Chilkoot Pass

Chilkoot Pass is the dominant symbol of the Klondike gold rush of 1897-98. Much more than the gaudy honky-tonk image we have of Dawson City and the miserable goldfields a few miles outside town, Chilkoot Pass some 600 miles from the Klondike lodges itself in the mind, making the remainder of the trek and the fortunes earned and lost anticlimactic. The most popular and most sensible route to the Klondike was up the Inside Passage from Puget Sound to Skagway and its sister city of Dyea, at the extreme: tip of the slender Lynn Canal. From Skagway some took the White Pass route 40 miles to Lake Bennett, but most went by way of Dyea over Chilkoot Pass the 26 miles to Lake Lindeman. Of the 1,600-odd miles from Puget Sound to Dawson City, only these miles were on foot. In spite of hundreds of items lining the Chilkoot Trail today as evidence of that last great stampede for gold, the hiker over the pass finds it difficult to believe the gold rush ever occurred. Once believed, it is equally difficult to define the chemistry that caused at least 100,000 men-and women-to start out on the gold rush, and the festive mood of renewed self-confidence it created all across North America and much of the Western Hemisphere. There are hints and clues but no absolutes. The national treasury had been virtually drained of gold. The gold standard had played a major role in the 1896 presidential campaign between McKinley and Bryan. The nation was in the depths of a depression that had no apparent end. The rich were extremely rich and the poor extremely poor. There were no public funds set aside for such amenities as social security, workers compensation, unemployment insurance, food stamps and other guarantees against financial ruin and starvation. A national restlessness was set into motion by the gold rush, and it gave vent to the feeling that the country should get moving again. It offered hundreds of thousands of square miles of open country, a new frontier to cross and conquer. It became the last great migratory impulse for North America. It was a safety valve, the releasing of the biological need to migrate. To some, it was simply something to do to relieve the feeling of boredom the past 3 or 4 years had imposed on people. Otherwise, everyone who had gone on the stampede would have begun digging for gold as soon as they arrived in Dawson City. But contemporary accounts show that the majority of stampeders did not even go out to the goldfields; instead, they milled around Dawson City for a while, and then went home. When those stampeders, or "argonauts" as some called themselves, returned home, it was Chilkoot Pass they remembered. Undoubtedly it has become the most famous pass in North America, and perhaps the entire Western Hemisphere. As hikers today will testify, it has a reputation for savagery it does not deserve; that is, when it is hiked in the summer months. A major difference is that today hikers go over the trail carrying lightweight packs, dehydrated food and wearing modern lug-soled boots. They hike the trail to Lake Bennett and then board the train. It wasn't nearly that simple in the gold rush. In the first place, the Royal North-West Mounted Police required a year's supply of food for each person entering Canada. The stampeders had to carry roughly a ton of gear from tidewater to the Yukon headwaters at Lake Lindeman or Lake Bennett. They could carry it themselves, or if they had enough money, hire packers. Later in the stampede they could have it hauled by wagon the first 7 miles to Canyon City, then by aerial tramway over the pass to Crater Lake. From there they could have it ferried the length of Crater Lake by cargo canoe, by wagon to Long Lake, then by canoe or boat to Deep Lake and overland again to Lake Lindeman. Obviously, those who paid others to bear their burden paid dearly for the luxury. If they carried everything themselves, shuttling their loads from cache to cache, they had to hike as much as 1,000 miles before they were ready to build boats and float to Dawson City. To describe the trail before the stampede, one must rely on accounts by men such as Schwatka and Ogilvie, neither of whom went into great detail because they had nothing to be impressed about. To them, it was just another tramp through the wilderness. Our attitude most likely would be the same were it not for the human folly and heroism displayed during that one year. The original route was up the streambed, sometimes into the edge of the forest where the ground was flat and the underbrush thin. The stream had to be forded numerous times, but in many places it was shallow. Other than cold, wet feet, it presented little difficulty. Wagons and canoes could be used. About 7 miles from Dyea the canyon narrowed and rapids formed, ending the use of wagons and boats. From here on, stampeders had to fight their way through the dense coastal timber, over moss-slickened moraine, giant devil's club and occasionally they had to wade back out into the stream bed when the granite cliffs dropped straight down to the river's edge. The trail ascended the cliff through a steep notch, only to drop back down to the rocky valley floor again. After 5 miles of this, they reached the first wide, level spot in the canyon. Here, according to uncertain records, sheep (or, more likely here, mountain goat) hunters came to camp. Another version is that an early-arrival for the gold rush drove a band of sheep over the pass and camped there. At any rate, it has always been called Sheep Camp. It is the last stop in the forest before emerging into the open, windy and usually rainy area of the pass itself . Just beyond Sheep Camp the trail becomes steep, and gains 1,000 feet in elevation in the next 2 miles. Timberline is at the 1,900-foot level, and snow covers the rocks until July. This area is known as Long Hill and terminates at Stone House, already mentioned. The trail still follows the Taiya, by now no more than a swift brook fed by snowfields. The trail goes up and down slightly, gaining still more elevation until it drops down into a little bowl of boulders called The Scales. It is surrounded by steep, scree-covered mountains on three sides. Directly ahead-or to be more precise, almost straight up-is Chilkoot Pass itself. There are three routes over it. To the left is a steep climb over ledges, boulders and short ridges. To the right is a long, winding ravine, which is the longest of the three. Dead ahead is a 40-degree scree slope, which goes straight up the mountainside to the crest. This was it, the Golden Stairs of Chilkoot Pass. The scramble up it was the lesser of three evils, and was the most frequently used route. The left-hand route was almost never used because it was too dangerous, and the other side was used primarily by dog teams and livestock, and named the Petterson Trail after, one would guess, a man named Petterson. The reason for the honor has been lost to us. Strangely enough, most stampeders found that the summit climb was best made in the dead of winter, partly because steps could be hacked out of the snow. During the summer months, every rock in the scree appeared loose and ready to start a slide. Parties crossing the summit had to be extremely careful, spacing out several yards to minimize the danger of dislodging rocks and thumping those below with boulders. In the winter they could climb it almost nose to heel. The summit itself is a narrow slash where more often than not clouds are whipped through by the hard winds. For modern-day hikers these foul-weather periods make conversation and comfort impossible. After a quick breather, hikers strike out for Crater Lake just below the crest of the summit. Crater Lake, as its name implies, is a vast, old volcanic cone about 2 miles long that is filled with unbelievably blue, frigid water. The lake is virtually sterile, supports no aquatic life, and constitutes a portion of the headwaters of the Yukon River. (The