ROOT CELLAR
This is a story that I have
repeated before. This is one of my
favorite winter stories and such a
great memory for me. I can almost
smell the tall pines and taste the
clean U.P. air!
Part
of what I enjoy when I
go detecting with my father-in-law,
up in Michigan's western U.P., is
simply riding to the sites that we are
going to hunt. As many of you
know, my father-in-law, Bob, is a
retired logger who really knows his
way in the north woods. During his
logging days he was fascinated by
the deep woods and its many hidden
secrets-- secrets that from time to
time over the last 40 years, he
would discover.
These secrets of the
woods
are now almost invisible. These
were once locations of early lumber,
mining or railroad camps and ghost
towns. Not only did Bob make some
mental notes of these locations, but
often he would research these sites.
Ever since my wife and I gave him
his first detector for Father's Day a
few years back, we have been
hunting these areas together.
As I mentioned, getting
there is half the fun. I get a chance
to sit back and enjoy the scenery.
And in the western U.P. the beauty
is breath-taking. Of course the
journey to these sites is often miles
of two-track driving deep into the
woods. The wildlife is awesome!
The site of a mother bear with her
cubs, the red, summer coat of the
White Tail deer, wolves, beavers,
eagles, woodcock . . . I take it all in
as a precious, treasured gift from
our marvelous creator.
On
this occasion, we
were
heading to an old hunting camp. As
we drove along, Bob related a story
associated with the site that we
were about to detect. I guess you
could say this story has become a
local legend.
The
old hunting camp
was,
in its day, a large well-developed
spread. There was a group of
cabins, equipment sheds and a mess
hall, as well as other buildings. This
site was used for several years until
the end of the 1800's when it was
destroyed by a forest fire, then
never rebuilt. The story about the
old camp starts several years after
its destruction by fire.
A woodsman who lived
off
the land, trapped, hunted and even
attempted to prospect in the area,
hiked deep into the woods. He
started this trip into the woods
much later in the season than usual.
The area, which was best known for
its long hard winters, was enjoying
a late Indian summer. Thinking he
would capitalize on the unusually
good weather the old woodsman
decided to work his trap lines one
more time. The hike would take
about ten days if everything went
well . . . which it didn't.
Like most trappers, he
would use crude shelters called line
shacks along the course of his trap
lines.
He was well over half
way through his journey and deep
in the woods when a winter storm
moved in. At first the woodsman
thought nothing of the snow. In
fact, tied to his heavy pack was a set
of snow shoes for just this problem.
As it turned out, this
storm
he was facing was like nothing he
had ever seen! Snow fell so hard
that he could barely see more than
few yards ahead. What made
matters worse, the storm had
trapped him as he was cutting
cross-country. How he wished the
storm had hit him while he was
near the river. Instead he was far
from anything familiar.
To avoid a deep
two-mile
crevice where the river was
impossible to follow, he would cut
through the forest. Eventually he
would intersect the river
downstream where he would find
one of the trapper's shacks.
The
trail was familiar
to him;
that is at least when he could see it.
It was kept trampled by other
trappers and roaming deer. After
just one hour of heavy snow, the
wood's floor all looked the same.
Getting his bearings from the sun or
the stars was hopeless with dark
gray clouds overhead. To make
matters worse, using a compass in
Iron County is all but useless,
because of the ground's iron
content.
The snow started out
with
large, wet flakes which came down
like a shower. Within a short time
he was soaking wet and soon the
rapidly falling temperature froze
his clothes and beard. Disoriented
and cold, he tried to set up his small
canvas tent which was nothing more
than a wind break. By now, the
wind was furious and defeated his
every effort. He soon realized his
struggle against the sharp, cold
wind was for his life! Finally, he
wrapped himself in the canvas, then
covered himself as best he could in
the already deep snow. The night
passed slowly and the snow was
growing deeper by the minute.
By morning the snow had
let up, yet the sky remained dark
with clouds. Knowing the north
woods at this time of year, he
realized this could go on for weeks,
even months. His best chance of
survival was to take shelter at the
closest line shack . . . but clearly he
was lost. Looking around as he
moved slowly through the woods he
hoped to spot a familiar landmark.
Nothing looked familiar! He feared
he was walking further and further
in the wrong direction . . . perhaps
to his death.
For a short time the
snow
let up enough so that he could see
about an eighth of a mile in every
direction. He strained to see as far
as possible before trudging any
further. That's when he noticed
what looked like a clearing. It was
hard to know for sure, from this
distance he was not sure if it was a
clearing, or if his eyes were playing
tricks on him. Something deep
inside seemed to tell him to take a
closer look.
