that first year and the leader of that industry was a man by the name of Jefferson Randolph "Soapy" Smith. Soapy Smith was a businessman in the loosest sense of the world; a "snake oil salesman" of the wild west. Among his many ventures was a small telegraph office where he'd happily -- for a price -- take down messages from arriving miners so they could let their loved ones back home know they'd landed safely in Alaska. The telegraph key operator could be seen diligently tapping away to get the messages out right away. The only trouble was that the telegraph line starting at the office led directly to the bottom of the bay. There were no outgoing lines from Skagway.

Vigilantes, determined to rid the town of one Soapy Smith, formed a committee and, when Smith forced his way into a meeting, a gunfight quickly broke out. Smith was shot dead by a man by the name of Frank Reid. Reid was severely wounded by a bullet to the groin and died a few days later. Both men were buried in the cemetery just outside of town, but Smith's body went into ground just outside the cemetery proper, while the townsfolk all pitched in to bury Frank Reid and erect a tall monument over the site.

The story only starts in Skagway, but for now it's time to walk around the town built in a summer and kept alive by history and tourism.

I suppose you could get to Jamaica from here. . . . .

Street Scenes:

Okay, I suppose I should get out of the middle of the road. . . .
The bottom line is a little hard to read. It says "Skagway Paramedics". A little tongue-in-cheek.
Notice that the following pictures are not taken from the middle of the street; I won't tell you where I was standing for the ones above so that I don't incriminate myself. . . .

Close-up of the building above. The entire front is covered with driftwood.

There are no sidewalks, only these boardwalks.

Painting of the Chilkoot Trail on the side of a building.

This is actually way up high on the side of the mountain. I just had a lot of zoom in my lens.

The Red Onion Saloon was famous for its drinks downstairs, and its ladies upstairs.

Hints of the past.

Vegetable Garden by a house.

We did one ranger-led tour through town, which took us to, among other places, William Moore's original cabin.


The William Moore cabin.

Three of the headstones in the cemetery just outside of town.

View of Skagway.

View down the fjord toward the Lynn Canal. The ship is the Volendam -- our last glimpse of her before heading inland.

Next installment: The White Pass Railroad.

Juneau

2010-09-14T17:18:00.000-07:00

We didn't board the Volendam again at Tracy Arm. Instead, she had continued on north toward Juneau. The catamaran we were on turned and headed north, too, to allow us to reboard at Juneau. But when we got there, we couldn't go back through the same hole in the hull that we had used earlier to leave the ship. There was a lifeboat drill going on.

We went around to the gangway, which was the normal boarding place, showing our ID's and having our bags scanned as we went back on board. After a quick lunch on the Lido Deck, we headed out into the 'traditional' weather of Juneau -- rain.

Juneau is a small town, especially considering that it's the state capitol of the largest state in the union, and is only accessible by sea and air. There are no roads in (or out) of Juneau. Armed with our Walking Guide to Juneau (a map with locations noted on it), we pretty well scoured the town in the next few hours.

Come on, I'll show you around. We started by taking the Roberts Mountain tram ride up to a small station that included a gift shop, an information film, and a very tiny natural history center (one injured bald eagle and another gift shop).


The Volendam is the ship on the right. The other ship is also from the Holland America line. Our entire trip included stops at facilities owned by Holland America (or HAL), including various diamond centers and nearly all of our hotel accommodations. HAL is clearly a large contributor to the local economies in areas frequented by its guests.

Two views of the portion of Juneau that lies across the Lynn Canal

Looking down the Lynn Canal from the top of the tram line

Various view of St. Nicholas church, a lovely old Russian Orthodox church built in 1893

The Governor's Mansion

Steps up to the streets above. The hills are steep in Juneau.

Did I mention that it rains a lot in Juneau?

The Alaska State Capitol building

Bell outside the Capitol Building

Totem pole near the State Capitol building

The State Assembly building

Assembly for rent?

View south down the Lynn Canal

And back to the ship, which was the largest building in town.

Next stop: Skagway.

Ice! (Including huge chunks of it breaking off and crashing to the water)

2010-09-14T15:27:00.000-07:00

One day, while still on the cruise portion of the journey, we left the ship via a large hole in its side, and boarded a catamaran. Then we headed up a long, narrow inlet called Tracy Arm. The destination was the Sawyer Glacier, both north and south branches of it. A hundred fifty years ago or so, Sawyer Glacier was a single mass of ice, stretching far into Tracy Arm. It has gradually receded, although the main mass of it is still moving forward. It is now divided into two branches, which were split as it receded into two separate channels of underlying rock base.

The day was rainy, which made photography difficult, but also made for numerous beautiful waterfalls along the way. We headed first toward North Sawyer, where the catamaran sat surrounded by ice, both larger chunks of actual iceberg and the small, floating pieces known as 'bergy bits'. (honest! That's the scientific name for them.) While at North Sawyer, we were treated to the sound and sight of fairly good sized chunks of ice calving off the face of the glacier. But our real treat waited for us at South Sawyer. South Sawyer was very busy that day. At one point, a huge slab of ice detached itself from the face to slide down into the water below.

