"It was high clouds that first day climbing out of Sheep Camp, so Nokes decided they should pack a load all the way to the summit. When you're on top the ground behind you falls off, and you can see the Lynn Canal again. Seems close and far below you at the same time. Past that looking west is mountains and glaciers all the way to the ocean.
"At the pass, the trail run level over dirty snow, and plenty of other outfits was being stacked and piled along it. Don't matter if you was gone for months, whatever you left along the trail was safe. Nobody raided another man's cache, even before the Mounties moved up to Chilkoot Pass. Nokes chose a flat spot on the pass and they stacked their loads and started back down.
"It was their first trip so they hadn't figured out sliding yet. They was just picking the same footholds and going slow, and Ruud was trailing when they saw a couple of men climbing up. Anyone coming down got to move aside for climbers, so the first three found a narrow bench and gone sideways off the trail. Ruud was still too far above the bench, but there was a ledge just ahead and he figured he could use it to get out of the way.
"Only it wasn't really a ledge, just a lip of windblown snow, so when he stepped down and sideways his foot went through it and his leg got buried to the knee. The rest of him kept going and he fell headfirst into deep snow, then rolled and slid down to the bench level. Nokes and Lindfors helped him stand up, and Ruud brushed the snow off his face and caught his breath. Said he wasn't hurt but his snow goggles was gone. Lindfors started back up to search for 'em, but the broken snow was too soft and steep, so they all gave up and headed down.
"They humped one more load to the pass, slid down to The Scales in a snow trench they seen others use, and then followed the trail back to Sheep Camp. The next day was cloudy and they got two more loads up to the summit.
"Third day was clear blue sky. Still no sign of the Indians, so they started early up the trail. On their second climb up that last pitch, Ruud started screaming in Swedish and covered his face with his hands. He was snow-blind – and that feels like someone put a branding iron against your eyes. You been squinting in the sun and snow until your eyes are almost swollen shut, then everything goes red. Lindfors had to lead him down to Sheep Camp while Gig and Nokes carried the loads up.
"Nokes said Ruud would get his sight back in three or four days, but he had to cover his eyes and stay in the tent. Lindfors could go back down the trail to Dyea until he found someone who could sell him snow goggles for Ruud. Their first day at the pass they seen a couple of miners coming over from Inside, and them fellers would have no use for goggles on the way home. Maybe Lindfors could catch up with 'em.
"Lindfors packed a sled and headed down the next morning, figuring he could pitch a sleeping bag on a cabin floor in Dyea. He must of passed the Chilkoots, 'cause they showed up at Sheep Camp a couple hours later, ready to work. Three of them was just skinny kids, but the leader was a wrinkly brown feller with big legs, big shoulders, and no front teeth.
"Nokes told him they'd already carried most of the outfit to the top, and there was maybe sixteen loads left. He said the Chilkoots could pack those loads over the mountain and down to Lindeman Lake along with the rest of the outfit, but he wasn't paying more than ten cents a pound for what was already up at the pass. The Siwash and his boys sulked for a while but they didn't have much else to do, so after a while they strapped on bags and headed up the trail.
"Nokes was chopping branches near the tent when Gig told him he been thinking about something. Why don't the two of them head over the pass today and set up camp at Lindeman? They could leave enough grub and one tent at Sheep Camp and the Swedes could follow when Ruud got his sight back. While they waited for the Swedes, maybe they could move part of the outfit down to the far end of the lake. That might make up for time they lost during the snowstorm at Sheep Camp.
"Nokes looked up for a second and said no, they was waiting until Ruud was healed. Then he went back to chopping wood. Didn't bother to explain his reasons.
"Gig told me later that Nokes waved him off like he was a dog. I don't know why Gig was set on moving, but it was almost April and maybe he was worried they wouldn't get across the lakes while they was still frozen. Or maybe he didn't think they'd have enough grub to get to Circle if it started snowing again and they couldn't cross the pass for another week.
"Whatever it was, it cut a stripe into Gig. That was probably where things started going bad between him and Nokes."
