Hello friends! I've written a short story just for you! I wanted to let y'all know that I am still alive and to also tell you that I've decided to take on the unthinkable. NaNoWriMo stands for National Novel Writing Month and is happening this month. Authors and writers from all over the globe are participating in this writing challenge; that is to write a 50,000 word novel all during the month of November. So I finished up this short story today so that you all could read, hopefully enjoy and whet your appetite for the novel I am trying to have written by the end of this month. I don't know what that will be, but I do know that I've put much of the work that has been piling up on me, behind me now and I am free to devote myself to the challenge of NaNoWriMo! I hope you enjoy "The Shaft". If it makes you want to read more of my work, you cand find me at these links:
"Rescue of the Heart" by Joel Wilson http://www.amazon.com/dp/B008F050GG
"The Thorium Endeavor" by Joel Wilson http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00BIOFKJI
The
Shaft
(A
Short Story)
By
Joel
Wilson
Copyright
© 2013
Mt.
Sneffels is located in southwest Colorado, near the town of Ouray. It is one of the most photographed mountains
in the state. Though not the highest peak
in Colorado, it is among the twenty seven Fourteeners. Sneffels is a popular spot for tourists who
want to travel through these Swiss Alps–like mountains and enjoy the scenery or
to visit the quaint little mountain town of Ouray.
It
was on such a trip that Ethan noticed something he could not explain. His curiosity was peaked and he studied the
spot with the help of the three hundred millimeter zoom lens that was mounted
to the body of his Pentax digital camera and supported by the tripod that Ethan
had brought along to help insure the stability of his camera. The wind was blowing strongly near the top of
the ridge that stood across from Mt. Sneffels and Ethan was glad he had brought
the tripod.
From
the point where he was standing he was able to find great scenery in all
directions. Ethan though, was not there just
to take pictures. His purpose was to
recreate the quality photographs of the West that were taken by the great Ansel
Adams. Ethan had been scouring the side
of Mt. Sneffels searching for a bear, a mountain lion, big horned sheep,
buffalo, and any animal that you don’t normally see in downtown Detroit.
As
he searched the side of the mountain, he noticed a rock formation. At first, he thought this to be evidence of a
rock slide. As he searched further down
the mountain, he saw a massive pile of boulder’s and rocks resting on the bank
of Sneffels Creek. These were most
likely the biggest part of the slide. He
wondered, while looking at the smaller pile, what had caused these boulders to
rest where they did and not travel to the bottom of the mountain with the rest
of them.
Just
by looking through his camera and lens, he could not find an answer. He returned to the hotel in Ouray where he
had booked a room; a haven where he could go to relax after a hard day of
roaming the countryside of the Northern San Juan Mountains. He had enjoyed a steak dinner at a restaurant
in town and returned to his room to study the digital photo’s he had taken
during the day.
He
had taken several shots of the rock slides and when he came across these photos’s
he found himself immersed in the mystery of the rock slide. Ethan had questions that could not be
answered given the information that was currently available to him. He knew that the only way he would solve this
was to go there himself.
Ethan
turned on the TV and lay in the bed, hoping to fall asleep. This was his normal routine when he was at
home and it always worked fine. Tonight,
though, he could not rest. Too much was
on his mind and it all concerned that pile of rocks he had seen half-way up on Mt.
Sneffels.
As
he wrestled to find a comfortable position, his mind kept showing him the
pictures he had taken of the rocks. His brain
continued to wander until it latched onto a story which Ethan had read a week
ago and was the inspiration for taking this trip.
The
story told of the Lost Crazy Swede Mine.
His name was Gus Lindstrom, a Swede who had gotten lost in a blizzard during
the winter of 1906. He happened upon a
rocky ledge that stuck out enough to protect him from the storm. It was here that he got lucky. He had stumbled upon calaverite; silver. He filled his knapsack with it and carried it
down the mountain to have it assayed.
The
blizzard continued and his landmarks were covered up. He tried and tried but could never find the
place where he had gotten lucky. Gus had lost his mind trying to relocate the
rocky ledge and was admitted to the state hospital in Pueblo, Colorado in 1909.
That
location, to this day, has not been found.
Ethan didn’t sleep at all that night.
He kept thinking that this might be his lucky day and morning could not
come sooner.
A
ray of light parted the curtains draping his window and shone softly over his
face. It was early morning and the sun
was still climbing the other side of the mountain that stood between it the
town in the valley below.
Ethan
knew it was time to get moving and he rolled to his side that faced the
mountain. Sitting on the edge of the
bed, he examined the huge rocky surface outside the window. “This face of the mountain reminds me of the
one on Mt. Sneffels,” he said to himself.
There
were trails leading most of the way up the mountain formed by people who had
ventured up it over the years. Above the
tree line, however, the trails ended and anyone who would dare to reach the
summit would have to climb the rest of the way.
