{"id":22569,"date":"2022-11-07T10:33:53","date_gmt":"2022-11-07T15:33:53","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/?p=22569"},"modified":"2022-11-07T10:36:57","modified_gmt":"2022-11-07T15:36:57","slug":"episode-675-escape-from-the-yukon-part-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/?p=22569","title":{"rendered":"EPISODE 675 ESCAPE FROM THE YUKON PART 2"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n
Note:  This episode may offend.  I am trying to draw an accurate picture of our Yukon job in 1961which<\/div>\n
stood out in sharp contrast to the summer of 1960 in Ireland.  My Irish readers will be amused I imagine.<\/div>\n
This is a long read\u2026next will be shorter.  Of course some of you only look at the <\/div>\n
pictures anyway.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

Episode 675     The Great Escape  \u2014 Part 2  Leaving the Yukon<\/p>\n


<\/div>\n
alan skeoch<\/div>\n
nov. 4, 2022<\/div>\n

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<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Page from my diary and picture of Bill D in front of one of our cabin campsites.<\/div>\n

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<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Another campsite\u2026less lusxurious..messy…<\/div>\n
\"Best<\/div>\n
There was a thin skim of ice cross the Yukon swampland around Wernecke, a tiny mountain top mine town near Keno City.  Hardly a City<\/div>\n
Keno may have had a population of 50, likely less, today 20l.  In its glory days it accommodated a clutch of hookers <\/div>\n
who had arrived to exploit the sexual fantasies of the Wernecke Miners. Their presence only offended Mr Wernecke himself.<\/div>\n
The arrival of the girls confirmed the comment I had first<\/div>\n
heard at Elliot Lake.  <\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cYou can always tell if a mine is going to be successful.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cHow?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cIf the hookers arrive.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cNo hookers now\u2026Keno is almost a ghost town.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cThey came here when Dawson City lost its stone pockets full of gold dust.<\/div>\n
“Yukon Lill and her clutch of similar minded girls\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cOne of those girls returns every summer\u2026rents a house in Mayo Landing. <\/div>\n
Real nice lady who will lend a few bucks for beer or an O.P. if she likes you.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Lots of local colour in the Yukon. We were working around Wermekle, now long abandoned. The nearby Elsa mine<\/div>\n
was booming. Silver Ore by the ton was being blasted and sacked.   The year was<\/div>\n
1961 and Dr. Paterson had sent me to the Yukon for s summer of geophysical<\/div>\n
exploration.  Simply put,  Listening to beeps on his rand new Ronka invention\u2026.a machine that could<\/div>\n
detect conductors beneath the ground\u2026.deep down.  The 1950\u2019s and 1960\u2019s were heady<\/div>\n
years for mining exploration.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
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This is Mayo Landing in boom times\u2026a thousand or more sacks of silver ore waiting for the arrival of a steamboat to take the raw ore from Elsa halfway across North America to be refined.  You probably did not<\/div>\n
see the sacks of ore at first.  Mayo Landing was not much of a  town even in boom times.  That\u2019s Luigis greasy spoon restaurant on raw the left\u2026attached to the Mayo Landing hotel neither of which buildings<\/div>\n
are stunning.   We spent a lot of time in that hotel as did most of the village .<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
The grey buidling is the Mayo Landing Hotel\u2026..centre of town\u2026only place to get beer<\/div>\n
or a double OP.  Or bacon and eggs at Luigi\u2019s tiny restaurant.   Spartan living.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\"EPISODE<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
This was our Dodge Power Wagon\u2026looks good but that good appearance did not last when one of the boys rolled the truck off a mountain road.  Rolled<\/div>\n
like a bowling ball ending up vertical and able to claw its way back up to the road which was really a track.   Hard to kill a Power Wagon.<\/div>\n

