With one outstretched hand grasping the bottle and the other waving at air, I moved forward feeling for the tent. No tent. No tree.

The catch being was that it was about 60 miles from Anchorage near Hope, and a good four or five-mile hike uphill to the claims.

The temptation to enter the dark interiors beckoned to me before the day was finished but I resisted.

Making matters worse, we could feel the truck moving very slowly down the mountain along with the trees and mud. It was an uncomfortable sinking feeling, as you might guess.

We started off excited and enthusiastic as we began hiking up the river, daydreaming about finding big gold.

Midway into my first tank of gas I was beginning to see color in my sluicebox. Needless to say, I was excited.