Technically, we had made it into Alaska in only 12 stops, but we weren’t considering Skagway as truly reaching Alaska. Remember, we had diverted from our original plan to stop there only to purchase our ferry tickets for returning to the lower 48 in September. Because there was only one way into and out of Skagway via the Klondike Highway, we still had to go back into Canada and drive another 701 miles before we made it to Fairbanks, our first permanent stop in Alaska.
The drive to Whitehorse was only 107 miles, and the 65 miles to Carcross had been experienced the first time in rain and fog. As a result, we hadn’t seen much of the scenery. Because we had time, there were a number of interesting stops we decided to make on our way to Whitehorse. The first was during the drive from Skagway up to White Pass at an elevation of 2,864′. We stopped at Pitchfork Falls, the tallest horse tail waterfall in Alaska at a drop of 2,000′. The falls originate from Goat Lake, with a surface elevation of 2,925′. Goat Lake is part of a hydroelectric project, which draws water from the lake and carries it via pipeline (visible in the photo angling away from the falls to the right) to a power generating plant on the Skagway River. The plant produces electricity for both Skagway and Haines, AK with the purpose of reducing community reliance on fossil fuels.
Before the railroad and Klondike Highway were built, Jim Mason (Keish), a Tagish First Nation member, blazed a new, lower-elevation, and alternate route up the Skagway River Valley to Lake Bennett. We stopped and read an interpretive display about how Mason’s White Pass Trail opened in the fall of 1897 but soon sadly became known as “Dead Horse Trail.” The rapid influx of inexperienced gold rush stampeders and their pack animals quickly turned the trail into a nearly impassable quagmire and graveyard for over 3,000 beasts of burden. Author Jack London, who lived and worked in the area described the experience this way: “The horses died like mosquitoes in the first frost and from Skagway to Bennett they rotted in heaps. They died at the rocks…men shot them, worked them to death and when they were gone went back to the beach and bought more. Some did not bother to shoot them, stripping the saddles off and the shoes and leaving them where they fell. Their hearts turned to stone…and they became beasts, the men on the Dead Horse Trail.”
In 1855, Jim Mason was born the son of a Tagish chief near Bennett Lake along what is now the border between Bristish Columbia and the Yukon and lived in Caribou Crossing (now Carcross). He was a packer during his early life, carrying supplies from Alaska over the passes and into the Yukon River network. He became known as Skookum (meaning strong) Jim, because he was able to routinely carry loads weighing 100 pounds and more. He met and befriended an American trader and prospector, George Washington Carmack, and formed a two-year packing partnership, which included Jim’s nephew, Dawson Charlie. Jim developed a love for prospecting from Carmack and the two of them along with Charlie began panning for gold in the Klondike River basin. In August of 1896, they discovered gold along Rabbit Creek near Dawson City and were credited with triggering the Klondike Gold Rush. They staked appropriate claims, worked these claims for the next four years, and uncovered about a million dollars in gold worth over $37 million in today’s buying power. Jim died an ill, problem drinker in 1916; however, he had wisely established a trust in his daughter Daisy’s name to help protect his fortune, and today, the trust benefits needy Indigenous Yukon peoples through The Skookum Jim Friendship Centre in Whitehorse.
Upon reaching White Pass summit and Canda-U.S. border, another display highlighted the importance of the valley as a migration corridor. The mountans and icefields along Alaska’s southeast gulf coast once formed a nearly impassable barrier between the coast and interior. White Pass is one of only a few modern-day ice-free passageways for humans, animals, and plants . During the last ice age, many species lived in the non-glaciated areas of northern Canada and Alaska. These species dispersed once the ice retreated about 10,000 years ago, and their ancestors now inhabit glacier-free regions such as the Skagway River Valley.
The terrain upon re-entering Canada transitioned into a vast series of ponds and lakes. The early cloud cover lifted, the sun shined brightly again, and I captured the beauty we’d missed on our drive down to Skagway.
We made two more stops before reaching Whitehorse. The first was at mile marker 48 from Skagway, where we saw the Yukon Suspension Bridge and toured its facilities. This 200′ long bridge crossed the Tutshi River Canyon and cleared the river rapids by 57′.
The bridge was completed in 2006 by Surespan Construction Group at an estimated cost of CA$ 3 million. What contributed to the high cost were the isolated location, limitations on available construction materials, and the required use of helicopters for constructing the bridge towers before suspending the galvanized steel cables and bridge sections. The beautifully designed wooden facilities included the Cliffside Restaurant (good coffee and bison chili), a well-stocked and reasonably-priced gift shop, several outdoor interpretive areas on both sides of the canyon, and the museum with bar. An average of 25,000 tourists visit annually during the summer months. Since 2011, the attraction has been family owned and operated, and admission was US$ 22 (US$ 18 for seniors). Every employee we met was incredibly friendly, knowledgeable, and helpful. We were there early in the season, so the crowd was enjoyably small. The weather and scenic area combined for great pictures.
The museum was basic; however, the displays were well done and gave us added hope for seeing some more wildlife as we continued north. Unfortunately, the museum bar was closed, but we got a chuckle out of their clever signage nonetheless.
Our final stop before Whitehorse was at mile marker 69 from Skagway. The attraction was the Carcross Desert. Yes, you read that correctly, desert! OK, it wasn’t a desert at all, but the windblown bottom sands of ancient glacial Lake Watson. I hiked east across the sand dunes and climbed the rocky ridge against which the moving sand had stopped. I took pictures in each direction. Quite the unique geology given where we were in Canada.
We’d now spent nearly half the day sightseeing, and it was time to get serious about finishing our drive to Whitehorse, registering at our campground, and settling in for the next three days. My ride was waiting for me at the end of the desert-hike, and after I emptied the sand from my boots, we drove north.
