The Dark of the Forest, in the Shadow of the Mountain

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Story 1.

There is something in the forest.

Abandoned towns can be found scattered across the globe and are usually the epilogue of of natural disaster or ever-changing economic factors.

But every so often, an established settlement can turn into a ghost town for much more sinister reasons.

This week, we investigate a rural Alaskan town which was allegedly abandoned because of something in the forest.

The hunting party had been missing for three days.

It had consisted of three local factory workers, who had set off on the Friday evening, equipped with their bow hunting and camping equipment.

Their quarry was docile enough, wild doll sheep which inhabited the highlands surrounding the region.

The excursion was supposed to have lasted for two days, but when the men had not reported for their shift at the town's cannery on Monday morning, their fellow workers had expressed concern.

It was entirely possible they might have encountered a grey wolf or even a bear on their travels, and maybe some of them had been injured or worse.

When by Tuesday there was still no sign of the men, the alarm was raised and a search party was quickly assembled, setting off into the mountains to find their missing friends and neighbours.

The first sign that something might have gone catastrophically wrong was the discovery of a discarded hunting bow, swinging lazily back and forth in the wind amidst the branches of a tightly packed grove of spruce trees.

The weapon had been snapped into two pieces, still connected by the drawstring, an act that would have required enormous strength to achieve.

Spreading out across the area, the searchers also found the scattered contents of a quiver of arrows and some unopened tins of food, but of the men themselves, there was no trace.

All three were Native Americans and experienced hunters, who had previously ventured back and forth into into the region on many occasions.

Their disappearance was troubling to the townsfolk, but the full horror behind the tragedy was yet to be revealed.

Several weeks later, a man fishing in one of the more isolated mountain lagoons had spotted something submerged beneath the waters a short distance away.

As he waded closer to see what the object was, He managed to make out the upper body of an adult male, apparently missing its head and right arm.

The authorities were notified and made their way up to the lagoon to assess the scene.

When the body was finally recovered, it was identified as one of the three missing bow hunters, but a post-mortem of the remains did little to answer the concerns of the victim's loved ones.

Instead, it only raised more difficult questions.

The local doctor was used to dealing with victims of animal attacks or injuries sustained whilst climbing and descending the steep rock faces that dotted the region, but the wounds found on the body of the dead hunter bore little resemblance to anything he had seen before.

There were no claw or bite marks to indicate animal predation, no blunt force trauma that might indicate a fall.

It was as if some unknown force had literally pulled the unfortunate victim apart, the dismembered appendages carelessly thrown to one side in the process.

Of his two fellow hunters, no sign was ever found.

and no further efforts were made to locate them.

The local community had long come to believe that some mysteries were best left unsolved.

In September of 1785, an expedition funded by King George's Sound Company had set sail from England with the purpose of expanding their existing stake in the North American fur trade.

This endeavour consisted of 92 men sailing in two ships, the King George and the Queen Charlotte.

and was planned to last for a period of over three years.

After spending nearly two years slowly slowly making their way across to the North American continent, via the various trading posts of the Atlantic and Pacific Ocean, the ships found themselves cruising along the western coast of Alaska in August of 1787.

As the weather conditions unexpectedly deteriorated, the decision was made to drop anchor in a nearby bay, which would provide shelter for the beleaguered vessels over the next few days.

The expedition's leaders were so enamoured with the rolling hillsides and seemingly endless woodland that surrounded this idyllic location that they made repeated references to it in their dispatches home.

It would end up being recorded on their maps as Portlock Harbour, named after the commanding officer of the King George, Captain Nathaniel Portlock.

Over a century later, an American company constructed a sizable cannery at the bay to service the large fishing fleet they had deployed to take advantage of the region's bountiful supply of salmon.

A substantial community soon grew up around this cannery, housing both its employees and those of the associated service industries, and in time, this settlement and its amenities would formally be recognised as Port Chatham.

Almost immediately, the residents of the remote outpost learned that it was unwise to venture too far into the beautiful countryside which surrounded them.

Hunters reported having discovered horribly mutilated moose carcasses, with mysterious animal tracks found leading away from where the bloody remains had been found.

The records of the cannery supervisors show that at one point in 1905, all the indigenous alute workers at the plant had refused to come to work.

They stated that there was a dark force that dwelled within the region, which they called the Nantinak, and that it did not want them residing in its territory.

