I HAVE A SET OF JUMPER CABLES... LET'S SEE IF WE CAN GIVE THIS THREAD A JUMP-START. IT'S FAR TOO VALUABLE TO LET IT SIT AND RUST.
I HAVE BEEN READING "De re METALICA" FOR THE LAST FEW WEEKS. IT IS A HECK OF A BOOK, BUT IT IS ABOUT AS HARD TO READ AS A PEACH PIT IS TO PASS. HOWEVER: ONE TINY LITTLE CORNER OF A PARAGRAPH AWAKENED AN OLD MEMORY THAT IS STIRRING UP NEW THEORIES AMONGST FOLKS THAT ARE FOLLOWING ANCIENT TRAILS AND SOME SPANISH TRAILS AS WELL.
ALLOW ME TO PREFACE THIS WITH SOME BACKGROUND.
WHEN I WAS YOUNG (BIRTH TILL FOUR OR FIVE YEARS OLD), I LIVED IN WEST TEXAS, IN ODESSA AND CRANE. ALMOST ALL SECONDARY ROADS WERE DIRT BASE AND A LAYER OF CRUSHED CALICHE. WHEN WET THEY WERE VERY SLICK, WHEN DRY THEY WERE VERY DUSTY. WHEN THE ROAD NEAR OUR HOUSE WAS DRY IT WAS MY OLDER BROTHER AND MY JOB TO HOSE DOWN THE CARS AND WALKWAYS AND ANYTHING THAT WAS FLAT. THAT DUST MADE A GOOD CLAY FOR US TO SHAPE COWBOYS AND "NATIVE AMERICANS" AND OTHER TARGETS FOR OUR BB GUNS. WE WOULD PLACE THEM OUT IN THE SUN TO DRY, AND LATER THEY BECAME "COLLATERAL DAMAGE". THE SMALL ONES WOULD SHATTER AND THE BIG THICK ONES WOULD JUST CHIP AWAY.
NOW, HERE IS THE MAIN STORY...
WHEN I WAS ABOUT FIVE YEARS OLD, GIVE OR TAKE A YEAR OR SO, MY FAMILY AND AN UNCLE'S FAMILY WENT ON A TRIP TO " THE MOUNTAINS". I DON'T REALLY KNOW EXACTLY HOW LONG WE DROVE NOR DO I KNOW WHICH DIRECTION WE TRAVELED. WE DID LEAVE IN THE MORNING AND WERE AT A CABIN IN TIME TO SETTLE IN BEFORE NIGHT FALL.
THE NEXT MORNING WE ALL MOUNTED UP ON MULES AND CREATED A SMALL TRAIN OF SORTS. MY UNCLE WAS RIDING POINT AND STOPPED TO CONFER WITH THE ROCKS AND HILLSIDES ALONG THE WAY. I REMEMBER THE TRIP WAS A LONG TIME FOR A FIVE YEAR OLD TO SIT IN THE SADDLE. BUT WE FINALLY REACHED OUR MYSTERY DESTINATION WHERE MY UNCLE DISMOUNTED AND WALKED OVER TO A SMALL BLUFF.
THIS IS THE NEAT PART. THE BLUFF WAS THE SAME COLOR AS OUR TARGETS WERE. PART OF IT WAS DARKER, THICKER AND IN PLACES IT WAS CRACKED. IT HAD LETTERS AND NUMBERS OR SHAPES THAT I DID NOT UNDERSTAND, HECK, I WAS JUST LEARNING ABOUT LETTERS AND NUMBERS, SO I AM NOT A RELIABLE WITNESS AS TO WHAT WAS ON THE BLUFF.
HOWEVER; MY UNCLE SEEMED TO KNOW WHAT HE WAS LOOKING AT, HE READ WHAT EVER IT WAS AND TURNED AND WENT BACK TO HIS MULE, MUTTERING " THOSE LYING *******S." OVER AND OVER AGAIN. HE PULLED A SHOP HAMMER OUT OF HIS PACK. (NOTE THAT HE KNEW THAT HE MIGHT NEED A BIG HAMMER BEFORE WE LEFT HOME.) HE STARTED AT THE BOTTOM OF THE CALICHE COVERED BLUFF WALL. HIT AND MOVE A FEW INCHES AND REPEAT, AFTER A WHILE HE HIT A HOLLOW SPOT AND MADE A HOLE BIG ENOUGH TO HOLD THE HAMMER. HE GOT ALL KINDS OF GIDDY AND REPEATEDLY SAID, " I KNEW IT, I KNEW IT!!" HE RETURNED TO HIS PACK AND PULLED OUT A POTATO SACK. ALL OF US KIDS WERE PUT BACK IN THE SADDLE AGAIN, AND WERE LED BACK TO THE CABIN BY MY AUNT.
LATER THAT AFTERNOON MY DAD AND UNCLE RETURNED TO CAMP AND THE ADULTS WENT OUT TO LOOK IN THE BAG.
I NEVER LEARNED WHAT WAS IN THE BAG, BUT I DO REMEMBER STOPPING ON THE WAY HOME FOR A HUGE FAMILY BREAKFAST. THAT WAS HIGHLY UNUSUAL FOR OUR FAMILY.
I DO NOT WANT ANYONE TO GET THE IDEA THAT THEY SHOULD CARRY A SHOP HAMMER TO BEAT ON BLUFFS THAT ARE COVERED WITH ANY KIND OF CLAY. ESPECIALLY IF THEY HAVE BEEN FIRE HARDENED. (THAT IS WHAT MADE THE DARKER COLORS.)
I HAVE TO GUESS ABOUT WHAT MY UNCLE KNEW ABOUT THE TRAIL AND THE BLUFF. HE HAS PASSED AWAY SINCE THEN.
IF THERE WAS ANY IMPORTANT INFORMATION CONCERNING OTHER TREASURE OR MINE ON THAT WALL, IT WAS LOST TO HISTORY OVER A HALF CENTURY AGO.
I HAD SEEN BLUFFS AND ROCKS TEXTURED IN THIS SAME MANNER ON TREASURE NET BEFORE, BUT FAILED TO PUT THE IMAGES TOGETHER WITH WHAT MY UNCLE HAD DONE, UNTIL I READ THAT SMALL PART OF "De re METALICA" THAT SAID THAT THERE WERE FOLKS THAT WOULD USE CALICHE OR OTHER CLAY TO CONCEAL HIGH GRADE ORE, OR OTHER MARKERS SO THAT THEY WOULD BE THE ONLY ONE THAT KNEW THE TRUTH.
NOW, THERE ARE A FEW FOLKS THAT ARE GOING THRU THEIR OLD PHOTOS LOOKING FOR THOSE THICK CHUNKS OF CLAY THAT HAVE CURLED UP AND BROKEN LOOSE, AND LOOKING FOR MINE OPENINGS HIDDEN BY CLEVER MEN THAT TOOK THEIR SECRETS TO THE GRAVE.
HAPPY RE-HUNTING
MIKEL
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(Earls book , Ghosts of the Old West).
