ODDS ‘N’ SODS — Go northwest, young man!

As we near the end of the 20th century, we can look back with great pride and appreciation on the events that set the stage for a new Canada to emerge. .TSurely, the great gold rush into the Yukon of 1898 opened the eyes of the world to the promise of this frontier land.

Times were generally depressed over the last decade of the 1800s, when George Carmacks and his wife, Katie, decided to do some panning in a meandering creek beside their trapline in north-central Yukon in 1896. Try to imagine their surprise and elation when that pan revealed coarse gold nuggets. They christened the stream “Bonanza Creek,” and bonanza it was for thousands of gold seekers from around the world.

A year later, one ton of placer gold was shipped from Bonanza Creek to Seattle, Wash., news of which spread like wildfire. Men and women from various parts of the globe cast aside their meagre existence and set off for the Klondike with dreams of placer gold in their hearts and minds. Very few, if any, realized the trials and dire circumstances that would soon confront them, since there were no towns, hotels, restaurants, roads, railways or even maps available. People journeyed over land from every location in America, and faced the challenge of a lifetime in the venture.

An old-time friend of mine told me that his father set out for the Klondike in 1898, driving 100 head of horses from Spokane, Wash. They forded the Columbia River, followed the Fraser River north to the Nechalko River, entered the Bulkley and Skeena River valleys, and thence headed north to the Yukon. Not many of his horses made it, but he did.

Another old friend set off from Seattle in 1898, taking his mother, sister and brother on the 1,200-mile journey so that they could join his father at Dawson City. A crowded boat took them up the coast to Skagway, Alaska, and from there they then made it up and over the Chilkoot Pass on foot, burdened with huge pack-sacks. My friend told me that whenever my brother or his siblings slipped and fell, precious mother would pick them up and urge them on. They crossed Lake Labarge, Atlin Lake, Surprise Lake and Teslin Lake.

Finally, by barge and canoe, they went down the Teslin River to the Yukon River and on to Dawson City.

Another acquaintance, who was the grandson of a pioneer, informed me how his grandfather and his partner, Shorty Leduc, rowed up the Behm Canal from Ketchikan, Alaska, and followed the Leduc River inland, where they were confronted with the vast glacier fields at the headwaters. Their venture resulted in the region being christened “Leduc.”

There are thousands of heroic tales of the escapades of the adventurous gold-seekers of the Klondike.

When successful trekkers reached Dawson City, they found a meagre frontier outpost of tents and rough log cabins, totally incapable of servicing the needs of the incoming thousands. However, the thirst for gold was not easily quenched, and there followed the development of a vast network of placer operations, mostly run by hand. Some found gold, most found only disappointment and disillusion. But by the end of it all, more than $200 million in placer gold was recovered.

In hindsight, on reviewing the vast scale of human involvement in the great Klondike gold rush of 1898, the major benefits accrued to the development of Western Canada and Alaska. A flood of immigrants washed over the hospitable mountains and valleys of the northwest, as the richness and promise of this new frontier were experienced.

Today, 100 years later, when we contemplate the net result of the Klondike gold rush, we first marvel at the courage, audacity, vision and stubbornness of those hardy pioneers. All were enriched for life by the experiences on the trail, even though many returned home with empty pockets. Those hardy gold trekkers ventured in good faith into the unknown frontiers and laid the foundation for generations to follow. The torch they lit is now in our hands.

— The author, a retired mining engineer, resides in Vancouver, B.C.