Misc data and adventures of a Tayopa treasure hunter

Glad to hear you are back and Safe, My friend!!!! Here before it grows legs and walks off--> :coffee2:
 

Thanks for the info Don Jose! I dont drink coffee, but will join you out the front none the less.
 

wilkes said:
Don Jose,

These stories have me absolutely fascinated… I’m a young buck from Australia and dream of some of the experiences you have enjoyed over the years.

It may take me many years, but I hope to visit the wilds of central and south America and begin some adventurous journeys of my own. I hope its sooner rather than later, as I would love to meet you in person and hear some of these great stories in person!

I do have a question for you.. I note on various occasions you have ventured to locate hidden mines and treasure and quite often find what you are looking for. My question is, have you ever found any actual treasure? In the many stories you share, there is often a reason given for calling off your expeditions before actually locating anything of worth and never going back. Do you have any stories you can share, of you hitting the “mother-load” so to speak?

Thanks,

Wilkes
Click to expand...
I do hope that you realize that the pictures posted were to strap your legs . Sittin closer to the fire and listining might fit you better than braying like a mule in the shadows .
 

...and dropping the old man idioms and simply helping a new member might prevent a leg strapping in return!

I have read countless (read 'em) COUNTLESS pages on Treasurenet, including this entire thread, but only ever read vague mentions of an actual 'treasure' being located.

So, you are welcome to belittle as you wish, but I come to this site for information and will continue to do so notwithstanding strange folk like you, sir.
 

Wilkes,just my take on reporting major finds. Historically here (U.S.A.)some of the biggest treasure recoveries have resulted in long court battles and bitter finders. It has got to where finders hold their cards close to the vest so to speak. Ownership becomes contested after recovery,taxes to come into play too. I understand when someone tells me they never find anything,but i never ask how much. The couple decent finds i know of were far outweighed by the hours and expense of locating them. Better as a hobby or the fun passes quickly. There is treasure out there still but a big one can be a curse more than a blessing. So the reluctance to declare,and why i do not want to know of big finds. Does that make any sense, or help?
 

That is huge help releventchair! Thank you for putting it so kindly.

I do understand, and would never expect someone to share a story that could cause serious implications. In this instance, I was just enjoying Don Jose's stories and was wondering if could share any with the final climax of locating actual treasure. Turns out, he has! A great little read and I appreciate hearing it.

Thanks,

Wilkes.
 

wilkes said:
...and dropping the old man idioms and simply helping a new member might prevent a leg strapping in return!

I have read countless (read 'em) COUNTLESS pages on Treasurenet, including this entire thread, but only ever read vague mentions of an actual 'treasure' being located.

So, you are welcome to belittle as you wish, but I come to this site for information and will continue to do so notwithstanding strange folk like you, sir.
Click to expand...
Wilkes, It is better to ask, Then discriminate.. It will get you alot further then sittin at the dinner table hog tied! Share any story, That is what this thread is for!!!!

Hi Don Jose, Coffee for you my friend!!! :coffee2:
 

Wilkes ,
I got to be an old man through good fortune and the benefit of learning from my elders . I wish you the same sort of luck .:tongue3:
 

Subject: Fw: HOW SAFE IS IT TO TRAVEL INTO RURAL MEXICO?


