That Old House

Back in the summer of 1986, my son (Steve, 14) and I (42) journeyed to Alaska and the Yukon. I was in the early throes of my Jack London/Call of the Wild obsession, and I wanted to see the sites that London had mentioned in his novella. 

Also, I had recently been animated by the discovery that my own great-grandfather, Addison Clark Dyer, had flowed along with the first wave of the Klondike Gold Rush (1896-99)--and, even better, he'd kept a journal. I'd read it, and we had a list of places he'd mentioned, including the claim he'd filed near Dawson City.

We also saw the house in the pic above that was, fruitlessly, still trying to stand.

I sometimes think about that house. 1986. That was nearly thirty-five years ago. Could it still be at all erect? 

The reason for the collapses up there: the softening of the permafrost, a softening due to ... you know.

Anyway, I think about that house for a variety of reasons, the obvious one being this: "Things fall apart" (thank you, Mr. Yeats). And not just things--people, too. And relationships. And economies. And forms of government. And ...

But, lately, I've been thinking about how the dreams for yourself when you were a child (a cowboy, a catcher for the New York Yankees), a young man (a writer--surely a Nobel Prizewinner), an older man (continuing good health, continuing ability to exercise), an even older man (being able to walk to the coffee shop, to shovel the sidewalk, to drive a car)--all of these fold in upon themselves like that old house in Dawson City. Whether you want them to or not.

Steve and I had a great time up there. Weather was perfect. We found so many places that are still engraved in my brain. I bought some sourdough starter that I’m still using.

And I would return a half-dozen years later to hike over the Chilkoot Pass (leading from Dyea, Alaska, to Lake Bennett), a route the gold-seekers took, gold-seekers that included my great-grandfather and Jack London.

And, nearly a century later, my son and I stood in their footsteps. We could not imagine our explorations ever ending. Just as Jack London couldn’t. Just as my great-grandfather couldn’t.

Midnight Dome, overlooking Dawson City.
The Yukon River heads off behind us.
The Klondike River flows in from the left.