Northern Verses by Dennis Lattery

Author:Dennis Lattery
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Publication Consultants

DEAD HORSE GULCH

Two old trails cross Alaska’s coastal mountains,

Each route a rugged Klondike gateway.

One, Chilkoot Pass, leads north from Dyea’s shore

And the other, White Pass, headed north from Skagway.

Chilkoot Pass was an early trade route

Known to be an old Native trail

And Native porters were for hire, at a dollar a pound,

To stampeders with the cash to avail.

Beasts of burden could be used up to Sheep Camp

But from there the path grew much too steep.

The climb over Chilkoot Pass, like a monster stepladder,

Gave the healthiest of men cause to weep.

White Pass was also an ancient native trade route,

Perhaps the more miserable and rugged of the two,

Where, for some unknown reason,

Pack animals were used in getting through.

Those who headed up the trail from Skagway

Surly knew in their hearts very well

That the beasts they employed and would depend upon

Were being lead one way into hell.

A toll road was built some miles out of Skagway

And a toll bridge across the Skagway River;

But the terror of the trail still remained up ahead,

The worst the White Pass route could deliver.

This horror was a long boulder canyon

A nightmare of busted rock, broken trees, and bog.

Here the trail that climbs the side of a mountain,

Was made even worse by the rain and fog.

Dead Horse Gulch was the name it was given.

A bit of history writers choose to pass on by.

But the title was awarded for a reason,

And the reason was so many had to die.

Once into this nightmare there was no quitting,

No passage back against a moving tide.

On a trail crammed with gold infected travelers

Hardly more than a packhorse wide.

Neither was there feed for the horses

And water most likely only snow.

Hay that was costly as flour

Put that item among the very first to go.

When night called for a halt to forward travel

There was neither time nor space to unload.

The beasts just stood in place with their packs on

Until dawn pressed them on up the road.

The greatest danger by far was from falling

And animals slipped to their death by the score.

The number that is quoted is five thousand

Dead Horse Gulch may have murdered many more.

In 98’ the deadly pack strings were most ended,

By a railroad chiseled out through the Pass,

Across the canyon from where fate had been concluded,

For an innocent and defenseless mass.

Some say of a night you can still hear them,

Their spirits moaning softly in the gloom,

In the rain and fog up north of Skagway

From the canyon where they all met their doom.

Can this page from the gold rush be forgiven?

Was such carnage justified by the goal?

Perhaps writer Jack London has said it the best,

The men who did this each had lost his soul.

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