> A Conclusively Final Trip to Chihuahua - Arizona Range News: News
>
> E.M. Hendricks for the Range News | Posted: Wednesday, June 20, 2012 12:00 pm
>
> In February, I saw I had a few days I could be gone from the homestead here in Cochise County. I thought I'd visit the ranch deep in the Sierra Madres in Chihuahua where I'd spent so much time years ago. Cieneguita de la Barranca, a community of several dozen people, is located in the pine forests above the deep canyons of the Batopilas and Urique Rivers. A geography not too dissimilar to the Grand Canyon region of Arizona but inhabited. The home of Tarahumara Indians and isolated ranchos far from roads and towns.
>
> Sure, I knew that there were risks. The military is deployed to supplement civil law enforcement and the murder rate is extreme around Ciudad Juarez. Instead of crossing in the afternoon and spending the night in Casas Grandes as I ordinarily would, I crossed before dawn and allowed a long day to reach the Sierra. I wanted to take the old route through the eastern flank, the shortcuts I knew, through the small towns where I had had little adventures over the years.
>
> From Agua Prieta, Sonora to Janos is a highway I have used since it was newly paved in the 1970s. It crosses the continental divide at the San Luis Pass and descends into the ranch country of Chihuahua where American interests once had huge spreads. This is Villa country. There are still vast ranches, good grass and small communities. Closer to Casas Grandes are Mennonite campos and Mormon farms.
>
> Some 200 miles south is the municipio of Guerrero. I suspect that I was noticed in the town of Guerrero and followed out. My main misgiving in the planning was that had only a late model pickup truck. A four wheel drive, eight cylinder Toyota. It attracts too much notice in poor rural country and makes it hard to stop and talk to people.
>
> Four o'clock in the afternoon. A Jeep SUV suddenly stopped just ahead of me on the two-lane highway, on a curve at KM17, up against a rock face. One individual walked up and muttered something about 'get out'. No, I said, I wasn't getting out. It got a little heated. He said that he needed the truck. No, I wasn't giving up the truck.
>
> We call them asaltantes, car-jackers. They are after newer trucks. Years ago there was a steady supply of trucks stolen in the United States and brought south. Chuecos, they were called, crooked in the sense that they had no license or registration. Increased vigilance at the border has sharply reduced the supply. Traficantes need fast trucks.
>
> I shifted to reverse and backed up at high speed for a ways then spun around and headed back north at high speed. They were right on me and, at speeds of seventy or eighty, fired shots.
>
> I'd hoped to outrun them to San Pedro or to the town of La Junta but I came up on a slow moving pickup and my pursuers forced me off the road. I called to the driver of the pickup. He emerged but saw the four men with guns and prudently drove off.
>
> My assailant reappeared at the driver's side window, now greatly incensed and had a pistol in hand. The door was locked from the outside and he couldn't get it open and I knocked away his hand as he reached in. He called to his companions to help get this guy out of the car, looked me in the eye and said you're going to die. He then stepped back and raised the pistol.
>
> That was the moment I thought I'd run out of ideas. I'd hoped to make it so difficult to carjack me that they'd give up.
>
> Suddenly soldiers approached in a single truck from the south and sounded a siren. He quickly jumped in the jeep and they took off. I waved the soldiers on after them and followed a ways to see the outcome. They turned off the highway with the soldiers in pursuit and I stopped. I thought it might be awkward if the asaltantes ducked the pursuit and came back out.
>
> I continued on to Creel, once a thriving tourist destination, the gateway into the Copper Canyon region. There are many large and well-appointed hotels that now stand nearly devoid of clientele. It is a busy town but the engine of progress has stalled. Few families have been untouched by violence.
>
> I asked around until I located Ramon, the son of the family I'd intended to visit. He was glad to see me but appalled that I was there. You can't come here like that anymore, indicating my vehicle. Things have changed. Then I told him the story.
>
