Cheechako

Each day seemed to be noticeably shorter than the next. Within a week of our return we had the first hard freeze of the season, and to my reckoning, it was only mid September. There was no drawn out autumn as I was accustomed to. A wind came up and for a day it seemed like there was blizzard of orange and yellow leaves cascading down from the trees.

Swede and I took precious time off from our panning for gold and began to cut firewood for the winter. It took us a week to fell enough dead wood, haul it by hand, and cut it up to last the both of us for the winter.

There were no signs of the gold petering out. I was pulling a couple of ounces of gold per day from the gravel in and around the creek. I had moved several times upstream as had Swede. At night we would talk of our plans. It was decided that we would work the creek until the gold was played out. We hoped that it would carry us through the winter and all of the next summer. Long hours were spent by the fire at night discussing what we were going to do with our fortune when we left this north-land.

"When we are done, we'll divvy the gold up fifty-fifty," offered Swede. "By the time we are done, we'll have enough gold to last a man two lifetimes."

For a moment my greed wanted to scream no, that I didn't want to share what I had pulled from the stream. But, a moment of reason prevailed, Swede hadn't try to cheat me before, so why would he try to cheat me now. I knew he was moving more gravel than me with his sluice and shaker box, so it only reasoned that he was pulling as much or more gold from the creek than I was.

I awoke one morning and was surprised to find the ground was covered with a skiff of snow. It stayed. The ground was growing harder with each passing day. The thin crust of frozen earth was growing thicker with each passing day, making it more difficult to mine the banks of the creek. Compound this with the ever shortening days and the amount of gold I was pulling from the ground was dwindling. I still hadn't made up for the gold that I had spent in Dawson.

Swede had warned me that we would probably have to shut down panning during the coldest part of the winter. He was hoping that we would have enough water flowing in the creek to keep the sluice in operation.

"I wish we had a few tons of coal," He remarked as we stood by his sluice and pointed at the frozen ground. "We could get a fire going and let the coal burn to thaw out the ground. This chipping away at the froze up ground is going to be tough going at best."

I took his advice and gave up on panning. Each morning I would eat a bowl of oatmeal mush and drink a cup of coffee or tea, stoke up my stove to keep my cabin warm, and trudge the mile up to Swede's to work with him.

The cold relented a bit, and the temperature was up near freezing. Heavy clouds hung overhead and it began to snow by midmorning. As the hours passed the snow grew heavier and heavier. Finally Swede looked at me. "I got a queer feeling about this weather. I think it's going to blow. I can feel the breeze beginning to freshen. Let's shut it down for the day. You need to head back down to your place while you can still see the trail. If it's snowing heavy come morning, just stay in your cabin and set it out."

I nodded. I had noticed the snow was beginning to pile up in places. On the trip home I found the snow almost knee deep in a couple of spots. It snowed all night, and all of the next day, and the day after that. I just sat in my cabin drinking coffee, feeding the fire, and staring out the window. On the second day of the snow the wind came up strong out of the west. I couldn't see more than a few feet in front of me when I opened the door to my cabin.

A foolhardy mistake almost ended it for me. I made the mistake of walking out into the snow. I turned around and couldn't see my cabin, just a veil of white in every direction. I was just able to see my tracks in the snow, but the wind was quickly filling them in. Once I reached the safety of my cabin, I didn't leave again.

The temperature began to drop as the wind shifted. It was coming from the north now, I think it had quite snowing, but it was hard to tell as the wind was blowing the snow. Harder and harder it blew. I had to put an old shirt under the door to keep the snow from drifting in through the door.

The temperature continued to drop, but there was no letting up in the wind. I could hear it howling all through the day and all through the night. At times my mind would hear things on the wind. I could swear I could hear people calling my name. The first few times I would open the door and look outside. The blowing snow felt like sharp pieces of glass cutting at my face. 'It was only the wind'. I told myself this over and over again until I finally believed it.

The storm had lasted for over a week before it subsided. I got up in the morning to find the sun out and the skies clear with no wind blowing. A joy flowed through my body. I quickly ate my breakfast and then opened my door.

The air hit my face like a bucket of icy water. My God, but it was cold. I had never felt cold like this before. The very air itself seemed frozen. There was not a sound to be heard outside, not a breath of air moved. The smallest of branches stood still like silent sentinels.

I strapped my snowshoes on and set out for Swede's. I could feel my breath freezing instantly in my beard. The air was so cold that it burned my lungs. I wrapped a scarf around my face so that only my eyes showed through. With my snowshoes strapped to my feet I set out for Swede's cabin.

I scarcely recognized the way. So much snow had fallen. The creek was frozen and drifted over. I kept my eyes locked on the few familiar landmarks that hadn't changed. The normal fifteen minute trek to Swedes took me over an hour, even with the exertion that it took to move through the snow, I still felt cold.

Finally Swede's cabin came into view. It was going to be good to see him, to hear another person's voice. As I got closer, I began to feel a little worried. Why was there no smoke rising from his cabin? I could see no tracks leading to or from his cabin.

I yelled out his name, "Swede!" I tried to run on my snowshoes but tripped and fell headlong into the snow. I got up and made my way to his cabin. I tried his door, but the latch was frozen. I pounded on the door and yelled again, "Swede!"

