Bedrock and Gold: The mysteries . . .

[Lanny in AB]

Do you love to chase the gold? Please join me--lots of gold hunting tips, stories of finds (successful and not), and prospecting poetry.

Nugget in the bedrock tip:

I had a visit with a mining buddy this past weekend, and he told me of an epic battle to get a nugget out of the bedrock, and of what he learned from the experience. I thought some of you might like to learn from his mistake.

While out detecting one day, he came across a large sheet of bare bedrock. The bedrock was exposed because the area had been blasted off with a water cannon (a monitor), by the old-timers! It was not fractured bedrock, in fact it was totally smooth.

He was not optimistic at all of the prospects of a nugget. But, for some reason (we've all been there) he decided to swing his detector over that bedrock. After a long time, just as he was about to give up on his crazy hunch, he got a signal, right out of that smooth bedrock.

There was no crevice, no sign of a crevice, nada! So, he had to go all the way back to camp to get a small sledge and a chisel. The signal in the rock intrigued him, but he still wasn't overly optimistic. For those of you that have chased signals in a similar situation, sometimes there's a patch of hot mineralization in the bedrock that sounds off, but this spot, according to him, was sharp and clear right in the middle of the signal, not just a general increase of the threshold like you get when you pass over a hot spot in the bedrock.

Anyway, he made it back to the spot and started to chisel his way into the bedrock. If any of you have tried this, it's an awful job, and you usually wind up with cut knuckles--at the least! Regardless, he kept fighting his way down, busting out chunks of bedrock. He kept checking the hole, and the signal remained very strong.

This only puzzled him all the more as he could clearly see that it was solid bedrock with no sign of any crevice. He finally quit at the end of the day, at a depth of about a foot, but still, nothing in the hole.

An experienced nugget shooting friend dropped by the next morning to see him, and asked him how the hunt was going. My buddy related his tale of the mysterious hole in the bedrock, and told the friend to go over and check it out, and see if he could solve the riddle.

Later in the day, the other nugget hunter returned. In his hand was a fine, fat, sassy nugget. It weighed in at about an ounce and a quarter! After my friend returned his eyeballs to their sockets and zapped his heart to start it again, he asked where the nugget had come from.

Imagine his surprise when he heard it came from the mystery hole!! He asked how deep the other guy had gone into the bedrock to get it. "Well, no deeper" was his reply.

So, here's the rest of the story as to what happened. When the successful nugget hunter got to the bedrock, he scanned the surface got the same strong signal as my buddy. He widened out the hole and scanned again. Still a solid tone. He widened the hole some more so he could get his coil in, and here's the key and the lesson in this story, he got a strong signal off the side of the hole, about six inches down, but set back another inch into the side of the bedrock!!

My unlucky friend, the true discoverer of the gorgeous nugget's resting place had gone deep past the signal while digging his hole!!

Now, of course, a good pinpointer would easily solve this problem. The problem was, my buddy didn't have one, so why would he widen the hole, right? Well, the other guy was the one with more experience, and that's why he did. It was a lot more work, but what a payoff!

So, my buddy's butt is still black and blue from where he kicked himself for the next week or so for having lost such an incredible prize.

Some nugget hunting lessons are harder than others to learn. . . .

All the best,

Lanny


P.S. When in gold country--check the bedrock, regardless of whether it looks likely or not! Mother Nature likes to play games sometimes.

 

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[IMPDLN]

That was a real tear jerker there Lanny. Very nice ending for sure.

I can't go into any real detail yet, as we have more work to do, but we had a very happy Thanksgiving here. Two new Minelabs paid for in one day for two fortunate prospectors. I just happen to be one of them. Another fortunate individual got a find of a lifetime 2 days later on the same location. The only other detail I can add at the moment is that I officially can say I joined the 1 ounce club finally.

The next week back to a wash I have been working close to home, realized 9.5dwt in 3 nice specimens. I myself am finishing the year on a high note for sure. Hopefully your season ended well for you and I, as I am sure many others here, are anxiously awaiting to read about your ventures.

