Panning for Trouble: Part One

I knew it was going to happen. I could sense it.

The way Trevor waved off my concern, the way he avoided my pointed questions about safety. I could tell this was a bad idea, I've known Trevor long enough to figure out when he wasn’t thinking something all the way through.

This was definitely one of those times I should have put my foot down and told him no. I wasn’t going to any mining town unless he could guarantee we wouldn’t run into trouble.

When it came to Trevor though, “no” merely meant to him “I’m nervous and unsure. Convince me why I should come.”

And convince me he did, to the point that I finally gave in to his constant pleads and promises of a “grand time.”

Now, as I gripped Trevor’s hand until my knuckles turned white, I realized I shouldn’t have given in so easily.

Trevor’s time travel wrist watch, 4T, dissolved the island base we called home into a thousand particles, slowly replacing the green scenery with dirt roads and scrubby foliage. Several cumulus clouds appeared and our mountain, Mauna Kea, became wooden shacks and shabby tents as we traveled two thousand years into the future. The year 1850, to be exact.

Grizzly camp. The tents spread for a long ways!

It didn’t look all that great and I was beginning to regret my consent.

“We’re here!” Trevor exclaimed as he released his hand from my death grip, rubbing his palms together. “Look at it Marin, it’s the picture of a frontier mining camp!”

“If this is a frontier mining camp, then I want to find a un-frontier town,” I stated. “And where are all the people?”

“Out at their claims, probably. Grizzly camp isn’t that big,” Trevor replied as he bounced ahead, gesturing at everything in sight. “Look, there’s where the miners hold their miner’s court. Oh! And see, there’s one of the corrals where they pit bears against bulls!”

I didn’t know how to tell him without bringing his parade crashing down to earth, but my observations had to be voiced.“Trevor, this place is a dirt camp.”

He stopped and turned towards me. His green eyes twinkled and his face was plastered with a giant grin as he waved at the town. “It’s called Grizzly for a reason, Marin. This is a man’s town, the only women around here are what you might call ‘unrespectable’ women. There aren’t any kids, either.”

That’s really what I wanted to hear. I was going to be the only kid, and a girl at that, in this rough and tumble mining town. Thanks Trevor for dragging me here. After our last venture to Ancient Rome, I wasn’t very eager to trudge right into another dangerous situation. The Coliseum isn’t that fun to end up when you’re expected to fight off lions. Not kidding.

“Hey Marin, relax.” I jerked myself out of the way just before Trevor got a chance to pull on one of my golden braids. I hate it when he does that. “We’ll blend in just fine. Besides, there’s a sheriff in this town. There isn’t going to be any crazy roman soldiers and lawless lion fights.”

“Uhh, what about those bear and bull fights you just mentioned?” I pointed out.

Trevor ran his fingers through his dark brown hair and grinned. “Okay, so there are those.” He chuckled. “But this isn’t going to be anything like our last expedition. We’re here to stake a claim, find some gold and soak in good ol’ Californian culture. It’ll be fun!”

The more excited Trevor got the faster he spoke with that heavy Scottish brogue of his. It made it hard for me to understand him, but I had to smile. You couldn’t be annoyed with Trevor when he was excited.

“Okay,” I sighed. “Let’s hope you’re right.”

“I’m always right.” He winked, and then beckoned me to follow him. “Come on, let’s go find a place to get to work.”

~oOo~

            Trevor decided that he didn’t want to mine the usual way, where you dig in the ground, sift through the dirt and create tunnels in the hills. He hates dark places, so I guess I don’t blame him. No, he wanted to do some panning instead.

            I didn’t mind, I wasn’t too fond of dark holes either. The idea of panning for gold in the creek was much more pleasant than digging into a hill that could collapse on you.

            At least that’s what I thought until I had been standing in the creek for twenty minutes.

            Grizzly camp, the town we had traveled to, was located in the Eldorado National Forest. And the creeks got their water straight from the snow-melt of the Sierra Nevada mountain range. In short, it was c-o-l-d.

            Whenever Trevor and I travel to a time period, we try to outfit ourselves appropriately so we didn’t stand out. I was wearing white stockings, a brown skirt and a white blouse. I had taken off my socks and shoes to wade in the water, but after twenty-five minutes or so I climbed back out and set my pan on the soil, my teeth chattering. I pulled on my stockings to warm up my feet and sat under the sign Trevor had put up to mark our claim.

            Property of Trevor Trekker. No Acceptance of any kind.

            This was put up in case we started to haul in gold and someone decided to take our panning spot. Once a sign is up no one is allowed to jump your claim, they have to go and find their own place to pan for gold.

            “Done already?” Trevor asked as he glanced over his shoulder. He sounded a little disappointed.

            “I’m cold,” I replied, hugging my middle. “Goodness Trevor, how can you stand that icy water?”

Sifting through the dirt. Brr, it's cold!

Trevor was about ten feet away from the bank, a cowboy hat on his head and his trousers rolled up to his knees. He was currently sifting his pan around, tilting it in one direction to let some of the dirt out and then the other. The point of this was so that any gold he might have scooped up would end up at the bottom of the pan after he finished sifting it.

            He responded to my question by beginning to sing one of his Scottish songs about fishing and the hardiness of the Scots. “Back down in the Loch when I was a boy, I spent all day on the waters ahoy. I stood in the boat until my muscles would sag, for a job I must do for my family’s purse bag.”

            “You could just tell me.” I giggled as I stood up and yawned. “It might be easier.” Trevor’s singing isn’t what I’d call ‘a sweet voice to hear.’

            Trevor started to sing louder and I began to laugh, his voice hitting crazy pitches as he tried to sing high and low notes. “The water was cold and me skin shor did crawl, but time I had not to complain or to bawl. The rent was due to the landlord in Wick, a choice I had not other than to fish.”

            Between my outbursts and his song, it was no wonder I didn’t hear the snap of the twigs behind me until a gruff voice snarled, “Jist what do you two think you’re doin’ on my claim?”

            Trevor is wrong. He wasn’t always right.

            Come back in a week for the next part of Panning for Trouble!