Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
Rhonda was waiting at the top with a grin the size of Galveston and a handful of gorp.
What I really wanted was champagne.
Now only forty-five degrees of Golden Stairs lay between us and the summit. During
the winter of 1897-98, two enterprising stampeders carved steps in the snow covering the
pass and collected eighty dollars a day in tolls, which after six weeks they promptly blew
on an extended tear. This was summer, and to me the Golden Stairs looked like just anoth-
er, albeit shorter Scales. “Rhonda,” I said, “Samuel Benton Steele is waiting for me at the
summit, right? In his red uniform, with his Mountie hat on and his arms wide open, say-
ing, 'I've been waiting for you, babe?'” Steele being that magnificent Mountie who saved
so many lives during the gold rush by refusing to admit stampeders into Canada without
their supplies, who saved more lives by keeping strict track of the boats that sailed to
Dawson from Lindeman and Bennett, who kept Soapy Smith's gang bottled up on the
U.S. side of the border, and whose enforcement of Canadian customs at the Chilkoot Pass
established a de facto international border that stands to this day.
“I don't know, Dana,” Rhonda said, and I said, “Just say he is, Rhonda,” and she said,
“Sam's waiting for you on the summit, Dana,” and I said, “Okay, then, let's go.”
Another snow field, another boulder climb, and there was the summit. No, wait, it was
a false summit. Bad word. Another snow field, another boulder climb, and the summit, but
no, a second false summit. Very bad word. Another snow field, and then there was the
summit, the real summit, the last, the final, the one true summit of the Chilkoot Pass.
“Rhonda, I can see the Canadian flag!” I shouted. I don't even remember the last rocks
I climbed over to get to the border. The Lion of the Yukon wasn't waiting for me, only a
warden in a Parks Canada uniform, but I was so happy to see her that I flung out my arms
and belted out the first line of the Canadian national anthem as we crossed into her coun-
try. The wind was kicking up and it was nippy, but the sun had never been brighter, the
sky bluer, the Canadian flag more beautiful, no orange had ever tasted better, and I had
never loved Rhonda and Sharyn so much.
“I can't believe what my body just did,” Sharyn said.
“It's a great accomplishment,” Rhonda said.
“We've still got five miles to go,” I said.
They looked at me in disgust. They didn't say I had no soul, but they were thinking it.
