Post
by Lanny » Thu Jan 27, 2022 7:18 pm
Ten Stream Mystery Cabin
I was checking my prospecting notes from 1997, and I came across a story I’d almost forgotten about.
In 1997, my prospecting buddy and I traveled to a goldfield that took us some sixteen hours to reach. (Most of the route was on paved roads, but the last six hours were on gravelled, active logging roads. The roads were not topped with crushed gravel, but with what’s classified as pit-run gravel. That type of gravel is simply unsorted rock that comes straight out of the gravel pit, minus the huge rocks, but it’s the rough rock Mother Nature dropped after ice-age glaciers melted. Not a smooth riding surface for normal vehicles!)
To get to the goldfield, we traveled in a four-wheel-drive diesel, and we towed a large flat-deck trailer with a small backhoe and wash-plant. As well, it carried a quad, and all of our camping gear, grub, and miscellaneous mining equipment. In addition, it freighted our steel-framed wall-tent and a cozy wood-burning stove.
We had packed all of that equipment to make the trip after receiving an invitation to do some testing on promising placer ground, ground located in a remote area.
We’d been into the territory the previous summer and had found some nice, coarse nuggets with metal detectors, and we’d caught a nice catch of flake gold and pickers with sluice and pan. As well, we’d earned the trust of the local miners and claim owners, and had been invited back to bring in the bigger equipment.
Once we arrived, we set off on a series of prospecting day-trips to try and find some promising additional ground to justify bringing in the extra equipment.
We explored one interesting area where we’d seen signs of previous testing done in the 1800’s. There were shallow test pits liberally scattered across an ancient, heavily glaciated low-lying area, the uneven ground punctuated by numerous little streams and small lakes.
We’d found the previous year that the old-timers tested glaciated areas such as this because the numerous small streams concentrated any gold the glaciers carried. Of course, the unknown factor was which glacial runs were carrying gold. So, the detective work for gold was carried out over the years with pick and shovel, which left the numerous test pits scattered across the valley floor.
At this location, the valley terrain was populated with pine, fur, and aspen groves. Large yellow, black, and orange butterflies fed among legions of mountain daisies and stands of fireweed. Humming birds, multi-colored with iridescent hues, buzzed in and out hunting nectar. In addition, Jet-black ravens shadowed us as we worked toward our chosen spot.
Suddenly, in a stand of thick timber, we found a massive ditch work—the remains of a huge hydraulic operation from the 1930’s. After crossing the ditch and its steep bank, we hit a foot of standing, swampy water, a spread-out area fed by multiple small streams. We waded through, and then the ground gradually sloped upward. My partner went to prospect around a small lake, and I followed one of the larger streams to see where it led.
(Finding some workings and trash along the way showed the area was prospected in the 1800’s and again in the 1930’s. However, no buildings remained, nor were there any recent signs of human workings. And, we never saw anyone else in the area while we explored over several days.)
As I continued to work my way upstream, the stream split, and continued to split multiple times. I found myself in a unique geological area, completely surrounded by small, gravelly streams. There were ten of them in all! I stopped and panned them, but I only got infrequent flake gold—nothing coarse.
The interesting part about this area was that there was a large mounded hummock that split the paths of those little streams, and it was timbered with trees and brush.
This island-like rise of ground caught my attention, I forded the streams, bush-whacked through some pine and willow heading up to the rise to see if I could find some good panning ground.
But, after fighting through the brush, I was stunned by what I saw. Hidden within the brush, and completely invisible from the lower level of the streams, was a prospector’s cabin! To convince myself it couldn’t be seen from lower down, I went back to stream level, and carefully looked back from many viewpoints, and that cabin could not be seen. The only way to find it was to stumble upon it, for it was guarded by streams on every side.
Whoever chose the site did so carefully. It showed a level of stealth I have neither seen before nor since. I’ve stumbled across other old cabins, with some of them cleverly hidden as well, but none with such a specialized craft for secrecy.
The roof was collapsed, and the interior held the remains of an old wood-burning stove, rusted bedsprings, some shelves along the log walls, one small window, a caved in cache pit below the floor, a very solid door frame, and a porcupined assortment of protruding square and round nails sprung from the log walls, indicating living quarters in the 1800’s and then again in the 1930’s.
Outside, there was a large overgrown garbage pile with old lead-sealed tins, broken hand-blown glass, as well as more modern glass. There were old enamelware pieces; tobacco, evaporated milk, ham, and fish tins; broken crockery; remnants of rusted pots and pans; as well as corroded kerosene and oil tins. Due to the size of the garbage pile, the mystery inhabitant(s) had spent considerable time at their hidden site.
I spent about six more hours prospecting the immediate area, but it was a confusing web of small streams, little lakes, beaver dams, and swampy ground. Wherever the phantom prospector’s diggings were, I couldn’t find them in the time I had available.
We abandoned the area and then set up the equipment in a promising area closer to our base-camp. We recovered some nice coarse placer gold with a ton of character.
However, that mystery cabin still puzzles me, and perhaps I’ll get back one day to solve that fascinating northern riddle.
All the best,
Lanny