In the summer of 1998, our scout troop in Sitka went to the Gold Rush Jamboree (100 year anniversary of the Klondike Gold Rush) in the Yukon Territory. One day while we were there we drove up to the top of a mountain behind Dawson City. We could see the confluence of the Yukon and Klondike Rivers. The Yukon River is a grayish green color because of all of the glacial silt in the river. The Klondike river is crystal clear. If you look at my left elbow in the picture you can see the Klondike River. Right behind my head you can see the Yukon River. Over to the right of the photo you can see where the two rivers meet. The photo below is a close up of that area.
Look at where the Yukon and the Klondike come together. Trevor and I took a paddle wheel excursion out on the river and as we motored over the line between the two rivers I was amazed at how clear the Klondike was. I could see very deep into the water. Of course the Yukon was so silty that I could not see even a few inches down into the water. It was interesting to see the clean water repel the dirty water. It seemed like it fought hard to stay pure, but little by little the Yukon began to overpower the Klondike. As we drifted down the river it was sad to see that the crystal clear waters of the Klondike began to be mixed with the waters of the Yukon. Within about 300 yards the water was completely mixed.
Good and bad influences in our life are much like the story of these two rivers. If we hang out around the wrong influences, we can't help but have some of the bad influence rub off on us. I have (jokingly-?) always told my kids that I could tell what friends they had been around just by how they acted. My patriarchal blessing says, "Associate only with those who are of a high-caliber, endeavor to influence them in the ways of the Lord."
An old photo of Dawson City with the Klondike across the bottom and the Yukon at the top of the photo.
Another photo of Dawson City looking the opposite way.
A photo of Trevor on a paddle-wheeler on the Yukon with the bank that the English poet Robert Service worked in when he first moved to Dawson City. Service wrote some famous poems like CALL OF THE WILD, and THE CREMATION OF SAM McGEE.
The flag of the Yukon Territory
Trevor and I posing in front of a modern day gold mining operation. They wash the dirt out of the mountain side then pan it with big modern machinery. I am 40 years old in this picture.
Trevor was a life scout at that time.
Some interesting things that happened on that scout trip:
While camped along the Klondike River I woke early one morning to the howl of a Timber Wolf. I trid to wake up Trevor but he was knocked out and un-wake able. Hearing that wild and eerie sound gave me goose bumps. Several years later, while on a family trip to that area, a Timber Wolf ran across the road right in front of us on the Klondike Highway.
On the way back to Skagway for the ferry trip home we stopped at a campground by a lake that was fed by a glacier. The water was terribly cold. We had gone several days without a shower and I decided to go for a swim to wash off the trail dust. I couldn't talk Trevor into going in with me. I jumped in off of a dock because I knew that I wouldn't be able to get into the cold water if I stepped in slowly. When I hit the water it took my breath away. I ran like Daffy Duck across the surface of the lake back to the shore.Not really, but I would have won a gold medal at the Olympics. After I recovered from the cold shock I slept like a baby. It felt so good being clean. While in Dawson City we met up with Grandma and Grandpa Chapman and was able to shower at their campground. They were lifesavers.
Several years later while on a family trip with the whole family the girls said that they had to use the restroom. We stopped at a lonely place along the Klondike Highway. The girls were only out of the car for a minute or two before they came running and piled back into the van. The mosquitoes were so thick that the girls decided to hold it all the way to Dawson City rather than brave the Mosquito infested forests of the Klondike.
May we be pure and crystal clear like the Klondike River is my prayer . . . . . . .
