Yukon River Camp

“A half-dead thing in a stark dead world, clean mad for the muck called gold.” 

-Robert Service

Yukon River Camp

Yukon River Camp is at mile 56 on on the Dalton highway, just 60 miles short of the arctic circle. Think of it as an outpost, one of only three on the 500 mile road to offer gas, propane, food, cigarettes, razors, candy... Basicly everything you could need while traveling.

I say road because the term highway (as in Dalton Highway) is used very liberally here. The Dalton is a sometimes paved, sometimes gravel stretch that rolls up and down hills, around bodies of water, and alongside the pipeline. By the time cars reach us at mile 56 they are brown with dust or mud, no matter what color they started as.

The Yukon River Bridge

There's a mix of customers: truckers from the oil industry, tourists on their way to the arctic circle or the arctic ocean, and natives who live at least part time along the banks of the river. Today there were some bear hunters heading down the river who stopped for lunch and 100 gallons of gasoline. Yesterday a guy called from Fairbanks with a message for his father who lives up river and occasionally visits us, so we played secretary and tacked the note up for the next time he comes in.

My job title is "camp host" but I'm kind of a waitress, clerk, gas attendant, and jack of all trades, which is good because it's never boring. There are only eight employees here and, lucky for me, they're all great (this would be a long summer otherwise). So far I'm enjoying myself; reading a lot and going for walks in the "woods" (more to come on that).