WAUPACA RECORD

January 6, 1898

LETTER FROM GEO. WRIGHT

BUCK’S BAR, N.W. TER.

Dec. 2, 1897.

My Dear Mother – Your letter dated Oct. 21 was received a few days ago with open arms. I never was quite so glad to get a letter. You struck the right way to send news by clippings. It costs a dollar each to get a letter here, and they will not bring papers at all as it is 150 miles by man power on snowshoes.

We are nicely fixed in a deserted miner’s shanty. It is too large for our stove so we partitioned it off with a sail and our tent and its as warm as you please. Our only trouble is cutting wood for the stove as it is but nine inches (diameter?) and it eats it up rapidly. We are well fixed for provisions and live high. In coming through the sound we had to throw overboard some of our supplies on account of the storm. How much we did not know then, but when we took account of stock we found about all the stuff that went over was our stove, a few nails, one sack of flour and a little of other truck we can replace – about $30 all told; but we helped the man who lost most, back home. We bought another stove from a discouraged miner going home. No one lives better than we. I am cook and all-around man in camp. We have nice puddings, pies, etc., and I am a dandy now on biscuits and sour dough or yeast bread. In fact we have a good outfit and have added some potatoes, cabbage, turnips and carrots (handraised and fine). We got them of a miner here and before the other boys caught on. They cost 5¢ a pound, though. Telegraph Creek is a trading post. Only one white squaw and a mixed lot of other Indians and white men. There have been a couple of dances and a pow-wow and one pot latch, though free for all. We did not attend. Here is a description given me: "Well, we started in with a drink all around; the melodeon struck up and all circled to the left. Some of the squaws had puffed sleeves, but the white squaw was the belle of the ball. We kept it up until 2 a.m., when everyone was too drunk to kick or sing." There is a minister here who holds service Sunday night at one store, and the afternoon at the other. Last Sunday night when he came to the store all were indulging in some Hudson Bay (high life) whiskey and when he finished, all took another. (All but him). A lot of toughness is assumed by city fellows and they really think they can be lower than the genuine miners. My partner and I are called "cold blooded", but we have a first-class time all by ourselves.

Many here are very sick of the job and wish they were back home. They feel the cold, etc., and in fact, should never have come. No person should attempt this trip unless he is cut out for it. My partner and I enjoy the whole thing from start to finish.

You should see us at home! Many can’t cook or wash or use an axe or other tools and are just helpless. Dunbar (my partner) is away getting fish and looking over the trail. Fish for the dog – or dogs if we can purchase more. We now have the last one here. He cost $40.

A few weeks ago while away, Dunbar got a shot at six moose and shot six times and got about six hairs. He says the gun was no good, but last week he and four other prospective miners got one moose and three caribou and maybe it is not good to eat!

The salmon are caught, out where he is now, with the hands, or with a stick, or any old way. One man can get 500 pounds easily a day. This is a peaceable country, not like the States. The people fear Canadian law, and now since the Grizzlies have gone to sleep for the winter, no one goes armed except for hunting, although there is no lack of six shooters and dangerous looking knives. A few weeks ago, one Sunday, I heard a shot and Dunbar ducked around the house. I thought he was in a fight, so grabbed by gun, (six shooter), but he yelled geese; and about that time it sounded like a war, as everyone on the "Bar" was shooting; but five swans sailed lazily away and left not even a feather. We can now travel on the ice, but before it froze, while moving away form home, a misstep meant all the way from fifty to 2,000 feet through the air. The gold has all been washed out of this Bar years ago; that is to say, course gold. A man can clean up about one and a half dollars per day now, however.

We all have beards and quite long hair, and still brush our teeth! I have my sled nearly finished. Made it all out of one small birch tree. It is seven feet long and sixteen inches wide. We have a good set of tools, including saws. Had to saw the lumber by hand. Timber is very scarce and the best all cut. I let myself down with a rope over the river to cut this tree. At night we employ our time in sewing, making blanket socks, play the mouth organ and read a little. All the reading matter we have is the Bible, a Shakespeare and a couple of Spanish books belonging to Dunbar. However, I have been fortunate enough to have had the offer of quite a library of magazines, novels, etc., but reading does not worry us much as there is too much work and too few hours of daylight. Light at 9 o’clock, dark at 3. In order to save candles we bought a five-gallon can of kerosene for $7.50 and a little bit of a lamp for $2, and have better light than the rest of the crowd generally.

I’ll give you a few prices here: Candles, 25c each; 3 nutmegs, 25c; lard, 30c; bacon, 3 pounds for a dollar; coffee, (no good), 50-75c; a little better, $1.50; imitation honey, $1; raisins, 25c; linen thread, 50c a spool; salt, 50c per pound; etc., etc. Lots of things can’t get at all. We will leave here in a few weeks for Lake Teslin, 150 miles north over the mountains, and from there to a prospect ground that we have a little tip on. There are several doctors here and quite a mixture of people.

The man who takes this letter down to Fort Wrangel is a sort of head "pusher" here. He is a lieutenant of the National Guard at Honolulu, now on leave of absence. As to health, I feel fine, weigh 1.50 pounds in light clothes, and am glad I’m here. Wish you all a merry Christmas and a happy New Year.

With love,

GEORGE.

P.S. Dec. 3, ’97 – Mail just going out. Nearly a foot of snow fell during last forty-eight hours. Grand exodus coming up from Telegraph Creek over the trail. Am wearing my bicycle suit today. Sled nearly finished.

GEORGE.