Copyright © 2012 Joann Robertson

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced by any mechanical, photographic, or electronic process, or in the form of a phonographic recording; nor may it be stored in a retrieval system, transmitted, or otherwise be copied for public or private use—other than for “fair use” as brief quotations embodied in articles and reviews— without prior written permission of the author.

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

Robertson, Joann, 1935–
The Yukon : life between the gold rush and the Alaska highway / Joann Robertson.
Includes index.

ISBN 978-1-926991-09-2 (paper)
ISBN 978-1-926991-36-8 (ebook)

1. Robertson, Joann, 1935–. 2. Frontier and pioneer life—Yukon.
3. Yukon—Biography. I. Title.
FC4023.1.R618A3 2012 971.9’102092 C2012-901899-6

Copy Editor: Kyle Hawke
Cover Designer: Alisha Whitley

Granville Island Publishing
212–1656 Duranleau St.
Vancouver, BC Canada V6H 3S4
www.granvilleislandpublishing.com

BEAR CREEK 1935–1945
The preceding map is Bear Creek as I remember it. There were more houses, more people, and more buildings in the camp than shown. Dredging started in this area about 1942, eventually surrounding the island. Prior to that, besides the main slough, there were streams, sandbars with wildflowers, and a small island.

This book is dedicated to all those who share a common Yukon history, whether they were there from its beginning or came later, and especially to those whose families arrived before the highways were built and the Yukon changed forever.

When I began my research, I enlisted the help of Alex Van Bibber. We had never met, but when I mentioned my family name, he knew who I was instantly. His warm reception and the discovery of a 100-year-old connection between his wife’s family and mine typified the ties, person to person and family to family, that were common when the Yukon Territory was large in size and small in population. Those ties still exist today.

Contents

Acknowledgments

This book would not have been possible without the writing of my mother, Marjorie Hoggan Stevenson. My friend Gillian Walker, Ph.D., was a tough critic and my thanks go to her for forcing me to do many revisions which made this a better book. My daughter Hillary Howlett provided an early critique. Thanks also to publisher Jo Blackmore, copyeditor Kyle Hawke, and designer Alisha Whitley.

I am fortunate to have had and am indebted to a number of people for their contributions to this book, principally Marion May Dore, her sister Doris May Chorney, Lorraine Craig Mackie, Anita Craig Mayhew, Nancy May Pope, my sister Roberta ‘Bobbie’ Cairns, my cousin Maribeth Tubman Mainer, Marilyn Nordale Stacy, and Betty Fournier St. Jean.

Michael Gates, retired Parks Canada employee, kindly gave me a transcript of an interview he did with my mother Marjorie and my uncle Greg in 1983. Trina Buhler of Parks Canada provided the map of the camp in Bear Creek. She also took me into the fenced camp in 2010. This was both a poignant and a happy experience.

My thanks to all of you.

Introduction

My family history in the Yukon began in 1897 when my grandfather John Edward Farnworth ‘Ned’ Hoggan joined the Klondike Gold Rush. Ned was born in Calcutta, India, the son and grandson of officers in the British Indian Army. At age 14, he went to Liverpool to train as a ships officer. There he qualified in both steam and sail. As a Master Mariner, he travelled all over the world, sailing out of Liverpool and Antwerp. Ned married Catherine ‘Kate’ Posetti in Brussels, where their first two children were born. Kate had been born in London. Her mother died when Kate was very small so her father, also a seaman, placed her in a convent to be cared for by the nuns.

Accounts differ but it is known that Ned formed a partnership with a man who was taking a large number of dogs to the Klondike. He left his ship in Boston and joined the Gold Rush. In 1897, when Ned went North, he was 33. When Kate joined him in 1899, she was 28. Their daughters, Lill and Helene, aged seven and three, were left in London. Ned and Kate spent the rest of their lives in the Yukon where they had six more children. Lill and Helene joined them as young adults.

This book was inspired by letters and news clippings sent to my grandfather’s family in Scotland from 1896 to the 1930s. The material was passed along to my mother, Marjorie, their youngest daughter. She was writing memoirs and recording the stories of her elder siblings. When she went into a care facility, I kept all her papers. It seemed important to use what I had to write about a time in the history of the Yukon that is largely unknown, especially as I had access to the memoirs of other family and friends, as well as my own memories.

The book covers the time between the Gold Rush at the turn of the 20th Century, and the building of the highways in the middle of the century. It was a period of little change with a small and widely dispersed population. In 1928, the population of the Territory was only thirty-five hundred, 40 percent of whom were Native. The Territory is about the size of California or Great Britain.

