The suburban citizen., 1901-04-27
THE YUKON ROADHOUSES
STRUNG ALL ALONG BOTH SIDES
OF THE RIVER Now

Mr.. Jack London, when ne wants 10
tell a Yukon tale Of men who have
Travelled fifty miles a day on snow
shoes for fifty days, eating one dog
salmon and a handful of -four, aud are
shivering under their blankets in a
cotton tent, the thermometer seventy
degrees below zero. The temporal
qualification Is necessary to be true to
life. The Yukon country is no longer
young though the remainder Of Alas
ka is generally younger than the Yu-
kon Valley has ever been since the
first steamboat ascended it in 1865,
says a Klondiker in the New York
Commercial Advertiser. 1t is quite
four years since 1t was the custom in
winter for men along the Yukon to
sleep in cotton tents and eat dog sal
mon. In the winter of 1899 1900 the
thermometer at Dawson didn't once go
below sixty degrees below zero.
The "road-house" has civilized the
Yukon Valley. If you start in No
vember with the great exodus from
Dawson to salt water, up the frozen
boulevard Of river, you won't take a
cotton tent, and it's nuggets to mar
bles you won't even get a dish Of
beans. You will spend every night in
a good-sized log cabin, with two or
three rooms and more or less sawmill
made lumber with rustic ornamental
tion. The fare will be somewhat more
pretentious than in a New England
boarding house. A bunk will cost 81,
a meal will cost S150, and you may
get among other things, canned oyster
soup, caribou steak with cranberry
jelly, and, of course, pie The Yankee
makes the best pioneer and he does
it on pie; and the Yankee has won
Alaska.
Every ten miles or so in travelling
up the river comes a road-house. On
foot or with a dog team, when you are
beginning to get little hungry for din
ner or supper, cast your eyes ahead
along the hills Of smoky amethyst,
and there is a blue spire of smoke ris-
ing straight up-oh. how quiet and
slim!-into sky Of lacquered brass.
All summer the cabins are empty.
Travellers sleep on some of the stern
wheel river boats; from the rest too
small to serve a meal on, they pile
ashore three times a day with their
stoves and grub boxes, and at night
with the cotton tent. Likewise do the
scow-travelers. In September and Oc-
tober the last steamboats, begin to
make stops at the road-houses, and
unload crate after crate of canned
hash and tomatoes "this years eggs"
hams and -four The proprietor, or pro
prietress, who has been running a sum-
mer restaurant at one of the big
camps, or on one Of the creeks, is on
hand, and with him gang Of the
"unemployed' to make the woodpile
and fix things up.
But Quitting of a road-house Is an
expensive matter and a great financial
risk One should have such things as
eggs and tomatoes, for if you haven't
got them, your reputation suffers, and
the dog teams and mushers walk
right on past you. Competition among
the houses is very keen. After the eX-
penses Of outftting and keeping a
gang Of men all winter carrying your
wood and water, you must have every
person Of the thousands going out stop
with you. The season is very short
November to April, and the New Eng
land farmers could get points on how
to trap the city boarder from the host
of a Yukon road-house.
Tho r,ooI bopCa &c thapo nD1 Vnn1U
before the trail is broken but whether
the trail follows the right or left bank,
or keeps in mid-stream depends on
whether the river Is open or closed,
whether the ice is rough or smooth,
and on the whim Of the first traveller
whom the rest follow like sheep. Sup
pose the trail passes a road-house on
the other side. 1t does this to one out
of every four. The proprietor sees his
egg and tomato money going, so he
goes out into the woods with his little
hatchet He chops down many hun
dred little spruces, and going a mile
or so back and a mile or so forward on
the trail diverts it gently to his side Of
the river with an avenue of trees.
Then he puts up a sign 50 only the
traveller approaching his house can see
it: HA mile to Smiths" and another
so only the man going away can see it,
so miles to Smiths" Any one who
has Travelled much in the north gets
fairly good idea of how far he goes at
his customary gait in an hour, and can
estimate distances fairly well But
the tricks Of the road-hous2 break him
all up.
"How far to the next mouse" you
ask after dinner Of Smith
"Oh, it's putty good ways, fifteen
miles, l guess" drawls out mine host;
and your partner adds: "We can't
make that tonight" Then the host
ventures, "Now, l tell you one thing,
boys, youll be doing the wise thing If
you stay here and get a good early
start in the morning. There's nothing
like a good early start. I've travelled
a bit myself up in this country" etc,
etc. Then partner remembers some
thing some one has told him once, and
says, "Haint the Jones boys from
Hunker got a place about eight miles
oY, n,,I min, boat cpvn tahnc his bnQH