So put on your warmest sweater, some mittens, a cap, and cover it all with a rain poncho and come along!


We actually spotted our first glacier before leaving the Volendam, just a bit before the ship turned into the entry to Tracy Arm

A valley that has been carved by a glacier will have a pronounced "U" shape, whereas a valley that is the result of other forces, such as seismic activity will have a "V" shape

Ice formation in the water

North Sawyer glacier from 1/4 mile away. The closest boats are allowed is a quarter of a mile because of the risk of subsurface calving, which can send huge slabs of ice shooting to the surface without warning.

The face of the glacier. The deep blue colors are caused by compression. The deeper the blue, the less oxygen there is trapped in the ice.

Rock faces along Tracy Arm. The various rock colors are from different mineral deposits. The milky tone of the water is from glacial silt.

The black dots are a colony of sea lions, which begin to give one a sense of scale. All of the ice floes are much larger than they appear at first.

A sea lion in the water. Note the heavy concentration of silt here, which indicates both proximity to the glacier and the amount of calving going on

This had been an extremely rainy summer along The Inland Passage. Most years, there aren't nearly this many waterfalls and even in this year, they tend to disappear between rain storms.

Views along Tracy Arm

Calving

Next stop: Juneau

Aboard the Volendam

2010-09-14T14:11:00.000-07:00

We were on the ship for three days and parts of four days. Not everyone disembarked in Skagway, as we did, but we were happy not to be among those sailing on northwards. A cruise ship is a fascinating place in many ways, and we were terribly well taken care of and pampered, but we were more than happy to leave the ship behind and continue our journey inland.

I spent one afternoon just wandering around the ship, not doing much of anything except pointing my camera at odds and ends. Here are a few.

On Board The Volendam

Bed buddies -- a different one every night

In the atrium

Casino

Top two: Diamonds are everywhere on Holland America cruises. Bottom: Entrance to the formal dining room

The Lido Deck

Left: Glass door. Right: Mask in stairwell

Stairwells in the atrium area

Wine bar images (3)

Waiting to go to dinner on 'dress-up' night

Next post: Tracy Arm

Vancouver, British Columbia

2010-09-14T12:45:00.000-07:00

We set off for two weeks of cruising and overland travel in the middle of July (2010). Our journey begins in Vancouver, British Columbia and takes us up through The Inland Passage, overland to The Yukon Territory, and then to Alaska. In only two weeks, we managed to cover a significant bit of ground. The details tend to overlap in my mind, but the pictures remain true. The blog of our journey will, for that reason, be almost entirely made up of photographs. If I don't specifically identify something (generally a building), that means that I either didn't bother to find out exactly what I was photographing or have forgotten. It's the way my brain works -- just remembering the visual and my overall perceptions. The details often vanish with time.

So I hope you'll be content to just travel with me and become, like me, all eyes.

Vancouver

Canada Center, reflected in the nearby Convention Center windows


Entrance to the Pan Pacific Hotel


Pan Pacific Hotel lobby floor, reflecting First Nations art forms

View from the hotel window


Bagpiper in the street below our window

Taxi line-up

Vancouver view

Olympic Torch

Reflection

Orca sculpture

Rickshaw in Chinatown

Sun Yat Sen Gardens

Totem pole in Stanley Park, Vancouver, BC

Close-up of totem pole in Stanley Park

The Volendam (our ship) as seen from Stanley Park

The Volendam

Volendam lifeboats

Ship's provisions

Next installment: Aboard The Volendam

I Put the Moon Back: Photographs of Dreams -- new exhibition at the Milpitas Library

2010-04-05T17:19:00.000-07:00

After a long hiatus, there is a new show! I'm very excited about this body of work and hope you'll be able to get out to the beautiful new Milpitas Library (click for directions) sometime between now and the middle of July to see it up on the wall.

Artist's Statement

    The question of why we dream has been debated for years. Do we dream as a way of dealing with stress? Do we relive experiences? Do we see the future through our dreams? Give order to confusion? There has never been a universally accepted answer, but the fact is that, barring brain damage, heavy drug or alcohol use, or some other brain-altering event, we all do dream.

    We may think we don’t dream because we only remember dreams if we wake up during them. And, even then, they usually fade quickly, disappearing even as we try to write them down. But what if they didn’t fade? What if they could be recorded on film?

    In I put the moon back, I have put myself into the role of wandering photographer, roving through the less strictly organized world that we create when we sleep. I have used children as my “dreamers” because their waking movements are less self-conscious than those of adults. They are still capable of looking at the world in a way that is closer to the less organized world of dreams. Children spend more time in the two waking states that are closer to dreaming -- reverie and daydreaming. They easily build fantasy worlds and lives that many adults often deny themselves.

    The title I have given each image is simply a thought that occurred to me as I was working. I hope that by providing a few words I can help the viewer step into the dream and continue the story on his or her own.

    Journey through the dreamscape with me. Become the dreamer. . . .