The rivers were the highways. In summer, all the freight, mail, and people moved along them. In winter, there were roughly-made roads suitable for travel only when the ground was frozen and the ice-covered rivers could be crossed. Regular stagecoach service was carried out by the White Pass Company which carried mail and passengers between Whitehorse, the end of rail service from Skagway, Alaska, and other settlements. The primary one was Dawson City, the capital of the Territory. After 1921, when the coaches no longer carried mail, it was delivered by dog teams. There were freight sleighs, at first pulled by horses and later by Caterpillar tractors. People travelled via dog teams and walked, often long distances, as well. Air travel came to the Yukon in 1927 when Clyde Wann and others started carrying mail, freight, and passengers. This supplemented the other services but did not replace them. There was no regular air passenger service Outside—Outside being any place south of the 60th parallel—from Dawson City until 1937. There was no telephone service to Dawson until 1960.

The steamboats were the most used form of transportation. There were woodcutter’s camps along the rivers to supply the boilers. All possible freight was shipped in summer on the boats which served the Yukon and the Alaska interior. The Canadian boats travelled down the Yukon river—which flows north, then west through Alaska emptying into the Bering Sea—to Dawson City and up the Stewart River to Mayo. American boats picked up freight and passengers in Whitehorse and went down the Yukon River into Alaska. They could stop only to take on wood, except at Dawson City where there was a customs office. The trip downstream to Dawson City took about two days; upstream to Whitehorse, four days. From Whitehorse, one took the train to Skagway, Alaska, then down the coast. Canadian Pacific Railway had ships that were on an eight or ten-day schedule. The trip down the coastFer (or Seattle on American ships) was about five days. Getting Outside could take up to ten days.

This isolation from the outside world formed the strong connections people had with each other. Their common backgrounds, experiences and knowledge of each other’s families gave rise to the unique bonds and social fabric of the Territory. The question “What family are you from” might seem odd to Outsiders but it was important in establishing relationships and contacts in such a small and widely scattered population. The Vancouver Yukoners Association was formed in 1928 as a way for those Outside for the winter, or those who had moved Outside, to keep in touch. It is still an active organization. There are similar Alaskan groups on the west coast of the USA.

Recently, I met a woman at the annual Vancouver Yukoners Convention, Nancy Whitney Moulton, born in Mayo, who remembered visiting my grandfather Ned when she was a small child. He would feed them carroway seed cake he had baked and tell them stories about the old days. I never knew my grandfather as he died when I was a baby, but this illustrates the way in which we have snippets of each others history that enrich our lives and our ties. Those ties are a common theme in this book.

In 1951, the population of the Yukon Territory was still under ten thousand. The building of the Alaska Highway during World War II, and later other highways, opened the Territory to the world and changed it forever.

I have organized this book to take us from the early days of the 20th Century to the middle of the century. My hope is that the history of this in-between period, told through the lives of my family and others, will serve to bring that time alive before it is lost forever.

I have collected and collated the letters, memoirs and news clippings.

In most of the period covered by this book, Yukon was still the Yukon Territory, distances were in miles and Natives were called Indians.

1.
OFF TO THE GOLD FIELDS

Like many men, my grandfather Ned Hoggan got caught up in the excitement engendered by news of the big gold strike in the Klondike and, like them, he was sure he would make his fortune. He had been at sea for almost 20 years and had been all over the world. Maybe he was ready for a new adventure. He was still a young man, only 33 when he left all that was familiar and set off. The environment he encountered was completely foreign to his previous life.

Much has been written about the Gold Rush and the harsh conditions faced by the men and women who went over the White Pass or Chilcoot Trail. I have edited Ned’s letters because of the repetitive nature of the hardships: the up-and-down hills and gullies; the narrow trails; the danger of falling off the trail; the loads the dogs could carry; the necessity of moving one load, leaving it, and going back for the next one; the snow; the cold. The struggles that went on day after day have been written about many times. The excerpts serve to illustrate Ned’s love of family and his indomitable spirit.

Ned was a prolific letter writer. Unfortunately there are periods where no letters survived, perhaps because they got passed around to various family members and were lost.

December 21, 1897

Stockyards Hotel Hochelaga
Montreal, Canada

Dearest Mother,

Having not quite got over the surprise of my last, I will now endeavour to write you a full account of my adventures as far as I have got.

I left New York at 7.30 hours, 18th of Dec., with a thermometer at 76 degrees. It fell to 40 degrees at 2.00 a.m. to 30 degrees. I then went to bed for they have beds in the trains in this country. At 6.00 a.m., I got up, temperature at 10 degrees. At 9.30 a.m., arrived in Montreal, temperature 5 degrees. Not bad in the way of changes?

