Phantom of the Unuk Country

I recently introduced you to the late Ozzing Hutchings who, during the last years of his life in Victoria, laboured to compile the history of the ghost town Anyox where his father was the provincial policeman and Ozzie a machinist for the Granby Consolidated Mining, Smelting and Power Co.

This was during the 1920s and ‘30s. Thirty-plus years later, by then retired, Ozzie still believed passionately that the story of Anyox and that of the mining history of the northwestern corner of the province had yet to be told and must not be allowed to be forgotten.

British Columbia’s far northwestern corner could be deceptively peaceful on a chill winter day. But not always for trappers who lived alone and had to rely upon their wits and nerve to survive. —*Ozzie Hutchings photo from Author’s Collection*

My writing weekly in the Sunday magazine of what was then The Daily Colonist brought us together and I was able to help him have several articles published in The Islander.

All the while, Ozzie continued to work on his Anyox anthology and a companion history, the story of Anyox’s northern neighbour, Stewart. This was later published as a book by that community’s chamber of commerce under the title, Stewart: The B.C.-Alaska Border Town That Wouldn’t Die.

However, Ozzie’s Anyox history-in-the-making was scooped by a professional journalist who’d been born in Anyox but who, too young to have memories of his own, borrowed Ozzie’s extensive files to tell the story of Anyox for which he was able to find a publisher.

But it wasn’t the story of Anyox that Ozzie wanted to tell and he was disappointed, almost heartbroken.

Which is about where I entered his world, by invitation, and our collaboration in a series of reminiscences in The Islander and his self—published version of the Stewart book that was later reprinted by the Stewart C-of-C.

Which, you might think, is the end of his story. But not quite.

Ozzie Hutchings, machinist by trade, historian and clock repairman by choice, was a born storyteller as you’ll see in this week’s Chronicles with his blood chilling story, ‘The Phantom of the Unuk Country.’

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It was during the 1920s and early 1930s, while at Stewart, B.C., I heard some strange stories from prospectors and trappers who only made town about once in two or three years from their long treks into the Unuk River country which is divided by the British Columbia-Yukon boundary.

These men, like trapper Scott, prospector Chas Knipple, Bill Hoble and others, spoke of the so-called “Phantom Growler” back there. They also mentioned that, back in 1923, trapper Jess. Sethington, of Stewart, had disappeared mysteriously in that Unuk country.

He’d gone in there, trapping alone, against the advice of others who knew that rough, tough mountainous wilderness. Jess hadn’t returned on a prearranged date, so when he didn’t show up, a search party was sent out, but they only found his old camp sites along the river. Then all traces were lost and Jess Sethington was never seen gain.

In that wilderness section of the country there was lots of game, big and small, but I think it was mostly noted for minerals, large bears (black and brown) and grizzlies.

Some of the stories were about unexplainable sounds by some animal in that section; it seemed this growling and moaning came during the hours of darkness, making even the hardiest of trappers or prospectors sit up and take notice.

One such person recalled that, after many years on the trapline, he was taken back one night, while eating some mulligan before his camp fire. Hearing this unusual sound he kept still and quiet, held his breath and strained his ears, trying to pierce the darkness of night, to figure out what it could be.

It had been way off and indistinct but any hardened trapper would know it wasn’t a usual sound of the wilderness. After, he heard it again, so that was a night when he slept with one eye and ear open, but the next day, he was back on his trapline as usual.

He had several of those nights during that long season; he’d also seen grizzlies on several occasions, but he gave them a wide berth when possible.

This sound had been heard by others over the years, only at much closer range. It was a long, agonized deep groan from something in excruciating pain. It started loud, as if in agony, then eased off with a long moaning as of a dying creature.

It was years before, I heard from my friend, trapper Scott, about the two Johnson brothers who went to the headwaters of the Unuk River on their first prospecting trip into the district during 1933. They had to battle their way through the treacherous currents and rapids, also the swirling waters in the canyons of this glacier-fed river, to get through into this little-known wilderness country to reach the old placer gold diggings of the 1890s, around Sulphiorets Creeks, about 20 miles from Tom MacKay Lake.

It seems that after a long, strenuous all-day fight, they reached a good place to camp, between those 6000- and 7000-foot peaks, on the banks of Cripple Creek. After that hard day they soon got a fire going and water on for a good mug of coffee to brighten their spirits, when they were startled by a deep groan behind the bushes in the thick underbrush, then a louder, more distinct groan. Finally, it was gone.

These brothers prospected this district for two or three years and each year they were plagued by this mysterious growling. But they never saw the animal that was causing these blood curdling groans.

A few nights later, they were awakened again by these moans and groans when it seemed to be in the creek, not far from them and coming up the bank towards their camp. Again the moaning stopped and the creature went up the creek and away.

