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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[Lanny in AB]

Here's a link I stumbled across this morning while I was writing another gold story. It's an interesting video of a revolutionary technique to extract placer gold from a rich area deep underground where water was always a perpetual problem. In fact, in the past, it caused the site to be shut down due to a lack of the proper technology to handle the flooding of the drifts. I remember reading stories of the area years back of how there was a rich deposit of pre-glacial gold that was unrecoverable due to massive seepage which created slum (thick liquid material that oozed into the tunnels).

There's some nice shots of beautiful gold they recovered, and there's a great shot of the gold right on the bedrock before they have extracted it. If you like gold on and in the bedrock, always a part of the bedrock and gold mystery, it's a fun little video. (Take a close look at the cross section diagram and you'll see a deposit of blue clay not far above the paystreak.)



Below is a link with specifics of how much gold they took out, and more pictures of the gold and the underground workings.

http://www.ominecamining.com/projects/wingdam/index.asp

The next link is an article on the Omineca gold field--it's where I spent a bunch of summers getting coarse gold, panning, sluicing, and metal detecting. Getting in to the area is still a challenge, due to logging trucks, bad roads, isolation, and hordes of bugs.
The story I'm currently writing took place while I was prostpecting in that gold field.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Omineca_Gold_Rush

All the best,

Lanny

 

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[Lanny in AB]

Nugget Gulch Visitor

In the vast region of forest that blankets the huge, remote area of what I can best describe as North-Central British Columbia, there lies a legendary gold field. It bears the name of a cryptic sounding word—Omineca—(pronounced Omineeka).

Now, getting in to that area to prospect is a major undertaking, one that requires steel nerves (to avoid death-dealing logging trucks), reserves of cash (to pay for vehicle breakdowns and multiple flat tires), and determination and patience (to backtrack after getting lost on the maze of logging trails, to endure the jogging and jarring of the rough, uneven roads, and to weather the time demands of slow travel on such roads).

It was on one of these arduous trips that I saw my first Wolverine, my first snorkeling bear, and my first near-death experience, a brush with death perpetrated by the scourge of the northern trails, those dealers of swift, brutal death–the logging truck driver.

It’s no surprise to me that nice, coarse gold still abounds in the region—the challenges of getting in to the area are legion: mile after jarring mile of wash-board roads—roads strewn with sharp fragments of tire-shredding steel, the cast off of maintenance blades; endless stretches of trail separate widely spaced travel points with no services; there’s also the dance of death alluded to earlier, the grim encounters with the ubiquitous northern logging truck; furthermore, there’s the challenges of night travel, where large game, Moose and Elk, appear without warning to easily mangle machines of metal and glass. As well, there are the ever-present sky-darkening clouds of bloodthirsty bugs ready to pursue any warm-blooded being foolish enough to step into their sphere of northern air.

However, as a dedicated gatherer of gold, I made the trip many times in the summer and was rewarded with some of the most beautiful nuggets I’ve ever found while metal detecting, panning, or sluicing.

The gold of that region is coarse: not the hammered flat, unremarkable characterless gold so prevalent in most pay areas. The gold of that northern clime is often round, abundantly enhanced with knobby protrusions. In fact, if you love such character gold, the nuggets there can’t be beat.

Hearkening back to the aforementioned challenges, it’s no wonder that such gold remains to be found. As it’s off any kind of normal track, the remote nature of its difficult setting has protected it well.

But, I set out to tell you about a place called Nugget Gulch, and the completely unexpected visitor we encountered one day while nugget shooting there; however, I’m off to dare the crowds of the Christmas season, which may turn out to be more of a challenge than any trip I made to the Omineca.

Until I have some more time to write then, all the best,

Lanny

 

[Oakview2]

Herb

Now that the riddle is solved, a return trip is in order Happy Holidays, happy hunting, and good health...

Quite a few years ago, like in the early 60's, I was doing some mountain exploring and found myself in a sizable radius between a low mountain and the next higher peak. The place was littered with Champagne bottles, the kind with large bubbles in the dark glass and with the necks having been sweated on after the main bottle had been made. Alas, all of them I saw had been broken. At the time it never dawned on me that "these boys had struck it rich" and that the place needed a LOT of new searching. While I was circling the area looking for clues I came across a monitor nozzle, the first and only one I've ever seen out there.