> We spent the evening going over what I should do now. His son would take me out to the ranch the next day. Getting out of the mountains safely was a problem. He described a number of murders and hijackings around Creel in the last few weeks and described the municipio of Guerrero as particularly dangerous now. I asked how business operated. How people moved about. He said nighttime travel is out of the question and mornings and afternoons were dangerous. Midday in a convoy of several vehicles was only moderately life-threatening. His own son had been shot and killed by local police and part of my trip was to deliver to Ramon photographs I had of that son as a young boy.
>
> I'd known Ramon since he was a teenager. He remembered how I had walked, driven and roamed on horseback around the mountains and canyons where he grew up. I know his entire extended family and dozens of mutual friends. I'd slept alone on trails and in many remote ranch houses. Word would always precede my return to his mother's house of where I'd been, what I'd done. Passing Tarahumaras would deliver news faster than I could travel. It was all of another era, he said, you can't do it anymore.
>
> His mother had passed away since I'd been down there last, but his aunt and uncle were still out in Cieneguita and declined to move to town.
>
> In the morning I returned and picked up Ramon. He directed me to the army post on a hill above Creel where we explained my predicament to the commander. I admitted that I now knew I had no business here and wanted out. After an hour or so of consultation up the chain of command, they decided on an escort out to the Cuahutemoc barracks. The regional commander, an army colonel, wanted to interview me.
>
> The military vehicles are Dodge trucks with a mounted, belt loaded automatic rifle extending over the cab. Six men seated on benches, one standing with the rifle and two inside. The local commander rode with me. We talked of my trips, who I knew and how things had changed. He'd gotten the report of the previous afternoon and was well aware of how the character of the sierra had changed. He knew military control would fail. There is too much money not to start a corrosive action among officers. This is a police function. The state police were thoroughly corrupted and have probably been largely disbanded by now. The federal police are concentrated at checkpoints and on the border. Local officials fear for the lives of themselves and family. Thirty soldiers in Creel could not even claim civil control of town much less the area deeper in the sierra. Ramon had told me that beyond Creel out toward the ranch there is no law at all.
>
> I suggested that it was a pity that the rescuing soldiers had not shot the malditos in pursuit. He said yes, but it was a delicate human rights issue for them to open fire on civilians. They had gotten away.
>
> At San Pedro they turned me over to two trucks from the next district and we drove to Cuahutemoc. At the military base the colonel saw me right away. He'd received a report of the incident and had the description of the Jeep. He questioned me closely as to the appearance of the individuals, the manner in which I was stopped and whether shots had been fired. I especially noted the cold steady eyes of the gunman. The colonel was apologetic that I'd been threatened and admitted that he could offer no security. He did say that in civilian clothes he would not drive those highways at night.
>
> I emphasized that I was headed out via Chihuahua city and that I did not intend to return. There was never a hint of making it difficult or expensive to close the incident. No soldier ever asked to open baggage or examine the truck until the checkpoints near the border.
>
> Mexican presidential elections take place later this year. The term of Mr. Calderon was focused on confrontation with narcotraficantes. That the initiative has largely failed is likely to influence the selection of a new administration. There is a wider political issue involving U.S. policy on guns and drug smuggling with no clear focus. Some think there is a deliberate effort to keep Mexico, indeed all of Latin America, from first world status. Others blame the character of Mexicans themselves. As the breakdown of public security continues to play out in the northern states of the Republic, failed state conditions prevail.
>
> (EM. Hendricks is a resident of Northern Cochise County.)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To: Ferg
Subject: RE: (USBP-Discussion) FW: HOW SAFE IS IT TO TRAVEL INTO RURAL MEXICO?
Dave, that is part of my old stomping grounds in the 50's, I know that counry thoroughly. Then there were far, far, fewer people and basically no automotive roads, and of course, no law, except for that which you could enforce by what you packed on your hip..Shades of the old West. . Sigh. that was when I started the search for Tayopa.