Eventually, after some negotiation, they did return to work on the factory floor.

with the owners assuming the story had been deceitfully manufactured by the natives as a ploy to increase their wages.

But the killings continued, and soon it was the bodies of the hunters themselves that were being recovered, hideously maimed and brutalised, or sometimes not even found at all.

Gradually, the attacks crept closer and closer to the settlement, until finally, the community chose to act.

In 1936, the cannery was closed down, and the entire population gathered its belongings.

and departed Port Chatham for good.

One of the most notorious incidents that would lead to the eventual evacuation of Port Chatham occurred in 1931, when a popular and easy-going resident by the name of Andrew Kamluck was found dead in the forest, not far from the edge of town.

Kamluck was a logger and no stranger to being alone for long periods of time out in the woods, but it was the manner of his death that would so shock the community.

Kamluck's lifeless body was discovered face down, with the entire back of his skull completely smashed to pieces.

Approximately 15 feet away from his remains, a large industrial piece of logging equipment lay discarded at the foot of a tree, covered with the dead man's blood.

Some tried to explain the incident away by claiming that Kamluk must have fallen against the equipment and banged his head.

However, the fact that the body was so far away indicated to most people that the machinery had instead been picked up and used to stove his head in, before being hurled to one side.

The fact it took between between three and four men to lift and recover the equipment after the event only served to cause further consternation for those investigating the death.

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Another disturbing incident had occurred back in 1920, when a party of bow hunters happened across a houseboat, which which had become stuck in the banks of the Yukon River, having drifted from further upstream.

The exterior of the vessel was covered in what appeared to be blood, and when the men had cautiously entered, they found its owner dying in the depths of the boat's interior.

Albert Petka had always been something of a loner, who had chosen to live life away from the rest of society, habitually mooring his boat in the remote Nulatu area.

Between his dying breaths, he was briefly able to relate to the terrified hunters what had happened to him and how powerless he had been to stop his own murder.

The dying Petka explained that he had been residing inside the cabin one evening when he heard an unnatural howling sound coming from somewhere nearby.

Dressing and arming himself, he'd exited his home to find a monstrous fur-covered figure slowly approaching his craft, shouting in a threatening and confrontational manner.

He'd raised his rifle to fire, but the creature had attacked with enormous speed, casually casually swatting the weapon away and smashing the helpless Petka repeatedly against the hull of his own boat.

Eventually, having inflicted horrifying and ultimately fatal injuries on Petka, the attacker had carelessly dropped him to the ground and carried on walking along its original path.

When the unfortunate hermit's body was later examined by a doctor, He was at a loss to explain what kind of animal could have caused such catastrophic internal injuries.

The fact that it then left him for dead rather than feasting upon his remains made his death seem even more senseless.

Despite having been completely abandoned by the end of the 1940s, sightings of mysterious creatures in and around the vicinity of Port Chatham have stubbornly persisted.

Local newspapers reported that in 1968, a goat hunter claimed to have been chased out of the derelict town by a terrifying creature that had stalked him through the countryside for several days, before trying to trap and eat him.

Then in 1990, an ambulance technician in Anchorage related the story of how he had been sent to the city's Eagle River jail to treat a 70-year-old native inmate who had suffered a suspected heart attack.

As the two men had been chatting, the alute detainee had mentioned that he had been born and raised in the town of Port Graham.

The conversation had eventually progressed onto the subject of nearby Port Chatham.

At which point, the paramedic had asked the prisoner if he believed in any of the stories of the monsters that allegedly lived there.

At this, the man suddenly sat bolt upright, his eyes full of fear.

He explained to the emergency worker how in August of 1973, he and two other members of the tribe had gone hunting at one of the upper lagoons in nearby Dogfish Bay.

One evening after a dinner of broiled salmon, which they had caught earlier on, they had retired to their sleeping bags, only to be woken by the sounds of someone moving around immediately outside their tent.

As the three men had nervously reached for their weapons, they could hear the sounds of loud footfalls, walking in a steady and deliberate manner, circling the tent.

This was accompanied by a heavy breathing sound, and the noises of someone apparently handling the pots and pans they had left outside from the meal.

It then slowly receded, heading back into the forest.

When they ventured outside the following morning, they discovered that the remains of the cooked salmon were gone, along with several of their food containers.

