If you'd rather place an order by talking to one of our cheerful order desk clerks, please call 1-888-232-4444 (USA and Canada only) or 250-383-6864. From Europe, ring our UK order desk clerk at local rate number 0845 230 9601 (UK only) or 44 (0)1865 722 113.

Cassiar's Elusive Gold

by Francis E. Caldwell

147 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #00-0001; ISBN 1-55212-337-5; US$15.00, C$17.25, EUR12.32, £8.63

Provides a rare look into early-day wilderness transportation, steam boating Northern rivers, the struggle to reach nearly inaccessible gold fields, and northern geography, Indians and pioneer aviation.

Read more!

about the book      about the author      Chapter Two: Discovery      catalogue info

About the Book High adventure, men vs. the wilderness, history and the gold rushes of the North spring to life in this lost gold mine story set in Southeast Alaska and the Cassiar Mining district of Northern British Columbia. Cassiar's Elusive Gold is, however, more than just a lost gold mine story. The book provides a rare in-depth look into early-day wilderness transportation, steamboating Northern rivers, the struggle to reach nearly inaccessible gold fields, geography, Indians of Northern British Columbia and pioneer aviation in Southeast Alaska and Canada. In Cassiar's Elusive Gold, a rich placer deposit discovered in 1874 promises to make experienced miners Scotty and Cass rich. Instead they wind up lugging 60 pounds of gold on their backs through unknown wilderness. The trip costs Cass his life and Scotty a leg, fingers and toes and ruins his chances of returning to the mine forever. Decades later Scotty, on his deathbed in Ketchikan, Alaska, passes the location of the mine to his best friend Joe. More years pass before Joe and partner Hugo attempte to locate the mine. Disappointed, without finding any gold, they too are forced to flee the frozen Stikine Plateau. What the reviewers have to say.... "The wilderness of Western Canada combined with a lost gold mine make this a book that is very difficult to put down. Few subjects are more fascinating than gold mines found and then lost. For armchair adventurers, this story is hard to beat." - R.N. DeArmond, Alaskan Historian, Editor and Author, Sitka, Alaska. "Your book makes one want to grab a pan and in the true Alaskan spirit, find the gold. Francis, you have put into words what no conversation could have. This is a great book and every adventure-seeking Alaskan must read it." - Don Hazelquist, Ketchikan, Alaska. "A great, gripping true tale of gold seekers and greed by an author who knows the North." - Erwin Bauer, Author/Photographer. Read the news release for this title.

