March 26, 1968
Away to the west of the Chetco-Illinois River divide, in a dark, wooded section of the Little Chetco canyon, many years ago, when the hardy gold seekers of that day were back there reaping a golden harvest, a sturdy little one-room cabin with an open lean-to attached to one end was built beside the trail not far from the river. It was always called the “Emily” cabin. No one seems to know why, but, being of a romantic turn of mind, I suspect it was given its name by the conscience-stricken builder in memory of the girl he left behind him.
Now the little old cabin would hardly be recognized by that early-day gold-worshiping Lothario who so callously left his broken-hearted sweetheart for the cold-hearted gold of the Chetco country. The name Emily has been changed to Davis, and the cabin has been modernized with built-on garage and kitchen with solid rock half walls and concrete floors. The place is lighted with electricity generated by a turbine down below the cabin that is activated by a stream of sparkling water that dashes past the cabin on its way down to the river.
When I hike in to visit with Perry and Ruth my first act, after yodeling my arrival, is to grab the old “granite” drinking cup and scoop up a cupful of the cold, sweet water as it rushes from the end of the big hydraulic pipe near the end of the cabin. Not even the water of my own Packers Gulch is as pure and delicious as this.
Near the end of February, feeling the urge to visit a day or two with the folks on Little Chetco, and curious as to the state of the trail in the latter part of a mild winter, I collected the Davis mail and drove up to the barrier just below Tennessee Pass. I left the jeep at the padlocked gate and hiked up the Canyon Creek mining road a distance of 3 or 4 miles to where the trail takes off for the long climb to the top of the divide. Just over the crest, where the north-south Hawk’s Rest-Canyon Peak trail follows the divide, the Chetco trail forks off to the west and down into Little Chetco canyon.
This route is the most direct to the Davis mine, the hiking distance from where I left the jeep somewhere between 10 and 15 miles, 5 hours of steady moderately fast hiking with a half hour off for lunch. I knew I’d find some snow on the trail, but not enough to warrant toting snowshoes along. The farthest I had to walk on the softening snow was no more than 200 ft. in one place, just small patches elsewhere near the top of the divide. The weather was clear and the trail was in good condition, and I enjoyed every foot of it.
Perry and Ruth, as always, gave me a warm welcome, and I stayed with them two days and nights. I found them in glowing good health and high spirits, as I knew I would. Locked away in their out-back retreat through the long winter months, an experience that would drive some people up the wall, to them is just a pleasant, normal part of their way of life, the kind of existence they both love.
The second day I was there we hiked up the Little Chetco along the river trail and part way up an old trail that goes on to the top of the divide, intersecting the trail I had gone in on not far below the crest. Coming back out I used that old trail and found it easier underfoot, so much of it carpeted with forest debris, but steep as a flight of fire escape stairs.
It seemed strange to be going into Little Chetco on a summer-like February day with hardly any snow encountered along the entire route. If we don’t get any more winter than we’ve already had, a gruesome circumstance that at least one long-range forecast predicts, there’ll be a thirsty summer coming up in Illinois Valley.
But on Little Chetco Ruth and Perry – and their musical brood of Siamese kittens – will glide smoothly along as always with their mining, prospecting, hiking, living tranquilly on their shady little mining spread – in that earthquake-proof, transformed old Emily cabin.
