Rosie and The Operator are visiting Dawson City, Home of the legendary Gold Rush of 1898 and are going to introduce you to all things Sour today, including the Toe, Dough plus a trip to a couple of cemeteries.
Yesterday, Rosie gave you a guided tour of Dawson and today we are digging a little deeper into this town and will be visiting two very different cemeteries, both poignant and both founded as a result of the Klondike Gold Rush. One commemorates and remembers the passing of those who worked the rivers and creeks. The other commemorates the workhorses of the river, whose use became obsolete with the passing of time and technology. Then brace yourself, as we go out on the town in Dawson and The Operator becomes a member of an exclusive Club.
There are a few cemeteries dotted around Dawson that date back to the time of the gold rush just ask at the Information center, they were so helpful in pointing them out on a map and also gave us a handy Cemetery Guide that outlined where to find the final resting place of some of the more famous and infamous characters of Dawson.
Up the back of town is the Yukon Order Of Pioneers Cemetery which is by far the tidiest. YOOP was founded in 1894 at the Forty Mile Gold Camp as a charitable organisation run by the church to look after the welfare of ‘old timers’…it still runs to this very day and this was there original cemetery.
Even though this cemetery was neat and tidy it just looked so forlorn and forgotten under the menacing grey sky. The ground was lumpy and the old wooden memorial pickets were wonky, it looked like the only person to have visited lately was the person who mowed the lawn. The only decoration or color was the fallen autumn leaves. These men buried here were probably along way from home when they died and probably had no family here, The Operator reminded Rosie. Lucky they still have the charity to tend to them now. Rosie cant but help wonder what happened to this chap.
This Kitty followed Rosie all around the graveyard, not in a friendly way either….as if she was guarding the space.
Not so well tended is the main cemetery up on the hill behind the town where the first recorded burial was in 1898. In the Gold Rush days when this cemetery was first established it was too costly to transport stone up the river as grave markers so all the memorials were made of wood, painted white with names and information painted on in black lead based paint. As the mining boom dwindled and the population declined the graves were neglected and fell into disrepair over time.
Dawson is a town now with a small population and readily acknowledges it could not afford to maintain the cemeteries and so, inscriptions and dates became too worn with time and either disappeared or became to hard to read. By the 1960s many of the original wooden markers had fallen to the ground. Research and restoration work from the community with funding from the local Government has seen new white crosses with names and dates affixed to the original sites and monuments with a new register made of everyone who lies here whether they have a marker or not.
It was heartbreaking to see nature overcoming the memorials of the souls that lie there. You would think, this cemetery would be looking its best after summer in preparation for the coming winter.
And the black fly around here…..WOWZA, tiny flies, swarms of them, bombing your face when you stood still was incredible, start walking, it wasn’t to bad. Stop and pause, crikey, it was shocking! The flies should have been gone at this time of the year but it was still so unseasonably warm according to the locals the flies hadn’t left town.
This grave marker is for baby twins Arthur and Albert Mainville. In 1906 they both tragically died within days of each other from ‘the summer complaint’, a common expression back in the day for dehydration or heat related illness. The faded marker says ‘they loved each other in this world and death could not separate them ‘.
Alexander McDonald – 1856-1909 was locally called the King of the Klondike. At one time this man held more claims in the Klondike than any other individual, earning him a total yield of 8 million dollars in gold. He was also a very generous man and when the church was destroyed by fire in 1898 he paid for a new one to be built, earning him a knighthood from the Vatican. Serious! Riches came and went so easily in those days and he died in poverty, and alone, chopping wood outside his cabin.
Rosie and The Operator leave the ghosts of these prospectors and their families and drive back down to Main Street where sitting on the banks of The Klondike River in all her original glory is the sternwheeler paddle steamer the SS Keno.
Launched in 1922 this steamer missed the heady days of The Gold Rush but plied the river between Whitehorse and Dawson delivering vital supplies, people and goods as it was the only means of quick and speedy transportation between the towns. The paddler steamers could do a one way journey in 48 hours whilst it took 4 days following the overland riverside track.