I must of course add......Have A Merry Christmas !!!! Dennis

 

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[63bkpkr]

Thank you Lanny for all you offer to us!..............63bkpkr

Note: Texas will soon be in my rearview mirror especially as the moving truck pulls to a stop in San Diego.

 

[Sample Pan Dan]

You are moving back to ca, bkpkr?

 

[63bkpkr]

Yes, SPD just as soon as the ink dry's on the contract and that should be about 04 Jan 2016 or sooner. It is still a bit fuzzy but getting better and better as the fog clears. I am looking forward to playing around out back of Julian if for nothing else to get some backpacking time in along a stream and possibly some fresh caught trout, cooked and in my belly. Where abouts is Bostonia?

I've been out of camping and such and I am looking forward to hitting the trail again! Thank you for the question...................63bkpkr

 

[Jeff95531]

Yer ahead of schedule Herb! Congrats! I just might have some good ground to share with you when the time comes.

 

[Jim Hemmingway]

Warning: Annual Christmas Poetry!

There lived a miner, name of Pete
That hit a pocket, mighty sweet
The gold was thick like toffee true
The quartz was loaded through and through

So Pete he worked that pocket out
Packed up his gold and gave a shout!
He’d tramped those hills for many years
He’d given blood, and sweat, and tears.

But now our Pete was mighty flush
So off he went in a big rush
To find a gift for his love true
A lovely gal named Honey Dew.

His wife had come across the seas
And she did all she could to please
Her rugged man that chased the gold,
Yet wanted children, truth be told.

Now, Honey Dew was never blessed
With child or babe. She'd tried her best.
But Pete was loved right through and through
By lonesome little Honey Dew.

T’was Christmas soon, and miner Pete
Was clueless what to buy his sweet.
For worst of all, in minin’ camps
There’s nought to buy but picks and lamps.

So Pete he wrote to Old Saint Nick
And prayed to God to seal the trick.
But mail in minin’ camps is slow
And when them winter winds did blow

The storms they closed those passes quick,
So Pete gave up on news from Nick.
He grabbed his pack and fine snowshoes
To cure his heavy Christmas blues.

Across the pass a town he knew
Had gifts a plenty, it was true.
With pokes of gold Pete hit the trail;
His Honey Dew he would not fail.

He’d find a gift for his love true
The gal that loved him through and through.
But on the mountain trouble came
An avalanche changed up the game.

A detour Pete was forced to make
That took him past a frozen lake,
And near that lake there stood a shack
With windows frozen, cold and black.

It looked deserted that was clear
And winter’s night was drawing near.
So Pete decided this was where
He’d spend the night a restin’ there.

The snow was drifted round that shack
The door he forced, but just a crack.
When Pete squoze in, he got a start
That almost stopped his mighty heart.

A ma and pa were frozen there.
Him in a bunk; her on a chair
Beside a crib with furs piled deep.
Then Pete, he heard the faintest peep!

He gently moved the furs away
A babe in swaddling clothes there lay
A little boy, it looked to be
But death was near, t’was plain to see

He quickly grabbed some tinder, bark,
With flint and steel he threw a spark.
The smoke rose up, the bark caught flame!
Pete knew he had to win this game.

He built a blaze to warm that shack
He took some jerky from his pack
He boiled some water, made a broth
And dipped the end in cotton cloth

To let the babe nurse on that brew
But not too much our Pete he knew.
He spent the night, then days went by
At last the babe yelled out a cry!

The worst was past, and Pete was due
Back at the camp with his love true.
In furs he wrapped the babe all warm
To keep it safe from Winter’s harm.

So, to the camp he swiftly flew
On snow-shoed wings with one life new.
This precious babe his gal would raise--
To God and Nick Pete gave his praise.

All the best, and a very merry Christmas to one and all,

Lanny

Thankyou ever so much Lanny, Joanne and I love your writing... especially so your Christmas poetry. Didn't want to pester you again this year about it... what a nice surprise... it's something important we look forward to every year at Christmas. Thankyou for all your wonderful contributions to the forum.