Years later I came across an article about the "Blue Lead" and learned that it had been found and worked in the area where I located the nozzle. Upon reading the story the internal light bulb in my head came on and I recalled noting a large swath of barren ground off to one side and further up the hill from where the miners had consumed all the Champagne, it had been hydrauliced. There are times when it seems the only thing in my head is the light bulb, , as there is so little grey matter in there it takes years before part A and part B come together to make a 'Ta Da moment'.

View attachment 710302 The nozzle has a 10.16 cm exit end, is 20.32 cm tall and weighs 6.35 kg and I remember hiking out with it around my arm and thinking nothing of it. I would guess a worker put it down in an unusual location and when it came time to pack the monitor units up to move them to the next hill the nozzle was overlooked. There are several more large hydraulicing sites further up the mountains from this location and it is possible that the equipment from this site and its miners went there, minus one 4" nozzle. The moral of this missive is that in life we come across important clues that indicate details about reality, either current or historical. To have the foresight to realize what the clues tell us as we find them can make the difference between a casual find or a tremendous one.

I wish all of us good thinking during our winter hiatus from being out in our various locations of mountains, forests, streams and the like and that we will be able to bring together all our faculties to produce a tremendous find in 2013.

63bkpkr

 

[NeoTokyo]

Thanks for sharing the video and the pics, that was an awesome video.

 

[Lanny in AB]

Well, I’ve found a little more time to hammer out a few more lines about the nugget gulch visitor. I’ll back the story up a bit to add a few details. (Please consider the reading of this two-part story as my Christmas gift to all of you. Many thanks for the well over 80,000 views.)

After arriving at camp, I unpacked all of my gear and got ready to head up to a spot called nugget gulch, a place we had permission to detect for nuggets, and with a name like that, who wouldn’t give it a shot?

Now, I was staying in a unique location. It was a large log cabin, located along a small creek. That creek was a wild place during the gold rush, I’ll tell you, with panners taking out 1-2 ounces a day, and sluicers working out 10 ounces and up, simply by shoveling in. Moreover, right across the road there was an excavation where the modern-day miners had opened up an old drift mine. The gold out of there was beautiful and chunky—very typical of the entire area.

At that point in my prospecting experience, I was still learning about metal detecting. I’d found some nice nuggets on earlier trips, ones ranging from two to six grams, so I was learning a few tricks, but I still had a lot to learn. As a matter of fact, I’m still learning new things about detecting every year—I have to, to keep up with the technology and my natural curiosity.

Anyway, we were staying in a log cabin that had three bedrooms, a large kitchen, a loft, and beside it stood a tall, rough-hewn outhouse. My first night there, the other miners invited me to watch a movie with them. They’d been at the wilderness thing for quite a few years and had a system worked out for how to wind down. Moreover, when it was dark (which didn’t happen until after eleven), they’d only put enough fuel in the generator to run it until the movie was done. Then, they’d turn in, and right soon the generator would shut down—no more gas. It was quite the trick.

But, I need to back up a bit and tell you about that first night’s video time. The show had been running for about 15 minutes when all at once, one of the guys picked up a pistol! You can imagine my surprise, but when I heard it go off, I was no longer alarmed—it was a pellet pistol. The object of his aim? He’d shot himself a pesky mouse. Every 15-20 minutes the pistol would cough again, and most of the time, he hit the rascals he was shooting at.

Before I forget, I’ve got to tell a side tale about something that happened a few days later. For some time, a squirrel had been messing things up badly in the kitchen. He was getting into anything not armored in tin, and he was leaving his sign everywhere—quite the destructive little beast. But one morning, the guy that was running the skid steer loader gave a howl of pain and then he roared. Well, that aggressive squirrel had come down the wall in his bedroom, and it was gnawing away on his finger! That woke him up right quick; he howled in pain, and then he smoked that squirrel with his pillow. Of course the squirrel wasn’t the flying type, and he came to an ignominious end as his moving body struck an immovable object.

We held no funeral.

After my first night in camp, I was itching to get out to swing my coil. On the way in, I’d noticed a large area of disturbed ground off to the right-hand side of the trail. I already had permission to detect the ground—it was being mined by a very genial fellow. Moreover, the cabin owner was the claim holder, and I had permission from him as well.

