Running the Chilkoot Trail

Gold! 1897 marked the start of the gold rush in southeast Alaska. Thousands of men, women and children arrived at the tiny, native village of Dyea, 45 miles north of Juneau, and headed out from their boats onto the rugged Chilkoot Trail. They forged north, up a steep mountain valley towards the Chilkoot Pass and beyond to stake their claims. At the summit, the gold-seekers entered Canada. The Chilkoot Trail had long been a trading route for the Chilkoot Indians, and the stampeders enlisted the aid of the Native Indians in their journey north. During the short, frenzied gold rush, several towns erupted along the trail growing from nothing to thousands over night. Bars, hotels, churches, brothels...you name it and it appeared in the camp towns along the remote trail. Three years later they were nothing but ghost towns. In the 1970's park services for Canada and the U.S. cleared the old trail, left the rusted mining remnants strewn in the woods, and established today's historic trail which draws hikers from around the world.

If you read my last post, you know it's been raining in Juneau for a few weeks. On Tuesday night, I was sitting at our kitchen table, gazing at the dark clouds, trying to determine where to run my longest upcoming training run of 35 miles, when a friend and local running legend e-mailed. A short break in the weather was predicted for Friday and she proposed running the Chilkoot. Wow!
My partner and I had hiked the Chilkoot in 2006 with three friends. It took us four nights. Since then I was longing for the chance to run the trail. Just as I hoped, on Thursday the clouds dissipated and by the time my friend, my partner and I boarded the ferry for the slow journey to Skagway, the sun was gleaming off of the mountains and the temperature started to climb. We arrived in Skagway just before midnight and got about four hours of sleep. We met another friend, Bob, at the trail head and started at 5:20 a.m. The sun was already shining as we trotted towards the first camp down the trail, Finnegin's Point, at 4.8 miles. I carried two water bottles and Iodine, four power bars, four GU's, a PBJ sandwich, a Snicker's bar, one light rain jacket, cap, gloves, my tiny camera and the BEAR SPRAY! Although it fit nicely in a quite small back pack, it was the heaviest load I've ever run any appreciable distance with.

We breezed through the first camp and spoke briefly to some early rising campers. About 45 minutes later, we trotted through the Canyon City ruins and soon arrived at Pleasant Camp where we chatted with some breakfasting hikers. Sipping coffee, one of them pointed towards the brush where a large bear carcass was decaying. According to the rangers, two bears had battled it out there a week earlier. I resisted the urge to move my bear spray from my pack to my front pocket. We jogged off, and stopped for our first water-stop at a lovely flowing stream two miles before Sheep Camp. As requested, we checked in with the ranger at Sheep Camp (mile 12.6). It was our last camp below tree line. Here, the trail turns rocky and begins to climb dramatically (1800 feet in 3 miles) to a spot known as "the Scales." During the gold rush, prospectors used to cache their supplies near the Scales and weighed their hauls before attempting the steepest part of the climb to the Summit.

We moved quickly and stopped only once for more water near the Scales following Bob's near demise from an angry momma Grouse. It was hot above tree-line, and I appreciated our short rest and our view back down the valley we had just hustled up. We moved on past some Australian hikers towards "the Golden Stairs". In July, the "stairs" are anything but stairs, and entail a 45 degree climb over large, sharp rocks upwards for the final half mile to the summit, gaining another 1000 feet. The prospectors preferred climbing the frozen stairs they hacked out of the snow in the winter which allowed them to avoid hauling their belongings over the sharp rocks. The prospectors also erected a tram to carry their loads for a price. I've read that one stampeder's family actually hauled their piano up the pass. I reminded myself of this as I climbed and sweated in the 70 degree sunshine. A quarter of the way up the rocks, I almost tripped on a piece of tram wire. You can see the wire by my legs. I was surprised by how much cable was still visible on the climb. Out of the jagged rocks, I followed my friends through the snow to the Canadian ranger's cabin at the summit, happy to see the Canadian flag waiving in the light wind at 3600 feet. We stopped and had a quick lunch with some Germans and Canadians. I ate my PBJ sandwich but was feeling hot, sweaty and thirsty.
We took off again, half running and half sliding down the snow towards blue, clear Crystal Lake. My feet were soaked as we repeatedly crossed outflows from the snowfields. Even with chilly feet, my head felt hot and my stomach was off. Four miles after the pass, at mile 20.6, we stopped at Happy Campy. However, I wasn't feeling so happy and told my friends that I needed to slow down, cool off and rehydrate. I walked a mile, again heading up on a rocky trail. We stopped and doused ourselves with cold water in a small lake and I gulped half of my water bottle.

Fortunately, after another stop at Deep Lake camp, my stomach settled. We had a pleasant three miles down hill and next to a deep cavern, flowing with water to Lindeman City. We stopped briefly again to play in the water, and at 26 miles into the run, we had just under 10 miles to go. We headed off again, climbing above Lindeman Lake on large, rock slabs towards Bare Loon Lake where we would detour from the trail towards the railroad tracks. Feeling pretty content and trotting along, I looked down and noticed the bottom of my shoe was flapping on the rock! At mile 28, the heal on my right shoe fell off. Bob cut the fragments off and joked that he was wearing the same pair and his were several months older. We continued, and don't tell Montrail since they're sending me new shoes "on the house," but I really didn't notice the difference.

The cut-off trail was 3/10th of a mile after Bare Loon Lake and we almost missed it. We ran a mile on the trail, and with a smile I crossed my last stream. We were now on the railroad tracks with five miles to Log Cabin. We were all pretty tired at this point, and my friend, the local cross-country coach, suggested we run two minutes and walk two minutes (two on/ two off). It worked well and we chatted cheerfully in the late afternoon sun, as we ran the last few miles towards Log Cabin, the Yukon highway, my partner and a chest of Alaskan beer on ice.
All in all, we ran 35.5 miles in 11:30 hours (10:08 hours to the tracks). Was it everything I hoped it would be? Indeed. I would do it again in a heart-beat, but maybe I would carry an extra pair of running shoes!
Sleet and wind returned early Saturday morning. Timing is everything in the rainforest.

View the Garmin stats by clicking: Untitled by anne.johnson1 at Garmin Connect - Details Once at Garmin, click "satellite" to view the Google Earth map. Elevation chart is on the bottom right.

Until next time,
AJ