Year: 2021

I am pruning my BCC list….let me know if I make a mistake. Alan

February 3, 2021
Hi
1) Some people may not want these Episodes…now at 243…they clutter up email, are offensive perhaps, etc. etc
2) So I will remove all who have not responded in one way or the other. You do not need to do anything unless you want back on the list. Episode 243 will be your last email story. If you get Episode 244, you are still on the list.
3) Sorry for cluttering.
4) If I make an error and you want back on the BCC list, let me know by email
5) The Episodes started last March 2020 as a way for some of my friends to get a daily relief from the isolation caused by Covid 19. I never expected to spend a whole year writing and illustrating stories. I enjoy doing the stories.
alan

February 3, 2021
EPISODE 243 YUKON DIARY SKAGWAY IN 1962…suddenly a crowd

EPISODE 243 YUKON DIARY SKAGWAY IN 1962

alan skeoch

Feb. 2021

White Pass Railway today…with at least a dozen passenger coaches to handle the one million tourists. On my trip in 1962 there were only a few coaches…an empty train.

Skagway Today…before a tourist ship arrives.

Skagway…back then.

Wednesday Sept. 12, 1962

The White Pass Railway threaded the Dead Horse Pass needle slowly…carefully. To make an

error … a full speed ahead kind of error….invited a swift and catastrophic end to my Yukon Diary.

So we Twisted our way down to Skagway. (Excuse the double metaphors…i.e.threading a needle

and ‘ Twist Again Like we Did Last Summer’) Travelling the Klondike trail in reverse. Alone. No baggage

except my brief case and extra socks.

I find it hard to believe that just yesterday I was tagging mining claims in a God awful

swamp with patches of Yukon stunted Spruce. Carrying a 30-30 rifle and a Blazing axe.

My feet breaking through an inch of ice with each step. Feet awash in ice water that my

body temperature heated into a thin kind of hot soup as my feet boiled.

And today I am sitting alone on a near empty passenger coach built in 1900 in the

expectation that the Yukon was about to open up to settlement. That never happened

so the White Pass Railway eked out an existence with gawking tourists of which there

did not seem to be many and heavy shipments of silver ore destined for an American

refinery.

The rails screamed in protest with each turn. Only 107 miles of track between Whitehorse

and Skagway. But what a difference. Whitehorse was Canadian territory where I met

Waler Malecky by chance. Small town atmosphere really.

Now Skagway was something else. First off, it was American territory. Strange in a way.

I had no passport yet at no time was asked to show my identity. I guess the powers that

be figured anyone coming or going from Skagway was no danger to either Canada or

the United States.

The only austere part of the trip other than the yawning chasms was the lone Skeleton of

a Presbyterian church somewhere along the way. A church where once there must have

been congregants. Now as solitary as the moon. A bit chilling.

The trip took longer than I expected. Only 107 mlles….s couple of hours at most I thought.

I should have known better for I had been reading Pierre Berton’s Klondike which

made both passes…the Chilkoot and the Dead Horse Pass…terrifying, dangerous, deadly.

That was my state of mind as the train flattened out for a piece on its final approach

to Skagway. I was a miner. A mining claim tagger. A veteran of the Yukon. Leaving tough,

hard drinking, foul mouthed, humorous and tragic Yukon veterans behind. Yesterday

my boots crashed through that ice foretelling the coming of a Yukon winter.

I often read and re-read Robert Service’s ‘Spell of the Yukon’. Almost memorized. I thought

of the men who sat around our campsites quoting Robert Service by heart. Especially when

their tongues were loosened by Double overproof rum.

I wanted the gold, and I sought it;

   I scrabbled and mucked like a slave.

Was it famine or scurvy—I fought it;

I hurled my youth into a grave.

Day dreaming my way down from the Coastal Mountains

to one of the strangest places on earth…Skagway.

Where 100,000 men and a few women rolled the dice

of life’s journey in a hopeless chance to grab the golden

ring of their trip on life’s merry go round.

