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- Jul 7, 2013
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This is the story of my gold panning expedition to the Yukon Territory in August of 2013.
I guess the story really started about 60 years ago. My grandpa Jack immigrated to Canada from the Isle of Jersey. A little Island that is part of Great Britain, but is situated between England and France. He lived through the Nazi occupation of the island, and moved to Canada after the war. He never told the family any of the stories from that time in his life. Not until later in his life But I will get to that in due time.
When Jack moved to the Canada he met my grandmother. They got married, and had two sons. My dad was the younger of the two. Jack was a mechanic, as well as a gold miner. He had a couple of gold claims over the years, and many more stories from the wilds of the Yukon that would take up too much time in this story.
Jack and my grandmother split up, and my father moved with his mother to Vancouver, BC. Dad would spend his summers in the Yukon with Jack, helping with the gold mining and living out in the wild. Years later when he had his own sons, my dad would often reminisce about his days spent gold mining in the Yukon. It was something that he really wanted us to experience with him.
In the winter of 2012, Jacks health started failing him so Dad and I went up to visit him. Jack was in good spirits, and was his usual grumpy old self. He complained about the food he had to eat, and that he wasnt allowed to drive any more, but he was happy that we were there to see him. We were sitting around the dinner table making small talk, when Jack finally told us some stories about his time when he lived in Nazi occupied Jersey. He also spoke very excitedly about the gold claim that he had given to a cousin that lived up in the Yukon. Well that was when we decided that we were going to come up the following summer, and give gold panning a go. Jack even wanted to come with us to show us around the claim, and offer his advice (and criticism no doubt).
Well it was decided. My brother Mitch, dad, me, and the claim owner Brandon would go gold mining the following summer, with Jack in tow. We gathered equipment and supplies (some we already had) and began organizing our trip.
Unfortunately Grandpa Jack passed away before the summer adventure could begin.
We decided to continue with the trip, because we were all sure that Jack would have wanted us too. Dad and Mitch took up dads pickup truck, and loaded it up with all of our supplies. They made the three day trek to the Yukon from Vancouver. They met with Brandon, and drove to the Duke River, outside of Burwash Landing. They took Brandons truck as a secondary vehicle.
The claim was about a 45 minute drive up a dirt road, then across the Duke River on a little creek. They left Brandons truck on the west side of the river, and drove dads truck across to the east side of the river with all of the supplies. At this point the weather was great, and the river was only about thigh deep at the fording point. They set up camp, and started setting up our equipment.
I had work commitments, so I did not come up from the beginning. After a couple of days the weather started to turn, and the rains came. Around that time I took a flight from Vancouver to Whitehorse. Mitch and Brandon waded across the river, and drove to Whitehorse to pick me up. They left a day early so they could get supplies and unwind from being in the bush.
(Gratuitous knife pic)
After they picked me up we made the trip back towards the claim. By then there were torrential rains in the Duke River area. We also discovered that where the claim was located was in the middle of a flood plain. When we arrived at the river it had flooded so badly that it had taken over part of the dirt road that we had to drive on. We decided to park on high ground, and hike in to the fording area.
[video=youtube;N7Ty5a2is_E]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N7Ty5a2is_E[/video]
The road had become an extension of the river. We got wet. The kind of wet that is right to the bone. When we got to the ford, the river was about 4 times wider than it had been before, and it was a raging torrent. The water was deafening. There was no way to safely cross the river now. We blew our air horns as a signal to dad that we were there. He arrived on the other side of the river several minutes later. It wasnt until after the ordeal was over, that he told us that he did not hear the air horns. He was simply going to the ford every hour or so to check if we had arrived. We tried to make hand signals to ask if he was okay, using binoculars to see his replies. It appeared that everything was fine. We communicated that we would come back in two days to try and cross again.
[video=youtube;rVhlgVau2_M]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rVhlgVau2_M[/video]
(A quick video of the ford)
We stayed at a nearby town called Destruction Bay and waited for the rain to let up. Although the rain did not stop, it seemed to be letting up. We drove back to the river again, and found dad waiting on the opposite side of the river again. He was pointing emphatically towards the trees on our side of the river. I could not figure out what he was trying to say. It turns out that he saw a huge Grizzly bear kill a caribou on our side of the river the previous evening.
There was nothing we could do, so we went back into town. We came back every day for the next few days. The river situation did not change.
We finally showed up one day, and discovered that our high ground where we were parking to hike in to the ford, was gone. The river had changed its course, and had taken out a road that had stood for at least 60 years. This increased the length and intensity of our hike to the river ford.
We finally arrived, and saw dad waiting for us on the other side of the river. But again, the river had changed. The area of the ford was now very narrow, and moving very fast. It looked much deeper as well. The advantage to the river changing, was that we could yell across the river at each other. Dad yelled that he was thirsty. I guess his water supply was running low, and the water purifier pump became clogged in the muddy river water. We tried to throw bottles of water to him, but the river was still too wide. The bottles fell short.
Dad finally yelled that he needed to get out. He was out of food, his dog Bella was hungry, and he told us about the grizzly bear. We decided right there to hire a helicopter to rescue him from the river.