I am the second in command of this expedition and part of my job is to move myself around Montreal to visit all the principal wholesale houses, harness makers, butchers, slaughter houses, flour mills, etc. For we have 70 dogs, and they have to be fed and exercised every day, and the beasts have a strange desire to fight on the slightest provocation, and they are quite a handful to look after and the feeding and exercising with all the harness fittings, clothing, and boot fitting, for they all have to be provided with sleeping coats and boots to keep their feet from freezing while working. They seem very much surprised with their boots but I guess they will appreciate them when the temperature falls below 50 or 60 degrees below zero.These working dogs are exceedingly ferocious when out of harness, but whilst working, they are quite amiable and work hard.

The two sides of my life are very amusing. In town, I am quite the business man and diplomat. Down here at the stock yard, I am the roving gold miner and dog herd. I have left my quarters at the L.H. hotel, and I am now quartered at the Stock Yard Hotel. My associates are drivers and cow herds, etc. Here comes the advantage of my seafaring life, am quite at home and get along famously with them. The reason of my changing bids [hotels], I found they were neglecting the dogs and so rushing us into a lot of unnecessary expense, for 70 dogs require a lot of looking after and the feed bills run up very fast.

Down here, I am paying one pound per day bed and food. The program is out at 6.00 a.m. and I am cooking the dogs’ food, then fed and exercised, then off to town, back again to see them bedded down with straw. Can’t say I care much for the pitchfork work, but it has to be done, so I go at it off coats as well as my hired men have to work for shamesake when they see me at it, but I guess they do not relish my way of taking my money’s worth out of them. I am paying 11/day per man, so I guess they have to sweat for their money. After bedding down, off to town again and make arrangements for next day’s feed as the menu has to be varied. One brute tried to vary the diet by trying to eat me, but he got club sauce and is quite content to eat the laid down bill of fare.

You will have the first nuggets, Mrs. Hoggan, and if you please, I am not your sailor son any longer, but the mining son. But until we move out of this, love and kisses to all dear ones at home. I thought of you all on Christmas Day.

Ever your dutiful and loving son,
Ned

P.S. From now on, write to Vancouver, c/o Post Office

Ned did send his first nuggets to his mother, Eleanor Hoggan. She had the gold made into a bar brooch with his name spelled out in seed pearls. He was her first-born son, born in India when she was only 17. Eleanor wore the brooch every day until she died in 1945.

April 13

Below Whitehorse Rapids

Dearest Kitty [Ned’s pet name for Kate],

You must think your old man has gone out of the world. It being such a long time since you heard from him. Well, in the one sense, one is out of the world in this forsaken country but still manages to live in some way or another.

Since my last, we have travelled 150 miles and brought 2 tons of provisions along with us and it has been no small task either. Wind, snow, hail, and frost and Canadian police restrictions, all to fight against. The police instead of being here to protect the rights of people seem to be here to obstruct and hamper them in every way.

After leaving the last place I wrote from, we had to climb what they call the summit, it goes like this / and the path about 3 feet wide, one side hard rock and the other a steep precipice, in some places straight up and down, and others have a slight incline. The incline places being very dangerous for falling over, which many a poor devil did, but being so heavily covered with snow saves ones bones from being broken. The greatest danger being the sled or horse coming on top of one.

Out of all the numerous people passed up the summit, there has been no serious accident up to the time of our passing—but I am afraid that since we passed there have been one or two bad ones. But by great good fortune, we have been in good health and strength so far.

After getting to the summit, the North West Mounted Police [in 1920, the N.W.M.P. became the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (R.C.M.P.)] have tried to get all the duty they can out of one for goods bought in America or any country out of Canada and the reckon of your provisions to see if you have over 1000 lbs, or in other words, enough to last each man for one year. After all this, they put a stamp on your customs papers and tell you to go, and you go as quick as you can with a lighter pack and a great desire to get away from the N.W.M. Police.

Ned then goes on to describe the next stage of their journey in some detail giving the names of the lakes, and loads the dogs can carry according to the conditions. When he reached the end of Summit Lake, Ned wrote:

Then you come to what is called the canyon and that changes the state of affairs considerably, the trail being like a corkscrew up and down and around about each twist, rocks on one side and precipice on the other with 8 or 9 feet of snow. One poor devil fell over and we had to get ropes around his legs to get him out. At this beautiful place one can only get 150 or 200 lbs. along with 7 dogs. Well, we eventually got across with a few mild swear words and a few wallopings for the dogs.

