02/18/2024
"As a popular resort, during these charming winter days and moonlit nights, 'Chilcoot Pass' is among the chiefest—that is, among the juvenile portion of the community. There seems to be implanted in the breast of man—speaking in a general sense and including old and young—a wish, a desire for rapidity of motion, for being propelled from one place to another with something akin to the hurricane’s rush, and on Chilcoot Pass this desire finds its full fruition.
But even in this enjoyment there comes an occasional drawback—they have to draw back the sled for one thing, but that is trivial compared to the danger of life and limb, ever present where a hundred, more or less, of thoughtless boys and girls are descending that steep incline with the speed of the wind, while others, equally as thoughtless, are toiling up the hill with their vehicles.
A day or two ago, as we wended our way decorously—not to say laboriously—up that famous pass, we saw a boy coming down, rapidly of course, who seemed to have no control of his fast-flying sled. We watched him with natural solicitude, and sure enough there was a boulder over there on the off side of the track—one of these heavy boulders that lay snug to the ground and are not easily moved. And the way the youngster was steering—or was not steering—brought his sled in line with the boulder, and the result may be guessed. The vehicle suddenly stopped; so did not the boy; that is, he didn’t stop right there. He was shot straight ahead, catapult fashion, landing twelve or fifteen feet further down the incline. He stated some remark about the time he landed, the exact import of which we were unable to catch."
—Stillwater Daily Gazette, January 20, 1905
