Gypsy - Lesley Pearse [142]
But it wasn’t the sight of hundreds of milling people and animals in this last real camp before climbing up to the summit that caused Beth’s shocked exclamation. She wasn’t even put off by the huddle of primitive shacks, abandoned heavy items like stoves, chairs and trunks, or even the torn tents and the mountains of goods piled up waiting to be moved on.
Her shock was caused by what lay beyond all that.
The Chilkoot Pass. And, more importantly, the climbing it would entail.
Every would-be gold seeker knew the Pass was tough. Back in the saloons of everyone had heard at least a dozen different horror stories from people who had either turned tail and ran when they saw it, or were driven back by bad weather. But hearing about it and seeing it for herself were entirely different.
Sheep Camp was in a hollow at the end of the timber line, encircled by mountains. Beth knew the summit they had to reach was 3,500 feet above Dyea, just four miles above her head if she could have flown straight up there like an eagle. But she wasn’t a bird, and the route they would be taking sent a shudder of fear and awe down her spine.
The mountain appeared to be draped with a continuous winding black ribbon which stood out in sharp relief against the snow. It consisted of climbers, bent over like apes under their heavy backpacks and seemingly motionless. But Beth knew they were moving, for they couldn’t stop; even a momentary pause would snarl up the queue coming up right behind. If anyone did choose to move out of the line to rest, they would never get back into it.
Theo had turned pale and Sam was rubbing his eyes as if unable to believe what he was seeing. Only Jack looked calm and ready to join that fearsome chain in the morning.
‘There are two places to stop,’ he said. He pointed out a giant boulder and said he had been told that climbers could rest a while at the base of it. He then indicated a flat ledge further up and said that was the Scales. ‘That’s where our packers will reweigh our load and probably charge us still more.’
Jack didn’t go on to remind them that the part of the Pass which was the most difficult and hazardous was beyond the Scales, and not visible from Sheep Camp. No pack animals could climb what had been named the Golden Stairs, 1,500 steps cut out of sheer ice by some entrepreneurs who demanded a toll for using them. Once on them there was no stopping anywhere until the top was reached.
Sam, Theo and Beth looked at one another in horror. Had it not been for Jack’s stalwart stance, they might have voiced their fear of making the climb. But Jack had become their commander since they left Dyea; he alone had kept his nerve when the cart nearly fell off a bridge, or got stuck in a rut; his strength, determination and calm had got them through so far and they believed he’d make sure they got all the way to Dawson City unscathed.
‘If we pitch our tent here tonight, it will be hell putting it all away at first light tomorrow,’ Jack went on, seemingly unaware that they didn’t share his excitement. ‘So I reckon Theo and Beth should go and get us a place in one of the hotels here. Sam and I will find our packers and ask where they want us to put all this.’
Beth glanced at the cart with its mountain of their equipment and the required provisions. It had seemed a formidable amount even back in Skagway, yet they’d still raged at the fee charged by the Indian packers for each sack. But now she had seen the mountain it had to be taken up, she felt faint at the thought of what it would mean if they had to carry it all themselves. She said a silent prayer of thanks that they’d managed to get the money for packers together. She doubted that she would’ve been able to carry even one sack on her back to the top, let alone repeat it again and again.
The so-called hotels bore no resemblance to any hotel, however humble, that Beth had ever seen, yet she was soon