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<\/div>\n
I was just a kid really.  Twenty one years old.   Fresh grad from University of Toronto,  History grad<\/div>\n
although I kept that fact quiet .  \u201cPretend you are a geologist..or a geophysicist\u2026no one will know\u201d<\/div>\n
For almost a decade I spent my summers in the Canadian wilderness.  Punching my way through<\/div>\n
the immense boreal forest called  Canada.   Black flies, sow belly, oatmeal raw, gmn rubbers with holes<\/div>\n
wet socks and feet boiled and pock marked from the water turned to tepid slop by my  own bloodstream.<\/div>\n
This was tough work.  Doubt many of my friends would want to be Instrument Men. Most quit. The pay was <\/div>\n
four hundred dollars a month which included room and board.  Room and board!  That\u2019s a laugh.  Rooms<\/div>\n
were tents. Nondescript tents ripped and rotten from being backpacked across the wilderness.  Beds were wire<\/div>\n
strung pics of canvas that soon collapsed and were no longer.  The alternative was pine boughs.  Not soft, lumpy <\/div>\n
and prickly.  Food was bad most of the time.  On one job we had to slice off a half inch from<\/div>\n
a slab of the sowbelly every morning.   Burned it in the fire.   Why?   Bsude the blow flies lay their eggs in it.  Given a short<\/div>\n
time and the sowbelly began to move on its own.  Wormy.  Maggots.  Sowbelly?  Yes, complete with the sow\u2019s tits.<\/div>\n
Smoked sowbelly did not spoil fast as long as kept in a slab.  Just the end attracted the blow flies.  At least<\/div>\n
I liked to think that was true.  I suppose a worm or two would not hurt me.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Now That paints a worse possible scenario.  The other extreme also occurred.  Motels, hotels. prepared meals,<\/div>\n
warm beds,  Sometimes even luxurious living conditions as on the Irish job in 1960.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
That\u2019s the setting for anyone reading this recollection.  Why write it? This is November, 2022.  My Yukon adventure was<\/div>\n
hte summer of 1961.  A long time ago.  But the memory of my escape from the Yukon is as fresh as the rain water in<\/div>\n
a moose track in spongy moss.  Swamp?  Canada has miles and miles of swamps. Matched by<\/div>\n
miles and miles of exposed rock.  A lot of land that nobody wants\u2026swamp and rock.  Both have their terrors.  One summer day<\/div>\n
I was parched\u2026saliva as dry as popcorn from slogging across rounded rock intrusions and was overjoyed to find a swamp.  Flopped down on<\/div>\n
hands and knees and sunk my lips into a patch of that water where a moose had passed by.  Closed my eyes.  Our bodies are 90% water. <\/div>\n
We cannot get along without it.  Delicious cool water slaked my thirst.  How did I know a moose had passed by before me?  I opened my eyes to discover<\/div>\n
a moose had taken a shit in the same small pool.  Pile of turds the size of shotgun shells.,,beige and grassy in a neat pile of 20 or so.<\/div>\n
How did I know that?  Because moose left these little piles as evidence of their presence.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
God, the Yukon stories are as numerous as the stars in the sky.  Take the assayer Gerald Preist who lived in a company<\/div>\n
cabin with his wife and two little girls.  Lovely family.  True.  Were it not for the  fact Gerald was’ high grading’ (stealing)<\/div>\n
tons of galena and hiding it in an abandoned part of the mine.  Later he was caught.  He hired trucks to haul the stollen <\/div>\n
galena \u2026 planned to claim he had his own secret mine.  He got caught when one of his truckers stopped in Elsa for<\/div>\n
a coffee and a nosy mine executive sliced open a sack.  All happening while we were there.  Unknown to us.   (Now a<\/div>\n
book written by his daughter titled A ROCK FELL ON THE MOON.  Should be a movie.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Gerald Priest on the right\u2026squatting on the doorstep of a typical abandoned Yukon cabin.<\/div>\n

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Just a sample …The Yukon was more than an adventure.  It was an education.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
PLANNED ESCAPE<\/div>\n

