I toured some of the town’s old buildings, many preserved but locked. A guide led us into one of the empty hotels in immaculate condition and the bank with its high wooden counters, no longer in use, filling us with stories from the gold rush era.
I discovered other vacant buildings in my wanderings—buildings in disrepair or sinking from what I guessed was permafrost melt. Traipsing around town in the rain, I learned the importance of the wooden sidewalks as only the main road was paved. The remaining streets were boggy.
I walked to Moosehide Slide, visible from most parts of the town. A Tr’ondek Hwench’in legend attached to the site stated they were attacked by a tribe from the south. While the Tr’ondek Hwench’in were at the top of the hill and the southern tribe at the bottom, a warrior chopped down a tree, causing the landslide that killed the southern tribe below.
From the slide, I circled round the trail that skirted Dawson City through a pristine forest and came to a graveyard. I’d wondered about the Chinese presence during the gold rush era, but all I discovered was a Japanese grave set apart from European section.
I had been in Dawson City for nearly a week. It was time to move on because there was still more of the Yukon I wanted to explore.
From here to there 