Unnaturally large footprints were also found, pressed deep into the mud around the tent.

For the next two evenings, the hunters ensured that they left the remains of their evening meal in plain sight, with their unknown visitor again returning on both occasions to relieve them of it.

When the paramedic asked if this could have simply been a bear, his patient was adamant it was not.

The intruder had made no threatening sounds or gestures, or any attempt to interfere with the tent, despite knowing that the men were inside.

Their visitor, he claimed, had been the Nantinak, and only the fact that they had treated it with deference and respect had saved their lives.

Stories of entities that are part man, part monster, can be found throughout the history of the indigenous tribes of North America.

And in future episodes, we will go on to examine more of them.

In the case of the Nantinak, the Alut go to great lengths to assert that the creature was not always the monstrous entity it became, and was originally a normal human being, who was cursed by dark forces and turned into this tragic creation.

The murderous creature is also not the only strange phenomenon to be associated with the windswept cliffs of the Kenai Peninsula.

The Elut tribe also tell of the vengeful spirit of a young maiden, who was lured to her death by an unknown killer.

Panicked warriors would, on occasion, return to the tribe, stating that a pale-faced woman with flowing black hair had emerged from the rock face beside them, trying to take hold of them with frozen hands and drag them to their deaths.

The area immediately surrounding both Port Lock and Port Chatham is saturated with seemingly endless cave networks and deep glacial valleys, both of which remain notoriously difficult to negotiate.

Hunters in the region have reported following trails of 18-inch long humanoid footprints.

Experienced trackers have identified that whatever is making these prints prints is overhauling and ambushing unfortunate moose or caribou, and then proceeding away from the carcasses in a straight line towards the safety of the nearby mist-shrouded mountains.

Is it possible that left to its own devices in such an untouched region of the globe, some long-lost hominid has continued to evolve at a more leisurely pace than our own?

Are the incidents that have taken place over the last century evidence that in the future, our two species are destined to eventually come into open confrontation and collide with one another.

Or is it all a case of mistaken identity?

The Alaskan wilds are heavily populated with bears and other natural predators.

During violent and unexpected attacks by such animals, in the confines of an overhanging forest canopy, or in the hours of darkness beside a fast-flowing river, it is possible that the memories of survivors might be compromised by the scary stories they were told beside a campfire when they were much younger.

No matter where on earth you might choose to spend some leisure time, every different society and community possesses its own legends and tales of the supernatural, be these ghosts, monsters, or creatures from another place.

We have all grown up hearing stories of things that are dark and dangerous and reside at the fringes of our natural environment.

In the case of Port Chatham, It is clear that whatever factors may have contributed to the abandonment of the settlement, the pervading fear of attack by a Sasquatch-like beast beast that would persistently venture down from the neighbouring mountains certainly contributed to the people's eventual decision to leave.

In time, as more and more residents chose to depart, the legend naturally grew in strength, in turn affecting those who had elected to remain.

Whether there is any truth to the tale, the mere notion of it became too strong to resist.

and finally pushed the remainder of the workers out of Port Chatham to the neighbouring town of Portlock.

To the elute, there is little doubt.

At some point in their history, the Nantinak was a very real threat, something to be feared and avoided, and in some ways, whether it ever actually existed is entirely irrelevant.

It continues to haunt the forests surrounding Portlock Bay,

even to this very day.

Story 2:

There is something in the mountains

For more than a century, a steady stream of treasure hunters and thrill thrill seekers have lost their lives under mysterious circumstances whilst searching for a legendary cache of gold hidden away somewhere in central Arizona.

The headless bodies of those that have eventually been located have made it clear that there is something in the mountains.

It was customary for April to be one of the hottest periods of the year for the state of Arizona, but even taking that into account, the weather conditions for 1958 seemed unusually unforgiving.

Daytime temperatures had not dropped below 30 degrees Celsius for the past two weeks, and as Benjamin Cruz slowly laboured along the mountain track, he found himself silently praying for rain.

There was no obvious shelter for miles around, and the light and heat from the sun directly above him was relentless.

The Pinal County Sheriff's deputy came to a halt again to take yet another gulp of water from his canteen.

A gentle shake of the container as he finished drinking confirmed it was nearly empty, but thankfully he was carrying a spare.

When he had set off from their patrol car back on the main highway, his partner Joe Donaldson had insisted that Cruz take his along too.

