Easter on the Crocus Bluffs

Normally, nothing would drag me out of bed at 6:15 in the morning, particularly when it’s still dark and the thermometer reads-3, and the reason for getting up is to attend a church service. Today, I made an exception. I was intrigued when, Kathy, my wonderful hostess/guide/friend extended an invite to a 7:30am interdenominational Easter service, to be held high on the cliffs above Dawson City. I have to admit, I hesitated for a minute, but I was in, as soon as the words, “followed by a big breakfast with eggs benny,” were out of her mouth. (JR, if you are reading this, always make sure to include a feast when converting).

It was an awesome service — the best I’ve ever been to. There were about thirty of us, and in the distance we could hear a lone raven calling out. The attending Anglican minister kept the service short, and relevant. There was a certain pagan appeal to the whole ceremony as we stood heads bowed, the forest in front of us, and the frozen Yukon River our backdrop. The bluffs were once a tent city to over 40,000 miners, and as we drove up the road, we passed at least three cemeteries filled with the graves of mostly young men who had come to Dawson to find gold and never left. I couldn’t help wondering how many of those fortune hunters had stood on those same bluffs, so many years ago and said a little prayer for survival. By the number of headstones peeking up out of the snow, I think it’s fair to say, that not all of their prayers Easter on Crocus Bluffswere heard.

Happy Easter Everybody.

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