Let me just say that I got into a good patch right off the bat, and found some dandy nuggets, but nothing over 4 grams. The nuggets were tight on bedrock, wedged in old crevices in a red colored slate that held ancient partially cemented iron stained gravel. There were no other metal targets in that patch, so whenever I got a signal, I dug. Looking back, I wish I’d have had a small sniping coil, but that was before the aftermarket coil makers were in the game. In fact, I’m sure with a sensitive sniping coil I’d have found a lot more gold.

I know for a fact we left gold behind from the few tests we belatedly did on bedrock that hadn’t been reclaimed yet—it was staggering how much sub-gram gold came out of those tests. And, yes, I wasn’t smart enough initially to test the material in those many crevices by panning. My partner is the one who wised up and suggested we test, and what a bonanza it was. So sad, too bad for us, as we wouldn’t get a second chance at the bedrock, being as it was now covered by a meter of reclaimed soil.

Eventually, all good things come to an end when the ground turns quiet, and it was time to move on. That’s why we mounted a day expedition to Nugget Gulch. Neither one of us had visited it before, but the spot was renowned for chunky, sassy gold, and we wanted to give it a whirl.

At that time, we were travelling in a Dodge ¾ ton diesel. We always towed something in with us—wash-plants, shaker decks, quads, and sometimes a mechanized digger (a small homemade backhoe—my buddy can fabricate anything!) to boot. That diesel sure could tow—it even accelerated while going upslope loaded, this in challenging mountain passes by the way—quite a machine.

So, we packed our gear in the truck—threw the quad in the back just in case—and then we set off for the gulch. The ride there is very scenic—your typical Boreal forest type flora and fauna. As well, we saw a few large hawks saving energy as they rode the summer updrafts of heated air. Black and brown squirrels seemed to appear around every bend in the road, and they’d always lecture us on our unwanted presence as we passed by. We were taking it slow, windows down, as we’d already bug-proofed ourselves with Deet before we left the cabin.

We cut through an area on the way there where there’d been a burn a while back—charred stumps bearing mute witness to nature’s fickle side. At last, we topped out and started descending the crazy downward trek as we dropped back down toward our route to the gulch. As we bumped along, it was clear that old hand-stacks were everywhere, and that’s what I like to see as it meant the gold was shallow, and no matter what anyone else tries to tell you, the oldtimers didn’t get all of the gold—far from it.

About two-thirds of the way down, we came to an area where the road headed right, and steeply downslope, toward the river. The road forked there, as the left branch lead to Nugget Gulch. Now, my partner wanted to halt it there, as he was eager to detect an exposed wall of ancient channel sited about a hundred feet above the current streambed. We pulled off in a shady spot and got out our detectors. After gearing up, we started down that road and detected all along that wall. Not a single nugget—it was a big bust.

We hiked back to the truck, and we were in the midst of packing when I caught movement on the edge of my peripheral vision. And boy, it was the kind of movement you don’t want to catch. A huge Black bear was coming right at us up the trail, the very one that led to nugget gulch. Furthermore, I can honestly say it’s the biggest Black I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen lots.

So, we did what we always do; we banged our shovels on the ground, yelled, slammed the doors on the truck—you know the drill. Make a lot of noise, identify yourself, and they’ll hit the brush and be gone lickety-split. Nope! This boy was packing attitude: we were on his turf, and he was going to escort us off it. I couldn’t believe it. We’d already seen Blacks and Grizzlies on this trip, and every one of them high-tailed it the moment they got sight or wind of us. That place is an active hunting area, and bear is on the menu!

Well sir, he wasn’t the least bit intimidated by our efforts to have him skedaddle. No sir, he kept right on coming. Did I mention he was huge? He still gives me the creeps after all of those years. Moreover, he was starting to rock back and forth like they do when they’re sending a message of intent, and we finally decided to send him one of our own.

We always go heeled when in bear country, and this day was no exception. My buddy had his 30-30 behind the seat and he had it out in record time—he’s shot lots of big game, as he was a guide and outfitter for many years. So, he knows how to drop the mean along with the magnificent. But, no one wants to shoot an animal without cause, so he spanked a round downrange that clipped by that bear’s body.

Now, that bear did something I’ve never seen since—he locked ‘em up and sat right down, right hard on the ground. He looked to the left, and scanned to the right, and then he looked both ways again. We’ve tried to figure this behavior out ever since, and as he didn’t show up for an interview, we’ve had to formulate a guess. Our best shot is it’s likely because he was at the fork in the two canyons that he probably got a double echo from both directions, so he was downright flummoxed where the sound came from for a bit. However, his confusion didn’t last long enough, for he was soon up and coming straight at us.