The decision for Deputy Donaldson to remain at their vehicle with the hikers who had called for police assistance had not been a difficult one.

As soon as the officers had pulled up, it was clear from the haunted expressions on the faces of the two youths that they would be little more than a hindrance if they were to show them the way.

Cruz had seen their kind a hundred times before, dumb college kids, heads turned by stories of hidden gold and ghostly Apache guardians.

Rather than endure another hour of their nervous babbling, he had made them repeat the directions to the location they had called about until he was satisfied they were not lying, and then moved off up the mountain's northern slopes.

Approximately half an hour later, Cruz found what he was looking for.

A short distance off the main trail, hidden from sight behind a small outcrop, were the dusted remains of a campsite.

The deputy produced a pencil and notepad from his breast pocket, and then slowly walked around the perimeter of the scene, noting down the details he felt were pertinent.

A gun cleaning kit lay discarded to one side, its scattered contents forming a wide circle of metallic debris.

On one hand, the absence of any spent shell casings was reassuring, but the fact that the weapon the kit was intended for was missing was conversely a concern to him.

Despite all the sand and particulates that had evidently blown into the location over the past few days, it was clear that some form of violent confrontation had taken place.

Deep scuff marks and divots were still evident on the ground, the remains of an evening meal strewn haphazardly across them.

Cruz had watched enough corny bee movies to recognise a Geiger counter when he saw one, but whilst its presence intrigued him, that was not the item which held his attention.

Several feet away from the camp, snagged on a nearby bush, was a military-style sleeping bag.

The deputy approached it cautiously, wincing when he caught sight of the dark bloodstaining that had saturated its interior.

Having bent down to retrieve a few pieces of correspondence, all of which had any identifying names or addresses torn away from them, he used his walkie-talkie to send Donaldson back into town to fetch more officers.

He then settled down on a nearby rock, sighing wearily, before lighting up a cigarette.

The remains of the campsite's owner would turn up at some point in the future.

They nearly always did.

Hell, he thought to himself, if they were really lucky, then this time, the head might even still be attached.

The Superstition Wilderness Reserve dominates a huge swathe of the land lying to the east of Phoenix, Arizona.

It is named after its highest peak, the Superstition Mountain, a 3,000-foot monolith located towards the south.

Rarely has a geological feature been so aptly named, as even before Western settlers eventually stepped foot in the region, the indigenous tribes residing there regarded the location with an uncomfortable blend of fear and reverence.

The Apache people swore that the mountain was home to a vengeful thunder god, who resided deep within the caves and tunnels.

Only through regular worship and sacrifice could he be persuaded not to rise and decimate the lands around his lair.

In addition to this, they further believed that concealed somewhere within the bowels of the mountain range was a bottomless portal, leading straight down to the depths of hell itself,

or rather, the Apache equivalent.

But it was whispered tales of underground cities of gold that caught the attention of the conquistadors, who arrived in the area during the 1540s.

The Spanish forays into the foothills and valleys around the mountain brought them into direct confrontation with the Apaches, who warned that only misery and death awaited those venturing into the kingdom of the Thunder God.

Plentiful seams of gold were soon discovered, but extracting this great wealth came at a terrible cost.

Almost immediately, decapitated and mutilated bodies of the soldiers who had been sent to mine the bounty were recovered, their steel breastplates and matchlock rifles little match for whatever mysterious force guarded the treasure.

As their numbers dwindled, the Spanish made the decision to leave the region, but the lure of the gold would prove impossible to resist for many others.

Over the centuries, many adventurers would return to the Superstition Mountains in search of the hidden fortune, meeting with varied levels of success.

But it would not be until the 1840s that a permanent mining facility could be established.

The influential Peralta family conducted operations in the hills for many years, until the Apache massacred them and their workers, as a warning for others to stay away from the sacred grounds.

In time, the Peralta mine was forgotten until a US Army doctor by the name of Abraham Thorne wandered into Phoenix carrying a knapsack full of gold ore.

He claimed to have lived among the Apaches for a decade, studying their culture in exchange for the provision of basic medical care.

Thorne stated that out of gratitude for his services, he was blindfolded before he left and led to a deep mine shaft where he was allowed to take as much gold as he could carry away with him.

The abandoned gold mine was rediscovered in the 1870s by a German prospector called Jacob Waltz.