I guess the story really started about 60 years ago. My grandpa Jack immigrated to Canada from the Isle of Jersey. A little Island that is part of Great Britain, but is situated between England and France. He lived through the Nazi occupation of the island, and moved to Canada after the war. He never told the family any of the stories from that time in his life. Not until later in his life But I will get to that in due time.
When Jack moved to the Canada he met my grandmother. They got married, and had two sons. My dad was the younger of the two. Jack was a mechanic, as well as a gold miner. He had a couple of gold claims over the years, and many more stories from the wilds of the Yukon that would take up too much time in this story.
Jack and my grandmother split up, and my father moved with his mother to Vancouver, BC. Dad would spend his summers in the Yukon with Jack, helping with the gold mining and living out in the wild. Years later when he had his own sons, my dad would often reminisce about his days spent gold mining in the Yukon. It was something that he really wanted us to experience with him.
In the winter of 2012, Jacks health started failing him so Dad and I went up to visit him. Jack was in good spirits, and was his usual grumpy old self. He complained about the food he had to eat, and that he wasnt allowed to drive any more, but he was happy that we were there to see him. We were sitting around the dinner table making small talk, when Jack finally told us some stories about his time when he lived in Nazi occupied Jersey. He also spoke very excitedly about the gold claim that he had given to a cousin that lived up in the Yukon. Well that was when we decided that we were going to come up the following summer, and give gold panning a go. Jack even wanted to come with us to show us around the claim, and offer his advice (and criticism no doubt).
Well it was decided. My brother Mitch, dad, me, and the claim owner Brandon would go gold mining the following summer, with Jack in tow. We gathered equipment and supplies (some we already had) and began organizing our trip.
Unfortunately Grandpa Jack passed away before the summer adventure could begin.
We decided to continue with the trip, because we were all sure that Jack would have wanted us too. Dad and Mitch took up dads pickup truck, and loaded it up with all of our supplies. They made the three day trek to the Yukon from Vancouver. They met with Brandon, and drove to the Duke River, outside of Burwash Landing. They took Brandons truck as a secondary vehicle.
The claim was about a 45 minute drive up a dirt road, then across the Duke River on a little creek. They left Brandons truck on the west side of the river, and drove dads truck across to the east side of the river with all of the supplies. At this point the weather was great, and the river was only about thigh deep at the fording point. They set up camp, and started setting up our equipment.
I had work commitments, so I did not come up from the beginning. After a couple of days the weather started to turn, and the rains came. Around that time I took a flight from Vancouver to Whitehorse. Mitch and Brandon waded across the river, and drove to Whitehorse to pick me up. They left a day early so they could get supplies and unwind from being in the bush.
(Gratuitous knife pic)
After they picked me up we made the trip back towards the claim. By then there were torrential rains in the Duke River area. We also discovered that where the claim was located was in the middle of a flood plain. When we arrived at the river it had flooded so badly that it had taken over part of the dirt road that we had to drive on. We decided to park on high ground, and hike in to the fording area.
[video=youtube;N7Ty5a2is_E]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N7Ty5a2is_E[/video]
The road had become an extension of the river. We got wet. The kind of wet that is right to the bone. When we got to the ford, the river was about 4 times wider than it had been before, and it was a raging torrent. The water was deafening. There was no way to safely cross the river now. We blew our air horns as a signal to dad that we were there. He arrived on the other side of the river several minutes later. It wasnt until after the ordeal was over, that he told us that he did not hear the air horns. He was simply going to the ford every hour or so to check if we had arrived. We tried to make hand signals to ask if he was okay, using binoculars to see his replies. It appeared that everything was fine. We communicated that we would come back in two days to try and cross again.
[video=youtube;rVhlgVau2_M]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rVhlgVau2_M[/video]
(A quick video of the ford)
We stayed at a nearby town called Destruction Bay and waited for the rain to let up. Although the rain did not stop, it seemed to be letting up. We drove back to the river again, and found dad waiting on the opposite side of the river again. He was pointing emphatically towards the trees on our side of the river. I could not figure out what he was trying to say. It turns out that he saw a huge Grizzly bear kill a caribou on our side of the river the previous evening.
There was nothing we could do, so we went back into town. We came back every day for the next few days. The river situation did not change.
We finally showed up one day, and discovered that our high ground where we were parking to hike in to the ford, was gone. The river had changed its course, and had taken out a road that had stood for at least 60 years. This increased the length and intensity of our hike to the river ford.
We finally arrived, and saw dad waiting for us on the other side of the river. But again, the river had changed. The area of the ford was now very narrow, and moving very fast. It looked much deeper as well. The advantage to the river changing, was that we could yell across the river at each other. Dad yelled that he was thirsty. I guess his water supply was running low, and the water purifier pump became clogged in the muddy river water. We tried to throw bottles of water to him, but the river was still too wide. The bottles fell short.
Dad finally yelled that he needed to get out. He was out of food, his dog Bella was hungry, and he told us about the grizzly bear. We decided right there to hire a helicopter to rescue him from the river.