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I loved the job.  Even when conditions were terrible there was the exultation \u2026 the sense of victory over nature.<\/div>\n
Victory over the worst human nature could pitch.  Survival;  Hard to describe this feeling unless personally experienced.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Sadly there was not much for people to do in the Yukon\u2026normal social life absent.  What to do on those long winter <\/div>\n
nights in the land of the summer midnight sun and winter darkness?   Drink booze\u2026alcohol was available not matter what the season.<\/div>\n
Acceptance of rampant alcoholism in the Land of the Midnight sun.  Acceptance that there was nothing much I could do to mend the broken<\/div>\n
lives of those with whom I worked.  Joy shared by men who found small joy in a case of beer or larger joy in a glass  of over proofed rum.<\/div>\n
Overproof rum?  The is rum the contains more that 50% alcohol.  Some over 60%  Common in Yukon in 1960\u2019s and in gold rush days.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Dr. Aho, one of our contractors Dr. Aho\u2019s loved treating newcomers to ‘double OP\u2019s’ in the Mayo Landing bar.  A good joke\u2026falling down<\/div>\n
drunk on one drink.  Just enough to make the world topsy turvy fast.  Little wonder that so many half ton trucks were bashed up.<\/div>\n
We bought a GMC power wagon that had been rolled more than an eight pin bowling ball.   We lost a man one day and had to backtrack down a stream bed <\/div>\n
since there was no tracks to our camp other than the rock strewn river.  We found him and the GMC Power Wagon stranded mid stream<\/div>\n
where he had run out of gas.   He was falling down drunk\u2026sleeping it off in the sure knowledge we would find him and there would be<\/div>\n
no consequences other than a good story shared by miners in the bar at Mayo Landing.  I cannot mention his name because his kin<\/div>\n
still live in Mayo.  Dr. Aho baptized me with a double OP and I was glad there was a wall to hand on to.  One was enough.  Well, maybe<\/div>\n
two just to prove I was one of the gang.  Best to fit in.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
No body died on the job.  Being drunk was a kind of twisted badge of courage.  Like Taking a leak wherever convenient, alcohol was de rigour.<\/div>\n
We only had one death on that job.  Our pilot\u2019s wife, Yvonne, committed suicide.  She had two delightful<\/div>\n
little girls who took a shine to me whenever I arrived in Mayo.  Her death saddened me when I heard about it.  Yvonne did not drink.<\/div>\n
She was a wonderful mother\u2026gregarious and warm hearted\u2026French Canadian.  I suppose it happened this way.  She was<\/div>\n
  Surrounded in the darkness of the Yukon winter by men and a few<\/div>\n
women who were quite content to spend the star studded blackness of the winter months boozing it up using the Northern Lights<\/div>\n
as street lamps to their cars and trucks.  Or, more likely, living in the Spartan rooms in the Mayo Landing Hotel.  Upstairs from the bar.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Tragic.  Yvonne\u2019s death puts too much of a shadow on my Yukon days.  there were so many good times that summer. <\/div>\n
 Good times as defined by a 21 year old quasi adolescent male making his way in an <\/div>\n
world filled with unusual adults.   Like Pete who had memorized the Holy Bible just so he could argue with religious people<\/div>\n
who likely had never opened the holy book.  Funny guy.  Must have been over 60 years old\u2026really too old for bush<\/div>\n
work but he had no other choice.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
PLANNED ESCAPE<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
The job ended early that September.  Cold and rain\u2026even ice and snow began to blanket the Yukon.  No more work to do other<\/div>\n
than crate up the equipment and ship it to Toronto by truck in the sure and certain belief it would arrive. Not so sure, really.  My company, Hunting<\/div>\n
Technical and Exploration Services, expected me to fly home about the same time.  I had no plan to do so.  I had a planned escape of<\/div>\n
my own.  So I cashed in my flight ticket then plotted my escape from the Yukon.<\/div>\n

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\"\"<\/div>\n
Mammoth tooth\u2026this kind was  found in Dublin Gulch<\/div>\n

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Caribou Antleers, wind scoured logs of Yukon Spruce\u2026better than any sculptor could do\u2026done by fire and wind.,<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Three Mayo kids playing in an ancient truck.  Beside them is the Stewart River.  Moses Lord eating his lunch from<\/div>\n
a can of peaches gave me the idea of a diet of cold pork and beans.   <\/div>\n