It is important that readers understand my state of mind.

I was trying to replicate things that happened here in

Skagway sixty years ago…back just before mom and

dad were born. Ancient times.

Skagway. Finally I was there. The intricate plan of my

escape from the Yukon was really happening. Skagway

“a tiny decrepit ghost town given life by a few souvenir shops”

My verbatim Yukon Diary entry.

I bought mom a souvenir plate…$5.50 plus .65 tax or exchange .

What? Everything is going to cost 10% more than I counted upon.

Will I be able to manage? Booked into the Skagway Inn at $4.00

for the night.

Outside the single main street was suddenly full of people. Not men in

torn work pants taking a leak in a ditch. Not the kind of men I knew.

Men in sport clothes with women on their arms. Older people…lots

of them rubber necking their way from souvenir shop to railway cars.

Cameras clicking. People posing beneath a Soapy Smith shop sign.

Why would anyone want a picture of that son of a bitch. His name

was obvious on Skagway storefronts. Did no one know that Soapy

Smith was a murderiing thief who extorted money and goods from

those poor deluded gold seekers. Did no one take joy in the fact

he was shot dead by a justifiably angry fellow? The people of Skagway

back in the gold rush days were little better than Soapy for they grew

wealthy selling goods at inflated prices…buying half-dead horses

from steamships knowing that those horses would soon be overloaded

and plodding up Dead Horse Pass .

There was no hay up there. Those horses were starving. Skagway

was not a town to admire in those times.

I expected an empty town. Now it was suddenly full of people. Where did

they come from. More people than buildings. Skagway was a tiny

sliver of a place. A bit of flatened gravel backed immediately by the

soaring Coastal Mountains. Where did all these people come from? Where will all these people

sleep?

The answer came as I reached the waterfront where a couple of large

sparkling clean passenger ships were anchored. The Lynne Canal is

a long and deep stretch of water snaking inland to Skagway. Perfect

for shipping.

Note: There are 800 or so permanent residents of Skagway today (2021)

but the town is capable of handling 10,000 people daily. Skagway

is the target town for those huge passenger ships ferrying thousands

of tourist up and down the coastal northern waters of Canada

and the United States. Huge ships. In 1962 the ships were not as large

and the volume of tourists was considerably less. But Skagway was

a kind of Mecca nonetheless.

“Suddenly there were crowds of people”…the reason is obvious in this picture. One million

people visit Skagway today. They sleep in that white thing at the end of the Skagway street.

So I joined the crowd. Soon got over the shock. Later in the evening

I even went to the DAYS OF ’98 show put on by Skagway local citizens,

a rather delightful amateur production. Sincere…repeated each night

for the tourists ships that come and go on schedule.

Gambling was another piece of the Skagway mystique. I lost a couple

of dollars. But had fun. Easy to get to know the tourists. They wanted

to meet locals. Wanted to meet descendants of the gold rush throng.

I fitted that image better than most. I had walked those bleak Yukon Hills

in search of silver. I had nursed those Double OP’s with men like

Aaro Aho, Moses Lord, Waler Malecky, Bob Gilroy, Bill Dunn,Bill Scott…Alex, Andy,

Dinky…so many characters.

And I had a full red beard as was expected of a person ‘who moiled for gold’

I had even done some successful gold panning as proved by he specs of gold

on swatches of black electrical tape mailed to Marjorie. The only image that

did not fit was the smell. I had bathed twice…once in Whitehorse and once in

Skagway. I smelled like a tourist awash in Aqua Velva after shave lotion.

There were a couple of poorly disguised patches on my pants which may have

clues that I was one of the Yukoners…a Miner.

I talked with a lot of people. Asked around. Like “how do I get out

of Skagway? There are no roads south to Juneau where I have booked

a flight. One group of young ladies offered to hide me on their big passenger

ship destined for Seattle. They said no one would notice. The offer was made

in jest I think. Not sure Marjorie would be too enthusiastic had I taken the offer

seriously.

