In July 2025, Debra and I embarked on a grand voyage along the coast of Alaska, a two-week cruise aboard Crystal Serenity. We sailed from Vancouver to Seward and back, with port stops in Ketchikan, Juneau, Skagway, Sitka, and Icy Strait Point, with a transit through the wild landscape of Hubbard Glacier. We had the time of our lives!
Click HERE to read a short introduction to our voyage.
This story, part of a series, is about my hike on the Chilkoot National Historic Trail.
Click HERE to read a short introduction to our voyage.
This story, part of a series, is about my hike on the Chilkoot National Historic Trail.
Skagway, Alaska (July 12, 2024) Halfway through my hike, I thought, I’m walking in the footsteps of “Stampeders, recreating an important historical event that’s been immortalized in photographs and celebrated in literature, and film!”
Man, was I fired up!
Man, was I fired up!
The weather was much as it was in Juneau the day before. The temperature hovered around 60 degrees, the sky was overcast, it misted (but did not rain) from time to time, and there was a slight breeze (about 12 MPH, according to AccuWeather) from the east. I layered with a purple turtleneck shirt and light gray rain-repellent jacket and sported a color-matched Tilley hat with a broad brim atop my head.
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In its heyday, this frontier town was the largest in Alaska—its population went from 2 to 10,000 in a single year during the height of the gold boom.
~ Crystal Cruises
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In August 1896, local miners discovered gold in the Klondike region of Yukon, a small, remote territory in northwestern Canada, and with that, the Klondike Gold Rush was on. Over the next three years, there was a stampede of prospectors to this area—100,000 “Stampeders,” by one estimate. They came to Alaska through two ports—Dyea, which is now a ghost town, and Skagway, a still-thriving city founded in 1897. The Stampeders followed one of two routes into the Yukon—either the White Pass or Chilkoot Trail. A lucky few became wealthy; most left as poor as they came.
The White Pass Trail was longer but easier going, while the Chilkoot Trail was shorter but steeper—just 33 miles long, but with an elevation gain of 2,500 feet. Clearly, there were trade-offs between the two, but in the end, the Chilkoot Trail, which was designated as a National Historic Landmark in 1978, was used by the greatest number of prospectors.
Our trail guide was a young man by the name of Bailey, who you’ll meet in a moment. Bailey was a fount of knowledge, and I gleaned many of the facts I shared above from the stories he told us.
The White Pass Trail was longer but easier going, while the Chilkoot Trail was shorter but steeper—just 33 miles long, but with an elevation gain of 2,500 feet. Clearly, there were trade-offs between the two, but in the end, the Chilkoot Trail, which was designated as a National Historic Landmark in 1978, was used by the greatest number of prospectors.
Our trail guide was a young man by the name of Bailey, who you’ll meet in a moment. Bailey was a fount of knowledge, and I gleaned many of the facts I shared above from the stories he told us.
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Before we hit the trail, let me address the elephant in the room: No, we didn’t hike 33 miles nor climb 2,500 feet (wink wink), as this would take three to five days to complete. Instead, we did an out and back hike of about 2 miles with an elevation gain of 350 feet, and our hike began near the start of the original trail.
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This was a small group tour—me, seven fellow passengers, Bailey, and Robson, a bartender aboard the Serenity who joined our tour as a Crystal Ambassador. That’s Bailey in the left-hand photo and Robson in the right-hand pic. With a small group, all of whom were in fit shape, we maintained a steady pace as we hiked the trail.
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The trail meandered through a moss-covered temperate rainforest that was part of the Tongass, the largest national forest in the United States, with more than 16.7 million acres. The rainforest was lush and scenic. We stopped from time to time to learn something about the natural world that surrounded us.
For example, near a bush with bright red berries, someone asked, “Are these berries edible?” “No,” replied Baily, “these are baneberries, and they contain a cardiac toxin that can, if eaten, have an immediate sedative effect on your heart muscles. They’re pretty to look at, but five or six, if ingested, could kill an adult.”
I pitied the person who first discovered these berries were lethal!
For example, near a bush with bright red berries, someone asked, “Are these berries edible?” “No,” replied Baily, “these are baneberries, and they contain a cardiac toxin that can, if eaten, have an immediate sedative effect on your heart muscles. They’re pretty to look at, but five or six, if ingested, could kill an adult.”
I pitied the person who first discovered these berries were lethal!
Baneberry
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Fireweed
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A bit further along the trail, we stopped in front of a shrub with beautiful purple flowers. “This plant is called fireweed,” Bailey said, “a wildflower common in Alaska and other parts of the northern hemisphere.”
“Why is it called fireweed?” I asked.
“It got its name because it quickly colonizes forests destroyed by fire,” Bailey answered. “In fact, it was one of the first plants to appear after Mount St. Helens erupted in 1980.”
Now this next lesson was quite funny—well, at least I thought so.
I’ll be the first to admit that my hearing is not the best, but I would swear that Bailey called this fungus (the one in the left-hand photo below) “brown butt.” But when I Googled these words, my search returned “brown-rot.” Rot, butt…what’s the difference, I thought.
The important point, as Bailey imparted to us, was “This fungus eats at a tree near its base and eventually destroys enough of the wood fiber to kill the tree. The tree then topples at its roots, like the one we are standing in front of.”
“Why is it called fireweed?” I asked.
“It got its name because it quickly colonizes forests destroyed by fire,” Bailey answered. “In fact, it was one of the first plants to appear after Mount St. Helens erupted in 1980.”
Now this next lesson was quite funny—well, at least I thought so.
I’ll be the first to admit that my hearing is not the best, but I would swear that Bailey called this fungus (the one in the left-hand photo below) “brown butt.” But when I Googled these words, my search returned “brown-rot.” Rot, butt…what’s the difference, I thought.
The important point, as Bailey imparted to us, was “This fungus eats at a tree near its base and eventually destroys enough of the wood fiber to kill the tree. The tree then topples at its roots, like the one we are standing in front of.”
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For the record, I liked brown butt better than brown-rot!
This hike, although neither strenuous nor dangerous, was a grand adventure. I LOVED being outdoors, and appreciated the opportunity to learn more than I knew about the Klondike Gold Rush…and to learn about it where it all began, at the trailhead of the Chilkoot Trail.
Click HERE to read about the second half of my excursion—rafting down the tranquil (no whitewater!) Taiya River.
This hike, although neither strenuous nor dangerous, was a grand adventure. I LOVED being outdoors, and appreciated the opportunity to learn more than I knew about the Klondike Gold Rush…and to learn about it where it all began, at the trailhead of the Chilkoot Trail.
Click HERE to read about the second half of my excursion—rafting down the tranquil (no whitewater!) Taiya River.