Gold Hunting in Alaska

by Joseph Grinnell

The "Flying Dutchman."

Schemers are trying various ways to get money. The gold proposition here is an entire failure so far, and the stories published are no better than "made up on purpose." It is supposed they were constructed by the transportation companies, and surely these have reaped a harvest this year. A thousand men are in winter quarters in the Kotzebue region, besides the many who went back the last thing in the fall. Hundreds of thousands of dollars were expended by parties coming here, and nothing is taken out; all of that money going to the transportation companies and merchants of San Francisco and Seattle. The H—— crowd alone, who are camped five miles below us, paid $31,000 for their outfit, including sailing vessel and river steamer. Part of this company got "cold feet" and went back, and the remainder have tons of provisions here to dispose of. They cannot get it into the interior to the Klondike regions, and so they will have to transport it all back down the river and so on to San Francisco, unless they can dispose of it on the way, which is not likely. It is strange how many fools were started to this country by bogus reports in the newspapers. Each party thought itself about the only one coming up here, and, what is most amusing, many of them had a "sure thing." Several parties whom we know of paid someone for a "tip" as to the exact place where the gold was waiting for the lucky men to pick it up. When they arrived at the Sound they rushed as soon as their feet could carry them, to take possession of their promised gold, only to find that they had been duped. They returned with righteous indignation burning in their bosoms, and to this day and for all time to come, justice is in hiding for the scoundrels, if they are found.

This country may possibly have gold in it, for I know that it has not been prospected as it should. Men pan out on a sand-bar of a river here and there and are discouraged at finding nothing. And moreover they will not do another stroke of work, but either return to the States, or camp somewhere waiting for "another man" to sink shafts and do what we know is real prospecting. I should not be surprised if three-fourths of the people on this river are idle, waiting for the others to dig. I know that our camp has done practically nothing, as may be seen from the reports which I have made, when I myself was supposed to be one of the prospectors. We are all equally guilty. It seems that people expected to find mines all ready to work, and, since none are visible, sit down and give it up. Our company, as well as many another, is something of a farce when it comes to being a "mining company." We are doing nothing. It seems that when the gold fever takes hold of a man it deprives him of a fair proportion of his reason. But it cannot be denied that we are getting experience. Who would not be a miner under such comfortable circumstances as ours? Meanwhile I am skinning mice and chickadees. I am doing exactly what I want to do, and work here is original work of which I shall be glad in time to come. I would be nowhere else In the world than right here now. One cannot take a stroll in the Arctics every day. I am resolved to remain as long as I can and improve my opportunities. If the company disbands I shall stay with the missionaries. I do not know what this gold-hunting expedition came up here for unless to accommodate me, unintentionally of course. Everything delights me, from the hoar frost on my somewhat scanty though growing beard, to the ice-locked Kowak and its border of silver-laden spruces. And the ptarmigans: What beautiful birds! part and parcel in color and endurance of this frozen world. And the winter is not half over. What revelations when spring knocks at the barred doors! How alert the awakening landscape I can as yet only partially realize.

In the Spruce Woods.

CHAPTER VIII.

N

NOV. 12, 7 o'clock a. m.—Great excitement prevails. The "Flying Dutchman" returned down the Kowak last night. He is the German who passed on about twelve days ago to learn all the news and gather mail. He brings us good news, such news as makes the heart of a gold-hunter in the Arctics palpitate with emotion. He met a man above the Par River, one hundred and seventy-five miles east of us, who had just come over from the head waters of the Koyukuk River to get a sled-load of provisions. This man reported that gold in large quantities had been found on a branch of the Koyukuk near the head of this river, and that he and others had staked out rich claims. The "Flying Dutchman" also reported that six of our boys from the upper Penelope Camp had already started with sleds for that region, and that Dr. Coffin had reached the Penelope Camp in safety and was now on his way back to give us the news. We expect his party to-night. This news, if true, changes the whole aspect of things. We have heretofore had no assurance that gold had been found in this country, and we believed ourselves to be the victims of "fake" stories. What a change of feeling in our camp! Although this report may also be a fake, we will enjoy these happy expectations until further developments. One thing is true, and that is that our boys above here have started a party to the head of the Koyukuk, and must have learned something favorable. When the doctor and the rest get back to-night we shall certainly know all about it.

It was just a day or two ago that I was writing a discouraging entry. So hope follows despair, and again despair may follow on the heels of hope, with gold-hunters.