Merry Christmas to you and to everyone here, and all the very best in the forthcoming New Year.

Jim.

 

[Lanny in AB]

That was a real tear jerker there Lanny. Very nice ending for sure.

I can't go into any real detail yet, as we have more work to do, but we had a very happy Thanksgiving here. Two new Minelabs paid for in one day for two fortunate prospectors. I just happen to be one of them. Another fortunate individual got a find of a lifetime 2 days later on the same location. The only other detail I can add at the moment is that I officially can say I joined the 1 ounce club finally.

The next week back to a wash I have been working close to home, realized 9.5dwt in 3 nice specimens. I myself am finishing the year on a high note for sure. Hopefully your season ended well for you and I, as I am sure many others here, are anxiously awaiting to read about your ventures.

I must of course add......Have A Merry Christmas !!!! Dennis

A very merry Christmas to you as well!

When you get a chance, I'd love to hear the story of how you finally made it into the one-ounce club! It sounds fantastic to say the least, and I know I'd enjoy your tale, at least as much of it as you feel free to tell. As well, if you're free to add any tidbits about the two that paid for their detectors that day, of course that would be a bonus.

All the best,

Lanny

 

[Lanny in AB]

Thank you Lanny for all you offer to us!..............63bkpkr

Note: Texas will soon be in my rearview mirror especially as the moving truck pulls to a stop in San Diego.

You're welcome Herb.

Sounds like you're on your way to getting back to your long-lost stomping grounds, and getting back to chasing your dreams. Well done!

Merry Christmas to you and yours, thanks for dropping in, and all the best,

Lanny

 

[Lanny in AB]

Thankyou ever so much Lanny, Joanne and I love your writing... especially so your Christmas poetry. Didn't want to pester you again this year about it... what a nice surprise... it's something important we look forward to every year at Christmas. Thankyou for all your wonderful contributions to the forum.

Merry Christmas to you and to everyone here, and all the very best in the forthcoming New Year.

Jim.

You are most welcome Jim, and my best wishes to your wife as well. Moreover, many thanks for expressing your appreciation for the poetry. It takes a serious whack of time to write the stuff.

I'll post the last one for this season. I hope you enjoy it as well. It's a bit of an epic, so bunker in.

All the best,

Lanny

 

[Lanny in AB]

Warning: Annual Christmas Poetry

Away up north where cold winds blow
There lived a miner, Woeful Joe
At blastin’ rock he was supreme
The gold he’d found, a miner’s dream

But when it came to making friends
Old Joe struck nothin’ but dead ends
No matter what he’d do or try
His friendship hopes would always die.

You see old Joe was mighty sad
As he was never ever glad.
True sadness he would only choose
So friendships he would always lose.

Joe cried about his minin’ dump
He wept about his leaky pump
He’d sob about his dynamite
He’d moan about his miner’s light

He’d wail when spikin’ down his track
He’d sigh about his achin’ back
He’d groan about his grub and gear
He kept it up twelve months a year.

Yes, Joe was really quite a wreck
His friendship efforts shot to heck.
But Joe was lonesome for a pal
So he made plans to get a gal!

Well Joe got busy right away
To lure a wife to come and stay
A bride by mail, his master plan,
A needful thing for such a man.

Well Joe wrote letters that were slick.
He lured a gal right mighty quick.
She loved the north, her letter said.
Joe’s heart it leapt, yet he felt dread.

For in his heart his sadness flared.
This chance at love, it had him scared!
For if rejected it could smash
His plans at love, his hopes to dash.

His bride named Peg came strong and stout
Chock full of fun, she sure stuck out.
This happy gal a big surprise
To Joe’s sad lookin’ miner’s eyes.

On Pegg’s face was stamped a smile
That lit the camp for half a mile.
She sure was happy, plain to see
It flummoxed Joe, most certainly.

But opposites do sure attract
For sad wed happy, that’s a fact.
On marriage day, just so’s you know,
Miss Peggy’s laugh was “Ho, Ho, Ho!”

