Down the Mackenzie and up the Yukon in 1906

by Elihu Stewart

I was asked in and introduced to the Post Office Inspector for Alaska—the ubiquitous government official again. He was also waiting for the first boat to Dawson City, and in the meantime was occupying another road house, but receiving his meals here also. Though we had to do without meat, we had canned salmon and fresh fish in abundance with some vegetables such as peas, potatoes, lettuce, beans, beets, &c. These were grown in a little garden on the south side of the building. This is worthy of mention, as Fort Yukon is a few miles north of the Arctic Circle and farther north than I had seen any such growth east of the mountains.

We meet young men, enticed by the love of adventure or of gold in nearly every border settlement and in regions even more remote than these, who, in their early years, knew only the luxuries of city life, but who now are enduring hardships undreamed of by their parents at home. But to find a young woman scarcely passed the period of girlhood condemned to a life of exile such as my hostess was enduring is rare indeed.

How came she here?

I can only give the story as told to me.

In one of the wholesale stores in New York City on a certain day in midsummer, when the heat was almost intolerable, a customer presented himself; his object being to make purchases for his establishment in far away Alaska.

Instead of being in the garb of a frontiersman he was faultlessly attired in the latest fashions of the great metropolis. Instead of the blanket coat and toque, he wore a frock coat and silk hat and carried a cane, the shaggy hair and long beard which had helped to protect him from the Arctic winds of the far north were carefully trimmed, and by artificial means changed from their natural colour becoming a man of over seventy years to one of less than half that age. In short, to use an expression common in the north-west, he was “properly togged out for business.”

After making some selection in other departments he was introduced by the proprietor to the young lady in charge of the millinery branch. The first topic of conversation was, of course, the weather and the depressing heat of the city. This opened to him a chance to boast of the “cool breezes” for which his country is justly famed. He then drew a romantic picture of his beautiful home on the bank of the Yukon. All of which had its desired effect, with the result that within a fortnight a newly-married but mismated couple were on their way to the land of the midnight sun, but rumour had it that the romance was ended long before they reached the palatial residence of which she had heard so much. It proved to be a long shanty fairly well furnished for such a locality, but without a single attractive feature in the surroundings save the great river, which flowed by the door, and reminded her somewhat of her old home. His sons and daughters by a former wife, who were older than herself, failed to recognise her, and through their influence even the half breeds mistrusted her.

Such I understood was the state of affairs at the time of my visit. Evidently this could not last and I subsequently learned that taking advantage of the absence of the Lord of the Manor on a certain day, she boarded a passing steamer for the outside world, and she has probably ere this resumed her former vocation either in her native city or somewhere else, but far from the land, the lure of which had captivated her youthful fancy.

I have already stated that Fort Yukon is a few miles north of the Arctic Circle. Its longitude is also a little over 145 degrees west of Greenwich, and the local time is about four and a half hours slower than at Ottawa. Perhaps many who are tolerably familiar with the geography of Canada would be surprised to learn that even Fort McPherson, which lies east of the main chain of the Rocky Mountains is much farther west than any part of Vancouver Island, while Fort Yukon is ten degrees farther west still. Even in our journey to Fort McPherson we changed time twice, about half an hour each time, and notwithstanding this on our arrival there we found the local time an hour slower than that used in the most westerly part of Canada. The reason is apparent. Our general course down the Mackenzie had been considerably west of north, and as we ascend towards the pole the convergence of the meridians so increases that a degree is soon passed over.

I watched eagerly for the arrival of an upgoing steamer, but three days passed without anything appearing larger than a canoe; then finally, a large steam craft appeared, and I made preparations for leaving, but it was soon revealed that she was only going a part of the way to Dawson and it was useless to take passage on her. After five days of patient waiting, on a Saturday afternoon, a whistle was heard, and at once the Lavelle Young, from Tanana, a mining town down the river, appeared in view. I was not long in securing a passage and soon took leave of this sleepy village.