Next, my partner levered and ripped one close to that bruin’s feet. But, Mr. Bear wasn’t fazed nor was he discouraged while on his chosen route. He kept lumbering toward us. So, my partner took careful aim and barked a round right past that bear’s ear. That got his attention. He’d had enough. He snapped his head to the side of the bullet’s whip and tore off the trail and hit the bush hard—the very brush lining the route to Nugget Gulch.

Needless to say, discretion ruled that day, and we left Nugget Gulch for another trip, one where we’d have less of a chance of meeting an unexpected, potentially cranky visitor.

All the best,

Lanny

The nuggets ringing the perimeter of the smaller nuggets are ones I took out of the Omineca, including the Lady of Africa in the center--it was the first nugget I ever found with a detector, and boy did it scream. At well over six grams, it hollered plenty loud.

 

[Terry Soloman]

Dead mice, non-flying squirrels and bears, oh my! What a GREAT story! Thank You!

 

[63bkpkr]

Lanny as always great stories chock full of information, a chuckle here and there, an ooh and an ahhh when looking at pictures of nuggets and even stories about some of the typical animals of the area, and all of it is real not a bit of it fiction. Just Awesome! Thank you for taking the time to share!

Yes, Oakview2 that is another trip in need of taking but not till next year and then I've so many trips thought up for 2013 and mother nature has already provided us with plenty to speculate about. Seems the heavy rains we've had have really caused some heavy flows in the local rivers. The rivers had been at 100-200 cfs and then jumped to 30,000 cfs and this is just the start of the winter. There should be plenty of new bobbles to pick up thought they will not just jump into ones pocket, it is always hard work especially for some of the places I enjoy going too.

So here is a cheer for next year..........63bkpkr

 

[Oakview2]

Lanny great story, Herb, that water level is going to uncover plenty of rich material. We will be expecting pictures of your adventure this summer.

 

[63bkpkr]

Pictures? ME?? Well, maybe one.

 

[Hefty1]

Nice story Lanny Very nice! Nice gold to!

 

[Lanny in AB]

Thanks for sharing the video and the pics, that was an awesome video.

You are most welcome, and thanks for reading it!

All the best,

Lanny

 

[Lanny in AB]

Dead mice, non-flying squirrels and bears, oh my! What a GREAT story! Thank You!

Thanks so much Terry.

All the best,

Lanny

 

[Lanny in AB]

Lanny great story, Herb, that water level is going to uncover plenty of rich material. We will be expecting pictures of your adventure this summer.

I hope Herb gets out and finds some gold too, and pictures would be great. He stomps through some fantastic areas.

All the best,

Lanny

 

[Lanny in AB]

Lanny as always great stories chock full of information, a chuckle here and there, an ooh and an ahhh when looking at pictures of nuggets and even stories about some of the typical animals of the area, and all of it is real not a bit of it fiction. Just Awesome! Thank you for taking the time to share!

Yes, Oakview2 that is another trip in need of taking but not till next year and then I've so many trips thought up for 2013 and mother nature has already provided us with plenty to speculate about. Seems the heavy rains we've had have really caused some heavy flows in the local rivers. The rivers had been at 100-200 cfs and then jumped to 30,000 cfs and this is just the start of the winter. There should be plenty of new bobbles to pick up thought they will not just jump into ones pocket, it is always hard work especially for some of the places I enjoy going too.

So here is a cheer for next year..........63bkpkr

Thanks Herb, and thanks for the comment about the reality of the stories as well. You and I both know how hard it is to get in to areas where no one else gets to, and we both know how rewarding that is. Often, the gold is just a side note to the much grander adventure of looking for the gold.

All the best,

Lanny

 

[Lanny in AB]

Nice story Lanny Very nice! Nice gold to!

Thanks Hefty. It's much appreciated when people take the time to acknowledge the writing. I'm glad you enjoyed it.

All the best,

Lanny

 

[nuggy]

Great story Lanny, and video was interesting too. Thanks, and have a great Christmas and New Year too all the best, Nuggy

 

[Lanny in AB]

Great story Lanny, and video was interesting too. Thanks, and have a great Christmas and New Year too all the best, Nuggy

It's always a fine thing to have you drop in Nuggy! I wish you a merry Christmas and a happy New Year as well.

