After last night's midnight arrival, I was still in my bunk at 10 o'clock. We decided to take the 3 hour narrow guage train up White Pass at 12:30, so it was up and at it. Packing lunch, walking the dog, shaking down the RV...all can be time consuming.
We met our favorite people again, the folks from Dawson Creek, and met two people from Baytown who grew up in our neighborhood and attended Madison High. They have taken the ferries from Bellingham and loved it all. They have a 5th wheel trailer, but with limited vacation, decided to do the ferry route this time. Daisy hung out at the platform as we waited our call and made quite a few new friends. She has taken to greeting everyone with her whooooooo and then gets petted in all her favorite spots. Dog lovers know where the itch me spots are.
The train climbed up White Pass about 20 miles over the BC border. White Pass was one of the gold rush routes of 1898. We saw the miners' trail below as we climbed a 3 1/2% average grade. The Skagway River seemed a mile below us and the valley walls were narrow. The scenery could not have been more spectacular. There is something special about a train ride with its wide picture windows that let you look straight down and straight up without fear of losing concentration on your driving. And you can step out on the platforms for an even scarier view. We were the first car on the way up and the last car on the way down. I prefer last car. The diesel engine smoke is much farther away, and when the train goes around a curve, you can see the whole train making the curve ahead of you. Pretty nice view.
35,000 men worked on the railway, 2,000 at a time, and they completed the rail to Whitehorse in 2 years. Most of them were men who had failed to make it rich in the gold rush and needed to make some money to get home.
Two of them never made it home. A 5 ton chunk of granite tumbled down the mountain and squashed them. There is still a cross marking the spot of their last repose.
After the train ride, Daisy and I walked the town back to the RV park. It is the best restored gold rush town I have seen. A saloon girl passed by, leading a group of tourists, swishing her hips as she walked. Another lady of the 1890's drove by in a bright yellow touring car. The storefronts are brightly painted, the shops seem to be making a living, and, unlike in Dawson City, the streets are paved. Quaint is quaint, but spare me the mud, please.
Daisy was not yet played out, so we continued our walk next to the rail tracks past the RV park to the end of the town. This route led me past some residential areas that were more than quaint. They were campy. One house specialized in found art, like blue bottles made into a fence and a bowling ball tree on rebar tree limbs. My kind of art. There were also some really rustic living arrangements, like old VW campers, antique Winnebago's, a platform tent city, tarps stretched between trees. All the guys rustling around their make-do abodes had healthy growths of facial hair and a bicycle. Our RV park was run by a group of guys in dreadlocks. Must be a good summer gig for those who love to hike, kayak and live outdoors. It's a place for an adventuresome spirit, this land. I like to see that we still have a place for that. Altogether, it was a great walk, marred only by a husky looking dog that decided Daisy was on her sidewalk and took a hunk of fur out of her rump. No bleeding, just fur. We crossed to the other side of the street in a big hurry.
I have noticed, though, an unfortunate propensity to hang on to junk or just leave it where it dies. It is as if the land is so vast, no one gets rid of things when they wear out. There's always room for more, and soon the trees grow up around the junk. I guess the land fill business is not very prosperous here. I saw a sign in Glenallen that listed the number of cars, washing machines, etc that a cleanup group had pulled from the area roadsides over the last year. It was mind-boggling.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment