Tales of '98

Soapy Smith may be long gone and the Klondike Gold Rush long over, but Skagway is entrenched in a little known, but incredibly fascinating, history. I'll admit that gold rushes aren't exactly the most exciting historical events from the outside. But on closer inspection, one will find the fascinating stories of individual hardship, tragedy and yes, even success, paved in blood, sweat, tears, booze and debauchery, with a sprinkle of gold dust for good measure. It's this sheer rough, jagged determination and the extreme tests of the human condition imposed on all who dared follow their dreams where the beauty of these events lie. Their journeys offer valuable and relevant lessons for us today, to follow our hearts and dreams through valleys of death to reach the goals we seek.

Many prospectors were average joes like you and I, looking for adventure and/or riches, and their stories scream loudly for those willing to listen. Not to mention, many gold rushes have had long-lasting effects, such as the founding and growth of towns and major cities in Northern and Western North America.

It's this aspect I want to focus on when giving these tours. Most people don't want to hear how awesome a gold dredge is in mathematical terms, but instead, its contributions to the development of the Yukon and Southeastern Alaska. How it works. Stories hidden in its rusted interior. The financial and bureaucratic struggle to bring it to Skagway from the Yukon.

Of course, I get to dress up like a sourdough from the late 19th century. I have yet to really flesh out an idea for a character, but I think I'm gonna shoot for a young prospector who has recently arrived and is just getting his hands dirty in the fields. Maybe throw in a bit of naivety and youthful spunk to really get the crowd energized. I'm thinking no beard or facial hair. I will stay away from fire.

My personal Tale of '98 began where the journey ended. In Whitehorse, I met some fellow travelers, some of whom planned on heading to Skagway the same day I was. In our two-car caravan, we cruised the Klondike Highway southbound to the Alaskan border. This presented both some of the best scenery of the trip and some of the most treacherous driving conditions. Have the sun shine on the road and reflect its blinding rays off of the snow-engulfed mountains, combining it with cloud cover shrouding the peaks in blowing snow. The winds raced down the slopes, picking up freshly fallen powder and dragging it into across the two-lane historical highway into our vehicles. We had a mere taste of what the prospectors dealt with over a century ago.

But after my new friends filled out some paperwork for the U.S. customs, we were on our way, down the final miles into Skagway. We parked at one of the docks, where I proceeded to head back to the dredge to meet my new co-workers for the first time (I will introduce them in my next blog post). Back to the docks, a bitterly cold and windy stroll through serene desolation. Only a few stores were open, even fewer people on the streets. We must have been one of the first bands of tourists to arrive for the season.

They returned to Whitehorse, I have settled into my little cabin on site, and tomorrow, we begin rocking it out by helping get things in order for the season. Next week, actual training begins, and until then, self-study.

Let my Tales of '98 begin!!!!