But I was very serious. How in hell was I to get out of Skagway. The only road was

north to the the Alaska Highway and on to Anchorage…miles and miles the wrong

direction. I got a bit alarmed when I hit the sack. Needlessly so. The answer

was simple but a little more expensive than I had anticipated.

Expenses (not eligible for expense account)

Train $19.00

Hotel $4.00

Ceramic Plate $6.15 (*Goddamn Tax of .65)

Show, Days of ’98 $1.00

Food $1.65

Stamps and cards .53

Gambling $1.50

This trip was costing more than I had planned

“They’re making my money diminish

I’m sick of the taste of champagne

But I’ll battle on to he finish

And head back to the Yukon again.”

*Funny…I remember this Robert Service fragment

so well that I can almost quote it verbatim now in 2021.

Perhaps one of my readers would like to check my

accuracy. I do not have time for that right now.

I must ‘battle on to the finish’ even though I will

never get the chance “to go back to the Yukon again.”

alan skeoch

Fev. 2021

POST SCRIPT: Some Critics of Robert Service…pompously …accuse

him of doggerel poetry. I think those who love poetry were a little more broad minded

than that. Read this aloud…enjoy it. Forget about metaphors and convoluted meanings.

The Spell of the Yukon

BY ROBERT W. SERVICE

I wanted the gold, and I sought it;

   I scrabbled and mucked like a slave.

Was it famine or scurvy—I fought it;

   I hurled my youth into a grave.

I wanted the gold, and I got it—

   Came out with a fortune last fall,—

Yet somehow life’s not what I thought it,

   And somehow the gold isn’t all.

No! There’s the land. (Have you seen it?)

   It’s the cussedest land that I know,

From the big, dizzy mountains that screen it

   To the deep, deathlike valleys below.

Some say God was tired when He made it;

   Some say it’s a fine land to shun;

Maybe; but there’s some as would trade it

   For no land on earth—and I’m one.

You come to get rich (damned good reason);

   You feel like an exile at first;

You hate it like hell for a season,

   And then you are worse than the worst.

It grips you like some kinds of sinning;

   It twists you from foe to a friend;

It seems it’s been since the beginning;

   It seems it will be to the end.

I’ve stood in some mighty-mouthed hollow

   That’s plumb-full of hush to the brim;

I’ve watched the big, husky sun wallow

   In crimson and gold, and grow dim,

Till the moon set the pearly peaks gleaming,

   And the stars tumbled out, neck and crop;

And I’ve thought that I surely was dreaming,

   With the peace o’ the world piled on top.

The summer—no sweeter was ever;

   The sunshiny woods all athrill;

The grayling aleap in the river,

   The bighorn asleep on the hill.

The strong life that never knows harness;

   The wilds where the caribou call;

The freshness, the freedom, the farness—

   O God! how I’m stuck on it all.

The winter! the brightness that blinds you,

   The white land locked tight as a drum,

The cold fear that follows and finds you,

   The silence that bludgeons you dumb.

The snows that are older than history,

   The woods where the weird shadows slant;

The stillness, the moonlight, the mystery,

   I’ve bade ’em good-by—but I can’t.

There’s a land where the mountains are nameless,

   And the rivers all run God knows where;

There are lives that are erring and aimless,

   And deaths that just hang by a hair;

There are hardships that nobody reckons;

   There are valleys unpeopled and still;

There’s a land—oh, it beckons and beckons,

   And I want to go back—and I will.

They’re making my money diminish;

   I’m sick of the taste of champagne.

Thank God! when I’m skinned to a finish

   I’ll pike to the Yukon again.

I’ll fight—and you bet it’s no sham-fight;

   It’s hell!—but I’ve been there before;

And it’s better than this by a damsite—

   So me for the Yukon once more.

