There is a group in Whitehorse known as Long Ago Yukon. It has no corporate footprint - it is, according to Michael Dougherty, one of its members, a “local community group devoted to disseminating knowledge and encouraging preservation of Yukon archaeological and paleontological heritage.”
At an event last weekend, sponsored by this group, Dougherty took the time to explain that it is informal, and has no budget, but over the past dozen years or so, it has been successful in hosting 10 events (or more) annually. These events include at least six speakers over the course of the winter, as well as other events, like “Behind the Scenes,” heritage walks, participation in archaeological field schools, and special workshops or demonstrations of skills like flint knapping and atlatl throwing.
He says that the Yukon seems to have considerable allure, and over the years, Long Ago Yukon has been able to attract some of the world’s foremost authorities in the fields of archaeology, anthropology and paleontology as speakers, many of them connecting over the internet, at the Beringia Centre.
This weekend, they had two events scheduled. The first, “Bones, Bottles and Birch Bark Baskets,” was inspired, some years ago by the Antiques Roadshow TV series. Yukoners were invited to bring in their finds for specialists to look at. This year, that included two archaeologists and a palaeontologist with the cultural services branch of the Yukon Government.
Dozens of people attended a lively session at the Whitehorse Public Library on Saturday afternoon, bringing with them specimens for the specialists to identify. According to Yukon archaeologist Chris Thomas, they could have used another body and another hour to deal with all the people who came to the event. One enthusiastic individual even set up his own table to display his personal finds. In addition to the specialists, interesting artifacts and fossil specimens from the territorial collection were on display, and various books on artifact identification and Yukon archaeology were there to examine. I made an appointment to meet with Chris Thomas the following Monday.
The following day, Sunday, I attended another event under the auspices of Long Ago Yukon. A workshop on flintknapping took place early in the afternoon at the Beringia Centre. The host and leader of the event was Matthew Bossons. Bossons graduated with a degree majoring in journalism, with a minor in archaeology. During the COVID pandemic, he was living in China. Compelled to stay in his apartment while the disease spread throughout the world, he took to flintknapping on his small balcony.
Flintknapping is a common term generally used to describe the technology employed to fashion tools from a variety of glassy silicates like obsidian, flint and agate. Early human cultures mastered the fabrication of tools from stone, and the skills were passed on and enhanced through thousands of generations. More recently, there were even flintknappers fabricating the flints used in flintlock rifles.
A half dozen eager workers of stone attended the workshop, and after giving them safety instructions and protective gear, Bossons provided them with the tools to shape glass into useful tools. He explained that obsidian was a highly desirable raw material used by First Nations people in the Yukon for thousands of years. Sources of this volcanic glass, commonly black in colour, can be found in the Yukon, Alaska, and Northern B.C. Other sources for agate, flint and other materials can be found scattered throughout the Yukon.
When worked properly, obsidian can be shaped into arrowheads, spear points, hide scrapers and knives. One man from Idaho, named Don Crabtree, became legendary for his mastery of stone technology. I remember as a student of archaeology many years ago, that archaeologists spoke reverentially about this legendary flintknapper, who, I was told, provided his surgeon with an obsidian blade with which to make the initial incisions when performing surgery upon him.
Bossons provided his students with the essential tools for working glass samples: a leather pad to protect the thigh, gloves to protect their hands, and a simple pressure flaking tool with which to remove tiny flakes and give shape to their raw material. Soon, they were chipping away and giving form to their glass. The room was filled with the chipping sounds from their busy hands, that, to me, sounded like a chorus of angry termites.
Slowly, these specimens took form, and before I left the workshop, a couple of well-formed arrowheads had been created, while the others were well on their way. We discussed the technology as this was going on. The quality of the final product depended upon the quality of the stone being worked, and the skill of the person making the tool. For millennia, these people attained a high degree of skill in stone working; their lives depended upon it. They were so good, in fact, that stone tools in various styles were manufactured with a consistency of shape and size, no doubt dictated in large part by their intended use. I tried once, many years ago, to work stone, and quickly came to the conclusion that I wasn’t meant to be a flintknapper. I also developed a healthy respect for those who manufactured ancient stone tools.
On the following Monday, I met with special projects archaeologist Chris Thomas who works in the cultural services branch of the Yukon government. With me, I brought a stone tool that I had found on the surface of a sandy shoulder of the old Alaska Highway near Champagne more than 50 years ago. I had taken it back to Ottawa, where I worked for the National Museums Corporation at the time. There, I used it in a class I was taking for making replicas from synthetic resins. The result was a slightly flawed, but respectable reproduction of the tool. I decided that having a copy was as good as having the original, and that I should turn it over to the archaeology unit, where it would do more good than it was, in a plastic bag on a shelf in my office.
My artifact was a leaf-shaped spear point, 6.5 cm. long, with careful flaking on both sides. It did not have the stem so often found on projectile points. I learned it was of a type that was found in a wide range of archaeological sites that spanned several thousands of years in the Yukon. Spear points, as well as arrowheads, which came later in Yukon prehistory, can often be ascribed to a certain tool kit in use during a specific time span, but this one, I was told seemed to have staying power.
I referred to the published work of archaeologist Richard MacNeish, who described this style of “projectile point" as Agate Basin point. According to MacNeish, these points appeared in the north between 6,000 and 3,000 years ago, and suggested that this style of tool originated farther south in earlier times and migrated north in later years. Thomas told me that he found a point like this in one of his archaeological digs located above the White River volcanic ash, which dates to about 1150 years ago.
Thomas pointed to the fine quality agate from which my point was made, and the advanced level of skill in removing flakes transversely across both sides, creating a fine, thin point that would easily penetrate game. It was not broken, he noted, “and you could mount this point on a spear today, and it would work very well.” It was, he said, a beautiful piece of lithic technology.
There were many things in the minds of the creator of this artifact, the level of skill in working stone, the working properties of the stone itself, and the purpose for which it was intended. There may have been specialized points for various types of game, for instance. As important as the object itself, he added, was where it was found. That adds another dimension to our understanding of the prehistory. I was able to locate for him precisely where I found it, on Google Earth.
By this time, I knew that my artifact was more valuable in the hands of professionals who can learn so much more about the technology, its purpose, and the life and times of the people who used it. I was pleased to turn it over to them, with the hope that it will add just a little more to our understanding of the prehistory of the Yukon.
A final note about “Bones, Bottles and Birch Bark,” you won’t get a price attached to these artifacts. Their value lies in the what they can tell us, through scientific study, of ancient times, hundreds, even thousands of years ago. And that’s fine as far as I am concerned.
Michael Gates was the Yukon’s first Story Laureate from 2020 to 2023. His latest book, “Hollywood in the Klondike,” is now available in Whitehorse stores. You can contact him at msgates@northwestel.net
