Saturday, March 22, 2014

Girdwood Gold Rush

Thirteen years ago this week
I was able to join friends both old and new
For a moment in time
That will forever play across our minds
A taste of a small Alaskan gold rush

'Cept this time it was not for the precious of metals
But for the purchasing of land
And the hopes of our mid-twenties fantasies
Of owning property on one of the
Richest claims on God's green earth

This was their reality however
I was just visiting at the time
A little get away destination
I have not soon forgot

But this was bigger than
Tyrolean dreams and alpental wishes
This was Alaska at its finest
Homesteads in a vast sea of mountains
Forge set jewels in a ring of fire

And we were not wealthily bestowed with money
We were just seeking simple pleasures
For I was amongst a group of folks
Who simply knew the ways

Snow, ridge lines, slopes
Paths to take and chutes to run
They knew the ways to the mountain tops
And the means to get down

Folks who mined the mountainsides
Not only for crystals from the heavens
But for the pockets of air between them
Foraging fluffy powdery pillows to float upon

Quiet 'cept the rushing of wind in the ears
Enveloping clouds of swishes and schusses
Sparkling light blue and white in the sun
All with the feeling of flight over the earth

Their quarry of turns blazed upon the map
A new breed of mountain men and women
Not really nomadic in their search
For the freedoms of the Rocky Mountains

But more a fresh set of sourdoughs
Who have weathered the many odd winters
Who have found their golden valleys
And who now stake their claims
Along the banks of Crow Creek

So with grubstakes granted and prices set
At thirty-thousand dollars a third-acre plot
We proceeded with parcel split maps
And just as soon as bearings were taken and walked out
Their hopes and faiths were laid out upon the rock
And we relished every moment of it

We celebrated prospectings and prospects
With hiking a couple of the bordering peaks
And with our tools in hand
We dug our way up and down glacier carved bowls

We raised our glasses and toasted
To the pure silvery crystals upon the slopes
With our chalices overflowing
Spilling ice cold diamonds onto the bar room floors

Cups of wine in the night
And glasses of beer by the floating bonfires
Happy and content as the new fallen snow
As the auroras shined red overhead
Reflecting wholeheartedly our passion and excitement
At future homesteads in the mountain halls


  1. Wonderfull to read!
    What has become of it all?

  2. Thanks Ron. I know of one who has moved back to town for good reason. And according to Google Earth, the handful of cabins have been built.