There’s gold, and it’s haunting and haunting;

   It’s luring me on as of old;

Yet it isn’t the gold that I’m wanting

   So much as just finding the gold.

It’s the great, big, broad land ’way up yonder,

   It’s the forests where silence has lease;

It’s the beauty that thrills me with wonder,

   It’s the stillness that fills me with peace.

Robert Service

This shows how small Skagway appears when dwarfed by both luxury ships and the Coastal Mountains.

END … NEXT EPISODE WILL BE

YUKON DIARY THURSDAY SEPT. 13, 2016

skagway.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/Skagway-1898-may-300×208.jpg 300w” sizes=”(max-width: 766px) 100vw, 766px” class=”wp-image-5357″ apple-inline=”yes” id=”46A6F100-044F-4E70-AC83-C45D42638E7F” src=”https://alanskeoch.ca/wp-content/uploads/2021/02/Skagway-1898-may.jpg”>

February 3, 2021

EPISODE 242 YUKON DIARY THE WHITE PASS AND YUKON RAILWAY

EPISODE 242 YUKON DIARY RIDING THE WHITE PASS AND YUKON RAILWAY

alan skeoch

FeB 2021

Wednesday Sept. 12, 1962

Dark and dreary day. Tough day for my ride on the White Pass Railway from Whitehorse

to Skagway. The downhill run. Narrow Gauge railway…3 feet between rails…cheaper

to build than a standard railway. The builders had enough trouble trying to find a route

over the Coastal Mountains. International…toughest part from White Pass to Skagway.

…only 107 miles long. Completed in 1900.

The White Pass and Yukon Railway was just about worn out by 1939…old engines

and old coaches. Relied on freight from Yukon mines…such as Keno Hill, Galena Hill

and others that shipped their concentrate down to Skagway and then by steamships to

refineries in the United States. The Great Depression led to the closing of many mines.

Then came the 1960’s…boom times for everyone.

Opened August 1, 1900

Closed October 2, 1982

Re opened May 24, 1988

NOTE: IN 1963, the year after I left the Yukon, 70 tons of stollen

silver ore was surreptitiously shipped from the Yukon. The story

will be coming shortly. An unbelievable adventure. This stollen silver

or was being moved to hiding spots near Elsa …The thief, Mr. Preist

was arrested by a fluke action taken by a White Pass trucker who wanted

a cup of coffee in Elsa before driving to Whitehorse. Priest was arrested

and testified that “the 70 tons of silver were his because the 70 tons “fell

from the Moon” I had no idea this was happening while we were

doing our survey. The story is riveting.

Commercial operations

Original gauge	3 ft (914 mm)
Preserved operations
Reporting mark	WP&YR
Length	107 miles (172 km) (Skagway to Whitehorse); 67.5 miles (108.6 km) (Skagway to Carcross)
Preserved gauge	3 ft (914 mm)
Commercial history
Opened	August 1, 1900
Closed	October 8, 1982
Preservation history
May 24, 1988	Reopened as The White Pass Route
Headquarters	Skagway, Alaska

WHITE PASS AND YUKON RAILWAY…AND WORLD WAR II

(Critical supply source for the Alaska Highway)

Alaska became strategically important for the United States during World War II; there was concern that the Japanese might invade it, as Alaska was the closest part of the United States to Japan. Following the Attack on Pearl Harbor, the decision was made by the US and Canadian governments to construct the Alaska Highway as an all-weather overland route to ensure communication. One of the principal staging points for construction was Whitehorse, which could be supplied by the WP&YR.

By that time the railroad was a financially starved remnant from Klondike gold rush days, with well-worn engines and rolling stock. Despite this, the railroad moved 67,496 tons during the first 9 months of 1942, more than double its prewar annual traffic. Even this was deemed insufficient, and so the U.S. Government leased the railroad for the duration, effective at 12:01 a.m. on 1 October 1942, handing control to the United States Army. What became the 770th Railway Operating Battalion of the Military Railway Service took over train operations in company with the WP&Y’s civilian staff.