During the time of the gold rush, there were 88 of these paddle steamers plying the Yukon and Klondike between the cities on a daily basis. With the event of air travel and the opening of the Klondike Highway between the two towns in the 1950s this mode of river transportation was no longer viable. So in 1960, the SS Keno was the last paddle steamer to navigate the Yukon waters from Whitehorse to Dawson. She is now dry docked and is a museum…her river companions of the day…were not so fortunate…let’s see where they are ‘dry docked’.
Rosie and The Operator are off to explore the The Paddlewheeler Graveyard, we have a sketchy map drawn by the lady at the information office and off we go, but first we have to cross Klondike, and there is no bridge.
Dawson sits at the confluence of the Yukon and The Klondike Rivers. On the other side of the River is The Top of The World Highway that links Dawson with Anchorage and all towns North. The river itself is very wide and changeable, making it unfeasible and too expensive to build a bridge over it, so a car and passenger ferry operates 24/7 in summer with it completely closing, in winter due to the river freezing over.
The ferry is completely free and takes about 4 mins to get to the other side of the river, and you just wait your turn as the single ferry shuttles back and forth, drive on, and enjoy the short ride against the sharp tugging current you can feel and see as the ferry forges on.
We drove through the near abandoned campground, parked at the end and walked along the river bank for a couple of hundred meters, all on our own with not another soul in sight…….and there they are, rotting on the riverbank pushed up into the bushes.
Four riverboats, exactly like the SS Keno disintegrating into the silt. The wooden hulks had all listed and were collapsing into each other, It was hard to tell now where one started and another ended. The beautiful curvature line of the wooden construction of one still evident along with a peep at the exposed double skinned wooden hull.
The only steel apparent are the frames of the mighty paddle wheels which are rusting in the bushes now detached from their boat. They still sit round and proud even though the paddle slats have fallen to the ground and long rotted.
Walking along the quiet river bank back to the car, it was nice to just take in the moment and reflect on a different era and time and remember the past which is now a great story in history. It bought to mind another fact Rosie had learned during her time in The Yukon.
During our travels Rosie was amused to see so many references to Sourdough, you know, the bread. Cafes named after it, saloons, bars, streets…why? It’s just bread right? Rosie did some digging and found out it was way more than bread. Sourdough is a way of life in this part of the frozen North.
Sourdough bread was a crucial means of survival for miners living in the harsh conditions of the Gold Rush. Miners protected their sourdough starter during the coldest months by always keeping it close to their bodies and carrying it in a special pouch either around their neck or on their belt.
Check out these miners from back in the day, they are as pleased as punch with their newly cooked loaf of sourdough. All they had to do was keep feeding their starter daily with flour and water and not let it freeze to keep it alive.
This starter has been kept alive in this family since the days of the Gold Rush in 1898, imagine eating bread today nurtured by your Great Great Grandfather in the Klondike Goldfields, that is incredible! Rosie sure wouldn’t like the family responsibility of ensuring its continued longevity!
Over time the name “sourdough” evolved from the bread into a nickname used in the Yukon and Alaska for someone who was not only a prospector, hard worker or grafter but someone who had spent their entire life or, at least one full winter in the Territory. Sourdough, the name of honor bestowed on this long timer of the beautiful frozen North who lived and breathed its uniqueness, as per the beautiful memorial found in the modern part of the cemetery. The memorial that made Rosie dig deeper into this beautiful meaning.
Time to stop reflecting Rosie and get back in the moment, it is our last night in Dawson, it is a Friday night at that and it is the second to last night that everything is open before most of it closes for the winter. Lets just say in advance, for a small town, Dawson sure packs a punch on a night out!
Yes indeed, for a town of 3000 in the summer, there are over 11 saloons and bars and a Casino! Or as they like to call it in these here parts, a gambling hall with a live Can Can Cabaret three times a night! Plus, The Operator became venerated member 92255 of The Sourtoe Cocktail Club. Let us show you around the town.
