The “new government road” that was built to connect Whitehorse and Dawson in 1902 was actually more trail than road, and it was divided into five separate sections by the Takhini, Yukon, Pelly and Stewart rivers. But by the 1920s, the Yukon government was having difficulty maintaining roads, and this route was in very bad shape.1 Between the poor condition of the road and fewer daylight travelling hours, Lillian’s walking speed was reduced from a high of 30 miles (48 kilometres) per day to a new low of just 10 miles (16 kilometres). It was also much more difficult to find shelter for the night. Laura Berton, in her book I Married the Klondike, described the route at this time:
Many of the roadhouses, which in the old days had been spotted every twenty-two miles along the winter road, were closed. Passengers now had to provide their own lunches and these were eaten in the open after being thawed out by a bonfire on the side of the trail.2
When Lillian could not make it to a roadhouse or where there wasn’t one to be found, occasionally she may have come across an abandoned cabin, a few of which were still fully equipped all these years after the Klondike gold rush. As freight rates were so high, it had been impractical for most of the miners to ship their household goods out, so they had just abandoned everything, and for many years travellers could find bedding, furniture, curtains, cooking utensils and more. However, by the late 1920s, the years and the weather had taken their toll, and most of the houses had lost their contents and structure to either passersby or the winter snows.
This late in the year it was also impossible for her to live off the land. By September the fresh berries at the roadside would have been eaten by birds or bears or would have dried up in the summer sun. She had no traps or snares to catch small game, or fishing equipment—although the rivers teemed with record-sized trout.
The Whitehorse Star, which had begun referring to Lillian as “the Mystery Woman,” caught up with her progress just 22 miles (35 kilometres) north of Whitehorse where the new government road was bisected by the Takhini River. There she met James Adams, the keeper of the roadhouse at that point, who “had misgivings about extending the usual courtesies.” The “usual courtesies”3 in this case meant taking her across the river in his boat. Fortunately, he appears to have quelled his misgivings, because the newspaper’s next report, delivered to its avid readers on September 7, placed her northeast of that point:
The last report of the mystery woman was that she was seen by H. Chambers some distance east of Tahkinna [sic] several days after she left here. Mr. Chambers offered to give her a ride to the fork of the road but she declined.4
Mr. Chambers was probably Harry “Shorty” Chambers, vice-president of the Whitehorse Board of Trade.
There were no further reports until she reached Carmacks, a settlement at the junction of the Yukon and Nordenskiold rivers.5 The Whitehorse Star reported that “the mystery woman passed through Carmacks but she maintained her silence.”6 However, the paper noted that “she made some meagre purchases”7 before she continued her journey. It was now about September 10 and she was 112 miles (180 kilometres) north of Whitehorse, but she still had 225 miles (360 kilometres) to go to reach Dawson City.
A few days after leaving Carmacks, the paper reported that she had travelled another 30 miles (48 kilometres) north and arrived at Yukon Crossing “where she allowed H.O. Lokken to put her over the river. She still has the Pelly and Stewart rivers to negotiate.”8 Harold O. Lokken had arrived in the district during the gold rush years, had served as head linesman on the Yukon Telegraph for many years and was still an active prospector. Lokken also acted as the local ferryman.
By mid-September, Lillian had passed through Pelly Crossing where, the Whitehorse Star informed its readers, “A. Shafer” had taken her across the Pelly River in his boat. This would have been Alexander Shafer who, with his wife Margaret, ran the Pelly Crossing roadhouse.9
Then, according to the Dawson News, Lillian walked the 40 miles (64 kilometres) from Pelly Crossing north to Stewart Crossing on the shore of the Stewart River, arriving near the end of September. By this time she had walked some 252 miles (405 kilometres) from Whitehorse.
