West Coast Trail: The Janet Cowan

The rugged west coast of Vancouver Island was the scene of many a shipwreck during the 1800s. In my last blog post, I related the story of the Russian freighter Uzbekistan. Fortunately no lives were lost. This wasn’t always the case, as was witnessed with the Valencia (coming in a future blog post) and the Janet Cowan.

The Janet Cowan was a 4-masted barque that was caught in a violent gale and wrecked a few kilometers south of Pachena Point or not far from the location of the Uzbekistan’s final resting spot.

It was New Year’s Eve, 1895, when the barque, enroute from South Africa to Vancouver, BC, crashed on the rocks. There were 29 seafarers aboard under the command of Captain Thompson.

Thompson ordered the evacuation of the barque, as the constant battering of the waves against the hull would eventually send it on its side and break the vessel apart. A seaman bravely jumped into the cold and tempestuous surf and dragged a line to shore. The line was rigged with a bosun’s chair. Slowly the crew made their way to safety. In the tradition of the sea, Captain Thompson was the last to leave the ship. He lost his grip on the line and the bosun’s chair flipped, resulting in Thompson being dragged to shore, upside down, through the water. He survived the ordeal, but the worst for wear.

With constant snow or rain, cold temperatures, few supplies, and some survivors suffering from hypothermia, the decision was made to send nine of the strongest seamen in search of help. Their plan was to follow the telegraph line that linked Victoria with the lighthouses. Those who remained, would set up a camp on a bluff overlooking the ocean, from where they hoped to flag a passing boat. After eleven days of cold, miserable weather, five crew members succumbed to hypothermia, including Captain Thompson.

On January 11, an American tug, Tyee, rescued the survivors. A crewman from the tug recounted what he saw; “A sight ...... that will not be forgotten for years to come. Seated about a fire were 13 men all wearing an expression of utter helplessness and misery.”

The nine other men reached a cabin along the telegraph trail and were rescued by Phil Daykin, the lightkeeper of Carmanah, who set off on foot along the trail after being telegraphed by the Tyee.

The old telegraph trail, established in 1890 to link Victoria to coastal lighthouses, was rough at best. Winter storms often brought down the line and washed out the trail. After the wreck of the Janet Cowan, Canada's federal government talked about adding a lighthouse and developing the trail into a life-saving system, but no action was taken until one of the worst maritime disasters in modern history occurred on January 22, 1906, with the sinking of the passenger ship Valencia.

Read the newspaper account of the Janet Cowan tragedy.

West Coast Trail: Last Great Shipwreck

The West Coast Trail has been witness to many shipwrecks during the 1800s. Most of these were the result of fierce coastal storms and poor navigational aids. As charts and more sophisticated navigational equipment evolved, the likelihood of any major shipwreck lessened - that was until the Russian freighter Uzbekistan ran up on a reef on April 1, 1943.

The Uzbekistan was assigned to transporting supplies for the war effort, between the west coast and Vladivostok, Russia. The reason the Russian captain, P. Ovchinnikoff, ran his vessel straight onto shore near Darling Creek, and far off its intended course, is still a mystery.

Speculation is that the surfacing of a Japanese submarine near the lighthouse at Estevan Point, and subsequent shelling of the beach nearby on June 20, 1942, played a role. After the attack, west coast lighthouses were ordered to maintain black-out conditions to protect coastal installations. Without a lighthouse reference, it is quite possible the captain became disoriented and steamed into shore.

With the vessel settled high on the coastal shelf, the captain and crew had no alternative but to abandon ship and wade through shallow tide water to shore. The crew hiked the rough coastal trail to Bamfield, some 18 km (9 mi) away. They were picked up by a Canadian naval ship and returned to Victoria. No inquiry followed as the captain, his crew, and ship’s log were very quickly returned to Russia. The Canadian army was charged with guarding the vessel. Bored sentries used the vessel as target practice to ward off the tedium.

It wasn't long before water filled her hull and fierce coastal storms rolled her onto her side , eliminating any possibility of saving her. Looters took little time in taking advantage of the ship’s situation.

“Them waters was bad news for the skipper of that boat, but good for me! As soon as she started breaking up, I knew there was no hope of salvaging the whole thing, but there was lots of smaller bits for me to pick up! You can still see her boilers and some engine parts wedged on the beach at low tide there. Nothing you could haul in to sell, but a good reminder of that night she ran aground.”

Pieces from the steel hull from the Uzbekistan can still be seen today at low tide at Darling Creek by hikers along the West Coast Trail.

Klondike Goldrush Era Riverboat Found

A.J. Goddard, named for her owner (Seattle's Pacific Ironworks), was built in San Francisco and shipped to Alaska in pieces. It was carried over the Chilkoot Trail and re-assembled at Lake Bennett. Bennett was the staging area for the vast movement of goldrushers and supplies in 1897-98. It became one of more than 250 steamboats that carried miners and supplies on the Yukon River. In October 1901 it sank in heavy winds, ice, and waves at the north end of Lake Laberge.

Three crew, the captain, cook, and fireman drowned and were buried when after their bodies washed ashore. A crewman and engineer managed to make it to shore and lived to recount the sinking.

The archaeological find is a window on life aboard a riverboat during this era, as the vessel and its contents were perfectly preserved in the cold waters.