Chapter 14
"Next two days the weather held and the Chilkoots packed the rest of the gear and the sleds up to the pass, but only 'cause Nokes agreed to pay 'em ten cents a pound on the entire outfit up front. The Siwashes was worried Ruud might not get his sight back for a while. They didn't know how long before Nokes would tell 'em to carry the outfit down from the pass to Lindeman Lake, and they didn't want to wait to get all their money at the end."
Zimmerman has settled into a rhythm now and I follow the trail in my mind as he lays it out. I know he crossed the Chilkoot Pass two years later during the stampede summer of '98, but it almost seems like he was on the winter trail with Gig Garrett in '96. Zimmerman saw enough of mountains and snow and frozen lakes during his time Inside, I remind myself, that visualizing Gig's journey must be easy for him.
"After three days at Sheep Camp, Ruud could see inside the tent without his eyes hurting. Lindfors found a sourdough with a broken foot down in Dyea and bought his snow goggles for twice what they was worth. I guess that feller figured he could wait to find another pair. Fourth morning there was high clouds moving in, so Ruud put his goggles on and was ready to walk. They packed up their gear and strapped it on their backs. The Chilkoots was moving an outfit up from Dyea for another group, and Nokes told 'em when they saw his tent was gone at Sheep Camp, that meant they should carry his outfit down from the pass to Lindeman Lake.
"Nokes had 'em up at the pass by mid-day. They drew out a couple days of grub from their cache, which usually means bacon and beans. Meal for flapjacks and maybe some dried apples or pears in the first month or two. They loaded their packs on their sleds.
"After you cross that flat stretch it's five hundred feet down to Crater Lake, which most of the year is just a patch of snow over the ice. Looks like a couple of big mice side by side. On the mountain the snow's deep enough, so the Indians just jump on their sleds and drop straight down, going so fast they cross most of the first mouse when they hit the bottom.
"Gig and Nokes and the Swedes let the sleds go down without a rider the first time, then followed the tracks. At the far side of Crater Lake, a stream leads down into a rocky gully. Then come Long Lake, with heavy walls of snow on the sides. Past that and down to Deep Lake. Then you get to a hill where there ain't much left of the trail, but over the top you can see Lindeman Lake, and that's the first place you got trees. Not enough to build a boat, 'cause most was burned by the Indians, but all Gig's group wanted was shelter and wood for the stove. They was able to haul their sleds to the head of Lindeman by sundown and make camp.
"Wind picked up overnight and by morning it was blowing hard, with snow in the air. For Lindeman Lake, that's fair weather, and good for sailing a sled. But back up at Crater Lake you can barely see the hillside, and up on the pass you can't see five feet. The Chilkoots wasn't climbing up from Sheep Camp that day, and they wasn't going anywhere close to the pass.
"Gig and his group waited two days at Lindeman and the tops of the mountains was always clouded over, so they knowed it was still bad above Crater Lake. They was able to cut enough dead spruce around their campsite to keep the stove lit and cook a few hot meals. But they was running low on food, and Nokes said there was no use waiting for the Chilkoots. They needed to head back up to the pass and start moving their outfit down.
"Gig didn't say much about it, but he was sore at Nokes. If they hadn't all waited for Ruud, the Chilkoots would of packed the entire outfit over to Lindeman before the weather turned bad. Or if Nokes didn't pay 'em part of the fee, mayb
e them Indians could of found a way to work when it was snowing. Now he and the others was going to spend two or three days doing what should be done already. Even though the packing was downhill and they had sleds, it was a tough haul when the snow was flying and you couldn't see the trail.
"The next morning they pulled their sleds eight miles back to Crater Lake. They spent the rest of the day climbing that pitch up to the pass, digging out their outfit, loading up their sleds, and riding 'em back down to the lake, which is how they seen the Indians done it. Then up and down all over again. They got the whole outfit down to the lake, but it was rough work.
"It's freezing and windy at the pass, so you got to wear your Indian parka, which is a coat you pull over your head and goes down to your knees. It's heavy cotton and got a hood lined with fur, and under that is your wool sweater and wool shirt and undershirt. And you got two layers of heavy mittens like the Siwashes wear. But you sweat when you carry your sled up from Crater Lake. Then your sweat chills you at the pass, and the wind burns your face sledding down.