From Hill Below the Log Cabin to Tushi Lake it was simply a horror, 100 lbs. on 7 dogs, over all sorts of ground, up hill, down hill through snow drifts. One minute you would be lying flat on your belly holding onto a rope attached to the back of the sled, to act as a brake, and next you would be at the front of the sled with a rope around your shoulder helping the dogs up the side of a hill. The next minute you would be under the sled and 2 or 3 feet of snowdrift, the sled having turned over on you, and this glorious state of affairs lasted for about 7 miles. We then struck what is called Lake Tushi and there we had a good run of 12 miles on ice with a good trail, and did we not appreciate it after the 7 miles of bad. I would like to use a bad word there in place of the underlined word, but since I am writing to you, I must not.

Then we had a splendid run and good weather, until the last day when we shifted camp and then we had another bad snowstorm and a devil of a struggle, we had to get our tent up. The wind is terrible in these snowstorms and you have to get under shelter as soon as possible and get the animals under shelter of trees or rocks or it will freeze them to death in a very short time. From Tushi Lake into what is called Windy Arm Lake, we had to make a portage of 3 miles and it was very good imitation of the other 7 miles we had passed over. At this point we had the satisfaction of knowing we were the farthest ahead of 600 who had landed with us. Then we started over Windy Arm, our first camp being 13 miles up the lake, a splendid sheet of fine clear ice. Dogs could draw 800 or 900 lbs. a load.

From first camp in the next shift, we made a place called Tagish House, 12 miles from our first camp. Here we had the N.W.M. Police to contend with once more. Captain being away on some duty, a sergeant was left in charge, and he was a man who liked to show his authority, so when I went and showed him my customs paper that had been passed at the summit he said that our weight of provisions was short of the government regulations. I explained that the nature of the goods we had were far and away above the required weight, but like all government officials, he was troubled with what the Americans call a “swelled head” and he would not let us pass. So the only thing left for me to do was to go back to the head of Lake Bennet and see Major Walsh, head of the N. W. M. Police. This meant a journey of 80 miles there and back. So we camped and next morning I started back at 5 a.m. with one team of dogs, 5 days food, sleeping bag and blanket and one kettle. Had a good run for 15 miles, that was at Cariboo Crossing and there it came on a snowstorm, well I kept going ’til the animals refused to face it any longer, then I made in for the shore and found a place where someone had sheltered a horse at some previous time. So that did for the dogs and myself. Made a cosy fire and boiled my kettle, had a feed, fed the dogs and then crawled into my sleeping bag and went to sleep about 7 p.m., snowing and blowing hard. Then to zero. Next morning awoke at dawn, found myself embedded in snow, the poor dogs all around me. Moved about and got the snow loosened and then crawled out of bed and lit my fire once more, boiled the kettle and made a cupful of Johnston’s Fluid Beef, fed on that and a few biscuits rolled in my bag, harnessed the dogs and drove off, got into Bennet at 11 a.m. the same day. Went to see Major Walsh who gave me a pass without any trouble, but kept me waiting 3 or 4 hours for it. All the time, I wonder why government people have so little regard for time (something like you—no use for clocks). At 4 p.m., he gave me a written permit and wished me all success in my journey.

So off I started in the middle of a snowstorm and at 11 p.m., made in for the shore and found shelter under a tree for the night for dogs and myself, cooked some stuff to eat, what it was heaven only knows, but it filled my belly. Fed the dogs and went to sleep.

Up at dawn next morning and off for camp where I arrived at 4 p.m. and mighty glad I was of it, I can tell you, for the dogs and myself were about played out. On account of this delay, we lost 200 lbs. so that shows you how little things mount up in this country. It costs one and a half £s. A day to feed a dog and two and a half £s. to keep a horse, everything is 25 £s. a hundred pounds above cost price at Skagway and there everything is ten percent dearer than anywhere else. For supper, bed (your own blankets) and breakfast at Lake Bennet it costs you 8 or 9. A meal at any place costs 11 and the meal consists of pork and beans, bread and butter, a cup of coffee or tea. I had to pay a £. the other day for 6 feet of small rope. Now when we were stopped at Bennet, it threw me out of all my reckoning of food supplies for dogs and horse. We were making for the head of Lake Laberge where the ice breaks up first and one gets clear of the Whitehorse Rapids. Now the 4 days food for the animals that was consumed at Tagish House would have just carried me to the head of Lake Laberge whereas now I have only got clear of the Whitehorse Rapids and there all the animal food ran out, but hold on, I am going too fast.

