Dawson

"When on July 17th 1897 the steamship Portland docked at Seattle, bringing betaled news and hard evidence that an enormously rich strike of gold had been made the summer before along the Klondike river on extreme wetern border of Canada, the world was startled by a felicitous sentence scribbled in haste by an excited reporter who visited the ship.
(...)
Those sensational words, a 'ton of gold', flashed around the world, evoking wild enthusiasm wherever they appeared. Across the United States and Canada, men who had suffered sore deprivation during the great financial panic of 1893 cried 'Gold to be had for the picking! Fortunes for everyone!' and off they scrambled, with no knowledge at all of mining or metallurgy, and very little sense of how to protect themselves on a frontier.
(...)
'In from the South, out to te North' was the rule at Dawson City, the Canadian settlement that sprang  up near the spot where the little Klondike emptied into the wide Yukon."

Those are the first lines of the novel Journey, by James A. Michener.

Welcome to Dawson City, its dirt roads, wood sidewalks, cancan saloons and its buildings damaged by the permafrost. It used to be the biggest town in Canada during the gold rush, with 8,000 inhabitants, now 1,200 souls live there all year long.

 This is what happens to your car when you spend too much time on those roads...

After a very good night and breakfast at Juliette's Manor, I go to Jack London Museum, which contains a replica of the log cabin where he lived, a few miles away from Dawson City. I had toi pay my tribute to him, after so many years dreaming of Alaska and Yukon thanks to him, I probably wouldn't be here if it were not for him.