By train from Carcross to Lindeman Lake

After lingering in Carcross, we finally boarded the train and were off, passing kilometre upon kilometre of Bennett Lake. When we reached the end of Lindeman Lake, the train stopped because this was where gold miners built their canoes then paddled upstream heading for Dawson City, in the direction I had come from.

Skagway decision

My plan before this trip, was to see the Arctic Ocean up in Tuktoyaktuk, then return through Dawson City to Whitehorse. After that, I had no idea. Only when I reached Skagway, did I decide to exit by ferry from the port in the direction of home.

I stayed in a cute, once a brothel hotel, and while having breakfast the following morning, was reminded I was in Alaska, U.S.A. A woman nearby, talked incessantly about the guns she and her husband had brought on the trip. It wasn’t my kind of breakfast conversation.

Klaune National Park, Yukon Territory

Bald eagle near Klaune Lake, Yukon Territory

I bused to Whitehorse. The Yukon’s capital lacked the atmosphere of Dawson City, but it still had the Yukon River powering past its door.

Dawson City wandering

I toured some of the town’s old buildings, preserved but locked.

Dawson City’s Slide

I walked to Moosehide Slide, visible from most parts of town. A First Nation legend, attached to the site

A view of the Yukon River from the Dome

I hiked the built-up dyke, past the swirling Yukon as far as the tailings at the junction with the Klondike River; piles of stones left by gold seekers.

The casual ambience of Dawson City

This outpost had a good Chinese, and equally good Greek restaurant as well as a supermarket that sold samosas. What more could I ask?  I clomped over wooden sidewalks for these food delights only a stone’s throw away from my hotel.

Day/night owls of Dawson City

Dawson City graveyard

Dawson City was once a booming gold rush town. I’d visited other gold rush towns: Ballarat, Bendigo, Hill End, Barkerville; but this one oozed natural friendliness.

Air line security? Or not

After reading experiences of drivers travelling the Dempster Highway, I decided it wasn’t for me. The day before I left Inuvik, a tourist busted his motorbike on the dirt road coming north, so I knew