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<\/div>\n
The things I shipped home by cartage company were a joke in camp.   Three wind scoured trees hollowed out after<\/div>\n
a forest fire swept through years ago.  Pretty to me.  And a large set of caribou antlers that a local aboriginal said I could have<\/div>\n
if I wanted them.   And a large tooth of an ancient hairy mammoth washed outl by an hydraulic hose   in Dublin Gulch.<\/div>\n
Could have bought some gold nuggets at $35 an ounce but didn\u2019t want to waste my escape money.  Gold?  I had already sent<\/div>\n
Marjorie sprinklings of gold dust stuck on black electrical tape.  Gold dust gleaned from abandoned barrels of concentrate panned<\/div>\n
in evenings with Bill D. (best to not give his full name, he may be alive … may be a priest or Sunday school teacher and would not<\/div>\n
like to be reminded of his past)<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Bill D.  Let me tell you a bit about him.  He was about my age and became a good friend in spite of his misdemeanours.  We each had women<\/div>\n
in our lives.  Marjorie sent me big boxes of home made cookies…<\/div>\n
crumbs by the  time they reached Mayo Landing post office.  And lots of love letters.  Bill did not get letters or cookies.  For good reason.  No love letters.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cShe does not even know where I am\u2026.and I bet she does not give a sweet goddamn anyway.  Can\u2019t say as I blame her.”<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
This is his story which could be true even though it sounds fabricated.  He came from Peterborough, Ontario, arriving in the Yukon in early June, 1961.<\/div>\n
About the same time I arrived. Similar?  Not at all. <\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cThe night before my wedding, my friends got me really drunk and drove me to Toronto \u2026 booked me<\/div>\n
on a flight to Edmonton on my wedding day\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cWhat about your wedding?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t know\u2026never checked.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cLeft her at the altar?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cShe\u2019s better off without me.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
The story is a little hard to believe.  Perhaps Bill just left the poor girl at the altar\u2026bad enough.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Bill D. and Alan Skeoch doing a little rafting<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Was this true?  Sounds fictional.  Who booked and paid for the flight to Edmonton\u2026then on<\/div>\n
to Whitehorse?  An expensive and insensitive practical joke.  Perhaps exaggerated with <\/div>\n
a kernel of truth.   Over the summer Bill got into a lot of trouble.  He took the drinking culture<\/div>\n
seriously and sometimes did not show up for work.  That was hard to take but Bill was not<\/div>\n
alone;   If men were sent to town, i.e Mayo, I was never sure they would get back. But Bill aways came<\/div>\n
back.  He was a joy to have around.  Lots of stories.  Outlandish.  For instance he got in serious difficulty<\/div>\n
with a local Mayo girl.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cIt was dark in their house but we still managed to roll around on the floor. Mind you the term<\/div>\n
Roll around on the floor is just a figure of speech.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cI get it.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cWhen I woke up the whole family were sleeping in the room\u2026scared the bejabbers out of me.<\/div>\n
They must have been there all night while we were rolling around \u201c<\/div>\n
\u201cSerious affair, Bill?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cNot by me but she thought so.  Took a knife to me in the truck one night.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cHard to believe.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cTrue.  We had been drinking and for some goddamn reason she hauled out a knife <\/div>\n
and tried to cut me up.  Too drunk to do any serious damage.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cWhat happened after that?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cI got the hell away \u2026 not going back.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
So many Yukon stories,   they have bounced around my brain for more than 60 years.  <\/div>\n
Never will be able to get  them out of my head.  Never want to.   <\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
But this is a story about my escape from the Yukon.  Not the Yukon job which is the subject of<\/div>\n
other episodes l I made detailed plans of my escape all that summer.<\/div>\n
I would not leave the Yukon by air as Huntech and Dr. Paterson expected.  When the job was<\/div>\n
over I would make my exit slowly.  There were places I wanted  to see.I had a bit of cash stashed<\/div>\n
but most of my escape money would come from cashing in my return air fair.  No one would<\/div>\n
get upset.  The job was over and the money was mine.  I figured no one really cared whether <\/div>\n
I got back to the Huntech office on a Monday or a Thursday,  Job was over.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
ALONE<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