"The boiler door is open and the firewood they tossed in to get try to get up enough steam to get out of trouble is still in there with charring on it," marine archaeologist James Delgado said. "Somebody shrugged off their coat and kicked off their shoes as they tried to swim for it and that's still lying on the deck."

The vessel had its own repair shop, blacksmith's forge, an anvil, and a workbench. Dishes, stove, and canvas tent on the main deck provide a window on crew life on board. The most interesting find was a music machine with 3 vinyl records, one in such good condition it can be played today.

Digital imagery, to map the well preserved remains, has now been completed. Visit the 3D imagery to find out more about the work

An interesting side story is that of Clara Goddard, wife of AJ Goddard, who became the first female riverboat pilot in the north.

The Sourtoe Cocktail

The Sourtoe Cocktail has become a Dawson City tradition, and is exactly what it sounds like: an actual human toe that has been dehydrated, preserved in salt, and served in a drink.

The tradition was begun in 1973. Some locals decided that visitors could become honorary sourdoughs by downing an alcoholic drink with a severed toe in it. One of them, Dick Stevenson, had bought a cabin just outside Dawson that had belonged to two brothers who ran booze during the Prohibition. On one such dogsled journey during the winter, one of the brothers had his toe frozen and then amputated by the other brother. For whatever reason, they kept the toe preserved in alcohol until it was discovered by Dick Stevenson. By replacing sourdough with sourtoe, visitors could bypass the traditional method of becoming a sourdough which was by surviving the freezing of the Yukon River in September to its break-up in May. The kicker was that the toe must touch the drinker’s lips.


In 1980, a local miner was trying for the sourtoe record. After many glasses, he accidentally tipped his chair backwards and swallowed the toe. It was not recovered, a dread that many contemplating the tradition fear may happen to them. Thanks to the generosity of other amputees there is a healthy reserve of toes should further accidents occur.

For the brave among you, the ritual is played out nightly at Dawson City's Downtown Hotel's bar during the summer months. Initially it was required that the human toe be placed in an alcoholic drink, but times have changed. Nowadays you can enjoy the ritual with a Coke. By having the toe touch your your lips sometime during the process entitles you to membership in the exclusive “Sourtoe Cocktail Club” and one of over 60,000 brothers and sisters.

Rockies: The Hills are Alive with the Sound of Music

It's important to have a respect and caution when hiking through bear country. The Rockies are such a place.

We had a husband and wife, Ed and Marlene, who joined our group because Marlene had an extreme fear of bears. Her husband had convinced her that she would be safe traveling with a group, and professional guides. She wasn't entirely convinced, but was not going to disappoint her husband, nor allow a fear to keep her from doing something she had dreamed of for many years.

We met with our group the night before our trip to discuss the hike ahead. Throughout our orientation session it was obvious that Marlene was uncomfortable. As the topic turned to safety in bear country, she had numerous questions that pointed to an anxiety that needed attention and calming. Her husband mentioned that some well-meaning friends had given her a book entitled, "Worst Grizzly Bear Attacks". She managed to read a few of the short stories before Ed took the book from her to avoid any further damage.

We assured Marlene that we followed a safe protocol in bear territory and never had any serious encounters. Besides, there had never been a recorded bear attack against a group. She offered that she heard that singing was a good way to announce one's presence while hiking. If this would comfort her, then we would do that for her. She said yes. My assisting guides were tasked with fulfilling my promise.

Over six days of hiking through some spectacular mountain scenery, we sang constantly. Someone in the group suggested that we rename the company, Van Trapp Expeditions. Aside of keeping the hills alive with the sound of music, we placed her in the middle of the group while hiking (bears would have to eat through 4 hikers, back and front before reaching her), made sure to locate her tent in the middle of all the others at night (the idea came from old westerns where wagon trains were circled at night), and gave her some bear spray to cuddle up with. I don't think Ed welcomed his demotion.

A successful battle plan had worked its magic. Our last night was a campsite adjacent to Mount Assiniboine. We celebrated our hike, talked about producing an album of our mountain songs, and rejoiced in the fact that we had seen no bears. A full moon, cloudless skies, and a ceiling of celestial points of light supplied an ambiance for a perfect end to a perfect week of hiking. Tomorrow we would break camp early, hike to the trailhead, and return to our separate lives.

I felt good about this hike as I lay my head down in the tent. Sometime, as I reviewed the week in my mind's eye, I fell off into a deep sleep.

What? What's the commotion? Shouts? I rose to my elbows, trying to shake the drowsiness from my head. Something was in camp and causing everyone to stir. We called to each other from within our tents. I instructed all to stay in the tents while the guides exited cautiously to see what our visitor was up to. We hoped that the kaffufle would frighten off the intruder. As we eyeballed the camp area, we became aware of an argument that was being played out in the middle tent. Apparently Marlene was insisting that Ed turn over the bear spray to her. He was afraid that she would, in a panic, fire off the spray indiscriminately, and he would be the victim. She, on the other hand, told her husband that she only wanted to read the instructions, to be prepared.

Nothing about! We told the hikers that everything was fine. Some called out wanting to know what came into camp. My junior guide blurted out that it was only a porcupine. Calmness returned. We went to each tent and made sure that people were once again comfortable. Two ladies, who were seasoned hikers, called us over to their tent. "That creature was outside our tent and it wasn't any @#!!&%$ porcupine!" We just looked at each other.