I took off my snow shoes and I pounded the latch with my mittens, still it would not give. Looking around I spotted his axe. Two blows from the axe and the latch finally gave. I walked into Swede's cabin and looked around.

He was in bed, sleeping. I let out a sigh of relief. "Swede, wake up. The storm has let up."

It was damned cold in that cabin. Swede didn't move. I reached over and my heart sank. He was frozen solid. I sat down on the bed and looked at him. There was look of calm on his face. He must have died in his sleep during the storm.

What was I going to do? It would take days of feeding a huge fire to thaw enough ground to bury him. I knew I couldn't do that. I hauled the supplies out of his cabin and made a cache in a hard snowdrift. I knew where his gold was hidden, and I felt a bit of guilt as I retrieved it. I was surprised at how much he had. Swede had pulled three ounces of gold from the creek for every one that I had. I looked at the frozen face of my partner and felt guilty. He had offered to split what we had taken out of the creek, and he must have known that he had mined much more than I had.

But, I took the gold. There was no point on leaving it there. I put the bags of gold into a large pack and took it outside. I filled as much as his cabin with firewood as I could. I used two gallon cans of kerosene and splashed it over everything in the cabin.

I looked at the body of Swede and I knelt by the bed. "I don't know any religious words, Swede, and for that I am sorry. You always did good by me, and I wish I could do more for you now. I know you come from Sweden, and I remember stories about the Vikings and their burning of their long ships when someone died. I reckon this cabin will have to serve as your ship." I reached out and put my hand on Swede's head. "God bless you, Swede."

I lit a match and touched it to the kerosene. I stood and watched as the flames quickly spread. How long I stood there and watched I have no idea. As the flames roared high into the air, I moved further and further back. It was getting near time for the sun to set when I turned my back on the inferno and began to make my way home.

The red glow of the flames was visible in the sky from my cabin. With a heavy heart I stoked up my stove and started to prepare something to eat. I had never felt alone like I did at this moment. I was alone. To the best of my knowledge the nearest person was in Dawson.

Did I want to spend the rest of the winter out here alone? The thought made me shiver. The week by myself during the storm was enough. I had the prospect of seeing Swede once the storm was over to carry me through. Now, I had nothing. Just alone.

I counted up what gold I had, and then added it to what Swede had. There was more than enough there to keep a man for life. I knew what I had to do. I had to get to Dawson. I could sell my gold at the bank. I could find my way south and out of this country. I could go back home. Home. I didn't really have a home, not like most men. Home could be anywhere I wanted it to be. It just had to be somewhere where there were people.

It would just take a day to hike back into Dawson. I began to pack that night. I didn't need to take much. I just needed a bit of food to get me to town. And the gold. I couldn't forget the gold. It surprised me how much gold there really was. It almost filled up my pack.

I left my cabin at first light. I didn't turn around; I just plowed along on my snowshoes. The pack weighed heavy on my back. It was a weight that I enjoyed the feel of. It was the fruits of our labors. It was my future. A future of not having to work, or to struggle. It meant respect.

It was slower going than I had expected. The snow and the extra weight slowed me down. By mid afternoon I had to take a break. My legs burned, my back burned. I was sweating from exertion and I was breathing hard. I was worried. I hadn't seen the cut that signaled the turn that would put in line with Dawson. I began to worry that maybe I had missed it. The snow could have filled it in.

Just when I was about to turn back, I rounded a corner in the trail and spotted the cut. My heart leapt for joy. I was going to make it. I set out across the frozen pond, it would cut down on time. The sun was getting low in the sky. I had misjudged how much time it was going to take me to make my way back on snowshoes through the fresh snow, and with a lot of extra weight on my back.

I was two-thirds way across the pond when I heard a sickening crack and I felt myself falling. I was immersed in the frigid water up to my waist. I clung to the ice and tried to pull myself back onto the ice. I couldn't and my strength was going fast. I knew it was the pack that was holding me in the water. Finally I closed my eyes and let it slip from my back and into the icy water.

I could smell sulfur. I cursed myself, I should have remembered. Swede had mentioned it each time we had passed. "Smells like there's a hot spring in there." The warm water from the spring had kept the ice thin.

I crawled back onto the ice and staggered to the shore where I collapsed. I was so cold that my body was wracked with the most violent shaking. I tried to stand again but, my legs were completely sapped of any strength. My mittens were frozen already, and I could feel my pants freezing to my legs.

As I lay there, I slowly stopped shivering. I could feel warmth in my body again. My eyes were getting heavy. The sun had slipped behind the horizon. All I needed to do now was to rest for a bit, and make my way to Dawson. I'd be rich in Dawson. I'd sell my gold in Dawson. I just needed a bit of sleep first, sleep, glorious sleep. I felt so tired. My eyes were closing.

I was surrounded by a silvery glow. I saw her face. Her face filled me with a joy that I had never felt before. She smiled at me and touched my face.

Her voice was unlike anything I had heard before. "I'm here to take you home." Her words warmed me more than the hottest fire.

"What about my gold?" My voice seemed to crack.

"You won't need your gold," she replied in a voice like a mother would use with a small child. She reached out and touched my hand with hers.

At that moment I felt a release from the grip that had held me for almost a year. I didn't need gold, I was going home. The darkness around me was replaced with a glorious light.

I then heard Swede's familiar voice. "It's good to see you again, lad."