A bunch of the boys were whooping it up at the Malamute Saloon.
Well, actually, it wasn’t just boys and the saloon involved was the Westminster, a fuschia pink and white establishment across the street from our hotel, the Eldorado.Our Dawson City tour guide had told us earlier that day, that if we hadn’t seen any wildlife yet, we were certain to see some that night in and around the Westminster.
So the whooping didn’t come as any surprise, especially since it was St. Jean Baptiste day, and Dawson has a large Quebecois population.The fact that the whooping went on until 2 am did, especially since the Eldorado was full up with weary tourists, who had to choose between 1) lying awake with windows open to catch some breeze; 2) closing their windows and listening instead to the rugga-rugga of the room air conditioner; or 3) turning off the air conditioning, keeping the window shut, and sweltering.
As I lay awake, having cycled through the options and settling on #1, I realized we were getting a taste of the trail of ’98, albeit with a modern day twist. Dawson City is like that. It skillfully presents its gold rush heritage and its literary history (Robert Service, Jack London and Pierre Berton all lived on Writers’ Block at the edge of town) without a trace of Disneyesque kitsch. At the same time, it balances taking care of the 21st century needs of tourists and its diverse residents – artists, historians, business owners, hipster hippies and an assorted collection of off-the-grid characters.
All of which makes it a delightful place to experience. I’ll leave you to wander Dawson’s quiet gravel streets, its historic buildings, and its local color on your own.
4 thoughts on “Leanin’ in to Dawson”
I can feel the spirit of the North and of DC in particular whilst imagining myself wandering the streets with you! Deb
You would love it. With someone else doing all the driving, I was free to just enjoy!
Great post and photos Pam. Mom’s parents were both prospectors, among other things, and came from Ontario to BC early in the 1900’s- I don’t know that they ever went to Dawson, but the Flora Dora Hotel as one of my grandmother’s nick names- her maiden name was Florence Dace Pickard. My neice was married on St Jean Baptist Day- and has an Acadian Mom- so I can relate to that too.
Enjoy your colourful recounting of your adventures and tie ins to Canada’s other writers.
Happy Dominion Day!
LikeLiked by 1 person
So glad that so many things in this post resonated with you, Ruth, and brought back memories. I lived Dawson City.