Trapper John
Jr. Member
- Joined
- Dec 29, 2014
- Messages
- 85
- Reaction score
- 136
- Golden Thread
- 0
- Location
- St Helens, Oregon
- Detector(s) used
- Garrett AT Pro
- Primary Interest:
- Metal Detecting
I’ve been considering telling this story for a while and finally concluded that this is probably the most appropriate thread on which to do so, so here it goes.
First, a little background. I formerly lived in Klamath Falls, Oregon. Our home overlooked the southern end of Klamath Lake, where it is well documented that Native Americans had a very large village prior to and at the time of White arrival. Behind our house and up a steep hill were 14 acres of plum thickets and sage brush. Twice each day, every day, for over 15 years I walked up the hill and wandered around that terrain, training and exercising my Labrador retrievers. I eventually began to notice small pieces of agate and obsidian on the ground, especially after a good rain, and quite naturally began to pick them up and inspect them. Even to my untrained eye it was obvious that some were shards from ancient tool-making efforts.
The story might have ended simply at this point - gun dog trainer finds shiny rocks. But along the way my kids grew up and I became a grandfather. My eldest grandson was about six as I recall, when someone gave him a plastic replica of an arrowhead. He was very fond of it, and when the inevitable happened and the tip broke off he was crushed. I took note of his disappointment even as I continued to walk and work the dogs.
What I am about to describe is the whole unadulterated truth. I mentioned that I worked the dogs twice daily, regardless of time of year. And so one rainy afternoon in mid-November of 2003 I grabbed my whistle and training dummies and headed up the hill with Boomer and Molly, my Labs. At the top of the hill our path broke to the left; after so many years of use the path itself was beaten into the ground and visible in satellite imagery.
On this day, however, everything changed. As we reached the top of the hill, I distinctly heard these words in my head:
“If you walk to the right you will find an arrowhead.”
The voice was my own. No ghosty whispers, no eerie sounds - just my own voice. I broke off the path and headed to the right. I moved slowly, eyes down and searching. It didn’t take long, and maybe twenty feet from my turn-off point I saw something at the base of a sage bush, glistening in the rain. I thought it was a wet leaf, but bent to pick it up anyway.
It was a perfectly formed arrowhead, formed from a brown material which I took to be a form of chalcedony, either carnelian or sard. Subsequent analysis determined authenticity and suggested that it was Paleolithic, probably around 10,000 years old. Thus it may have been crafted at the time that Oregon’s Mount Mazama imploded creating Crater Lake.
The point was given to my grandson in a velvet bag. It is his to hold as the present custodian of an artifact and a subject of great mystery. I hope the arrowhead and its story will become a family legacy and legend. I cannot explain the story as anything more than a spiritual experience, one of those moments when we somehow manage to straddle two worlds, one of our day-to-day existence and another inexplicable.
Let me conclude by saying this was no Kevin Costner/"Field of Deams" yarn. I swear by all that I hold dear to me that every word of this story is true.
First, a little background. I formerly lived in Klamath Falls, Oregon. Our home overlooked the southern end of Klamath Lake, where it is well documented that Native Americans had a very large village prior to and at the time of White arrival. Behind our house and up a steep hill were 14 acres of plum thickets and sage brush. Twice each day, every day, for over 15 years I walked up the hill and wandered around that terrain, training and exercising my Labrador retrievers. I eventually began to notice small pieces of agate and obsidian on the ground, especially after a good rain, and quite naturally began to pick them up and inspect them. Even to my untrained eye it was obvious that some were shards from ancient tool-making efforts.
The story might have ended simply at this point - gun dog trainer finds shiny rocks. But along the way my kids grew up and I became a grandfather. My eldest grandson was about six as I recall, when someone gave him a plastic replica of an arrowhead. He was very fond of it, and when the inevitable happened and the tip broke off he was crushed. I took note of his disappointment even as I continued to walk and work the dogs.
What I am about to describe is the whole unadulterated truth. I mentioned that I worked the dogs twice daily, regardless of time of year. And so one rainy afternoon in mid-November of 2003 I grabbed my whistle and training dummies and headed up the hill with Boomer and Molly, my Labs. At the top of the hill our path broke to the left; after so many years of use the path itself was beaten into the ground and visible in satellite imagery.
On this day, however, everything changed. As we reached the top of the hill, I distinctly heard these words in my head:
“If you walk to the right you will find an arrowhead.”
The voice was my own. No ghosty whispers, no eerie sounds - just my own voice. I broke off the path and headed to the right. I moved slowly, eyes down and searching. It didn’t take long, and maybe twenty feet from my turn-off point I saw something at the base of a sage bush, glistening in the rain. I thought it was a wet leaf, but bent to pick it up anyway.
It was a perfectly formed arrowhead, formed from a brown material which I took to be a form of chalcedony, either carnelian or sard. Subsequent analysis determined authenticity and suggested that it was Paleolithic, probably around 10,000 years old. Thus it may have been crafted at the time that Oregon’s Mount Mazama imploded creating Crater Lake.
The point was given to my grandson in a velvet bag. It is his to hold as the present custodian of an artifact and a subject of great mystery. I hope the arrowhead and its story will become a family legacy and legend. I cannot explain the story as anything more than a spiritual experience, one of those moments when we somehow manage to straddle two worlds, one of our day-to-day existence and another inexplicable.
Let me conclude by saying this was no Kevin Costner/"Field of Deams" yarn. I swear by all that I hold dear to me that every word of this story is true.
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, there is 
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