The Westminster Hotel public bar is called The Pit. It is very much a locals hang out and is open all year around. The Pit was pumping, Rosie and The Operator were the soberest in there, (hence why it was a little surreal) it was standing room only, (all the people are behind Rosie along the bar). The guys in the front are playing guitar and harmonica and singing Living next Door to Alice in a weird, slow countrified version with the whole bar invested in voicing the Who the f@&k is Alice at the top of their voices…and it was only 7.00 pm….seems like it’s an early start, early finish in this town as they prep for winter, Rosie’s kind of place! We had a couple of drinks there and listened to the music, some of the locals that work in the cafes were there and nodded to us, the rest of the gumboot clad, fleece wearing, good ole boys and gals kind of looked at us out of the corner of their eyes in a none too welcoming way.
Off we slithered out the door of The Pit, around the corner and into Diamond Tooth Gerties Gambling Hall, yes, she was a real madam during the Gold Rush and really did have a diamond tooth! It was 8pm and Rosie and The Operator wanted to get a bit of roulette in before the 8.30 show started….we told you we were living it up large. Lady Luck was also on Rosies side tonight, she was up $60 before the show started and we got a good seat to watch the can can dancers from.
The show was fantastic, the main bill was the busty singer/compere accompanied throughout her performance by a jangling piano player. Gerties show and the gambling hall in general is set back in the Gold Rush days, the croupiers and waitresses are all dressed the part and as for the can can dancers…..
….those girls could sure kick, were super bendy and wow, they were lightening quick on the costume changes. It was good fun, with comedy, a few sing alongs. and The Operator was even treated to a guest starring spot here he was serenaded at the table and a glamorous gloved hand caressed his balding head…..he was even called back up for a photo call…yes, he’s drowning in the embarrassment of it all.
The show was over at 9.15, thank you lady luck as Rosie cashed in and of we went for our final stop of the night where The Operator was immortalized in Dawson history.
Through those swinging doors of the Downtown Hotel and the Sourdough Saloon we went, The Operator was all hyped up and ready to partake in a Dawson City rite of passage….with all the other youngsters in town.
The Gist – one amputated toe….serious, it is real, is added to a shot of 40% alcohol.
Consume the alcohol with the toe in the glass, and observe the age old motto ‘drink it fast or drink it slow, but your lips must touch the toe’.
Voila, when this is done you are an official life member of The Sourtoe Cocktail Club. The toe is then unceremoniously wiped with a cloth and sat back on its silver tray all ready for the next punter, of which there was a long line of willing participants at $8 a go.
You are thinking this can’t be true, but it is. It’s legend around here! The very first toe belonged to a gold prospector who had it amputated due to frostbite in the 1920s, it was found preserved in alcohol in his cabin in the 1970s by the cabins new owner who bought the toe into town and started putting it in drinks as a joke, and it all started from there!
In 2013 a dude from New Orleans walked into the bar, ordered his ‘Sourtoe’ slammed back the drink, swallowed the toe, slapped down the fine which was $500 at the time and walked out. Now that is legend!
Here’s the toe! There have been a few since the original. All are donated, and apparently they all resemble a piece of dehydrated beef jerky which is a pretty accurate description.
The Captain is signing up The Operator and adding his name to the official ledger, it is a very solemn affair.
The rules of joining the club are reiterated and The Operator is reminded that the toe must touch his lips and the shot of Yukon Jack must be drained…….no problem there, as the bar claps and cheers him on……Job done……certificate signed…….proud as punch!
Just between you and me, Rosie is a little pissed at The Operator. He was supposed to pause as he raised the glass to his lips so Rosie could get a photograph of him with the toe floating in the liquor before he drunk it. Hell no, as soon as the toe was dropped in there….The Operator was necking it and wiping his lips with the back of his hand…job done in 2 seconds. What the hell!
Rosie and The Operator loved their time in Dawson City and were glad they were able to stay another day due to a ferry cancellation in Haines on the way home. Rosie wonders what it would be like to stay for the winter up here and what the challenges would be in the freezing temperatures of the frozen North under the Midnight Sun. Kind of sounds romantic said Rosie….it sounds like Hell said The Operator, the skills and knowledge needed to survive and just keep everyday things working and flowing that we take for granted would need to be taught growing up here…it would be so hard for a greenhorn incomer mused The Operator. You are right Rosie conceded, its only 1c and too cold for me….let alone -30….if its a mild winter.
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