A Woman who went to Alaska

by May Kellogg Sullivan

One bright, warm day, taking the hand of the small boy of the family, my sister and I started for Bonanza Creek. We were bound for the house of a friend who had invited us, and we would remain over night, as the distance was five miles. My kodak and three big red apples weighed little in our hands, and we turned toward the Klondyke River in high spirits.

For a mile the road was bordered with log cabins on the hillside, with the famous little river flowing on the other. We crossed the fine Ogilvie Bridge, and soon found ourselves upon Bonanza Creek, the stream which, with the Eldorado, had given to the world perhaps the major part of golden Klondyke treasure up to this date. Following the trail by a short cut we crossed shaky foot bridges, rested upon logs along the trail, and picked our way over boggy spots until our limbs were weary.

Everywhere there were evidences of the industry of the miners, but the claims and cabins looked deserted. Only in a few instances were men at work near the mouth of the creek. Many people were going to and from Dawson, and bicycles and wagons were numerous.

When we reached our destination we had walked five miles in the hot sunshine, and were hungry and warm, but a warm welcome from Mr. and Mrs. M., as well as a good dinner, awaited us.

After resting a while we were shown around the premises. Three log cabins were being built in a row upon the hillside, the one finished being already occupied by the M. family. Tunnels were being made in the mountain by Mr. M., as well as other claim owners near by, and across the gulch mining operations were in full blast. On the M. claim preparations were being made for winter work, and it was expected that a valuable dump would be taken out before spring. For three hundred feet one tunnel entered the mountain back of the cabins, and we were invited to go into it.

Putting on our warmest wraps, with candles in hand, we followed our guide, the proprietor, for some distance. It was like walking in a refrigerator, for the walls and floor of the tunnel were solidly frozen and sparkled with ice. Whether the bright specks we saw were always frost, we did not enquire, etiquette forbidding too much curiosity, but from the satisfied nods and smiles we understood that it was a good claim, though only recently purchased by Mr. M., a handful of pudgy gold nuggets being shown us which fairly made our eyes water (because they did not belong to us).

Here we lodged all night, enjoying a graphophone entertainment in the evening. The next morning my kodak was brought out, and before leaving for home I had several views to carry with me.

Our walk back to Dawson was much easier than the one out to the claim.

From this on, we made ready to leave Dawson for Seattle, and were soon upon our way. Again I was forced to say good-bye to my father and brother, though they would follow us a month later, and together, my sister and I, stood with the little boy on the deck of the steamer, waving our good-byes.

We now traveled in luxury. We occupied a large and elegant stateroom, ate first-class meals, and had nothing to do but enjoy ourselves. To change from steamer to steam cars at White Horse, which was now a good mining town, was the work of an hour's time, while a day's ride to Bennett and over the White Pass to Skagway was a real pleasure.