Yes, it was a clearing,
perhaps the site of an old cabin or
camp. He could not recall ever
seeing this before, which only
confirmed he was lost! The surface
of the snow was level except in three
areas which measured about twenty
feet square. In these areas the snow
seemed to indent about six inches.
Without a doubt this was once a
camp and these were areas dug
under the buildings. Little good that
would do him. Oh, how he wished
one of those buildings were still
standing! Then he noticed a
depression caused by a much longer
building. This could have been a
bunkhouse. On the other hand, if
this was a work camp, or perhaps a
hunting camp used by a lodge, this
may have been a mess hall. All these
thoughts ran through his mind as
he approached the larger
indentation.
The snow was starting
to
come down hard once again as if to
remind him of the danger he was
facing, that's when he noticed a
large hole in the ground several
yards away. As he approached the
opening, he reached back to take his
rifle from its sheath. If this hole was
big enough to provide shelter, he
wasn't too anxious to share it with a
critter.
When he looked into the
opening, he was surprised to see
steps! It was a root cellar! At first
he broke a long stick from a nearby
tree and probed into the hole as far
as he could reach to announce his
presence. Then with a rag and some
lard from his pack he used a
shorter stick to make a torch. As he
entered the man-made cave, he
could not believe his eyes! There
before him were porcelain cooking
pots, glass mason jars with coffee,
beans, rice, flour, etc. Was he
dreaming? Had he been in the snow
too long? Was this a mirage? No, it
was all there before him! There
were two oil lamps stored next to
two cans of lamp oil. There was
even a large pile of empty flour and
potato sacks.
He struggled to get his
doe
skin gloves off, then he quickly put
one of the lanterns to work. His
first order of business was to seal
the doorway of his new found
shelter. As he kicked the heavy
snow away from the sides of the
hole, he found a heavy wooden
door. When he lifted it from the
snow, he found evidence of the
camp's demise. The door's outside
was charred from the heat of a
forest fire. Had it not been at
ground level, it would be
gone....................
As my father-in-law
brought his truck to a stop, he
finished the story. Bob told me this
was the camp where the old
woodsman survived for weeks in
one of the worst winter storms in
upper Michigan's recorded history.
Some believe this was a
story spun in a northern bar. The
more the story teller's mug was
refilled, the better the story got.
Bob went on to tell me that one of
the reasons some doubt the story is
because the root cellar was never
found. "Do you believe the story is
possible?" I asked.
"Sure it's possible,
some of
it makes sense, but I am not too
sure if I believe it," he replied.
Bob's story really made
the
area more interesting! As we
detected around the site, it wasn't
long before we discovered the
camps large trash pit. The pit was
hidden beneath a heavy layer of
leaves. We both took an interest in
this. Soon our detectors were
propped against a tree and we
started removing the remains of
dozens of rusted cans. We had
hoped to find some 1800's bottles
and did we ever! The sad part was
they were the most common early
bottles known too man. . . .
worthless catsup bottles! We did
find a Hutchinson type soda bottle
and a neat paneled Dr. Tobias
Venetian Horse Liniment bottle.
When the trash pit was
thoroughly explored, I went back to
detecting. I wasn't at it very long
before I felt nature calling. Being
modest I decided to deal with this
in private. I noticed a slight rise to
the ground and decided to retreat
to the other side of it. As I walked
over the gentle rise, I noticed the
ground seemed spongy. When I
reached the top, panic took over . . .
I started to sink! Before I had a
chance to think about what was
happening, I was standing in a hole
more than six feet deep!
I must have let out a
holler
because Bob was looking down at
me in no time at all! While my
mind was racing to figure a way
out, I realized just before me was a
stairway. When I turned around, I
saw porcelain pots and plates
sitting on earthen shelves cut into
the walls. On another shelf there
were large empty canning jars.
Beneath my feet was the large
rotted beam that once supported
the earth roof. I was lucky it let me
down so gently! Right next to my
feet were the remains of an old pair
of leather boots. These boots were
so big that made my size 10's look
tiny!
We busied ourselves at
the
job of clearing away the earth from
the cave-in. Then we searched the
root cellar with a fine-toothed
comb. There we found the remains
of old lanterns, lamp oil cans, and
old cloth sacks that were now like
dust. I had hoped we would find
something dated. A diary would
have been nice!
Our discovery certainly
doesn't prove the old legend to be
fact. But it does make it more
plausible. Of course those of you
who know me have heard me say,
"Metal detecting without an
imagination is like metal detecting
without batteries!"
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