Canadian law forbade foreign government agencies from operating within Canada and its territories, but Japanese forces had occupied some of the Aleutian Islands by this time, and an accommodation was quickly reached to “make an illegal action legal.”

The MRS scoured the US for usable narrow-gauge locomotives and rolling stock, and soon a strange and colourful assortment began arriving at Skagway. The single largest group was seven D&RGW K-28 class 2-8-2’s acquired prior to the lease in August 1942. 2-8-0’s from the Silverton Northern and the Colorado & Southern, all over 40 years old, and a pair of ET&WNC 4-6-0’s soon appeared, among others, as well as eleven new War Department Class S118 2-8-2’s. WP&Y’s original roster of 10 locomotives and 83 cars was soon eclipsed by the Army’s additional 26 engines and 258 cars.

The increase in traffic was remarkable: In the last 3 months of 1942, the railroad moved 25,756 tons. In 1943 the line carried 281,962 tons, equivalent to ten years worth of typical prewar traffic. All this despite some of the most severe winter weather recorded since 1910: Gales, snowdrifts and temperatures of -30 degrees F. succeeded in blockading the line from 5 – 15 February 1943 and 27 January – 14 February 1944.

The peak movement occurred on 4 August 1943, when the White Pass moved 38 trains north and south, totalling 3346 gross / 2085 net tons, and 2236 locomotive-miles in 24 hours.^[33]

ENJOY THE TRIP…THE PICTURES ARE MORE DRAMATIC THAN ANY WORDS

I COULD WRITE.

END EPISODE 242 YUKON DIARY

February 2, 2021

EPISODE 341 YUKON DIARY: DOING THE YUKON IN REVERSE ORDER: DEAD HORSE GULCH

Note: Sorry this story needs editing but I have no time…trying to do one story each day

EPISODE 341 YUKON DIARY: DOING THE YUKON IN REVERSE ORDER

DEAD HORSE GULCH

alan skeoch

Feb.1 2021

There were two passes to the Yukon. The Chilkoot Pass and the Dead Horse Pass…renamed

the White Pass. I took the latter. There were a lot of dead horses here. I never saw any. Their

bone were now as great as the rocks.

Only due to the lust for gold were these passes found

“There is no route from Skagway to the Yukon.:

“Not so.”, said the Tlinget native.

“Those coastal mountains are impassable.”

“Not so.” said the Tlinget native

“Impassable…no way to reach the Yukon River….Lake Bennett headwaters.”

“Not so.” said the Tlinget naive

“Prove it…show me the way.” said the white man

“Secret trail of my people.”

“Show me.”

“We have traded with the interior people of the HighYukon plateau for many years…through this

pass.”

“Show me.”

And the Tlinget revealed the mountain pass now called the Chilkoot Pass. Steep with

jumbles of loose rock on a formidable incline. Then snow and ice high above the Ocean

far below. Crested slot that then tipped downward to the icy waters of glacial Lake Bennett.

But this was not the end of the trek. Only the beginning. From Lake Bennett the gold seekers

still had 550 more miles to cover if they were to reach Dawson City.

Wednesday Sept. 12, 1962

Building the White Pass Railway 1890’s

Narrow gauge railroad that goes just about nowhere. Climbs over the Coastal mountains

from tiny inconsequential Skagway by twists and turns…through tunnels that seem rough blasted…over

timbered bridges clinging to Mountainside.

The White Pass moves slowly. As if expecting catastrophe any moment. Screaming braking system

jawing musically as metal on metal maintains the slow descent through Dead Horse Gulch. This is

not the Chilcoot Pass route. The railway follows another somewhat gentler but loner route named

after a long forgotten politician. This is the Dead Horse Gulch Pass.