Around the mines, the whole year long.
Her deeds were good, her laughter strong.
She tended needful folks in camp:
She cared for hobo, bum or tramp,

And any soul that needed cheer
Found joyful Peggy always near,
For Joe had cached a ton of gold
And told his Peggy, truth be told

To use the bullion in town
To save poor souls whose luck was down.
To every sort Peg gave her aid:
The snobby game she never played.

But in her heart deep down below
She felt a yearnin’ for her Joe
For sadness trapped him without pause.
So, Peg wrote off to Santa Claus!

Could old Saint Nick, if he’d the time
Just grant her wish, a hope sublime,
That her dear Joe would lose his sad.
Now how could that be somethin’ bad?


Then back Peg went to helpin’ folks
A singin’ songs, and crackin’ jokes
It seems she had a wondrous gift
Of givin’ souls a needful lift.

Moreover Peg was born right tough
Her Russian blood the strongest stuff
For gals on her Pegovski side
Were just as tall as they were wide

Now it was muscle, no, not fat!
(Now shame on you for thinkin’ that.)
T’was burly strength, all solid true
That powered all the deeds she’d do.

Those muscles, gosh, she had a whack
When minin’ timbers she could crack
By bendin’ them across her knee!
(I’m barely kiddin’ don’t you see.)

Well, in December, Peg heard sound
That Santa’s sleigh would soon be round.
Her wish for Joe on Saint Nick’s list,
But Fate dreamed up an epic twist!

You see, one night there came a thump
The firm set earth, it gave a jump.
The ground rose up and smacked back down
To wreck their little minin’ town.

Now folks was trapped most any place,
Down minin’ shafts of cold, dark space,
In drifts and tunnels by the creek . . .
Well, things things was lookin’ mighty bleak.

But Peg was made of sternest stuff,
And from this mess she took no guff.
She started diggin’ right away
To rescue souls, both night and day.

She freed an awful lot of folks
And did it all while crackin’ jokes.
That gal was tougher than most men
She’d rest a bit then dig again.

She smiled and worked until at last
She needed dynamite to blast
Through rock to clear a blocked up stope.
She called on Joe with perfect hope.

So Joe, he set those charges right
And cleared a passage by first light.
Then Peg went in to search the place.
Now every minute was a race

To save that rugged workin’ crew,
A trapped below with hopes so few.
But as our Peg crept down below,
The earth it shifted so’s you know,

And soon there was a mighty thump
Those mountains took another jump!
Then rock and timber, silt and dust
Roared out the adit with a gust!

Well Joe stood lookin’ mighty down
Across his face a woeful frown.
It seems when Joe was mighty sad,
He worked his best, so that ain’t bad!

Those rocks and timbers how they flew
The folks in town, they never knew
What strength was locked in Joe’s sad frame
Until they saw his rescue game!

He’d drill his holes then set to bust
Them rocks to nothin’ but small dust!
And soon the way was blasted clear
For him to find his Peggy dear.

His gal, well she was standin’ there
With clothes all torn and muddied hair
Yet round her were the minin’ men
A trapped down there since way back when.

And all were safe, t’was plain to see.
Yet, they stood shocked, but happily,
For Joe was smilin’ ten feet wide
His happiness he could not hide.

Well with his bride all safe and sound
Joe’s sadness never more was found.
T’was if Peg’s note to Old Saint Nick
Had worked a wondrous magic trick.

All the best to all, and a very Merry Christmas too,

Lanny

 

[63bkpkr]

Lanny, a tip O the hat to Ya!.............63bkpkr

 

[KevinInColorado]

Wow, that was a really good story, thanks!!

 

[Lanny in AB]

Lanny, a tip O the hat to Ya!.............63bkpkr

Thanks for dropping in to leave a kind word Herb, and all the best with your upcoming move,

Lanny

 

[Lanny in AB]

Wow, that was a really good story, thanks!!

Kevin,

It's always good to hear from you, and I hope you have a fantastic holiday celebration time.

Thanks for dropping in and for taking a moment to comment,

Lanny

 

[dashriprock]

Great poem Lanny! Enjoy reading all of them always.

Have a safe and merry Christmas up there.