"When they got the last load down it was snowing again, so they kept pulling to Lindeman, and Gig was feeling used up. Back at camp his throat swelled up so he could barely eat, and he burned a fever overnight. Next morning he was shivering, and Nokes told him to stay in the tent. They fed him tea and biscuits and piled all their blankets on him, then Nokes and the Swedes dragged their sleds back to Crater Lake.
"Gig's fever lasted three days, and that's how long it took the other three to pull the outfit down to camp. The weather cleared while they was doing it and the sun started to soften up the snow on the lakes. In Alaska, days get longer in a hurry when you get into April.
"Even when it ain't stormy, you always got wind pouring down on Lindeman. The lakes run like fingers end to end, with terraces or slides between 'em. Slopes of granite and limestone and marble rising on either side, so wind comin' across the pass got nowhere to go but down the lake. Whatever snow ain't drifted gets crusted hard enough you can walk on top of it, and some places it's just an egg-shell over the ice.
"So that's why Nokes and the Swedes wanted to clear the pass by the end of March. Lindeman is five miles long, and if it's froze solid and you got rope and tent canvas, you can sail it in an hour. Tip your sleds over and drip water along the wooden runners – they ice over in a minute. Cut a half-dozen spruce poles, flip the sleds back up, and lash 'em together two across and two deep. The ice is six feet thick, so weight ain't a problem. Two men on the back using long poles for a rudder. Maybe you hit a soft patch or a drift and you got to jump off and unload some bags, but that don't slow you down much.
"When Gig felt better, the four 'of em broke camp early and rigged their sleds for the lake. They sailed their whole outfit over that day and pitched the tent near the outlet stream."
Zimmerman pauses for a sip of whiskey, so I ask the question on my mind.
"Did Gig get over his resentment toward his partners while he was lying in the tent for three days and they were packing his food and gear down from Crater Lake?"
Zimmerman furrows his brow and exhales. "Yes and no," he says. "They was his ticket to the Yukon, and I don't think Gig saw it as more than that. The Swedes was letting Nokes call the shots, so Gig kept an eye on him. When they was making good time, he had no problems with Nokes. If they was going slow or waiting for someone else, then Nokes wasn't helping, so that would eat away at Gig.
"Lindeman gives you a taste of sailing on ice, but Bennett Lake's a full meal, and that come next. Thirty-four miles long, maybe a mile across. Twice as wide and even windier where an arm come in from the southwest. Steep granite hills on both sides. The head of the lake is about a mile from Lindeman, but you got to drag your outfit down the outlet stream and through a canyon filled with boulders to get there.
"If the wind blows from the pass, you can sail Bennett in a day, and be thankful you got a sled on the ice and not an open lake, 'cause when the ice goes out and the wind kicks up, it don't matter what your boat looks like – running down the waves, you take on water.
"But if the wind come from the north you're pulling sleds into its teeth, and there ain't any real shelter out there. Your tent is beating and snapping like a sail all night, and you only sleep 'cause you're bone tired. When the stove goes out, the heat goes with it and your breath freezes on the roof of your tent, so in the morning your blankets is covered with ice.
"Gig and Nokes and the Swedes spent a whole day packing their outfit through the canyon, even though it was just a mile, and camped at the head of Bennett. They lashed their sleds back together and sailed out the next morning with one tent and half their outfit. The wind was up and they crossed all thirty-four miles that day. Cached their outfit and made camp, then turned around and pulled empty sleds back into the wind for the best part of three raw days.
"The next trip down Bennett they was pulling as much as sailing and had to spend another night out on the ice. Gig started wondering whether they'd get past the lakes before the ice got too soft to sail.
“Back before the stampede, there was still plenty of trees around Bennett, so most groups heading for the Yukon camped a few weeks and built a boat big enough to float them and their outfit. Then when the ice gone out, they could sail from lake to lake. Tagish. Marsh Lake. Miles Canyon and the Whitehorse Rapids. Then Lake Laberge. That's a hundred and twenty miles of water, and Gig didn't want to drag a sled that far. But open water was still over a month away, and Nokes said they wasn't building a boat."