Chilkoot Pass…no easy trip with 1 ton of supplies per man

In 1897 the Yukon Territory was virtually an unknown land peppered here and there by

natives. Even these people avoided the eastern part of the Yukon in fear of evil spirits that

were living there. A few white trappers and even fewer white placer miners eked out a

shaky existence. Food, other than wild meats, had to be carried over the coastal mountains

or steamed up the Yukon River. Not worth the aggravation was the conclusion of most people.

There were better places. As a result much of the Yukon was an empty land. That changed when the gold fever of the Klondike. And then,

when the easy gold ran out, along came the silver boom at Keno Hill.

White Pass Railway was the route out for the silver ore. Refined in the United States.

Think of the Yukon as a huge tank of water with one tiny spigot at the bottom. The White Pass.

My passenger car was made in 1900 just when the White Pass route was completed

Ancient. Coal stoves for heat in each car. Soft seats now but I bet they were once slatted

seats.

And I bet dollars to donuts the White Pass railroad passed by the piles of dead horses

whose putrifying remains littered the crevices and deep trenches along the way. Dead

Horse Gulch in particular. I strained my eyes expecting to see a boneyard far below

but saw nothing. In 60 to 70 years the bones got as grey as the rocks.

How many horses? Dozens? No. Thousands…perhaps as many as 3,000 horses

died on this so called easier route to Lake Bennett. Terrible stories neglect and

brutality. Many of the men climbing through this Pass knew nothing about horses

and pack saddles. They just strapped the gear to horses backs. When a hundred

pound sack of flour shifted, horses fell over. Often injured horses were killed. I suspect

even this humane act was not done since some horses rolled over and over down

the rock strewn slopes. These thousands of horses were ill treated before they ever

got to Skagway. Jammed bum to bum on steamships. Some already weak and sick.

Best described by Jack London

“The horses died like mosquitoes in the first frost and from Skagway to Bennett they rotted in heaps. They died at the rocks, they were poisoned at the summit, and they were starved at the lakes; they fell off the trail, what there was of it, and they went through it; in the river they drowned under their loads or were smashed to peices against the boulders; they snapped their legs in the crevices and broke their backs falling backwards with their packs; in the sloughs they sank from fright or smothered in the slime; and they were disemboweled in the bogs where the corduroy logs turned end up in the mud; men shot them, worked them to death and when they were gone, went back to the beach and bought more. Some did not bother to shoot them, stripping the saddles off and the shoes and leaving them where they fell. Their hearts turned to stone- those which did not break- and they became the beasts, the men on the Dead Horse Trail.” -Jack London, Journalist. The God of His Fathers, Doubleday Page & Co., New York, 1914, p. 70-80

There are other even more gruesome stories about these horses. Men impoverished and

starving cut slabs from these dead horses for food. Hard to believe? Try starving yourself

to near death and see if your opinions change.

And suppose a great many horses actually survived and made it to the shores of

Lake Bennett. What then? Load them aboard the hand made boats that rafted down

the Yukon To Dawson. Shoot them? Sell them?

Or just abandon the horses…or sell them…or eat them. Horses do wander away unless

fenced. Mares can be captured by stallions. In 1962 there were wild horses here and

there in the Yukon. In small herds of mares with one stallion. Where did they come from.

I think we saw a small string on our trip to Dawson. Almost hidden in the brush.

These horses from Skagway do not look abused. They are hauling goods not

carrying them. Not much room for error here. But no precipices either. Each

man had to show he was brining 1 ton of supplies to Canadian authorities…i.e. Sergeant Sam

Steele of the NWMP otherwise refused entry to Canada’s Yukon Territory.

MY interest was triggered by a misty event on our two day holiday to Dawson City in midsummer.

Three or four of our gang of joyriders were jammed into the back of a Peso Silver half ton truck

for that long 3 to 4 hour jaunt. At one point we noticed movement in the brush at the side of

the road. There was something alive behind the screen of scrub. Several animals…not a single

animal like a moose.

