Tales by Tom Wilson
Memories of Golden Days by Tom Wilson
“A Log of Tall Tales”
Submitted to the Golden Gazette by the Golden and District Historical Society
In looking over some of the old papers some time ago, I ran across a “Certificate of Leave of Absence”, dated August 21st, 1884, for my mineral claim on Quartz Creek signed A.W. Vowell, Gold Commissioner, initialled by Sheriff Redgrave.
I have sent the certificate to the David Thompson Memorial Post for the Museum there at Lake Windermere.
It had been raining all spring and summer, the worst we ever had in the mountains.
I had come down from the head of Quartz Creek and recorded my claims (Judge Vowell and Redgrave had opened the office at Golden while I was out in the hills) and then went to end of the track for more supplies.
I came back to Golden – still raining – and thought I would get a leave of absence from my claims on Quartz Creek, until the end of track reached the Beavermouth.
The Sheriff said I did not need it for a quartz claim, but I insisted and asked him down to my tent on the banks of the Kicking Horse River – still raining.
We put a log on the fire and talked some more and went back to the office, and he wrote it out for me.
A lot of the boys had come in from the hills to record claims and get supplies and it was getting late an still raining, and the 21st August was my birthday, – so we went back down to the tent and put another log on the fire.
Shan and Jock McKay joined us, and we put on another log. Then the Sheriff told us about his favorite saddle horse that had learned to retrieve for him.
When he shot ducks for geese on the river or slough the horse would go in and bring them out to him – same with fool hens and grouse on the trail.
Shan looked sorry for a while, and then said he believed him.
We put on another log, and Shan told the Sheriff about a marten that he had trained – up the Middle Forks – to lead another marten to his traps.
He said he got the idea from their having a trained steer at the Chicago Stock Yards to lead the wild ones into the slaughter house. The Sheriff said he believed him – about the trained steer.
Just then Archie McMurdo joined the fire, and we put on another log. Archie said he was having a lot of hard work picking the rock out of the gold in his claim up in Caribou Bason.
Dutch Charlie said he was going to buy the C.P.R. and finish building it himself – said Jim Ross was breaking all the contractors that wasn’t in the ring, and robbing those that was.
The one-eyed Jim Kane and Tom Wright joined the fire, and we put on another log – still raining. Jim Kane said he was going to bring in a small sack of gold at a time from his claim on Canyon Creek, didn’t want to hurt the market.
Tom Wright said he was going to buy some good lumber as soon as the end of the track got to Golden and build a big house-boat.
He said it was just this kind of weather that gave old Noah the top tip to build his. We put another log on as Ben Pugh and Tim Haggerity joined in,
Ben said he had not struck anything but indications of a dam hard winter. Fred Aylmer and Baptiste Morigeau came over from the store, and we put on a branch or two. Then Frank Armstrong and Arthur Dick and several others came to see if it had stopped raining.
At daylight most of the crowd had retired, still raining. Archie had curled up under the little spruce tree and wanted to bet anybody that the only good dry place in the Valley to strike a match on was his tongue.
I packed up and hit the trail for the end of the track.
Good old days on the trail and evenings around the campfire, and when the coffee pot upset just as it was beginning to boil and the sugar and the salt got wet, and sometimes the beans went sour and the bacon got musty and the wind blew the smoke in your eyes, and the ashes and sparks on your blankets, the butt of the biggest bough hit the small of your back, and the mosquitoes almost crowded you out of the tent.
And you heard the horse bell getting fainter and fainter, and you knew dam well they would be five miles away in the morning – but just the same, O Lord, how I wish I could love them all over again.