Don Jose de La Mancha
"I exist to Live, not live to exist"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
　
Joe,
I passed through there in 1981. I was on the "Impossible Railroad" and rode the train to Creel where I appreciated the ruggedness and visited the Tarahumara. I boarded the train again and rode into Chihuahua City.
Dave
　
Sent: Tuesday, June 26, 2012 2:33 PM
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On Tue, Jun 26, 2012 at 4:49 PM, Joseph Curry <[email protected]> wrote:
Dave,I wish we could have met in those days. You would have loved it. The old west of the mid 1800's. In the 50's there was no RR, nor autobile roads yet. They were not even physically starting on the RR. Mules ruled.

Sorry Ferg, but I had to get that off.

Don Jose de La Mancha

"I exist to Live, not live to exist"~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
From: [email protected]
Date: Tue, 26 Jun 2012 16:52:03 -0700
Subject: Re: (USBP-Discussion) FW: HOW SAFE IS IT TO TRAVEL INTO RURAL MEXICO?
To: usbp-discussion

No apologies necessary...the historical facts from those who have been there and done that, as they say, is archived for posterity. And THAT is one of my priorities.
Ferg


　
　
　
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　 Border Patrol class.jpgI am in the front row, extreme left Joseph curry
 

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Don Jose :love9: politics and crime do not care who the neighbors are to often ,world wide. A niece moved to Mexico,a friend went years ago and quit communicating with me at once. He could handle himself. But they may never see the country at large. A friend with a house warned me a decade ago not to visit alone. Crazy. Rumors of no war on drugs yet drugs are war. What defence for society?. God bless you and yours as well as this dry land we share,we,ll need it. Thanks for sharing.:coffee2:
 

Don Jose,

"On Tue, Jun 26, 2012 at 4:49 PM, Joseph Curry <[email protected]> wrote:
Dave,I wish we could have met in those days. You would have loved it. The old west of the mid 1800's. In the 50's there was no RR, nor autobile roads yet. They were not even physically starting on the RR. Mules ruled."

I have read that passengers were being carried on Mexican RRs by 1850. Is that wrong?

Take care,

Joe
 

G'morning Cactus, You posted -->I have read that passengers were being carried on Mexican RRs by 1850. Is that wrong?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nah, you are correct, but that is not the Chihuahua / Pacific railroad as was mentioned.

Go to --> Chihuahua - Pacific Railroad in Mexico, History

Don Jose de La Mancha
"I exsit to Live, not live to exsit"
 

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By early 1943 Guadalcanal had been secured, and boredom soon set in.

I noticed the many salt water crocodiles lounging in the Lunga river, so I decided to go garner one for its hide and teeth. I soon found a large sandbar in a bend of the rver, maybe 100 meters across, . It was very heavily overgrown with a type of tough grass like bamboo, about 8 - 10 ft high.

I quickly found many tunnels that the crocs used to lay their eggs in the warm sand and decided to crawl in one of them looking for a croc.

So grabbing my trusty 1911 and a few extra clips, I set off on my croc hunt.

I entered one that had fresh tracks and crawled for it seemed like hours without hearing or seeing anything. I finally broke out on the river again, and when I rechecked my orig tunnel, I found tracks of one that must have been 12 feet long covering my tracks?? did she have the same idea on me??

I entered again with the blind faith of youth, and spent all afternoon crawling through the tunnels but never found her, but I could see where we were crossing tracks. I will never know who was hunting who, but I never got my croc. nor did she her dinner.

Went Orchid seed hunting instead.

Don Jose de La Mancha
 

Guys & Gals, I don't remember if I have posted this bit of rambling or not, but ---

A notice on the tv reminded me of about the same date in the 50's. I had just returned from the Yucatan / Quintina Roo expedition looking for lost Mayan ruins.

I was enjoying a sunday cup of coffee at the lil sidewalk cafe in Alamos appreciatively eyeing the lovely senoritas walking arm in arm on the Central plaza promanade displaying their wares for possible suitors ( I was single then) .

In the midst of my sordid / erotic speculations, I saw a gentleman approaching me. He was well dressed in a conservative fashion. He introduced himself, then proceeded to tell me that he had been talking to my friend Reis, who was a former US Marine machine gun specialist in Korea. After a few minutes of rambling talk he finally came to the point.

He was a recruiter for a Certain Fidel Castro who was forming a group to over throw the Dictator of Cuba, Batista, and was actively looking for specialists for Castro. He said that Reis had agreed to join him as a machine gun instructor for excellent pay, and had recommended me as a former Military pilot, qualified in multi engine Sea aircraft.

He asked me if I was interested and mentioned what was a very high pay in those days, He said that I would be given a rank of an Officer and would be based in the Yucatan. I would be expected to fly at least a few times monthly to Cuba to deliver arms, personnel, and equipment, always at night.