At Stewart Crossing, she bought or was given a type of raft known as a “float-me-down,” composed of whatever logs and branches happen to be at hand. It was on this contraption that she floated down the Stewart River until she reached the settlement known as Stewart City, which lies at the junction of the Stewart and Yukon rivers. At this point a storm blew up and it became too dangerous to launch her raft onto the Yukon River, and she was forced to stay on shore for a few days. The Whitehorse Star noted that “T.A. Dickson’s survey party was camped [there] and the boys cared for her for three days during a bad storm.”10 Thomas A. Dickson (1856-1952) was one of four brothers who had all been members of the North West Mounted Police. Thomas Dickson had served with the Tagish detachment in 1898 and after leaving the force had become the Yukon’s first big-game guide.11
Lillian’s choice of transportation was not an unusual one for this region. With no roads and few trails, but with plenty of fairly navigable rivers, locals and visitors alike used boats and rafts of all kinds as a main form of transportation. “When the ice at last cleared,” wrote Archie Satterfield in his book After the Gold Rush, “they launched an armada of steamboats, canoes, rowboats, skin boats and rafts called ‘float-me-downs’ that they sold for lumber in Dawson City.”12 Even children were trusted to float down the river safely towards Dawson. Alex Van Bibber, who as an adult was a well-known big game guide and outfitter, described his trip down the river from Pelly Crossing toward Dawson to attend boarding school at St. Paul’s Hostel:
To get to school in Dawson in September, we used a raft. My dad wouldn’t see us paying for tickets on a sternwheeler when the river ran in that direction anyway. So he built a raft and loaded us on it with a bunch of vegetables. Before he pushed us out into the current, the old man would give us some advice. “If the raft starts to get water-logged, just pull into a drift pile and tie a few more logs on to give it some buoyancy. It’ll keep floating that way.” We were still pretty young and scared of bears, so most of the time we would sleep right on the raft. When we did spend the night on the beach, we’d make sure we were real close to that raft, and if we heard any noises, we didn’t waste any time poling it out into the river again. All us kids would just huddle together in an old broken down sleeping bag that we’d sell or just throw away after we got to the other end.13
Alex was one of the sixteen children of Ira Van Bibber, who was originally from West Virginia, and his wife, Eliza, affectionately known as “Short.” She was a Tlingit of the Crow clan and was originally from Juneau, Alaska. They owned two roadhouses in Pelly Crossing.
But Lillian was not destined to continue her journey on her “float-me-down” all the way to Dawson City. According to an article written by Irving J. Reed for Alaska Life in June 1942, when she showed up at the confluence of the two rivers on her roughly hewn home-made raft, it looked “so dangerous that a sourdough along the bank took pity on her. He gave her his boat so that she might continue more safely her journey from the mouth of the Stewart, down the Yukon River to Dawson.”14 The fact that all further sightings of her on her river travels place her in a boat rather than on a raft suggests that this was probably how and where she acquired it.
By now readers of the Whitehorse Star and the Dawson News were becoming anxious for word of the “mystery woman.” The weather had been blustery ever since the storm that had held Lillian up for three days at the mouth of the Stewart River. But most of them knew exactly how long it took to float down the Yukon from there to Dawson, and she was definitely overdue. Where was she? The Dawson City News reported:
Lillian Alling, “mystery woman” hiker, who reached Ogilvie Monday night [October 1], and who pulled out by small boat from that island, fifty miles above [south of] Dawson, the following day has not yet reported here.15
Then on October 6 the Dawson News was able to report that all was well. Lillian had been “held windbound at Swede Creek for two days” and then “finally set sail Friday morning [October 5].”16 As Swede Creek is just a few miles from Dawson, readers could expect her to arrive in Dawson any moment. And she did.
The Dawson City News then recapped Lillian’s journey for its readers:
She braved the perils of the overland trail through the Yukon arriving safely at Stewart Crossing from which point she made the balance of the journey to Dawson by small boat. Unaccustomed to oars and unfamiliar with the tortuous channel of the mighty Yukon, forced to endure the biting wind and frost of an impending winter, the woman traveler spent the most trying and uncomfortable hours of her long trip in making the last lap, from Stewart City to Dawson.17