All the best,

Lanny

 

[gold nuggets]

WOW Lanny...that was a great story! Part of your up coming literary efforts maybe?
Hope so, 'cus if the rest of the book is anything like this story, you got a winner for
sure. Stay warm and dry this winter.....best to ya for the New Years.........GN

 

[Lanny in AB]

WOW Lanny...that was a great story! Part of your up coming literary efforts maybe?
Hope so, 'cus if the rest of the book is anything like this story, you got a winner for
sure. Stay warm and dry this winter.....best to ya for the New Years.........GN

GN,

Thanks for those complimentary words--very nice indeed. And, thanks for liking the story. As to my efforts, they're ongoing, and as my life is very busy right now, I'll have to keep working on the book as I get chances. In the meantime, from time to time, I'll dig around and see what I've got already that I can post.

All the best,

Lanny

 

[Lanny in AB]

I posted this story on an Australian gold forum in response to a story one of the Aussie’s there posted, this was a short time after he'd had trouble with Feral hogs disrupting his bush camp.


[Dave] I've got an awful pig story for you. (Although, I have to admit that your wild shootin’ in the dark at a rootin' tootin' thievin' pig is pretty good stuff! I had myself a good laugh when I read it for sure.)


A few years back, my sister-in-law called me up. There were two wild pigs ripping up her shrubs and shredding her garden plants. She had called the Fish and Wildlife officers—they calmly told her that it wasn't their jurisdiction. She'd called the county animal control officer, and he said it wasn't his jurisdiction either—you get the picture.

So, she called me. Well, I did a bit of research on feral pigs (locally and on the Internet) at her urging. It seems a fellow across the creek that kept wild game hogs (pay to hunt operation) had them get loose. Moreover, they'd torn up quite a few places in the local area and were to be given a wide distance—razor sharp tusks and all—insane tempers if provoked. The ultimate in badness all wrapped up in one ferocious piggy package.

Well, I went out in the country where she lives (my brother is a Dr. and was off working in the city), and got the 30-30 (Now that's a pig-slaying caliber Dave.) [Dave shot the wild hogs tearing up his camp with the caliber that follows]. Up here in the Great White North, we shoot mosquitoes with the 22. Well, that's a bit of an exaggeration—we usually shoot them with a shotgun loaded with buckshot—only the little ones will come down with the 22. (That small caliber usually just blows off part of a wing.) Regardless, I crept out into the garden area, and sure enough, there were two feral pigs, an evil brown monster, and a black demon, ripping up the tender, sweet corn in my Sister-in-law’s garden. In fact, they’d also shredded some shrubbery around her trees!

Caught red-handed those little piggies were. Strangely though, one of them threw its head up when it saw me, and it began a casual saunter in my direction. I thought this a bit odd for a savage killer. I'd expected more of a frenzied rush from him—slashing teeth and foaming jaws, aggressive pawing of the dirt, clouds of dust, etc. However, he kept moseying my way, and then the other one threw up his head, and he oinked a few friendly notes. Now, something wasn't adding up—these just didn't seem to be the ruthless killing machines described on the Internet.

I was a bit baffled, but there was my brother's wife, at a safe distance, waiting for me to do these two devils in, and she was supported by the full consent and blessing of the local authorities to boot—the law was squarely on her side after all. So, I threw the lever-action to my shoulder and quickly dispatched the destructive duo. Shot, drop. Shot, drop.

When my brother got home that night, he drug the porcine bodies up to a remote coulee for the coyotes to enjoy: wild pigs, trichina worms and all that in their riddled bodies, don't you know—second-class meat not fit for human consumption—not at all!

Well, a few days later, a stooped little elderly lady with a Babushka kerchief on her head knocked on my brother's door. My sister through marriage answered the door, and strike me dead if I'm a liar, but the little Granny asked if my brother's wife had seen her two pet pigs!!

It seems the hogs had escaped three or four days earlier, and she'd scoured the country round with no success—a genuine tragedy in the making. My poor frazzled Sister-in-law had to confess that she'd had them shot by a mighty hunter. (The level of shame is a heavy, oppressive burden I bear—I must confess.)

The forlorn pig raiser asked it they'd at least had the piggies butchered—a wise use of the meat, don't you know. But, again, more confessions and chagrin from the downhearted Sister-in-law.

As you can imagine, I took a good ribbing for many days from the local boys.

Mighty pig hunter indeed!

All the best,

Lanny