The Old Williamson (Wilhelmsen) Cabin and Mine

About six miles up Green Canyon from the Saint Charles, Idaho side is a faint set of vehicle tracks heading off to the north. The tracks traverse a rough open mountain meadow with lichen-covered rocks and low vegetation. The tracks head toward a large pine and into an aspen grove. Nestled into a slight hill is (was) the old Williamson cabin, and on the back side of the north slope the entrance to the Williamson mine. (The Williamson cabin and mine property was given over to the Forest Service several years prior to this writing in 2015. The cabin was demolished and all visible remnants removed. The mine was buried and the land around the area has been groomed to make it look natural as if nothing but forest was ever there.) While growing up I would listen to the stories my father (Jerry Dow Williamson) told about the place. The cabin and the mine was started by Ellis Williamson and his six sons, Odell, Dow, Lyle, Lynn, Dewey, and Max. Most of them worked the mine from time to time. They were able to get a very small amount of gold and a little silver, but not enough to make anyone wealthy. The cabin was used as a deer camp too. Down inside the mine the temperature remained close to 40 or 50 degrees, just cool enough to hang a deer carcass or two without quick spoilage. At the front of the mine was the engine from an old vehicle. It was used to power a pulley system to lift the ore carts out of the mine on a set of railroad tracks. In front of the mine was the tailings dump. My dad (Jerry), would drive us up to the cabin and mine when we visited the Bear Lake area. As kids we would walk down into the mine as far as we dared before thoughts of mountain lions, old hermits, rattlesnakes, and ghosts would scare us out. The cabin was always locked. I only remember being inside of it once. It was a one room affair with a wood burning stove and chimney on one end, a table towards the front window, and a bed or two attached to the wall that could be raised or lowered. It was a very rustic cabin, fashioned with rough timber from the area. Off to the one end of the cabin was a woodshed. It seemed to always have cut and stacked wood in it. As I was growing up, I dreamed of living in this cabin. In my early twenties, before I was married, I would drive to Saint Charles Canyon on my day off each week in the summer and fall. I would camp over night and fly fish the creek. On several occasions I would drive over Green Canyon on my way home and stop at the cabin. I would peer through the window and imagine my great uncles sitting at the table playing cards by lantern light, or cooking venison on the wood burning stove. Once in a while I would have the feeling that a deceased ancestor's spirit was there; a little eerie but not too spooky. One winter I had the crazy idea of pulling a toboggan with camping gear and food into the cabin and staying for a couple of nights. I convinced my brother-in-law (Mark Dickson) to go with me. My dad called uncle Dewey and asked him if we could stay there and if we could borrow the key. Dewey gave permission. We packed our gear, loaded my small truck and headed for Bear Lake. A winter storm was due in the area and hit at about the same time we arrived at Dewey's and Theone's house. It was an early afternoon and Theone invited us into the house. Dewey asked us the details of our trip. We told him we would pull the toboggan with all our gear up to the cabin and stay two nights. Dewey tried to talk us out of it, and was pretty adamant that we were foolish. Theone was a little more understanding. She said something about me having the Williamson blood and I wasn't doing anything I couldn't handle and that Dewey himself had been known to do a few adventurous things. Dewey finally consented, gave us the key, and then warned us that if we were not back on the day we told him, he would send Search and Rescue after us. We promised him we would be okay and headed out the door. The dirt road leading up to the cabin was snow packed by snowmobiles and mostly uphill. We pulled the gear laden toboggan for about two miles, but soon found the snowstorm was laying down fresh powder making it more difficult to pull the toboggan. We saw a couple of kids on snowmobiles and tried to get them to pull the toboggan for us. They looked scared and declined to help. The snowstorm soon turned into a regular Bear Lake blizzard. We knew making it to the cabin before nightfall would be impossible. We considered pulling up under some big pine trees and spending the night, but eventually decided to call off the adventure. We pulled the toboggan back down the mountain to Theone's and Dewey's house where we had left the truck just as it was getting dark. I think Dewey was glad to see us because he could stop worrying about us being up on the mountain in the blizzard. We told him that the snowstorm was making it too difficult to get to the cabin. Theone asked us if we would eat dinner with them. We said yes as we had used a lot of calories trying to pull that toboggan uphill in fresh snow. We sat at the table and paused. Dewey asked us if we were waiting for a blessing on the food. We said yes, it was our custom. Dewey said that it was blessing enough to have something to eat so dig in. We did. I have never attempted to stay at the cabin again, though, I do continue to stop there periodically on visits to Bear Lake and Saint Charles. Great grandpa Ellis, grandpa Dow, and the rest of the brothers are all deceased now. As mentioned earlier, the cabin and mine are gone, but if you know where to look, you can still see the faint vehicle tracks that lead off the main dirt road, through an open meadow, and towards a large pine. You can drive up into the aspen trees where a rustic cabin used to stand. You can stand in this quiet spot and remember. You might hear the breeze shake the aspen leaves and whisper down through the pines a message that you are on sanctified ground where a father and his sons worked, hunted, and shared time together---a place of memories.