We left Tagish House with a permit in our pockets and a great hassle on ourselves. The first day we did 14 miles over Lake Marsh and it was a tough day I can tell you, there had been a slight snowfall during the night and the snow had drifted over the trail, which made it very heavy work pulling the sleds, and at the lower end of Lake Marsh the ice was giving out and we had the devils own job to get the dogs to face the cold water and it was no fun for ourselves, but it had to be done and we did it. Then came that weary drag over the drifted trail. We got to camp ground at 7 or 8 p.m., pitched our tent, fed the dogs, had supper and went to sleep. I do not remember ever being so tired as I was that night. Next morning we went back to Tagish House for the remainder of our stuff (it takes us 2 days to shift from one place to another). You pile all your belongings on the trail side, take what you can and come back for it the next day. It is most amusing to see thousands of pounds worth of goods piled all along the roads in this country and nobody loses anything, for the penalty of stealing is death, hang a thief to the first tree is the law on the trail, and very closely it is observed.

Next morning our advance man returned and reported the road passable but that we would have to move right quick, so up we got and at it and from that time to the time we got across the river below the grand canyon [now called Myles Canyon] there was no rest for man or beast. It cost us our horse and 6 dogs and took all the life out of us—water, ice, snow. Axe and shovel at it we went, and we managed it. When we got to the foot of the canyon people advised us not to cross, but we were desperate and at it we went. 500 lbs. on a sled and 2 teams of dogs hitched on together and ourselves with ropes and up to our middles in a torrent of ice cold water and mighty little ice to support it all. Over we went and when we got across, we all shook hands with one another and were mighty pleased with ourselves. Camped, fed dogs, and slept at ease for the first time since we left Tagish House.

The last 3 miles of the road to the place where we made the desperate crossing is worth a better description. As far as the southern end of the Grand Canyon you come along the river bank which is solid ice, 6 or 7 feet thick but the ice all shelves to the river which is running in the centre at a very swift pace, a wide opening and you have to keep a very sharp lookout on your sleds or over you go into the river, sled and all, and then they would draw your club money in the morning. There would be no hope of rescue as you would be swept under the ice at once. After doing those miles of shelf work, you come to the mouth of the Grand Canyon and here you would have to stop and carry all your worldly belongings on your back up a hill, for 300 yards the slope is at this angle/and that knocks the stuffing out of you. After all the stuff is at the top, you load your sleds and proceed for 1 mile and then you lever the sleds down a hill with a rope, the angle being about / then you proceed for mile and again lower the sleds down another hill, the worst brute of the lot, the angle being straight up and down and 200 feet long. Here one of our ropes broke and one sled had put a soft bag of sugar on the load, and that bag of sugar is there yet, much to our sorrow as sugar is one of the most precious things with us, as we brought a very small supply. This little uphill and downhill, we had to make 5 times to get all the stuff over, so you see, Kitty, Klondike is not all beer and skittles! My advice to anyone who wants to start out for this country is to stay at home, for it is simply hell on temper and constitution. Get ahead is all that one thinks of.

After getting over the river, we started again next morning. We made 5 or 6 miles that just put us clear of the rapids and all our dog food was finished. We sent all the dogs to kingdom come, pitched our tent, had a days rest and a wash, the first in 40 days. How is that for the height of cleanliness? Next day we started to build our saw pit to saw our planks for building a boat, and that we have been at for the last 4 days. This being Sunday, we stopped work and all indulged in a good sleep and wash. In fact, we all stripped off naked rubbing yourself with soap and spraying it off is no joke. But we were so beastly dirty it really had to be done. Washed and clean and clean clothes on is a fair treat. I often think of the days when I used to have clean clothes every other day at home and a clean shirt every day. When I come home again, will have 2 per day to make up for lost time. And I will eat beefsteak, pudding all the week round and black pudding every morning and salad every evening!

Now, there you are old girl, there you have all the news of the expedition as far as we have gone. Heaven only knows when you will get the next letter as we will be very busy for the next 14 days at least and then we will be busy getting down the river to the gold fields. There we will make our pile and then we will come home and spend it like fun. After you have read this letter send it to the General and mother and when they return it, send it to Mr. Hutchinson.

Your wandering and loving husband,

Ned

This unedited letter was published in The Yukoner Magazine, Issue 3, February 1997. The editor noted “Ned’s spelling of place-names is often incorrect and thieves were not hanged on the trail although most stampeders thought so.” The Canadian government were determined to make sure that the stampeders had enough provisions and that the laws of Canada be observed.

By the time the following letter was written, the partnership that was formed in Boston and Montreal had broken down. There were no supplies awaiting Ned in Dawson City as there should have been. Ned was on his own. He formed a new partnership with an old shipmate he met in Dawson City. They staked several claims in the Dawson area and seem to have made enough money to keep going, at least for a time. The hardships encountered on the way to Dawson continued as Ned kept trying to strike it rich, this time on Thistle Creek.

