ROUTE TO DAWSON CITY.

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The other route, and the one which is being taken by thousands of miners and others at the present time, is part of the way overland. Having arrived in Juneau by water from Seattle, the traveler goes up Lynn Canal to Dyea, or Taiya, as the Canadians call it. This town is at the head of Chilkoot Inlet, which runs parallel to and to the east of Chilcat Inlet, the latter also emptying into Lynn Canal. At Dyea the overland journey begins, and just beyond its gates the rise to the Chilkoot Pass, 3,500 feet above the sea, commences. Lake Lindeman, twentyseven miles from Dyea, is the first piece of water met with after making the pass. This is the first of a series of lakes, which, with their connecting streams, must be traversed before the Thirty-Mile, Lewes, and finally Yukon Rivers are reached. This, in brief, is the route to Dawson City, over which the great bulk of Alaskan gold-field travel is now making its way.

There are numerous conditions which must necessarily affect a decision as to choice of routes. Perhaps the main argument in favor of the overland route as opposed to the all-water one is the difference in time required for the two journeys. The distance from Seattle to Dawson City via Juneau and the lake country is 1,459 miles, while to take the ocean course requires that a circuit of 4,200 miles must be made. The time actually required to cover the two routes is not governed altogether by the number of miles they measure. The season of the year, the size and make-up of the party, the state of the weather, the amount of baggage, and a dozen other

items, including luck, enter in to make the nicest calculations go wide of the mark.

Inasmuch as the Yukon route is out of the question until next summer's sun shall have thawed out its icebound channel, the greatest interest at the present time attaches to the overland route outlined above and the manifold variations to which it is subject. Both San Francisco and Seattle have been used as points of departure. The regular lines of vessels plying between these ports and Juneau, the metropolis of Alaska, have been largely supplemented. Craft of every description capable of living on the high seas have been drafted into the service. Barges, tugs, side-wheelers, and merchantmen, large and small, have been brought out of retirement and made to do valiant service in speeding the bands of gold-seekers on to the newly-found El Dorado. The excitement along the wharves where Alaskan-bound vessels have been moored has been intense. As a usual thing, long before the vessels were ready to heave anchor the docks have been so packed that it became almost impossible for a person to wedge his way through the mass of people so as to get a look at the steamship.

These crowds were not drawn altogether by personal interest or friendship for those who were about to take the long, tiresome, and dangerous journey into the Yukon gold fields, although many that were present doubtless were influenced by those motives. The main actuating sentiment, however, was the feverish excitement which

FIRST STAGES OF THE JOURNEY.

47

seems to prevail throughout all classes of the community in regard to the Klondike.

To those who could not go there was some undefined satisfaction in looking upon the more lucky ones, who were more favored by fortune, and who might possibly be the future millionaires of the Coast.

The first stages of the Klondiker's journey have been more or less familiar to the American tourist for years. Leaving the terraced slopes of Seattle in the background, the good ship plies her way down Admiralty Inlet, past the city of Everett, and into Port Townsend, the United States port of entry for Puget Sound. Clearing from this port, the course lies directly across the Straits of Juan de Fuca northward to Victoria, B. C. This city, the capital of the province, occupies a commanding site at the southern extremity of Vancouver Island. Thence the course runs to the eastward of Vancouver Island into the Gulf of Georgia, and threads its way through narrow channels and past islands, named and nameless, until, passing out of Chatham Sound, the vessel once more enters American waters and ties up for a short while at the Mary Island wharf for freight. The next stop made is at Fort Wrangel, which is reached on the morning of the fourth day out. Here the first real insight into Alaskan life is gained. The wharf swarms with Indians who expose for sale all manner of wares, while the crew busies itself with the adjustment of the cargo. The next stop is Juneau. This is a seaport and mining town, and before the gold

48

DOCKING FACILITIES.

excitement began its population ranged from 2,000 to 3,000 souls. It has schools and churches, three newspapers, electric light plant, water-works, two excellent wharves, mercantile establishments of generous proportions, good hotels, theatres, paved streets, and a wellorganized fire department.

The fare from Seattle to Juneau is $32, first-class, and $17 second-class. From the same port direct to Dyea a tariff of $40 is asked for first-class and $25 for second-class passengers. These tickets allow for 150 pounds of baggage. Anything over this up to 1,200 pounds will be carried at the rate of 10 cents per pound. Having been landed in Juneau, it is possible to take any one of a large number of small boats and continue the journey to Dyea, 96 miles further up the Lynn Canal. The fare on these boats is $10. The average time from landing to landing is about twenty-four hours. The docking facilities at the northern port are not of a very high order, and when the waters of Dyea Inlet, which is a fresh-water branch of Chilkoot Inlet, are rough, considerable difficulty is experienced in transferring passengers and freight from the boats to the shore. The present bustling town was originally an Indian village and trading post, and lies about a mile from the mouth of the inlet, in a beautiful level valley one mile wide. The traffic of the place has increased so rapidly during the past few months that the warehouse facilities are entirely inadequate to meet the demand, and by far the largest part of the freight destined for

A DANGEROUS CROSSING.

49

the Klondike country has to be stacked on the lowrolling beach preparatory to its being carted further up the trail toward Chilkoot Pass.

Dyea Inlet is open for canoe navigation for six miles above the town, but as the packing into boats hardly pays for the short run, it is the general practice either to pack it on horses or bring small carts in use for the trip to Sheep Camp. About half this distance is through a comparatively level valley, the surface of which is composed of loose glacial rocks of all sizes, which afford a very uncertain footing for either man or beast.

There is so little soil in the valley after the first mile or two above Dyea that the trees and vegetation are of sparse and stunted growth. Along the sides of the mountains, however, the timber is heavy. The latter half of this pack-trail is shelved along the side of a cañon several hundred feet above the stream until the last mile, when it zigzags down to the valley again.

In winter it is possible to use pack horses to within a half-mile of the summit of the Pass. The distance from Dyea to Sheep Camp is twelve miles, and the rough trail crosses Dyea Inlet six or seven times in that distance. The waters of this stream spring from two giant glaciers, one on either side of Chilkoot Pass. The fords constitute at times a dangerous feature of the trip, as men have been drowned crossing this furious icy torrent. Sheep Camp is a point just at the timber line. where the streams from the two glaciers unite and form