During
the excitement of it all, Ethan had noticed that the smaller rock pile on
Sneffels was above the tree line. He
knew that he would have to climb over many boulders to get to the spot.
Ethan
was an amateur climber. Most of his
experience was in hiking up pre-existing trails, usually with the aid of a
walking stick. Today would be no
different, he imagined, and he got dressed, brushed his teeth and headed for
the restaurant where had eaten the night before, to fill up on breakfast.
After
he had eaten, Ethan was eager to get started.
He drove along the forest road as far as he could and parked his Land
Rover in a small open area that looked like it was created for people to park
their cars. Leaving his vehicle, he
walked along the Blue Lakes Trail for a few miles and came upon another trail
that looked to travel up the mountain diagonally.
The
trail allowed him to travel up an easier incline and at one point turned sharply
to lead you on up, but in the other direction.
Ethan continued his trek up the mountainside.
Following
the trail led him back and forth but always upward. At one of the turning points, Ethan stopped
his ascent to study what appeared to be something out of the ordinary. The point at which the trail turned to go the
other direction did so because of what Ethan had seen there.
Sitting
on a rock that was beside the trail, at the turn, Ethan saw an area about
thirty yards across and led all the way down to the creek at the base of the
mountain. What he found so interesting
was that the trees, all the way down were much smaller and less thick than the
other trees that were in that area.
By
looking through his camera lens, he saw at the bottom a large pile of boulders
and rocks. Ethan then looked up and saw
another, smaller pile of boulders about a hundred yards up.
Stuffing
his camera back into its bag for protection, he decided to leave the trail and
work his way, the remainder of the journey, upward to study the rock pile that
had caught his attention and was the purpose of this climb.
He
had brought a long rope that was in the backpack which he wore. The rope was tied to a grappling hook. He thought that it might come in handy and as
it turned out, he was right. Ethan
removed the backpack and withdrew the rope and hook.
Going
up this part of the mountain was much steeper than following the already
established trail, but getting to his destination would be faster this way and
besides, he couldn’t be certain that the trail even went there. So he took the rope, made room for a little
slack between him and the hook and swung it around. Letting go of the rope while guiding it on
its flight, the hook sailed up the side of the mountain and wrapped itself around
a tree. Finding it to be secure, he
again put on the backpack and with the help of the rope, began climbing
upward. He repeated the tossing upward
of the rope five times in all and within an hour had arrived beside the pile of
rocks.
Sitting
on the side of the mountain and supported by a warped tree that served him as a
bench, Ethan removed the crushable wool fedora, because it made him feel like a
certain archaeologist, and rested it on the ground beside him. While catching his breath, Ethan wiped the
sweat from his brow with the rag which hung out from his back pocket.
He
stared at the pile of rocks before him and looking upward, saw a place from where,
he imagined, they must have fallen.
Ethan
was thankful that he had planned this trip for early August instead of the fall. Though it was a hot day on the plains of
Colorado, the temperature at 10,000 feet were in the upper sixties; it wasn’t
hot, but it was still warm enough to work up a sweat if one were exerting
himself.
A
strong gust of wind blasted its way around the mountainside and Ethan had to
hold onto the bent tree to keep from falling down the mountainside. Thankfully, it was only a gust of wind and
not a wind storm, but it was enough to convince him that he needed to secure
himself better.
Looking
at the rope and following its climb up the mountain he saw that the grappling
hook was secured to another larger pine about twenty feet above and to the
right side of the pile. He allowed for
some slack in the rope so that he could move around, fashioned a loop about
three feet wide and secured it with a slip knot. The rope would serve as a safety harness to
save him if something happened and cause him to fall. He slipped inside the loop and drew it a
little tighter around his waist.
Feeling
secure, he decided to climb around the rock pile and examine it. Near the top of the pile the rocks were
smaller and he figured that they would be more manageable, so he moved in
closer, bracing himself with his feet resting on a large boulder.
The
topmost stone was directly in front of Ethan’s face and about the same size. He grabbed hold, using both hands and
relocated the stone upward and to the left so that it could rest against
another stone. He repeated this with a
few other such stones. Just as he was
removing one more, he felt a slight breeze coming from behind the rock.
The
breeze caught his attention and made him stop for a moment, considering what it
was that he just experienced. Did he
really feel that or was his imagination beginning to play tricks on him. “Wind can’t emanate from the side of a
mountain”, he whispered aloud and to himself.
He dismissed it as being his imagination.
The
stones were getting larger and heavier, so he only removed a few more. On the last rock, he felt a bit of resistance
to his attempt to remove it. Ethan
struggled with it but finally won the battle.
As he pulled the rock from its resting place, he felt the wind
again. It was as though the mountain had
exhaled in his face. The air was musty
and had a smidgen of stench to it as well.
