[The regular author (me) of this blog has just returned from a pilgrimage to Mexico and is contemplating the experience for his next blog/essay to be published around the end of this month/beginning of next month. For now, my good friend "Cal" has been kind enough to contribute an essay concerning his recent trip to Alaska, printed below]
“North to Alaska, way up north the rush is on”
From “North to Alaska” by Johnny Horton
My wife and I recently returned from a two week “land and sea” cruise to Alaska. This was a bit of a bucket list for me as I was always intrigued by the last frontier and had always wanted to see “really good” northern lights. It rained every day and was cloudy every night so that portion of the bucket did come to fruition, however we did see many amazing sights. There were of course, tourist traps aplenty, but then ain’t that America.
The other day I was recounting my adventures to the Quiet Voice who encouraged me to write about my experiences. Now I really didn’t want to make this a travelogue. I suspect many of you like me had an uncle Charlie, or Bill, or whatever name you wish to insert, who would show up twice a year and regale us with about two hours of slides from his trip to the Grand Canyon, or Statue of Liberty, or any of a number of such locations. We kids would be forced to sit on the floor and suffer through slide after slide of Uncle Charlie and Aunt Emma standing by this statue or that statue, this tree or that tree, until just before death by boredom occurred, the last grainy slide would appear or the projection bulb would pop. I can still hear the whirling of the projector fan and the click click of the slide progression. This memory alone is enough to keep me from recounting our trip in its entirety.
I think, in keeping with the spirit of the Quiet Voice, I will recount one adventure that sticks with me. One of those not expected side trips. Our bus driver called it a mystical place, and I am hard put to come up with a better title.
One of the cruise stops was in Skagway Alaska. A little tourist trap that pretty much rolls up its sidewalks in the winter season. It was however, a major stopping off point for the gold rush in the late 1800’s. Amongst the little stores with the usual rubber tomahawk fare there were a number of historical spots that talked about the lives of the miners, there were a few successes and many failures. Interesting but not inspiring.
We had several hours to kill so decided to take one of the lesser advertised excursions called “the waterfall tour”. The bus driver turned out to be very well versed in the history of the area which made the bus ride quite enjoyable. We did see many waterfalls which is something that my wife and I often seek out when we travel. There is something magical about waterfalls.
One of the waterfall stops was “Reid Falls”. The driver stated that the walk to the falls was a fairly challenging one and that he would first like to show us a cemetery. Hmm, this was not listed as part of the tour. The cemetery as it turned out, was the most memorable part of the journey.
The first thing that strikes you are the wooded markers. Although worn, they are still very readable. Most were young men who decided to seek their fortune in gold. Most died in their twenties and thirties. Young men with dreams left unfulfilled. One had to be impressed with the fact that these young men were buried in an area of mostly rocks and trees. The challenge must have been immense. Yet they were laid to rest and marked so that over 100 years later I could pay my respect to their memories. Two particular locations stood out. One was an actual rather ornate granite tombstone that even had a picket fence surrounding it. This was the tomb of Frank Reid. The waterfall was named after him. The other was crude and separated from the rest of the cemetery. It marked the grave of Soapy Smith. The two men as the bus driver explained were historically linked. Boy were they ever !
Soapy Smith was a con man. A major grifter that was kicked out of Denver for running various scams including selling soap with the promise that some of the soap contained a prize. Soapy made sure that the prize winners were members of a gang he had formed in Denver. That along with a number of gambling schemes got him kicked out of Denver. He headed to Alaska where he knew a number of young and gullible young men would be in need of supplies. In Skagway he set up a telegraph office where he promised young miners that he could send telegrams to their loved ones for a price of course. Thing was, he really didn’t have a telegraph connection at all. He would send imaginary telegrams and then produce imaginary responses that said “we love you send money”. Soapy would take the money and then keep the scam going by developing more fake telegrams asking for more money. He actually had telegraph poles with wires set up that went into the woods and just ended. No one checked the veracity of this until; enter Frank Reid.
Frank Reid was the local good guy with the white hat. Although not a lawman he was well respected and served as sort of a make shift sheriff. Frank soon recognized that Soapy was a con man. He shadowed Soapy for a time and finally followed him to Juneau were he planned to turn over his evidence to the law in Juneau. A standoff occurred between the two men now called the “shootout of Juneau Wharf”. Both men were shot and died. Their bodies taken back to Skagway for burial. One regaled as a hero, one forever regarded as a scoundrel.
The shootout occurred over 100 years ago and yet each man is remembered for what they were. A hero and a scoundrel. There is, as the bus driver said, something mystical about the place. A generation of young men seeking fortunes that in most cases never were. The good the bad, and the ugly. Young men that helped to shape the history of Alaska. I was in first grade when Alaska became a state. I can only remember the teacher showing us a map of Alaska and telling us that it was to become our 49th state. Now in my 70th year I reflect on my life. My journeys as a young man were very different from the young men of the gold rush. I was neither a hero or a scoundrel. I never embarked on an adventure anywhere close to the gold rush. History paints a lyrical picture of those times and yet, somehow, the Skagway cemetery puts a different perspective on this piece of history. Not the glory often depicted in the movies, but rather the reality of life and death. One final note. The cemetery contained a variety of mushrooms covering the graves. Mushrooms that thrive on death and decay. Mushrooms that flourish like the poppies of Flanders field. Markers of life and death and the concept that we are after all dust, and to dust we shall return.