I was to be given a PBY-5A and plenty of gasoline to bring myself up to date in water landings as well as to aquaint myself with it's handling characteristics. To a tropical tramp and bum it sounded quite romantic and appealing, a soldier of fortune, so I tentatively agreed.

Later, Reis and I commenced to compare notes and became a bit uneasy. It seems that I would earn that nice salary only while I was in Cuban territorial waters, the rest of the time I would be based in a jungle camp in Quintana Roo eating beans and tortillas at $ !:00 US a day "

The same applied to Reis. A quick call to the American Consulate in Hermosillo asking about the swearing of allegiance to a foreign group - Gov't -and it's possible effect on my American citizenship, only received evasive answers. They only said that the US was effectively looking the other way. No commitments. Hmm red flags starting to be unfurled.

Further checking revealed that Batista now had a new group of P-51's being used as night interceptors as well as for daily patrols, sorta cooled off my romantic ideas a bit more. I was well aware of the ability of a lumbering PBY-5A to out fight or out fly a Mustang, my patriotic ideas towards Castro and his humanitarian efforts drooped considerably.

After finding that the mechanics would be from the dregs of tropical America aircraft mechanics, which was very low at that time, I finally told the recruiter "gracias , but no way". However I would keep his offer in mind. To put it mildly he was a bit upset and mumbled a bit about my short life expectancy since I now knew too much. I countered by mentioning that I had put out a life insurance contract with one of the Sinaloa boys on the agents life also, so to back off. He finally did.

I later learned that after the successful revolt, all foreign fighters, such as my position would have been, were promptly thrown into prison and most were simply executed for one reason or another, a pattern which Castro continued to follow throughout his career.

Just think if I hadn't been so suspicious, you would have been spared my rambling posts, and Tayopa would have been found by another. So have another cuppa coffee and cheer up.

Don Jose de La Mancha
 

Real de Tayopa Tropical Tramp said:
By early 1943 Guadalcanal had been secured, and boredom soon set in.

I noticed the many salt water crocodiles lounging in the Lunga river, so I decided to go garner one for its hide and teeth. I soon found a large sandbar in a bend of the rver, maybe 100 meters across, . It was very heavily overgrown with a type of tough grass like bamboo, about 8 - 10 ft high.

I quickly found many tunnels that the crocs used to lay their eggs in the warm sand and decided to crawl in one of them looking for a croc.

So grabbing my trusty 1911 and a few extra clips, I set off on my croc hunt.

I entered one that had fresh tracks and crawled for it seemed like hours without hearing or seeing anything. I finally broke out on the river again, and when I rechecked my orig tunnel, I found tracks of one that must have been 12 feet long covering my tracks?? did she have the same idea on me??

I entered again with the blind faith of youth, and spent all afternoon crawling through the tunnels but never found her, but I could see where we were crossing tracks. I will never know who was hunting who, but I never got my croc. nor did she her dinner.

Went Orchid seed hunting instead.

Don Jose de La Mancha
Click to expand...
My attempt to play Sascha Seimel (Tigrero)with a broke handled 3prong pitchfork after a bobcat that ran into a very low crawl space under a house pales in comparison to that story ,Senior .

>I'll just get back on the porch and listen to the real dogs :coffee2:
 

Oh no you don't truckinbutch, you don't get away that easy, am waiting and listening for your Sascha 'minus spear' story. Cut loose, this goes for all of you others also.

Don Jose de La Mancha
 

hope this is not improperly posted don jose, saludos. just recently came across a dictionary of the opata language, words and nameplaces, a lot of good information to clear up confusion of place names in early sonoran history. anyway tayopa is an opata word, meaning santuary of the sun. generally reserved for those places in the canyon country where the sun was able to shine in earlier and stay later in the course of a day. there were four known places that had the word tayopa as part of its name in opata territority. the author is a professor of languages and an opata speaker here in mexico.
 

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Ma Pa mine of Tayopa has been found

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