"The family came up river in canoes, taking the "Market Boy", Capt. Thompson, pilot, from Hoquiam to the mouth of the Humptulips River. Frank, Jack, Morris, and I walked in over the trail, taking a day and a half to make the trip. Came by boat to New London, then afoot one day to the halfway house, then on to Humptulips, arriving at 11:00am. The trail was narrow and so muddy that the only way to keep out of it was to walk windfall logs."
" We lived that summer of 1891, on the Alex 'Scotty' McQueen place, and wintered in the old Angelo House. In the spring of 1892 we moved to the homestead in Township 21N. Range 9 W., Otis and I having gone ahead and built a small shack. We did not know when we left Missouri that our destination was to be Humptulips, but we had our suspicions. An experience that is ever fresh in my memory is that of my first trip to Humptulips.
There were in the party five men and a demijohn filled with potential refreshments. We disembarked from that palatial steamer, the "Romp", Capt. Bob Martin, at New London, at 11:00 A.M. in a copious rain which continued throughout the day. Camped at the six-mile shack that night. The morning dawned fair. Much refreshed we resumed our journey, always endeavoring, to keep above the mud and water by walking on logs along the edge of the road. We crossed frequently from side to side as the other side of the road always looked the best. Meanwhile an occasional pause for refreshment from the jug, when our spirits seemed to be getting low.
On said occasions I refrained from partaking on the grounds that the quantity was insufficent to carry the entire party through and if one of us had to be abandonded by the wayside, it might as well be me. At 2:00 P.M., the final wayside pause was made at the foot of the hill near the Evans place. We had left behind us sixteen miles of trail consisting of an almost unbroken chain of mud and waterholes.
At this point a large windfall log along side the road, and four of our party proceeded to drape their tired forms over the log. The resembled so many old wet socks spread out to dry. I stood in the road, anxious to be moving on when one of the group turned to me and said, "Frank, you're the only fresh one in in the bunch. I'm sorry I drank the stuff." Shortly after this we were ferried across the Humptulips River, by the general and the ever smiling Jim Lindsay.
A little later we were served a sumptuous dinner by Mrs. Best at the Best and Davis Motel. The following day, continuing northward, we soon reached the south portal to the Promised Land. Here we were confronted by a sign which read, 'This is the dead-line for all claim jumpers, hounds, dudes and Tax Collectors.' It was strongly decorated with Skull and Cross Bones.