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“North to Alaska, way up north the rush is on”
From “North to Alaska” by Johnny Horton
My wife and I recently returned from a two week “land and sea” cruise to Alaska. This was a bit of a bucket list for me as I was always intrigued by the last frontier and had always wanted to see “really good” northern lights. It rained every day and was cloudy every night so that portion of the bucket did come to fruition, however we did see many amazing sights. There were of course, tourist traps aplenty, but then ain’t that America.
The other day I was recounting my adventures to the Quiet Voice who encouraged me to write about my experiences. Now I really didn’t want to make this a travelogue. I suspect many of you like me had an uncle Charlie, or Bill, or whatever name you wish to insert, who would show up twice a year and regale us with about two hours of slides from his trip to the Grand Canyon, or Statue of Liberty, or any of a number of such locations. We kids would be forced to sit on the floor and suffer through slide after slide of Uncle Charlie and Aunt Emma standing by this statue or that statue, this tree or that tree, until just before death by boredom occurred, the last grainy slide would appear or the projection bulb would pop. I can still hear the whirling of the projector fan and the click click of the slide progression. This memory alone is enough to keep me from recounting our trip in its entirety.
I think, in keeping with the spirit of the Quiet Voice, I will recount one adventure that sticks with me. One of those not expected side trips. Our bus driver called it a mystical place, and I am hard put to come up with a better title.
One of the cruise stops was in Skagway Alaska. A little tourist trap that pretty much rolls up its sidewalks in the winter season. It was however, a major stopping off point for the gold rush in the late 1800’s. Amongst the little stores with the usual rubber tomahawk fare there were a number of historical spots that talked about the lives of the miners, there were a few successes and many failures. Interesting but not inspiring.
We had several hours to kill so decided to take one of the lesser advertised excursions called “the waterfall tour”. The bus driver turned out to be very well versed in the history of the area which made the bus ride quite enjoyable. We did see many waterfalls which is something that my wife and I often seek out when we travel. There is something magical about waterfalls.
One of the waterfall stops was “Reid Falls”. The driver stated that the walk to the falls was a fairly challenging one and that he would first like to show us a cemetery. Hmm, this was not listed as part of the tour. The cemetery as it turned out, was the most memorable part of the journey.
The first thing that strikes you are the wooded markers. Although worn, they are still very readable. Most were young men who decided to seek their fortune in gold. Most died in their twenties and thirties. Young men with dreams left unfulfilled. One had to be impressed with the fact that these young men were buried in an area of mostly rocks and trees. The challenge must have been immense. Yet they were laid to rest and marked so that over 100 years later I could pay my respect to their memories. Two particular locations stood out. One was an actual rather ornate granite tombstone that even had a picket fence surrounding it. This was the tomb of Frank Reid. The waterfall was named after him. The other was crude and separated from the rest of the cemetery. It marked the grave of Soapy Smith. The two men as the bus driver explained were historically linked. Boy were they ever !
Soapy Smith was a con man. A major grifter that was kicked out of Denver for running various scams including selling soap with the promise that some of the soap contained a prize. Soapy made sure that the prize winners were members of a gang he had formed in Denver. That along with a number of gambling schemes got him kicked out of Denver. He headed to Alaska where he knew a number of young and gullible young men would be in need of supplies. In Skagway he set up a telegraph office where he promised young miners that he could send telegrams to their loved ones for a price of course. Thing was, he really didn’t have a telegraph connection at all. He would send imaginary telegrams and then produce imaginary responses that said “we love you send money”. Soapy would take the money and then keep the scam going by developing more fake telegrams asking for more money. He actually had telegraph poles with wires set up that went into the woods and just ended. No one checked the veracity of this until; enter Frank Reid.
Frank Reid was the local good guy with the white hat. Although not a lawman he was well respected and served as sort of a make shift sheriff. Frank soon recognized that Soapy was a con man. He shadowed Soapy for a time and finally followed him to Juneau were he planned to turn over his evidence to the law in Juneau. A standoff occurred between the two men now called the “shootout of Juneau Wharf”. Both men were shot and died. Their bodies taken back to Skagway for burial. One regaled as a hero, one forever regarded as a scoundrel.
The shootout occurred over 100 years ago and yet each man is remembered for what they were. A hero and a scoundrel. There is, as the bus driver said, something mystical about the place. A generation of young men seeking fortunes that in most cases never were. The good the bad, and the ugly. Young men that helped to shape the history of Alaska. I was in first grade when Alaska became a state. I can only remember the teacher showing us a map of Alaska and telling us that it was to become our 49th state. Now in my 70th year I reflect on my life. My journeys as a young man were very different from the young men of the gold rush. I was neither a hero or a scoundrel. I never embarked on an adventure anywhere close to the gold rush. History paints a lyrical picture of those times and yet, somehow, the Skagway cemetery puts a different perspective on this piece of history. Not the glory often depicted in the movies, but rather the reality of life and death. One final note. The cemetery contained a variety of mushrooms covering the graves. Mushrooms that thrive on death and decay. Mushrooms that flourish like the poppies of Flanders field. Markers of life and death and the concept that we are after all dust, and to dust we shall return.
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