There’s a story for the Sleeping Man of the Mountain

Editor’s note: Senior Katherine Atkins of Palmer wrote this story about the Sleeping Man of the Mountain as a companion story to the tale of Sleeping Lady.

MAT-SU — Yohan — a popular man’s name in Sweden, Norway and Denmark meaning “God is gracious, precious gift of God” — sat toying with his leftover food on his dinner plate in the dim light of an oil lamp in the combination living room-kitchen. The light shown dimly on the walls and ceiling as Yohan toyed with his food, lost in thought.

His mother was puttering around the stove. His father sat relaxing in a homemade rocking chair. Life seemed good.

Yohan came in last, after his father. Yohan was the last to eat the evening meal of boiled cod and potatoes swimming in butter with a thick slice of dark, heavy bread plastered with butter. They were fishermen and farmers. As he mused, suddenly Yohan spoke into the air as if he were alone. “I have heard in America, in a land called Alaska, they have found gold — lots of gold.”

He’d heard tell of gold nuggets the size of walnuts and larger. It’s everywhere on the ground, where you walk and look right upon the surface.

“I can catch a sailing ship to America then another from San Francisco to Alaska — the land of gold and golden opportunities,” he said. “Oh, I can hardly wait. I must look into it tomorrow at sunrise. If I don’t have enough money to cover the steerage I can work my way, as I heard others do.”

Yohan’s father and mother said not a word. After all, their son was past the age of making up his own mind and his own decisions.

At the first break of dawn, Yohan rolled over in his bed, yawned and stretched, grabbed his shirt and pants, and snapped up his suspenders in joyful expectancy. Stepping at the same time into his shoes sitting neatly by his bed as if they, too, could hardly wait to traverse the exciting path to new delight.

All went as planned. Yohan smiled slightly as he passed along the gangplank swinging his small bag of clothes and personal items. The trip was uneventful. It was a good time of year with warm, sunny days and cool, starry, moonlit nights.

There were a few who got seasick, but they soon adjusted. Yohan enjoyed the scenery and sea life — whales, dolphins, seabirds and jumping fish. The small talk along the way was of past, present and future. Yohan could hardly wait to set his foot upon the golden land. As soon as Yohan arrived, he went to the office to see about filing a mining claim. The office was open night and day — after all, it was the land of the midnight sun, as was his homeland.

He was blessed. The man had struck it rich and wanted to sell his claim cheap and quick. He wanted to get back to San Francisco. Yohan soon gathered his equipment and grubstake. He followed the map and trail to his new claim. Everything went along very well for Yohan. He found more gold than he knew what to do with. But soon he found himself bored and disillusioned. It was, as the saying goes, too much of a good thing.

Also, he couldn’t get something out of his mind until there was nothing else he could do but to search and seek for the Sleeping Lady.

Who is she? Where is she?

He decided to take a few clothes and a little grub and see if he could find this so-called “Sleeping Lady.”

He heard by word of mouth that she was south of Nome, so he set out hiking along beaches, crossing rivers on log rafts. Sometimes he would stop to hunt, feast and rest until he came to a large valley surrounded on three sides by mountains — on his left, right and in front of him.

He stopped, sighed, took in a deep breath and stretched his back and shoulders. The view was so beautiful to gaze upon it took a while to take it all in. Finally, he looked down, took a step forward to continue his expectant journey.

But oh! He was oh so tired as he climbed up the mountain to view the other side for the Sleeping Lady. He decided to climb into his sleeping bag as the summer sun was lowering in the sky. He would continue on in the morning, he thought, his eyes heavy with sleep.

His faithful dog, Bear One and his faithful pet, Bear Two, stopped a couple of peaks away, gazing faithfully toward their master as he soundly sleeps in peace.

And so it is until this day, the sleeping man in his half-pulled-up sleeping bag as the evening is warm. This story is truly one of the greatest secrets of Palmer and the Matanuska Valley.