November 15, 1897
Dawson City

Dearest Mother and Dad,

My Thistle Creek claim is a fair bird, and will it need be! I will give you a description of how I got it. At 10.30, a man came to me and asked me if I felt alright for a long mush. (That is a long walk.) I said, “I am just fit for it!” Then he told me there had been a new strike 122 miles up the Yukon River, and only 35 claims staked. I said, “It is a tall order, but never venture, never win,” so we put up grub for 3 weeks. Tramp on at 5.00 a.m. next morning, we put our blankets and feed in the canoe and started, thermometer at 10 above zero so we had hopes of making the Indian River.

The Yukon was running big ice floes. Seven hours after we started, we punched a hole in the canoe. Having nothing to patch it with, we pulled it out, cut off a thin slab of bacon and covered the hole and then lit a fire, melted some bacon grease, poured it over the slice and the frost froze it solid. Thermometer at zero by this time, but we had our canoe in good shape for proceeding so off we started up the river again—the way we go upstream here is one man sits in the canoe and the other pulls on a tow rope and this way we make from 10 to 15 miles a day.

After supper, we light our pipes, then get to work with the axes and chop enough wood for the night. Then get all the stuff out of the canoe and pull her out of the water. Then roll our blankets around us and sleep for the night. If you get cold, wake up, get the axe and have a little exercise in chopping wood for the fire. (You are liable to get cold once or twice during the night with the temperature at 10 or 15 below zero, for you can only afford to carry 2 blankets, weight is everything on these quick trips.) 4 a.m., up again, breakfast, and off again, ice very thick in the river but we held onto the canoe because as soon as we had to pull her out of the water, it meant only one blanket for the night as all had to be carried on your back for the rest of the trip.

Now commenced our hardship. All our worldly belongings on our backs and 87 miles of ice and snow to tramp over. Well, the first day we made 8 miles on the side ice. The next day, we made a good day—12 miles. This brought us up close to the Sixty Mile River post. The next day, we made 10 miles—next day we made up our minds to make the Stewart River. At 10 a.m., got in sight of a cabin, threw off our bundles and sat on them. Just then we saw a man outside the cabin and my partner said, “Go see if you can get any news.” So off I went up to the man and said, “Good day partner, how are times?” “Oh so, and so,” he said. My ear detected the old Dumphrieshire accent. “Well boy”, I said. “What part of Dumphries do you come from?” “Thornhill,” he replied. Before he had got the old place out of his mouth, our hands met. “Your name?” he said—and I said “Hoggan”, and he said, “Ned!—by all that’s holy!” We were at Dame’s School together. And well I know him, Willie Johnson, they had a farm near Durcester. Then out came the whiskey bottle and we drank to the old folks at home and he would not let us go until the next day. If ever I felt comfort, it was in that little log cabin at the mouth of the Stewart River.

He advised us not to start in the morning as the rest of the journey was a terror in the state of the river then, but, being Scotch, I suppose, I was stubborn and start I did, over the hardest bit of ground a man ever travelled. 3 hours after we left the cabin, it came on to snow and we went up like wild fire, and then it started to rain and all the side ice began to break away, then we had to start to climb up the hills as we could not get around the bluffs as all the ice was broken.

One hill we climbed, when we got on top of it, was the highest peak around and the snow was 3 feet thick and as cold as charity. We were wet through to the skin, all our clothes froze stiff, so as soon as we got down on the other side, we had to build a fire and dry out, and then it started to freeze again, so we camped for the night. Next morning the same thing again. Then the next day, we made the mouth of famous Thistle Creek, cold and hungry and on our last feed of chapattis. Next morning, we bought a few pounds of flour and bacon and started up the creek. Flour at 1/pound and bacon at 2/.

There were small trading posts or stores that would be built when a strike was on, close and move on when that strike ended. Entrepreneurs did much better financially that most gold-seekers.

Then we started down the river. We bought an old boat for 4 pounds, jammed her in the floe ice and drifted back to Dawson. The trip took us 17 days, and yesterday a man had the cheek to offer me 400 £s. for my claim. He heard that I was hard up and thought he had a snap on! Instead of the claim, he nearly got my fist in his eye! 3000 £s. is the lowest I would look at for that claim, and then it would require a lot of persuasion to get me to part with it at that.

Love to all, Ever your loving and affectionate son,
Ned

My mother Marjorie notes that though there is no written record of any transaction, it is probable that Ned, having no funds with which to hire labourers, sold his claims on the creeks near Dawson, and perhaps the claim at Thistle Creek.