He refused to reveal its location, regularly venturing off alone into the mountains and returning with large amounts of gold.

Records show that he sold a total of $250,000 worth of the precious metal to the US Mint, before he passed away in 1891 following a bout of pneumonia.

In the years following Waltz's death, there were many attempts to locate and claim the seam he had been working on, which became known, despite the fact Waltz had been German, as the lost Dutchman's Gold Mine.

And as those who set out into the mountains in search of the mine failed to return, the story gradually evolved from a local legend into a national obsession.

The first recorded death related to the mine came in 1896.

An outlandish character named Alicia Revas relocated from California to the superstitions and built himself a cabin up in the mountains from which to operate in search of the gold.

Revas was something of an eccentric, refraining from shaving or cutting his hair and often wandering the canyons buck naked, brandishing a pair of revolvers.

His antics apparently led even the Apaches to give him a wide berth.

When his battered body was eventually found lying four miles away from his shack, the head had been carefully placed upon a rock several meters away from it, looking down at the rest of his remains.

An adventurer by the name of Adolf Ruth announced his intention to locate the Dutchman's mine in June of 1931, and after equipping himself with a large amount of provisions, he too disappeared off into the wilderness.

The following December, his school was located by a search party that had been hired by his family in a vain effort to find him.

The cause of his death was not overtly difficult to deduce, with two large bullet holes torn into the centre of the forehead.

It would be a further four weeks before the rest of Ruth's remains were recovered.

A decapitated corpse was found several miles away, identified as the missing man due to the presence of metal pins, inserted into one of its two crushed and broken legs from a previous fall.

The The coroner ruled that Ruth had committed suicide when he had been unable to walk any further.

This proved somewhat unconvincing for the family, who were keen to stress that Ruth would not have been able to shoot himself in the head twice and that no gun had been recovered.

Equally as disturbing was the death of treasure hunter James A.

Cavey in July of 1947.

He arranged to be transported into the mountains by helicopter, establishing a base with two weeks worth of supplies in Labarge Canyon before setting off on foot in search of the gold mine.

When the helicopter pilot returned two weeks later, finding all the supplies untouched and no sign of Cavey, he immediately alerted the local sheriff.

A posse was organised, assisted by tracker dogs, but it would not be until the following February that a party of hikers found Cavey's remains, rolled up in a blanket and left hanging from a ledge by a rope that had been tightly tied around them.

Once again, the head had been removed and several ribs were broken.

Cavey's identification papers, clothing and money were all left in a pile nearby, with a rock placed on top to stop them from blowing away.

The mysterious slayings have continued, with the most recent being that of a 35-year-old Colorado native in December of 2009.

Jesse Capin was utterly obsessed with finding the lost Dutchman's mine, and had made multiple trips to the Superstition Mountains Mountains before he disappeared.

A search by the local police found his car abandoned on a remote track, with a phone and wallet still inside.

Jesse's broken and shattered body was recovered three years later, wedged in a crevasse halfway down a sheer rock face, which was inaccessible from above.

There was no indication of how he had come to rest there.

Other strange phenomena have also been reported by people visiting the Superstition Wilderness Reserve, including phantom orbs of light flying around in the skies overhead, and sightings of a tall skeleton-like figure making its way across the plains at night, searching the ground for something with a flickering lantern in its grasp.

Bedtime Stories was first alerted to the myths and tales associated with the superstitions by a subscriber, Nathaniel Alori.

He contacted the channel to share a disturbing story that had taken place when he had been hiking in the region back in 2015.

He and a number of friends had happened across wreckage relating to a light aircraft that had crashed there during December of 2011, killing its six occupants.

The group decided to take a rest at the crash site and whilst doing so, Nathaniel took a number of pictures on his mobile phone.

A week after he had returned home from the trip, as he was showing his mother the photos he had taken, She had gasped and pointed to something in the shot that was standing a short distance behind the group.

When Nathaniel zoomed into the image in question, he was bewildered to see what appeared to be a male figure dressed all in white, staring directly into the camera approximately 15 meters behind the group.

The figure in question had not been there on the day the photo was taken, and in any case, there was no way it could have been where it was.

His group was on its way back from an area that only had one access route, one way in, one way out.

For the figure to have been standing behind them, it would have to have walked past them first, yet no one saw it.

