It’s funny, from his books I always imagined he spent years up there in the Yukon. But it turns out he trekked in (by far the hardest experience of the Yukon Gold Rush rush was just getting there with the mandated 1 year of food and all your mining equipment), staked an unprofitable claim, talked to a lot of people in bars in Dawson City, spent an uncomfortable winter in a small cabin with some other gold-rushers eating just bread and beans and bacon, got scurvy from eating just bread and beans and bacon, and then got the hell out and went back to San Francisco.
I say this not to minimize the depth or the hardship of his experience (it sounds like a nightmare) but more in amazement at all the compressed experiences he had and the folder for stories he amassed during that one year. Certain years in life flash by (or they seem that way to me) and others are formative and seem to last forever. Clearly this was the latter for him.
I say this not to minimize the depth or the hardship of his experience (it sounds like a nightmare) but more in amazement at all the compressed experiences he had and the folder for stories he amassed during that one year. Certain years in life flash by (or they seem that way to me) and others are formative and seem to last forever. Clearly this was the latter for him.