Ned, on right, in prospecting days

2.
THE EARLY YEARS

Kate, an impetuous type, decided to join Ned in the Yukon, fully believing that Ned would make his fortune and they would come home rich from the gold fields. At that time in 1898, Ned was still optimistic that he would make the big strike.

There is some confusion about Kate’s arrival. One account has it that Ned met her in Skagway, and another that he went to Victoria to meet her. My mother, Marjorie, said she had seen a picture of the ship on which they came north, covered with ice. It is uncertain if Kate arrived before the railway from Skagway was completed to Lake Bennett in 1899. If it was before that date, she would have had to climb the pass as Ned had done before her. If it was after that date, they could have travelled to Lake Bennett by rail and on to Whitehorse by ship or rail.

There is a gap in Ned’s letters between the previous one, written November 1898, and the Boothy Creek letter, February 19, 1905. The time lines are therefore a little confusing. My mother, Marjorie, wrote the following based on what she had been told of the years between 1898 and 1905.

Marjorie—Ned gave up on prospecting, at least for a time and probably because he needed to make some money. He and Kate went to Canyon City at the head of Miles Canyon, where for a time Ned piloted loaded scows through the Canyon and Whitehorse Rapids to the town of Whitehorse for $25 per load. [The scows probably carried rail supplies to Whitehorse as the railway started construction at both ends, Skagway and Whitehorse, meeting in Carcross in July 1900.] Canyon City was about three miles above Whitehorse on what was then called the Lewes River but renamed the Yukon River in 1945. There was a wooden tramway used to carry freight around the canyon as well as the scows. Miles Canyon, now quite a tame part of the river, was very different and very treacherous until the dam above Whitehorse was built. Ned and Kate lived in a small log cabin where Dorothy Evelyn arrived in October 1900, the first of their six Yukon-born children.

In 1901, the family was living at Caribou Crossing (now Carcross) which by then was served by the railroad from Skagway to Whitehorse. Ned worked on the steamships which supplied settlements along the lakes.

In the winter of 1901/02, Ned and Kate owned, or managed, Takhini Roadhouse near Whitehorse on a winter-only road which crossed the frozen rivers. The stages could have stayed overnight and perhaps changed horses there, using four-horse teams. The drivers, or ‘skinners’ as they were called, were very hardy men, wore fur hats with ear flaps, and had heavy fur coats to keep out the cold. Some of them around Dawson in later years were often visitors at the Hoggan house. I remember my mother [Kate] telling how one of the skinners had, to his horror, found Dorothy in the barn, walking around under the bellies of the big draft horses, talking to them as if they were pets: “This child had no fear of anything on four legs and the horses seemed to know that they should not move or hurt her.”

In and out of the kitchen, Kate helped the cook, Mrs. Ritchie, a woman who became a friend and later visited the family when they moved down the Yukon River. When the weather was not too cold, Kate and Mrs. Ritchie would take a horse and cutter to Whitehorse—Mrs. Ritchie probably drove because Kate was not very good at that sort of thing.

Ned, about 1902

Kate and Dorothy, about 1902

Ned found it hard to stay in one place so they sold the roadhouse and the family moved to Whitehorse for a time. John William was born there in 1903. The doctor in attendance for the births of Dorothy and John was Dr. Sugden, who in later years was drowned when he fell off a barge into the Yukon River.

Kate was a fun-loving woman who liked to dress well and she must have enjoyed their time in Whitehorse. The gown she wore to a ball (some references say it was North West Mounted Police Ball; others, the Commissioner’s Ball) came from Paris. Ned wrote on the back of the picture “The boys said the dress ‘took the biscuit’—and the bill took my breath.”

Ned had been in the Yukon for seven years and was still hoping to make at least enough money to take a trip home to Scotland. He and Kate were adventurers and well-suited to the life they were leading. The hope of a big strike was still with them and when there was word of a strike in the Kluane country they moved there.

February 15, 1905
Boothy Creek

Dearest Mother,

I got yours and Bob’s most welcome letters last week, also photos of you all and picture book for John. He calls it his “Violin Book”, but is rather disappointed because there were no clock pictures in it. He is simply daft about clocks and his idea of a book that is great has clocks in it. Someone gave him a clock makers’ catalogue and that is his most precious treasure and the little wretch tears all the advertisements of clocks out of all the magazines. He would be a good mate for young Bob out here. Dorothy and John have great times and are both looking well and some of their sayings would make a horse laugh. The little wretches never seem to feel the cold.

