This morning we were steaming up the Lynn Canal to Skagway, the end of our voyage. We docked at eight. As we were on a Canadian boat it was necessary that we again go through the customs inspection. Our portion of the dock was fenced off and there was a large shed in the enclosure. The train was on the dock and the baggage car was within the enclosure. Our bags were taken into the shed, inspected, passed and then sealed in the baggage car to be opened only in Carcross, Yukon Territory. The plan is this. Alaska consists of a very narrow strip of territory from Skagway south and the train crosses the international boundary into Canadian territory soon after leaving. It crosses British Columbia into Yukon Territory. Contrary to my impression, Dawson and headwaters of the Yukon River are in Canada and not Alaska. Of course, the Yukon does run most of its course in Alaska but I am told that the Klondike rush was in Canada. As the baggage car is under government seal while passing through Alaska, it is lawful to have liquor in your suitcase.

"Soapy" Smith, a bad boy of '98, has a memorial at the dock station. Someone has painted a portion of the rock embankment in such a way that a large white skull about ten feet high is formed. A gruesome monument.

When the gold rush to the Klondike started in '96 the landing was made at Dyea on the western branch of the Lynn Canal. The inland trail led over the dangerous Chilkoot Pass where so much of the well-known suffering of the gold rush occurred. After the discovery of the White Pass at the head of Dead Horse Gulch the entire population of Dyea, about fifteen thousand people, moved to the swamps where Skagway now stands.

The White Pass and Yukon special tourist train left at eight-thirty and wound its way up Dead Horse Gulch to the White Pass, Lake Bennett, Carcross and Dawson. As we were now climbing the mountains the scenery became very beautiful and the continuous panorama of snow capped peaks finally became monotonous. Any ore of the numerous peaks would be a show place in California. The train crawls along the Gulch above the old trail of '98. It is still visible in sections as landslides and lack of use have caused it to be obliterated in places.

As we were at the snow line the car was pretty cold. There was a large wood stove at one end and I started a fire in it. The car was soon warm and the warm stove attracted two young ladies. I hadn't noticed them on the boat but after we became acquainted it came out that they had played bridge all the way up and had missed all the scenery. They were Claire Campbell of Berkeley and Lucille _____ of Oakdale.

We were at Carcross about ten-thirty and moved aboard the S.S. Tutshi, a small stern-wheeler similar to the Sacramento River boats. There are a few buildings at Carcross. The station, a two-story hotel, a fox farm and a few shacks belonging to natives. The whole town can be seen in fifteen minutes. Its name is a shortening of Caribou Crossing. At one time the Caribou were so numerous that when they crossed the track the train had to be held up until the herd had passed.

I had run out of films before reaching Skagway and bought four rolls at Carcross. these make a total of thirteen rolls or seventy-eight pictures.

We left Carcross on the Tutshi and headed south on West Taku Arm of Tagish Lake which is the headwaters of the Yukon River. This boat ride is rather monotonous, the boat is slow, the scenery is only average. The menu at lunch listed Moose haunch and almost everyone tried it. I didn't notice anything unusual.

The end of the journey is at a homestead called Ben-My-Chrae. An old couple live there, Lord knows why. There is nothing much of interest unless you count the rhubarb wine that was offered by our aged hosts. We sang a hymn, "God Save The King" and departed. It was the terminus of my trip and the most vivid recollection is of the monstrous mosquitoes. They looked like humming birds and could be knocked down while in the air.

On the way back I tried my luck at the piano and was much surprised at the requests I received, but which I couldn't comply with. There was such a complete absence of entertainment that anything was acceptable. At dinner the snooty young lady across from me expressed the wish that I had played "lowdah and longah." I rewarded her with a most gracious smile. Ho! Ho!

We seemed to have picked up a very officious person. He was fat, a little deaf, and a true kibitzer. Claire Campbell tried to frame him with a fake radiogram that told him that his son had robbed his jewelry store and was wanted by the police. He caught on almost at once. It is still open season, though.

The boat docked at the Engineer's Mine on the west shore of Taku Arm and we had a good opportunity to stretch our legs and look the place over. Although it was eleven at night, the sun was still up and I wondered why I was always sleepy. You can't tell when the day ends and the night begins.

After leaving the mine, my school teachers from Oregon tried to tell my fortune with tea leaves. It didn't work very well and I turned in about one AM. I had to pull the shades down in my room so that I could sleep. This midnight sun has ruined my sleeping schedule. It's a tough proposition.

I was soon sound asleep. About three o'clock there was a terrible commotion at my door and I sat up staring at a husky steward who was standing in my room yelling, "Radio for Mr. Bagshaw! Radio for Mr. Bagshaw! Five dollars collect!" I was nonchalant and took it from him. It said, "I trust you are having a fine sleep, kind friend." I did not discover who sent it until I returned home. A letter from one of the Oregon school teachers contained the expression "kind friend" and I recalled that she used it habitually. So, to sleep again.