That was too close to be nice, so the next morning they decided to build a cabin which would be safer than in bedrolls under a tent. By this time this ‘Phantom of the Unuk’ had become known as ‘Old Growler’ to the few men who wandered through this territory rich in minerals and furs.

Later, after the Johnson brothers had located some good mineral showings, their dog was aroused by something in the underbrush, close to the trail, and by the racket they knew it must be a bear, only a few feet from them. Then came those same grunts and groans of the ‘Old Growler’ they’d heard many times before.

But, again, it took off and the dog came back, all heckled up.

Their next surprise was in 1935 when the two brothers Jack and Bruce, with a friend, George, were doing some prospecting on some gold showings around the Sulphiorets and Cripple Creeks. Jack and George, with their dog, went up one side of the creek and Bruce took the other side.

Not intending to go a great distance, he left the rifle in camp and took only his small pistol. He hadn’t gone far when he heard that long growling in the bush ahead of him.

He froze, knowing he had only a small-bore handgun for bird hunting, and a single-shot at that.

The loud growl from that animal meant trouble ahead. Bruce saw the bushes shake and the bear coming towards him. He could see ‘Old Growler’ for the first time.

The underbrush was so thick that the only way he could see to travel was down the bear trail. Bruce fired every chance he got but, not hitting the animal with those small slugs, he’d reload and fire again hoping to slow him down.

But the old bear kept coming and Bruce kept shooting. The growling and snorting came closer until Bruce came to the edge of the woods where he raced to camp where his rifle was, and turned again for the last-stand fight.

But old Growler wasn’t in sight. He’d followed Bruce to the end of the timber and stayed there, out of sight for some time, then was gone.

A grizzly bear, left undisturbed, usually minds his own business. But Old Growler seems to have deliberately stalked the few trappers and prospectors who intruded in his domain. —*Wikipedia*

They were sure, now, that Old Growler was a Grizzly, a big one at that, and not harmless as some had thought. They wondered why he did his growling and wandering mostly during the dark hours and kept out of sight.

By now Fall was closing in on them after a short summer so they headed for the Unuk River with its cold blasts coming down from the ice fields. They still had some work to finish at Cripple Creek so stopped at their old site and noticed the creek full of salmon (unusual so late in the year). They also noticed a large number of bears, filling themselves for the long winter of hibernation.

To get some sleep there, they’d have to build a small shelter. So they got busy and by nightfall had made a good start on a cabin.

Later that night, who should show up, but old Growler with some of his friends, and during the darkness started his nerve wracking moans and groans.

The men had made ready for an occasion such as this by gathering a goodly supply of dry wood handy for the fire. Old Growler and his companions kept their distance but the men and their dog had a very hectic night, watching and waiting for the old one to show his eyes through the darkness in the background; but he kept out of sight and finally returned to the forest.

The next morning they got back to work on the cabin and by night they had it finished. It was small but large enough for them and the dog to stretch out in in safety.

They’d finished their work on the cabin and were about to to start downriver, but Bruce and his dog returned to the claim to make a last check. All of a sudden, they were confronted with this giant of a bear with a frightful appearance, one eye closed and its jaw out of shape, and making those weird groans and snarling, at the edge of the undergrowth, about 20 feet away.

The dog tried to do his job but the bear lashed out with its mighty paw and knocked the dog into the bush. Bruce grabbed his gun and, at close range, fired before jumping aside as the great animal came towards him.

Again Bruce fired, and the brute fell in a heap then raised itself again to charge as Bruce fired another heavy shot into the neck. Old Growler hit the ground, got up again to make another charge as Bruce, with his last cartridge, took aim and put the shot behind the ear.

Old Growler hit the ground for the last time, with the dog at his back, putting in his last lick.

Bruce looked over the gruesome carcass and could hardly believe what he saw: a huge hulk of leather, very little hair, a deformed head and only one eye, the other being closed and grown over with scar tissue. The jaw was badly smashed with teeth missing.

In fact, the whole thing looked as if it was too old to have gone this long among the denizens of the forest.

Later, Bruce returned with his brother and partner. They, upon seeing the enormous animal, decided to take his head and a huge paw back to civilization to prove that the “Phantom of the Unuk” was a large grizzly.

After a thorough examination back in Ketchikan, it was found that the skull was 17 inches long and 11 inches broad, with one eye closed and the jaw hinge separated. It was also noted that there were five old bullets lodged in the skull which could have been there for years. Two were .33 calibre and three were .38 calibre.

Back in 1925 when Jess Sethington of Stewart, B.C. disappeared, he was carrying a .33 calibre rifle and a .38 revolver. This could be the answer to how Jess Sethington was never seen again and why Old Growler, the ‘Phantom of the Unuk’ had been acting up all those years.

—Ozzie Hutchings 1974