Ode To One Of The Last Wild Western Pioneers

Lots of people are paying tribute lately to the dearly departed (which tracks during the thick of Scorpio season). And then Shane and I got to talking about our prospector friend we met on the river in the Kootenays back in June. We'll just call him K. Well, we looked him up and found out today that he passed in August. We were discussing what a textbook Scorpio he was, single-mindedly sticking to his mission to mine the gold that he knew very well was in the area. He told us stories of the Chinese Canadians who came close to striking it rich before they abandoned their gear and went off to fight the war (never to return). He used to lead hiking expeditions up to that area, where all of that mining equipment lingers still to this day, like ghosts. He set up camp by the river earlier this year, often alone save for when the odd folks like us happened to pop by for the free camping, and he vowed to stay there all summer. He told us that he wouldn’t go home until he had $100K worth of gold, because “I’m a digger. And I’ll just keep digging until I find it”. (And gifted us a nugget containing “pure BC gold” as both evidence and a souvenir.) He also found life in the bush to be easier than dealing with society.

At first he aired some controversial political views, and even told us about his time back in the day corresponding with Trump. But underneath that gruff, conservative exterior beat a heart made of gold to rival the riches he sought. He had a hard life, one that began as a US citizen (something we bonded over). He spent his early years bopping between British Columbia and Montana, where he claims his young self met and dated Selena Gomez’s mom. Furthermore, there was a good chance that he might very well be Selena’s baby daddy, and that she was known to call him up (sometimes tipsy and accompanied by her pop star friends) from time to time to chat. He even ran one of her fan pages. Maybe that was pure fan fiction, or maybe yet another instance in our lives where the truth is simply much stranger than fiction. But with his cowboy charisma, poetic way with words, and that beat up old baseball cap he wore that said “Famous” on it, he had our undivided attention and anything seemed possible. We just loved listening to him. We let him regale us with so many of his tales as we all sat by camp one day, while we kept his cup filled with bottomless Caesars. He shared about how he raised his daughters single-handedly, and how much love he had for them. We also found out that life took a turn for K during time working for the railroad, when he sustained a life-altering injury that the powers that be tried to cover up. From what he told us, he suffered horrible pain for the better part of 30 years (yet refused to take the meds they kept trying to ply him with, so that he could remain coherent - only a Scorpio) and survived a couple of attempted hits on his life, which occurred after he rattled the wrong people by coming too close to the truth that was kept hidden. He never did recover from his injury, and it no doubt contributed to his early death at the age of 60. He apparently died by the river that he so loved, a fitting end.

Sometimes in life you come across another soul whom you just meet and mingle with for mere hours or, in our case, a couple of days. But it touches your soul in a way you can’t explain, and you feel as if you’ve all known each other before. And even though you’ll never meet in this life again, you carry that person with you throughout the rest of your days. Shane and I both teared up when it was time to leave that river, we felt a sadness that we couldn’t explain. K was fond of saying, “I don't appreciate people who don't appreciate people.” Well, we sure appreciate him. And we’ll be making double caesars in his honor and toasting to his incredible life. May he now be finding some well-deserved peace, along with his treasure.