Wandering Through the Hard Places in Skagway, Alaska
Let Travel Break You Open a Bit
That’s what this series—Views From Our Shoes—is about: walking our way into experiences that move us.
Alaskan cruises promise raw beauty: massive glaciers, snow-capped peaks, and the kind of untouched wilderness that earns Alaska its title as “America’s Last Frontier.” Most travelers come hoping for postcard-perfect views, crisp air, and maybe a whale or two.
You can expect to see plenty of raw beauty in nature. Eagles soaring above the trees. Totem poles nestled in the forest. Enough merchandise to satisfy even the pickiest of tourists. Among the buffet on the Lido deck and the endless stimulation onboard, you can relax as the ship carries you from the bustle of cities like Vancouver and Seattle to the quiet charm of towns like Ketchikan and Skagway.
But what if the most powerful moment of your trip happens somewhere quieter? Somewhere not on everyone’s itinerary?
A Walk Beyond the Map
For me, it was a walk just outside the bustling town of Skagway that left the deepest mark. Down a dirt road, past the decaying metal skeletons of trains that have since been removed. Through a forested trail, past thick moss and whispering spruce, to a place nearly everyone overlooks: the Gold Rush Cemetery.
A Place of Dreams—and Endings
Tucked into the trees beneath Reid Falls, the Gold Rush Cemetery is the final resting place of many who arrived in Skagway chasing gold, freedom, or a second chance. During the Klondike Gold Rush of the late 1890s, this town served as a chaotic gateway to the Yukon. People from all over the world came here hoping to strike it rich—or at least start over. Most never made it past the mountains.
At the entrance, a gold-painted boulder sits like a permanent idol of what so many buried here came looking for. Inside, you’ll find the grave of Frank Reid, the town’s so-called hero who died after a shootout with the infamous outlaw Soapy Smith. Reid’s headstone is bold and ornate—towering over the rough wooden markers of others, like Joseph R. Smith, whose name barely clings to the wood.
Dozens of graves belong to men and women who arrived with big dreams and died from exposure, disease, or injury—some within weeks of setting foot in Alaska.
As I sat on a bench among their graves, with the roar of Reid Falls behind me, I felt something unexpected: a kind of quiet that was louder than any noise. A silence thick with stories, with hope, with heartbreak.
The Hard Places Are Worth Visiting
Cruises are designed to be comfortable. They smooth out the bumps and keep things easy. Excursions take you to curated destinations that keep the good vibes flowing. But it’s often the detours, the places just outside the frame, that stay with you the longest.
The Gold Rush Cemetery wasn’t glamorous or cheerful. But it was honest. It reminded me that Alaska’s story isn’t just about glaciers and grandeur. It’s also about risk, loss, endurance—about people who bet everything on a better life and didn’t always win.
This walk—from the cruise ship, through town, down an overgrown trail to a quiet clearing—reminded me that reflection doesn’t need to be planned. It just needs space.
The Unexpected Souvenir
So wherever your travels take you—by sea or land, near or far—leave a little room for the unplanned stops. The quiet corners. The hard places.
You might find something more lasting than a perfect view.
You might find yourself surrounded by a silence that hurts your ears, an eerie reminder that much of the history we walk through was built by people with dreams not unlike our own.
And when you pause to listen to the creak in the wood floors, or the rain on a tin roof, you may discover the perfect souvenir to take back with you:
Yourself.