Robert

 

[Lanny in AB]

Great poem Lanny! Enjoy reading all of them always.

Have a safe and merry Christmas up there.

Robert

Many thanks Robert, and thanks for taking the time to drop by. I appreciate your comments.

All the best,

Lanny

 

[Lanny in AB]

How many of you recall my earlier post about the GSA (Gold Snobs Anonymous)?

Well, I have a little time, and I'd like to jot down a few more specific notes about one day this past summer when I really needed to join the GSA.

I'd been out swinging my Minelab 5000 in the hot sun, during the hottest part of the day, in a particularly warm summer (on record), and needless to say, I was hot, thirsty, tired, and covered in dust.

But I need to digress a bit.

I was working a spot that had been excavated earlier. The miners had worked a layer of stream-run that consisted of about eight feet of assorted gravels. There were some big boulders, but most of the rocks weren't spectacular in size. The area was quite flat where the ground had been worked, with the canyon walls rising vertically on both sides. It looked like sometime in the dim past a large glacier had melted somewhere upstream and sent a big blast of material down the canyon, to arrive at the point where I was detecting as the canyon flared open allowing the material to settle out, almost like it had formed a lake there for a while.

The canyon walls were deeply green and soldiered by pines and fir with the occasional cedar and balsam thrown in for variety. The cottonwoods peppered the canyon floor amongst the evergreens. Most of the timber on the slopes ran somewhere close to 70-80 years in age, putting it close to its estimated growth around the time of the great depression, and considerably later than the major gold rush in the 1800's. The layer of undisturbed gravel contained all of the trashy goodies common to mining areas: can-slaw; random hunks and chunks of cast iron; pieces of copper sheeting; bits of wire, highly conductive sections, as well as iron wire of varying thicknesses; square and round nails were ubiquitous as always; ammunition cases or varying calibers as well as a variety of lead shot. What I did not find in my detecting was any gold. I did however find a nice silver dime that looked to have been dropped close to the end of the great depression as it was in fantastic condition with virtually no wear, and it was dated 1939. It was a United States Mercury dime, and it was a complete surprise. I found it on a road close to the site of an old cabin tucked back in the trees.

So, of course I poked around the cabin a bit, and that led to another surprise. Close around the cabin, I saw several excavations, and almost completely overgrown beside one of those excavations was a placer mine hoist bucket! That is the only one I have ever discovered in-situ, and it was one that was made from the materials they had handy, an old fuel drum with a very heavy gauge steel wire bail with a formed round loop at the top. Now, I've seen commercially made placer hoist buckets at old mine sites that are tourist traps, and this one was patterned in a similar fashion, but it was definitely made on site. Plus, they'd done quite a bit of work close to that cabin, including a significant trench that went down about eight feet, the depth of the overlying channel material I mentioned earlier.

All of this knowledge came rushing back to me as I stood there hot and tired looking at the clay layer that generated the floor for the overlying channel material that had been removed. All that was left was a tiny bit of channel material in little runs here and there on top of that armor clay. (The clay layer extended down undisturbed far below the point I'm describing, with the bedrock down about forty feet.) So, even though I was ready to pack it in, I overrode my gold snobs anonymous tendency and went back to my quad where I switched out the Minelab 5000 for my Gold Bug Pro to detect the clay layer. I theorized that if the old-timers from the 30's had moved all that material on the canyon floor in the trees by hand to get to the clay layer, that perhaps there might be a few pieces of gold left riding on or slightly punched into that armor clay. I mean, I know how hard it is to excavate channel material by hand, and those old boys with their hoist bucket had moved considerable material, plus someone had trenched as well, so there seemed to be a chance they'd found gold.

So, I started swinging the Gold Bug over that exposed clay. Well, the first thing I noticed was the almost complete absence of signals on that clay. I mean, I was working armor clay eight feet down from the original level of the old surface material, and whomever had done the excavating had also done me a huge favor by carting away all of the aforementioned trashy material riding in that channel! The only noise I was getting was from hot rocks, and they were imbedded in the clay, but it was easy to tell from their sound what they were. At last I hit a soft, repeatable sound. I mean, it repeated back and forth across the signal, and it repeated 90 degrees back and forth across the signal as well, always a good sign when looking for conductive targets vs. hot rocks or other annoying counterfeit signals.

