Atlin`s
History
Atlin, British Columbia is located in solitary stubbornness a few miles south of the Yukon border. Atlin is near Atlin Lake, British Columbia's largest natural lake, a lake of haunting beauty. A small infusion of new log buildings stand on orderly streets among aged clapboard houses and historic public places as proof of the town's continued regeneration. A major gold rush gave birth to Atlin, but a reason for its present healthy state is not particularly obvious. Many British Columbians have never heard of Atlin, but this was not always the case.
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Atlin`s nearest provincial neighbor is Telegraph Creek, far away on the Stikine River. They are connected by an overgrown trail 375 km long. This old route, the Telegraph Trail, was once busy with travelers, hunters and the men who operated and maintained the Dominion Telegraph line. Now it is part of the past as are the other abandoned trails, blazed by stampeders, then used for years by Atlinites, visitors and suppliers on their way in and out of the community. Atlin had passed its half century mark before a road was built linking it with the Alaska Highway. Since 1949 it has been more closely allied with Whitehorse, Yukon than with any place in British Columbia.
In
the beginning, though, and for a number of years at the turn of the
20th century, Atlin`s name was recognized throughout the province.
It had the rapt attention of the mining industry, and was the subject
of newspaper columns from Dawson City to San Francisco, New York and
beyond. Gold was found on an Atlin creek in 1898, just when the entire
world seemed bent on reaching the Yukon. The rousing news of an important
strike 1000 km south of the Klondike changed the minds of thousands
of stampeders who detoured to the Atlin goldfields instead. Proof of
Atlin gold captured crews building the great White Pass railroad, and
played serious havoc with construction schedules after 1500 men left
their jobs to find gold in Atlin.
In
distant Victoria, politicians immediately recognized the implication
of a major gold rush within the province. Intent on cornering substantial
treasury profits after watching Yukon gold trickle into foreign coffers,
and in an urgent attempt to have an all-British Columbian rush, they
blundered by meddling with mining regulations. The results caused a
serious hindrance to their chances of capitalizing on the stampede
into Atlin, and the subsequent development of the mining industry in
the area. Many potential investors were turned off, and moved on, but
mining and buildings continued despite the government`s botched attempt
to manage a gold rush with a life of its own.
In the twenties, Atlin became a popular Tourism destination well-known in America and Europe. The ship Tarahne, landmark of the town, was used for excursions and transportation. The ship sits dry docked a mere 100 yards from the Atlin Inn.
When the boom years were over, the Depression ended a glory era of tourism. Atlin`s existence depended on the ingenuity of a few hundred people who stayed there because they had no good reason to leave. The Pine Creek town of Discovery eventually disappeared, but Atlin survived because a band of volunteers took charge of the towns business. They devised clever ways to wheedle services from a suddenly uninterested government, so the town had most common amenities, and functioned with a degree of dignity. While citizens struggled to adjust to a scaled down economy, the propelling spirit instrumental in establishing Atlin never diminished. During the decades following the rush, when the hard business of economic preservation took precedence, memories of the gold rush were pushed aside, more or less forgotten, as was Atlin itself.