At
first, he turned his head away as though he could run from the smell, but
running away was not the purpose of his coming there. He decided to man-up and face it head-on.
The
late afternoon sun was lighting up the upper half of the mountain and was
casting a ray of light through the hole which had been made by the efforts of
Ethan moving the rocks. He looked into
the backpack sized hole and was able to see beyond the rock pile.
The
excitement rose in his chest, his heart beating faster and it seemed that his
imagination had taken on a new life.
Behind the rocks was a cave and his thoughts turned toward discovering lost
treasure. Eager to see what lay hidden
inside, Ethan crawled head first inside the hole. He was stopped in the cave entrance and atop
the stones because the rope that was around his waist had run out of
slack. Scooting backwards, he released
the tension of the slip knot and slithered out of the self-made harness and
continued crawling over the rocks until he was inside the cave.
He
rose to his feet and looked around but the ray of light seemed to run out of luminosity
before the cave ended. Ethan removed his
backpack and withdrew the flashlight that he had packed inside. He pressed the switch with his thumb and cast
the light down the cave as though he were fishing. Following the beam of light, he ventured
further into the cave and around a few corners.
It
wasn’t until he rounded the second corner, about fifty yards inside the cave
that he saw it. He shone the light along
the ceiling, wall and floor of the cave in order to investigate as best as he
could. Just as he was sweeping the beam
of light across the wall to his left, a sudden flash was reflected back to him,
causing him to turn his head quickly to protect his eyes. Ethan shook his head in an effort to shake
the sudden brightness of the flash from his pupils.
He
swept the area which had produced the flash and there it was again. Stepping to the side so that the reflection
did not again invade his eyes, he stared at the cause of the reflection, not believing
what he had found. The reflective surface
escaped the confines of the ring of light which had been cast on the wall by
the flashlight. Following the reflective
surface, He traced the vein downward and to his left and passing behind him
along the floor of the cave.
Ethan
was shaking from the excitement. He
already knew the answer, but he tried to convince himself by performing the
math out longhand with his finger in the dirt that dusted the ground. He knew that silver had been trading for somewhere
over twenty dollars and ounce. Looking
back at this discovery, he was sure that he could get at least ten pounds of it
and without a whole lot of effort. “Let’s
see,” he spoke to the vein before him. “How
many ounces are in ten pounds?”
He
performed this calculation in the dirt and came up with one hundred and sixty
ounces. Then he multiplied that by
twenty and found that the value would be three thousand three hundred sixty
dollars. His mind raced as he covered
the dirt floor with his calculations until he found that he could not complete
the equation because he was never very good at math. He knew, though, by just looking at this vein
of silver with its length and width, that there was probably enough to make
himself become a millionaire.
Ethan
looked at his watch and saw that it was becoming early evening and knew that
the sun had dropped below the horizon.
It would not be safe for him to travel back down the mountain just so
that he could sleep in that hotel bed. He
was too excited to eat, too, and decided to stay where he was and work through
the night. In his backpack there extra
batteries and beef jerky and a bottle of water.
He was determined to make it last through the night. There was also a three pound hammer in the
backpack and he removed it along with the chisel that he had carried up the mountain
to have in such a case as this.
Too
excited to sleep, he spent most of the night beating chunks of silver out of
the wall and floor. He had built a
pretty good pile which he figured must have weighed somewhere around fifty
pounds or sixteen thousand dollars, by his way of thinking.
Ethan
took a short break to eat some jerky and drink water. He then returned to his new found life of
prospecting and dug more silver from the wall.
His
eyes were getting heavy and fatigue was setting in as he slumped to the ground,
sitting on his left hip and resting his head against the wall of the cave. It was here that sleep had overtaken him and
he rested in this position through the remainder of the night.
Sometime
in the wee morning hours, Ethan awoke while clutching his chest. Sharp pains were shooting down his left arm
and he knew that he was having a heart attack.
His heart felt as if it was going to explode, and he lay on his back
along the dirty floor. Rolling his head
to the left he cast his eyes on the silver which he had piled up and thought “All
my troubles were gonna be over.” His
body jerked and he exhaled one last breath as his soul left his body.
Ethan
died after having found the treasure of the Lost Crazy Swede Mine. No one knew where he had gone or what he had
been up to. He had no immediate family
to miss him.
Two
years later a man and his wife were climbing the mountain and happened upon the
pile of rocks, noticing the hole near the top of the pile. Together they climbed the rocks to the
top. Once there, they looked through the
hole that had been made a couple of years earlier by Ethan. Shining their flashlight into the hole, they
could not see anything. Ethan had made his
discovery around the corner, not visible from the mouth of the cave.
The
man and his wife decided to continue their climb up this Fourteener and, so,
left the cave behind. No one has ever
found the mine which led one man to lose his mind and another to lose his life.