I carefully removed four inches of clay. The signal was much sharper now, and the meter jumped into the 50 range. The bar meter for iron dropped right off as well. This looked and sounded very good. I scraped carefully with a plastic scoop the area I'd pinpointed, and out of the mud popped a nice nugget just over a gram in weight! It had been rolled down into the clay by the stream material that was now gone. Well, I fired the detector back up and started to search the area very slowly, scrubbing the clay with the coil. In about ten minutes I found four companion nuggets, and they were all in a line running roughly north and south from the original find. I worked the area hard, but got no more signals.

I moved over to a depression that had a bit of channel material still on the clay, got a soft signal, removed the material and there in a little pocket punched into the clay was another nugget! This one was about a gram and a half. So, all of the nuggets found so far were small, but they sure took away the hot and tired blues I'd acquired earlier in the day.

As the northern sun started to dip behind the highest peaks, there was one last spot I wanted to check before I quit for the day. I'd noticed it earlier on; it was an area where some stream material ran in a diagonal line across the clay, then dropped off to a lower portion of the clay where it appeared channel material or a larger size had cut deeper into the clay. I ran the detector over the material, and all I got was stony silence from the rocks. Nothing at all. Not a peep.

I took by bigger pick and raked off several inches of the channel material and scanned again. This time there was a disturbance in the threshold. Because I use headphones for this exact purpose, I heard that break. Without headphones, I never would have heard such a subtle disruption in the threshold. I scrubbed the ground and crossed the spot with the coil even slower this time. There was a definite break in the threshold, but still no signal. I scraped off more channel material, but I noticed that I was now hitting the underlying yellowish clay with each swipe of the pick as well. I ran the coil over the spot and this time it was a positive signal. However, there was no indication on the graphs that it was gold, just the sound of a target. I got my little pick out and carefully started to scrape material away. Once again, nature had hammered a depression into the clay. That depression was filled with river stones. I worked off the overlying material and hit solid clay all around. I made another pass with the coil and this time the meter jumped up into the 50 range with the iron bars still visible, but low. I ran my magnet through the material and it came out married to a bunch of ironstone (magnetite). I scanned again and the signal was crisp and loud, the iron bars gone. It was a simple matter to scoop the remaining material out. I ran the scoop over the coil and it gave a loud, sharp, clear sound. I started the sift-and-drop process onto the coil, then "Whap!" I didn't have to move a thing to see it on that elliptical. A round an robust six gram nugget was flashing golden in the waning sunlight. Let it be known that I don't find a lot of nuggets in that range as most of the pieces run from half a gram in size to around three grams in weight, so this bad boy stood out! Moreover, besides being round, it was thick to boot.

What had started as a hot, dusty, unrewarding day turned into a pleasant evening's sunset accompanied by a bunch of sassy gold in the poke.

All the best,

Lanny

 

[Terry Soloman]

Love your stories Lanny!

 

[Jim Hemmingway]

A perfect story with a perfect ending on a snowy New Year's day. Thanks Lanny, that was fun.

 

[Jeff95531]

"I mean, I know how hard it is to excavate channel material by hand, and those old boys with their hoist bucket had moved considerable material, plus someone had trenched as well, so there seemed to be a chance they'd found gold"

Made me smile and think of my own style of logic/madness.

Taught me something new again. "placer mine hoist bucket"



Which also led me to find this...
Mining Technology in the Nineteenth Century | ONE


And you followed up on your earlier advice to get a field magnet with a solid success story...

"I ran my magnet through the material and it came out married to a bunch of ironstone (magnetite). I scanned again and the signal was crisp and loud, the iron bars gone. It was a simple matter to scoop the remaining material out. I ran the scoop over the coil and it gave a loud, sharp, clear sound."

And all neatly wrapped up in a typical "Lanny" style campfire story.

Thanks again buddy!