#sheep camp

[pogphotoarchives]

Diné family at sheep camp in Wheatfield Mountains, Northern Arizona Photographer: Marian F. Love Date: 1949 Negative Number 102404 The family is Alden Begay's grandparents with his mother and aunt Mae.

[onceuponatown]

Courtney’s Store and prospectors at Sheep Camp, Alaska. 1890′s. 

Sheep Camp was where goldminers prepared for the climb over the Chilkoot Pass to the Yukon goldfields in the late 1890s. On April 3, 1898, an avalanche killed 60 people here. 

Sheep Camp was not really a community, just a collection of tents near the foot of the Chilkoot Pass, where miners rested before attempting the terrible climb. It was located on the Chilkoot Trail, between Skagway, Alaska, and the international boundary at the top of the Chilkoot Pass. The tents were used for a few days by some of the thousands of men and women who were to pass that way, amidst a jumble of supplies and debris.

[whittychristianuk]

Our adventurous gang.

[whittychristianuk]

I don’t want to leave the tent yet. This coffee is too enjoyable, that summit too tall.

[whittychristianuk]

Chilkoot Day 2: Sheep Camp to Happy Camp

The morning of day 2 we woke up (or at least I did) a bit sore from the previous day’s hike, adding to that uncertain feeling of the looming summit.

The most famous images of the 1890s gold rush all come from the Golden Stairs, a very steep ascent to the summit of the pass at 1067 m (starting at Sheep Camp at around 305 m). By far the most well-known part of the trail, it was also the part of the trail constantly on all of our minds. I thought of it often the previous day whenever I would feel a bit tired, hoping that I wouldn’t wear myself out before the starting summit. It wasn’t just the sudden elevation gain over rocky, unstable terrain that was worrisome; it was also the fact that despite any training beforehand our packs were adding a lot of weight to our backs, making the climb all the more difficult.

Pushing the doubts aside we packed up our tents and our little group of four met at the common cook area to make ourselves a hearty breakfast. Then we hit the trail.

The weather on the second day was a lot different, with a constant mist in the air and fog covering the mountain peaks. Occasionally (and for the entirety of the second half of the day) the mist would turn to full-on ran and soak us to the core. In the morning we were immediately wet and the didn’t dry out until we reached shelter after the day’s hike.

Our first obstacle was Long Hill, so named because it’s one hell of a long hill. The grade wasn’t insanely steep, but it was a consistent uphill slog for a solid 5 km. We quickly gained elevation and the trees started to become smaller and eventually disappeared. The trail itself followed a deep canyon with many streams coming down from the summit. This section was pretty full on, and by the time we made it to our next landmark (The Scales) we were pretty beat. Again, as I was climbing this long ass hill I couldn’t help but be concerned about whether my legs had enough energy left to tackle the much steeper summit.

When we reached The Scales we rested for a bit and refilled our waters in a stream. The Scales was a flat plateau at the base of the Golden Stairs, which acted as a launching point to the summit. There was once a camp here during the Klondike stampede, with many a stampeder resting before tackling the climb.

After a quick rest we dove in, climbing over the large boulders that made up the ascent. The footing was rough, with many crevasses making a misstep potentially hazardous. Despite this, once we hit the Golden Stairs all my worries about the slope immediately disappeared and it was one of the most enjoyable (and dare I say easy) parts of the hike. We were essentially climbing over boulders, and though we had been hiking for 1.5 days at this point our calves were able to have a rest and our thighs took over instead. Though the climb to the top took around an hour, it was exciting and enjoyable in every moment. Even the cold and rain was pleasant at the time, cooling down our working muscles.

We kept climbing through the fog, with Dad taking the lead (he wasn’t about to let us “kids” beat him to the top) and in no time we had conquered the summit. All the lingering concerns in the back our minds about whether our packs were too heavy or our legs too tired amounted to nothing. We had climbed the 1067 m summit and were delighted. In retrospect it was a small feat, with actual Klondikers making this climb 40 times with 50 lb loads on their backs each time in order to haul all their gold mining equipment, but we weren’t about to let that lessen our triumph. Either way, Dad won the day by reaching the summit ahead of all of us.

One we reached a post-summit plateau (now in Canada) there was a small cabin in order to warm up and have a bite to eat. The shack itself was full-up with other hikers so the Parks Canada warden invited us our group into their own private warden’s cabin. I couldn’t have asked for a more exciting reward after our climb. Inside we cherished the warmth, finally realizing just how cold and miserable it was outside, and we busted out our cans of Chilkoot Lager we had hauled with us. At that point the Parks Canada warden gave us a look of disapproval and said “maybe the four of you should just share one beer. Drinking alcohol in this weather could accelerate hypothermia”. We were sorry to disappoint her, but when she went outside the cabin we each cracked upon our own beers, had a cheers, and savoured the delicious treat. We hadn’t each carried a can of Chilkoot for 1.5 days to not drink it at the summit of the Chilkoot. And anyways it was a single beer; no one was about to get hypothermia from one beer.

While we had our beer, outside the warden’s cabin was a gorgeous German Shepherd who had accompanied the American National Park Service Ranger up the pass, and who we had encountered during our climb. We were told during any given day the dog (I sadly can’t remember her name - Molly or something) would climb up and down the summit several times. Though we were needing a rest, Molly(?) was ready and excited to make the climb a few more times.

After warming up and finishing our beers we threw on our packs and continued onward toward our destination of Happy Camp, a 7 km descent for the summit. The terrain in this area was absolutely stunning. We were high above the tree line and there was nothing but meadows, flowing rivers and streams, and large glacial lakes. With the fog adding some atmosphere, it really felt as if we were hiking on another planet.

We continued for some time, crossing wide shallow rivers and traversing the banks of the emerald blue lakes. I was completely engrossed in our surroundings the entire time, gawking at the alpine terrain. Slowly but surely we descended through ravines and passes. The rain was steady at this point, dampening our spirits a bit (and encouraging Kristi to hike as fast as possible to reach shelter), but despite the long slog (which felt a hell of a lot longer than 6 km) we eventually caught sight of Happy Camp and made our way down.

Happy Camp itself was nestled in the river valley near the start of long lake, and was presumably named due to it being the first proper resting spot after the difficult summit. There we set up our tents, and scrambled inside for shelter and warmth. We lit our stove, cooked some food, and had a celebratory dram of Crown Royal. We spent the rest of the night talking, laughing, drying out (for the most part; at one point a particularly dumb hiker from another group took Kristi’s jacket by mistake and got it as wet as possible outside - even his son seemed a bit embarrassed of him), and enjoying a rest after a long and soaking wet day.

[whittychristianuk]

The last stretch of the day toward Sheep Camp, where we retired for the day.

[aimeereadsalot]

Read anywhere, especially at your family cabin. 

[paleotool]

(via Wyoming Sheepherders)