Chapter 15
"From the foot of Bennett Lake you can pole or drift your way into the west arm of Tagish Lake. All you got between 'em is a muddy outlet called Caribou Crossing. The herds cross there 'cause it's the only way to reach the moss grounds between the lakes and the passes. Nokes was hoping they might be able to shoot a reindeer, but the spring migration ain't come through yet. They made camp and Nokes explained his plan.
"Caribou Crossing was at six on a clock face. Tagish Lake went up to four o'clock, and Marsh Lake wrapped from three to one o'clock. Connecting those lakes was a six-mile piece of water, and halfway down that river was Canadian customs. When the Klondike rush hit, the Brits moved the customs office up to the passes, where there was no getting around 'em, but before that anyone heading down the lakes had to stop at the Tagish station and declare what they was bringing in.
"Nokes said the gear they was already using – clothes and tents and sleds – wouldn't be taxed, but they would average maybe twenty percent on the grub and more than that on the hardware. Almost fifty percent on the tobacco and whiskey. On an outfit like theirs, customs might want three hundred dollars, maybe four. Nokes said he didn't want to give the Canadians that money. He'd rather use some of it to push toward where they was going and keep the rest.
"Gig and the Swedes agreed with Nokes. So they cached most of their outfit in the snow where the outlet run into Tagish Lake. They hid the whiskey and tobacco in bags of rice and rolled oats. Left the coffee and tea and dried milk behind too, along with the picks and pans and saws and nails.
"They just loaded their sleds with the tents and stove, winter clothes and blankets and enough grub for a few weeks. Took the guns and bullets too, hoping they might run into a moose, though moose was usually a long way back into the hills. Then they pulled their sleds over the ice to where the Windy Arm of the Tagish come in. Rigged a sail and made the last dozen miles in a few hours.
"The customs office was on the right bank of the outlet river, halfway between Tagish and Marsh Lake. Nokes steered to the opposite bank before they got to customs. A band of Stick Indians built huts and was living there, and Nokes had already done some trading with 'em.
"The Siwashes come crowding around like they always done when white men happen along, and they was holding out dried salmon and furs and jabbering in Injun about stuff they wanted to sell. If you're lucky there's one or two you can talk to, but you can't trust 'em enough to turn your back. They'll pick up anything on you
r sled or boat that ain't nailed down, especially if it's shiny like a compass or a knife. They'll slip it inside their parka, and if you see 'em do it they'll smile and try to hand you a couple of coins.
"The Siwash boys usually knowed English better than the men, and Nokes found one that wanted to sell him fur-trimmed mittens. He held up his own and said he wasn't looking to trade. Then he said most of their outfit – almost two thousand pounds of grub and gear – was cached back at Caribou Crossing, and he'd be willing to pay the Indians two hundred dollars to pack it ahead to the Lewes River on the overland route. The boy went back to one of the huts to find his chief.
"Getting to the Lewes River over the ice was maybe sixty miles on Tagish Lake and Marsh Lake, and if the wind held up you could sail most of it. The overland route was only forty miles on a straight path from south to north, six to twelve on the clock face, and a decent trail, but you had to pull your sled the whole way. Unless you was like the Indians and had dog teams. Then you could make the Lewes River in a day.
"The boy brought his chief, and the chief wanted four hundred dollars. Nokes talked him down to three and gave him a hundred dollars to start. Then he and Gig and the Swedes pulled their sleds down the ice to the log-frame tent with a flagpole flying a British flag.
"Back then there was just one customs officer at the Tagish station, and he might only see three or four parties a week. Winter or summer, whether you was pulling a sled or poling a boat, he wasn't going to open up all your bags. He was just going to ask you where you come from and what you was bringing in, and unless you got outfitted in Victoria and could show unbroken Canadian seals on your packages, he was going to tally up how much you owed. And anyone who knowed about life on the Inside was going to be carrying the same grub as every other miner – bacon, beans, oatmeal, flour, sugar, and coffee.
BURYING ZIMMERMAN (The River Trilogy, book 2) Page 10