“Could be wild horses, mares with a stallion. Several strings of them

have been sighted. A couple have been hit on the highway around Dawson”

“You must be kidding?”

“Check it out.”

Which is exactly what I did. The wild horses are a concern on the Alaska highway where

they seem to cluster in several strings. Very wiley creatures. Efforts to catch them have failed.

How can horses survive the brutal winters? Simple answer. On each side of the Dawson

Highway are the remains of large hay fields. Yukon summers are full daylight…maybe 16 hours.

Lots still grows in these wild fields. From the gold rush days to the 1930’s horses were

important as a means of transportation. Every 20 or 25 miles of the old Dawson road there

were roadhouses where teamsters could get fresh horses or give their 4 to 6 horse teams a

rest. Some of these roadhouses were decent places. Others were as dirty and neglected as

the hubs of hell. Eventually the internal combustion engine replaced all the horses hauling

goods from Whitehorse to Dawson.

I do not know what happened to those horses. Many would be slaughtered of course…dog food

for sled dogs along with moose. Some just got loose. Turned loose or abandoned. Most would

die but it seems there were…there are….a few stallions with their mares trotting cautiously

through the underbrush of the Yukon. I think I saw a string of them from the back of that

half ton truck.

Now this next comment is a real stretch. Total speculation…ridiculous speculation. It might just

be possible that the wild horses running in the Yukon in 1962 might have been survivors who crawled

up Dead Horse Gulch (White Pass) and survived because their owners knew how to handle a horse

and knew that horses could be useful in the mining business. In the 1920’s there were 98 horses

working on Keno Hill…and at the same time there were far more doing work on the Dawson Road

living in the barns beside those roadhouses.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if those wild horse strings had a genetic connection to Dead Horse Gulch.

Wild horse herds did exist in the year 1962 in the Yukon Territory. In 2010 one of the last herds of

wild Yukon horses was captured and all eleven including the stallion were put up for auction in hope

that some horse lover would want to rehabilitate them…i.e. break them, make them docile. Whether

this happened or not is not mentioned in the CBC news release.

“Animal control officer Paul Heynen said he has spent years trying to capture the Takhini Valley herd of wild horses, but the animals have proven to be elusive.

“I can have a report that they’re out there and I can be there in an hour and they’re gone. You know, they’re just like ghosts … poof, and they’re gone,” Heynen told CBC News.”

These horses were not easy to handle once corralled because the stallion went wild once

fenced in. Lunging at the fences.. Longing to escape. While government officials believed

this was the last herd ofYukon wild horses, many locals believe one or two strings of

them still thrives in hidden places. They are as wily as wolves, never staying long in

one place and therefore difficult to trap.

ANCIENT WILD HORSES OF THE YUKON

Wild horses once commonly roamed the Yukon as has been proven by a bone found by Duanne Froese, an earth

science professor ar the University of Alberta. The bone was found in the permafrost enveloping the

Thistle Creek gold mine about 100 km. south of Dawson City.

in 2013. The bone fragment’s genome once annilysed turned out to be 700,000 years old.

It seems that Horses have thrived in the Yukon for a long long time.

alan skeoch

Feb. 1, 2021

Post Script

Events have a curious way of coming together and making sense. Serendipity is the word. It means a coming together

of seemingly disparate events. Here’s a weird one. In 1963-64, Marjorie (then Hughes) was teaching high school

in Napanee, Ontario. Miles and miles from western Canada. A group of girls joined Marjorie in forming their cell

of the Canadian Wild Horse society. They donated some money to support the survival of wild horses primarily in

Alberta but also in the Yukon. These horses needed protection. The Canadian government considered horses

an introduced species…therefore gave them no protection. Marjorie’s students and other young people, mostly

girls, were assuring that a few herds of wild horses continued to roam through the Rocky Mountain valleys.

I am not sure that is still the case.

February 2, 2021
NOT BERNIE SANDERS…BUT CLOSE

February 1, 2021