---

About the Author Besides putting in 40 seasons as a commercial fisherman in Alaska, Francis E. Caldwell is a full-time, established photojournalist, with hundreds of magazine articles and five books published. He has traveled extensively on four continents pursuing stock photography, specializing in travel and wildlife/nature. He and his wife Donna operate Affordable Photo Stock, a library containing 100,000 images, based in Port Angeles, Washington. Also written by Francis E. Caldwell: Pacific Troller - Life on the Northwest Fishing Grounds The Search for the Amigo Published by Francis E. Caldwell: As the Sailor Loves the Sea by Ballard Hadman Contact Francis at 360-457-3009 or email dlc@olypen.com Please visit the author's website: www.francisdonnacaldwell.com Chapter Two: Discovery Scotty examined the gravel, inspecting pieces of rounded quartz with his magnifying glass, then pulled a shovel from one of the mule packs and began to dig. Two feet down, he knelt and began sifting the sand and gravel through his fingers. Suddenly Scotty whooped and held one hand overhead. "By God, Cass. Here's a nugget!" "If you're kidding me, you're going to both cook supper and do the dishes," Cass said dryly, picking up the birds and walking to where Scotty stood smiling broadly. "So it is. And a beauty too." Cass hefted the heart-shaped nugget in his hand. "Rough. Hasn't came far. Make you a nice stick pin." He peered up the mountain as if expecting to see the mother lode protruding from nearby bedrock. An overhanging snow bank still covered the curious gully half a mile up its length. "Here's another. Laced with quartz. Cass, I believe we've found something good." Both men went to work with their shovels. Four feet down they struck solid bedrock. This was doubly exciting. They were used to sinking shafts 20 to 50 feet deep to reach bedrock. Scraping out the cracks in the bedrock with hunting knives and spoons they picked out an ounce of coarse gold with their fingers. The price of gold was $17.00. They were tremendously excited. They put the gold in a spent cartridge. The mules had wandered on down the slope in search of food. During mid-summer, darkness lasted but a few hours at this latitude. They worked until hunger caused them to stop. "Oh, for some water to pan this sand with," Cass said. "I'm going to carry a pan down to the lake." "We'd better make camp. I'm starved." Leading the mules, Scotty made his way down the mountainside to the lakeshore. Jabbering excitedly, they pitched camp. While Scotty cooked the birds with rice and gravy in the Dutch oven, Cass gathered wood and washed the pan of gravel. He returned to camp and handed the pan to Scotty. Scotty tipped the pan into the firelight, then whistled. A teaspoon full of yellow gold glistened in the pan. They'd made $32.00 in only a few hours! "Whoopee!" Scotty shouted. Ignoring the hordes of mosquitos, grabbing Cass by the shoulders they danced around the fire, shouting and singing like men possessed. Which they surely were, by demon gold. "We're gonna be rich. We're gonna be gold kings," Cass sang in his Irish tenor. Too excited to sleep, they sat by the fire, smoked and talked, wondering how gold could have been deposited high on a mountainside. They considered the extent of the gold-bearing gravel. How far up the dry creek bed did it reach? How far down? Across the lake a wolf howled, "AAAAOOOooooooo!" From afar another answered. A common loon called to its mate on the lake. The last rays of the setting sun struck the snow-covered mountain peaks in the distance, turning them red. "Who knows what the country looked like thousands, maybe millions of years ago. At one time I'll bet the glacier we noticed from the top of the pass reached here. Probably created this lake and this U-shaped basin. The exposed bedrock round here is smooth, as if it has been scraped by ice. Perhaps the ice retreated, leaving this stream bed high and dry." "Maybe. I can hardly wait for daylight." "We're gonna be rich, Scotty." "Couldn't have happened to two nicer guys." "Or more needy." Daylight found the men back at the strike. They worked all day and added several ounces of coarse gold, nuggets, and gold-laced quartz to their pokes. Excited, they didn't take time to eat properly, wash clothes or take care of themselves. Each day was much the same as the previous, up early, a quick breakfast of meat, mush, sourdough biscuits or hotcakes, then up to the mine to dig trenches across the stream bed, sampling and sifting for nuggets. They worked as long as their backs would stand the labor, then stumbled down, panned the gravel they'd brought, ate a quick dinner and fell into bed. They'd never heard of such rich placer deposits. They took special delight in the "picture rock," chunks of smooth, white quartz, some the size of walnuts, laced with pure, yellow gold. They kept the picture rock separate from the pure gold. They began taking the mules to the mine, filling the panniers with gravel, then packing it down to the lake at quitting time to run through their small, knock-down portable rocker. They rejoiced at the amount of coarse gold they found, knowing it had not traveled far. Somewhere nearby was probably rich lode gold. They longed for water to sit up a rocker at the mine, but none was available. They killed caribou or sheep for meat, jerking, drying and smoking some so it would keep in the hot weather. They wrapped meat in canvas to keep off flies, then hung it high in a tree some distance from camp in case a bear happened by. Grizzlies were frequently seen on the nearby slopes, feeding upon lush vegetation. Pieces of caribou hide were sewn into sturdy pokes for the gold. "Scotty, it's too bad we haven't time to explore this area. There may be more gold-bearing streams. It would be nice to sample the surrounding country." "That's true. But it's nicer to fill these pokes." One day, several weeks after the initial strike, they noticed that the nights were cooler and the dwarf arctic birch, bearberry, wild rose, thistle and huckleberry, especially at higher elevations, had already turned brown, red and gold. They discussed whether or not they should stake their claims. As discoverers in a new territory, they were entitled to one claim each, plus a Discoverer's Claim. Assured they were so far from civilization no one would be coming by anyway they decided against staking. One day they started for camp from the mine leading both mules loaded with gravel. Suddenly the mules stopped, brayed, peered towards camp and refused to continue. "Damn grizzly in camp, I'll bet," Cass growled. "After our meat supply." Leaving Scotty and the mules behind, Cass took his rifle and cautiously approached camp through the surrounding birch trees. The bear was gone, but the tent was ripped in several places. Their grub boxes were smashed and most of the food missing or scattered in the dirt. The bear had gotten into their brown sugar, used to make syrup, and scattered their flour. Pawing through the mess, Cass discovered the bear had bitten into their compass, releasing the fluid, destroying it completely. "Come on down. The bear's gone," Cass yelled. It took a lot of coaxing to get the mules into camp. They blew and brayed their dislike for the odor of grizzly. Cass held up the ruined compass. "I hope we have a good sense of direction when we head out," Cass said. Scotty looked at the compass and swore. Aware of the destructiveness of bears, they'd cached a small reserve portion of their grub supply, flour, beans, rice, powered milk, coffee and dried fruit high in a nearby tree. This was no assurance it was secure, because black bears climb trees, while grizzlies seldom do. Cass checked the cache and reported it was still safe. The bear attack, loss of the precious compass and signs of autumn, forced a sobering realization. Now short of food, they realized they must quit the country and start back. The next day they hit a richer pocket than before, with nuggets galore. Who could stop work under such conditions? Like many a miner, they let greed overcome good judgement. They also misjudged the severity of northern sub-arctic fall weather, that can be warm, even hot, one day, and a blizzard the next. They were located at about 4,000 feet in elevation, where snow can occur any month of the year, and periods of winter weather can arrive anytime after mid-August. They had kept a calendar by entering the days in their journal. But the mine had been so exciting they had not made a single entry since the strike, and had lost track of time. They argued over whether it was late August or early September. Even more disturbing was the condition of the mules. They had worked them unmercifully these past weeks, and only let one at a time loose at night. The nearby forage was used up, and the animals didn't receive as much nourishment as they required. Mosquitos and flies drove the animals mad. They rubbed tallow around their eyes, but the animals were suffering. Each night they'd stake one in a different location, but new patches of feed near camp were scarce. They hated to spend much time taking the animals to more distant places for the night. They were also afraid a bear might kill the mules. Working long hours doing heavy work, both men lost considerable weight. And they ate a lot of meat, that meant Cass had to take time off for hunting frequently. One morning they awoke to a tremendous display of Northern Lights flashing blue, green and amber in the northern sky. When Cass went to the lake for water, he had to break skim ice. Flocks of Canada geese flew south every day. Neither said much about the rapid changes in weather, although they recognized what such changes meant. They hurried off to the mine. By now they had 12 large pokes of gold, each weighing about 80 ounces! A fortune in those days, close to $17,000.00, after only a few weeks of work. Catalogue Information Canada • USA • UK • Europe Contact Us | Privacy Policy | Terms of use | Author Login URL http://www.trafford.com © 1995-2007 Trafford Publishing, a division of Trafford Holdings Ltd.