I would be alone.  Travelling alone is not pleasant.  Goddamn lonely\u2026and sometimes frightening<\/div>\n
when the sun goes down.  I do not recommend lonely travel.  Sometimes though it is the best<\/div>\n
way to meet people.  And the fastest way to get to places.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
A LITTLE MORE MONEY WAS WELCOME<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cAlan, you might need some extra cash.  Your escape will cost more than that air  ticket.\u201d. said Bob Gilroy, one night in the hotel bar.<\/div>\n
\u201cI know that.  Figure to save money by not eating much\u2026few cans of cold pork and beans.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cHow will you cook them up?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cI won\u2019t .  Cold cans of pork snd beans have already been cooked.  So all I need is a can opener<\/div>\n
and a fork.  No dishes.  No costs.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u2018How would you like to spend a couple of days tagging climate\u2026give you some extra cash.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cNever staked claims before.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cNo staking involved\u2026just put fresh tags on the old claims\u2026.easy.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cCount me in.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Tsgging claims was not as easy as it sounds.  First it was necessary to find the old claim posts <\/div>\n
by blazes barely visible… made years ago..  Not easy to do.  And if the blazes were not found then the<\/div>\n
claims posts would not be found and I would  spend my last two days circling and circling. Lost getting in\u2026worse, lost <\/div>\n
getting out. And I was alone.  <\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Our earth is so heavily populated today that most people have never<\/div>\n
got lost in a boreal forest.  Never had that sinking feeling of being absolutely alone.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
A thin layer of ice covered the swampy land.  Not enough to hold my weight so that each step the ice shattered like<\/div>\n
window glass and the shards marked  my pathway in and might help me get back out.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
.  After three months of trekking back and forth in our surveys my gum<\/div>\n
rubbers were worn thin.  No longer waterproof so the cold water got sucked into my boots whereupon my bl00d <\/div>\n
and friction heated my wet socks \u2018… a dirty soup.   My feet were boiled every day with the result that they looked<\/div>\n
like London after a Hitlerian bomber raid.  Pock marked, blanched and pealing.   I should never have taken this<\/div>\n
extra job.  Needed a man with good boots and dry socks.  A better man than me.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Then there is the creeping fear when alone in the bush. Hard to tell  where you are unless the blazes line up correctly.<\/div>\n
The sure and certain presence of bears had to be considered.  Hopefully the pebbles in the tin can around my<\/div>\n
waiste would alert wild creatures of my my presence.  Peter, the Bible reader, shot a grizzly bear near this  very  swamp… a pointless<\/div>\n
act of violence.  <\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Let me conclude this long but of memory with three pictures<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
1) All our gang of six for seven men took a two day week end holiday and drove in a<\/div>\n
half ton ruck to Dawson City\u2026.a long haul from Mayo.  \u201cBunch of the boys were hooping<\/div>\n
it jus\u201d as RpovertService said . Remember sleeping in a bathtub in a two bit hotel.<\/div>\n
We had fun\u2026.juvenile fun with new found friends.  There of us had to like in<\/div>\n
raw back of the truck.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
2) Panning for gold dust in the evenings when we discovered several 45 gallon drums<\/div>\n
of concentrates abandoned in the bush.   Gold pans had to be burned to incinerate any grease.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
3) And then there were the flies.  Billions of them.  Summer along the Stewart River is not <\/div>\n
pleasant unless a strong wind blows.  I gave lots of blood that summer.  Enough for a Red <\/div>\n
Cross blood bank.<\/div>\n

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Enough!   See pis below.<\/div>\n

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<\/div>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Note:  This episode may offend.  I am trying to draw an accurate picture of our Yukon job in 1961which stood out in sharp contrast to the summer of 1960 in Ireland.  My Irish readers will be amused I imagine. This is a long read\u2026next will be shorter.  Of course some of you only look at […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-22569","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/22569","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=22569"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/22569\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=22569"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=22569"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=22569"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}