Chapter 30
Prospectors, We’re Heading Your Way

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Construction on the White Pass and Yukon Route began in 1898—toward the beginning of the Klondike Gold Rush. Gold was first discovered in the Yukon territory of Canada in 1896, and prospectors began making their way north in droves with the hope of striking it rich. One of the only ways for people to get from the continental U.S. to the far north was by heading through Alaskan towns like Skagway. Even once they arrived here via ship, it was only the beginning of a treacherous journey that they would have to complete (mostly on foot) before reaching the gold field. About 1,000 new prospectors made their way through Skagway each week, and the population ballooned so that it was technically the biggest city in Alaska.

Once the prospectors left Skagway, they had to hike up the infamous White Pass trail—unfortunately also known as “Dead Horse Trail” for obvious reasons… The trail continued from Alaska into Canada, but anyone who wanted to cross the border had to do so with one year’s worth of supplies (which weighed approximately 2,000 pounds). You can actually see a checklist that lays out everything that was required here. The Canadian government simply didn’t want dead prospectors piling up in the remote Yukon because they arrived unprepared. Still, getting a literal ton of food, tools, clothing, and other equipment up the mountain on a trail that was narrower than three feet across in many places was no easy task. The White Pass was starting to claim lives of animals and people, so a number of investors came together to invest in the construction of a narrow-gauge railroad.

We were chugging along past retired cars and engines from the history of the railroad.

Now that we were really underway, we were allowed to go outside to the observation decks between cars (as long as we didn’t actually try to cross into the next car). Tracy flat-out refused to go out into the chilly air, but I was all over that opportunity.

Back inside the train, Tracy was nodding off (along with a huge percentage of the riders). She was always going to be doomed because constant motion—such as riding in the car on a long road trip—tends to put her to sleep.

Luckily, it was a round-trip journey, and I knew she’d be more likely to stay awake on the way back.

Oddly, a number of the places we passed on the railway had similar names to towns or landmarks around Colorado. I never was able to find out why, but here’s a sign as we were passing Denver.

This spot is actually interesting because we learned that it’s a popular place for hikers to get off and begin these epic hikes. The only way to reach the trailhead is to hitch a ride on the train, and then they have to wait for a train coming back down to take them back to town after they complete their hikes.

Every time I looked outside, it seemed like another perfect photo opportunity. My favorite was whenever we’d start to go around a bend and the front of the train would be visible from our car.

And the back of the train for that matter!

I just really felt like we were on the Hogwarts Express to be quite honest.

Only a few passengers in each car really seemed to want to brave the elements, so I’d have almost entirely unobstructed views whenever I ventured outside. At one point, the narrator told us to look back because we could actually see the ships docked in Skagway even though we were very far away from them at this point.

The entire journey was only about 20 miles in terms of distance, but we would gain almost 3,000 feet of elevation as we traversed those 20 miles. In several places, the incline was as much as 3.9 percent.

The best part about this journey was just how unreal it felt. The landscapes and vistas just seemed too perfect to exist in real life. I feel like that’s the way everyone seems to describe visiting Alaska, but it’s something you can’t fully understand until you’re there.

As we hugged the side of the mountain, Tracy and I were glad we’d picked this side of our car. All the views were so grand and sweeping out the left windows. The ones on the right were certainly nothing to sneeze at either, but they were nowhere near as good at representing the vastness of it all.

Looking down, there were several spots where we could see the path that the prospectors had to walk up before the railroad was build. It was almost all rocky and treacherous.

This sign, for instance, was one of the markers from the turn of the century.

It was so chilly outside and so toasty inside, so I kept bouncing back and forth between the observation deck and my seat. Here’s a photo I took from the outside looking in, and I like how you can sort of see the reflection of me looking chilled to the bone in the window.

This marker, which reads “On to Alaska with Buchanan,” might look like some common graffiti, but there was actually an interesting story behind it.

In the 1920s, philanthropist George E. Buchanan wanted to help young people make it out to Alaska, so he set up a charitable organization. The adventurous teens would be asked to earn one-third of the cost of visiting, and their parents would pitch in another third. Then Buchanan would pay the final third so that these boys and girls (most of whom were from Buchanan’s native Detroit) would get to go on the excursion of a lifetime. Several of his charges painted the side of a massive rock formation in tribute to their benefactor, and the locals have kept it up ever since.

The train continued going up and up, and some of my favorite views were of rapidly flowing waterfalls.

At one point, we had to wait for the perfect spot in a clearing to get a good view of a massive waterfall and rushing river down below. I was able to snap a picture in the nick of time, right before the vista was swallowed up by more trees.