Whoever the figure is, it is not defined clearly enough to identify, but on closer inspection, it does appear as though the skin is charred.

There have been in excess of 100 unsold murders and unexplained deaths which have been documented within the boundaries of the reserve over the last century, the overwhelming majority of which were people who had been searching for the lost Dutchman's gold mine.

So who or what is it that so fiercely and effectively guards the location against avaricious intruders?

Apache writings make reference to a race known as the Tautums, underground dwellers who could occasionally be glimpsed at the top of mountain ridges, peering down at travellers who are entering their territory.

Few native warriors encountered these creatures and lived to tell the tale.

It is of course easy to dismiss such a story as being far too fantastic to be true, except for the similarities it bears to another mysterious mountain region.

The idyllic Mahani National Park is located in Canada's Northwest Territories, but is also known by another, far more sinister nickname, the Headless Valley.

Much like the superstitions, it was home to a tribe of Native Americans, the Dene, until the beginning of the 18th century, when rumours about deep seams of gold attracted large numbers of prospectors and treasure hunters.

In 1908, two brothers named Frank and Willie MacLeod disappeared whilst prospecting in an area of the park known as the 200 Mile Gorge.

Over a year later, the decapitated bodies of the two men were discovered in undergrowth a short distance from Virginia Falls.

Their heads were never located.

A decade later, the charred remains of another prospector named named Martin Jorgensen were found in his burned-out cabin, again minus the head.

The Dene lay the blame for the killings, firmly at the door of a supernatural race known as the Naha, fierce ghost warriors who covered their faces with nightmarish masks and took the heads of their enemies as trophies.

In addition to the murders, The bodies of frozen campers have also been found next to burning campfires, which should have kept them alive.

And of course there have been persistent reports of UFO activity in and around the valley.

The Apache belief that the superstition mountains hide a portal which descends directly into hell is also far from an isolated one.

Tales of these so-called hell mouths can be found in the history of cultures from all over the world.

One of the most famous is said to be located 50km north of Prague in the Czech Republic.

During the 13th century, it was written that winged demons were terrorising the area and knights dispatched to find them stumbled across a gaping chasm, which the creatures were using to emerge from hell.

Hoska Castle was allegedly built on that spot, to seal the portal and prevent any further incursions by these entities.

Again, it is easy to scoff at what amounts to a medieval ghost story.

but the manner in which the castle was constructed does set it apart from similar fortifications of the era.

It was built in an isolated area, well away from existing roads and supply routes, and all the battlements and walls were inward facing, with no external defences.

It was also designed with no kitchen or sleeping quarters to support a permanent garrison of defenders.

Whatever truth may or may not lie in these two legends, The fact that some of the victims were killed with modern firearms suggests that the answer to the mystery is a far more rational one.

In 1945, a treasure hunter called Barry Storm claimed to have survived an encounter in the mountains with a mysterious sniper, who he referred to as Mr.

X.

Storm stated that the attacker had stalked and taken shots at him for several days before he had finally managed to escape.

He would go on to write a book about his experience, in which he theorised that the same individual may have been the killer of Adolph Ruth, 15 years previously.

Given the lengthy passage of time over which the murders have occurred, it seems inconceivable that one such killer could exist.

This in turn leads to the theory that there may be a secretive organisation or cult that continues to exploit the wealth of the lost Dutchman's mine, one that is prepared to go to the most extreme lengths in order to prevent the precious resource from falling into the hands of others.

As with any of the stories we examine, the truth naturally rests somewhere between these these more outlandish theories and far more mundane explanations.

A large percentage of the deaths that have occurred are most likely the result of murder, suicide, fatal accidents or natural causes.

The perceived decapitation or mutilation of the remains can further be attributed to the body being left out for a sustained period in such a desolate and unrelenting environment.

But dead bodies being degraded by animals or harsh weather conditions cannot fully explain away the the more bizarre fatalities that have been reported.

The fact that such a high number of these unexplained cases have occurred at both the Superstition Mountains and the Nahani Valley make it clear that hostile adversaries dwell within the mountain ranges of the North American continent, and that they are best avoided at all costs.

In time, It is possible we may yet discover what is responsible for the Superstition killings.

Until then, our thoughts are with all those who have perished in pursuit of the lost Dutchman's mine and the families they left behind.

May they rest in peace.

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