I have at last got my house built and a good hard job it has been. I am right on a summit and the snow is 5 and 6 feet deep all around me and it has been no joke to get the logs to build with. My house is 17 by 40 feet with a small 11 by 16 annex, and is only 16 miles from the diggings, which I hope the summer will turn out right. I have built the house at the instigation of the Bullion Creek Hydraulics who are backing me for the whole layout. [The house was probably meant to be used as a roadhouse or to house the men working the mine.]

It has cost in the neighbourhood of $700, and if all goes well, I should be clear by next June. They have also hired me to run a steamer on the lake this summer so Kate will look after the house and I will be earning money from the lake. I only hope it all pans out as it is set down and if it does, I will be able to take a run home next winter, at present my position in money matters consists of $3. But there is plenty of grub in the house and that is more than I have had for the last 2 years. Tomorrow morning, I am going out to see if I can get a mountain sheep or two to help out the expenses. I expect to be away 6 or 7 days. It is rather late in the season to go out, but I have not been able to go a mile from the house all winter and exercise and the pleasure attached and hunting will do me good. Nellie must be a beautiful girl by the photo.[Nellie is Ned’s much younger sister.] Dorothy is the image of her at that age.

It was very kind of you to see the children when you were in London. [This refers to Lill and Helene, left in London when Kate joined Ned. They felt abandoned and often Ned had little money to send for their support]. I will forward some money to you as soon as I can get my hands on any, which I hope will not be long now.

Mother, I must close,

with all my love to your dear self,

from your loving and affectionate son,

Ned

Joann—Boothy Creek is not listed in Yukon Places and Names by R. Coutts but I assume it was in the Kluane area. There was a wagon road from Whitehorse to Burwash and Ned and Kate lived in the Kluane area at that time. My mother continues the story.

Marjorie—In the fall, they went to fish camp to hunt the winter’s meat supply. While the men were hunting across the lake, Kate and the children were living in a tent. It was here that Kate faced a grizzly bear at the entrance to the tent when John cried, “Look at the big dog!” “That’s not a dog,” cried Dorothy, “that’s a bear.” Kate grabbed the only thing at hand which was a big metal bowl in which she made bread and the big sourdough spoon, and banging it fiercely did what she could to protect her children. The huge animal backed up and ambled up the beach. Kate said later, “My heart was in my mouth!” She then calmed the children and, gathering wood from the beach, built a big fire as close to the tent as she dared. She kept it going all night, but there was no more seen of the bear. Ned and Tom [Dickson] saw the fire from across the lake and, knowing something was wrong, came across to find out what it was.

After her experience facing the grizzly bear, Kate was not happy at fish camp when Ned was away, so they returned to Silver City at the head of Kluane Lake. Ned worked for a hydraulic mining company there. He had hoped for a job on a boat but since that didn’t happen, he and a man named McKenzie bought two small boats. Ned, having spent three years on the training ship Conway, knew how to sew and mount sails made of flour sacks. He and McKenzie freighted supplies to miners and prospectors along the lake. It must have been hazardous for storms came up quickly on the lake. However, it could not have been worse than rounding Cape Horn in a storm. In the delirium of the malaria attacks that recurred throughout his life he would relive his past, shouting “Lower the top gallants” and other commands to his crew.

George Disraeli was born at Silver City in the Kluane country in 1906. Florence (‘Florrie’) was born in 1908, at either Jarvis Creek or Burwash, delivered by Louise Dickson, the Native wife of Tom Dickson, formerly of the North West Mounted Police (NWMP), who was Ned’s hunting and prospecting partner at the time. Louise was from Carcross and was related to Skookum Jim who was a co-discoverer of the gold strike that led to the Klondike Gold Rush. [Louise was the mother of Alex Van Bibber’s wife, Susan, which I learned when talking to Alex in 2010. It is in these ways that we learn bits of each other’s history.]

Joann—Times were hard, and mining gave Ned and Kate no incentive to remain in the Kluane. In 1909, broke, with all their goods on a two-wheeled cart pulled by their horse, and, according to my uncle Johnny, who was then six years old,“ living off the land eating gophers, rice, and wild berries,” they moved back to Whitehorse. Thus ended their gold-seeking days. Ned and Kate, like many, many others, had not succeeded in their dream of golden riches.

In June 1909, Ned signed on with the British Yukon Navigation company (BYN), taking a job as second mate. He was qualified to be a Captain but as captain he could not have year-round work which, with his large family, he needed. When the shipping season ended, the boats were winched ashore on logways to be kept away from the spring break-up, high water, and ice floes. Watchmen were required by the insurance companies to look after the boats and as second mate, Ned was able to work as a watchman during the winter. Ned was employed by the BYN for many years but as a watchman only in his later years. He was always referred to as Captain, probably as a mark of respect for his long years at sea and his skill as a river man.