THE Random Chat Thread - AKA "The RCT" - No shirt or shoes required - Open 24 / 7

Also been about a year since I made my big treasure cache strike.....I never went back, and the beaches are groomed and beautiful right now.....I might ditch work and hit the spot today....I can feel treasure fever building, and im starting to get the butterflies in my belly....time for me to start tracking the faint steps of the Spaniards again.....I took a break and havnt done any serious hunting in awhile. My cache hunting has been a failure so far. Im ready to get out of the damn poison wood jungle, and get back to the beach....my one true love 💘
 

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alloy_II said:
More local history, the Allis Chalmers HD7W entered Canada under the Lend Lease program during WWII.

The crawler was used to clear the way for a POW camp, after the war was sold off as surplus, a local farmer purchased it then after the hydraulic pump was badly broken is sat in this field for 40 some odd years.

One of my retired neighbors with more money than brains bought the machine where is as is.

Detroit diesel 3/71 three cylinders super charged diesel running on two cylinders with one injector slobbering fuel.

The serial number dates this machine 1942

View attachment 2007137
View attachment 2007138
View attachment 2007139
.
Click to expand...



I've long been interested in the 'jungles" near rail stops.
Was a time people were on the move looking for , a variety of things. Often work. Even if it meant passing many people going the other direction doing the same thing and leaving where the others are headed...

There are accounts. And such camps are worth a peek with a detector when located.
Often out of sight of the community, and near water.

A hobo is not a bum. A bum is not a drunk. A tramp is not a bum. Lines blur though and they do as they did , get painted with a broad brush.
Hobo's had more "rules" of conduct. And seldom let youths in thier camps. Due to abuse of youths by other parties , and not wanting accusations towards them by association.

At jungle sites , hobos did not camp directly with bums. A tramp perhaps , but preferred thier own "kind". They had thier own "court" when someone was out of line ect. that did not translate to others not sharing the same rules/standards.
A "hand out" meant (to Bo's) that you never set foot in a home where the lady's husband was not home.
"Just hand it out the door".
A hobo would work for a meal.
As would a tramp. Tramps being afoot and traveling on shanks mare where Bo's preferred hoppin trains.

Making for a mix of people and cultures in the "jungle" / camps.


Your post site likely had deliberate /welcoming camping area (s) for other cultures.
Some at least did.
Then there were routes with stops along it going to and from the post. Some sites better than others for a night.

The earth has long been a "bank" to secure things in. And under ones bedroll is fairly secure in a lodge. More so , making a deposit or withdrawal is more private.
Plus , just plain lost drops in snow or at night.

Great area you have to poke around. A person could stay busy a very long time there.
 

Last edited:
Blak bart said:
Also been about a year since I made my big treasure cache strike.....I never went back, and the beaches are groomed and beautiful right now.....I might ditch work and hit the spot today....I can feel treasure fever building, and im starting to get the butterflies in my belly....time for me to start tracking the faint steps of the Spaniards again.....I took a break and havnt done any serious hunting in awhile. My cache hunting has been a failure so far. Im ready to get out of the damn poison wood jungle, and get back to the beach....my one true love 💘
Click to expand...
Bart, strike while the fire is hot bring back the booty!
 

releventchair said:
I've long been interested in the 'jungles" near rail stops.
Was a time people were on the move looking for , a variety of things. Often work. Even if it meant passing many people going the other direction doing the same thing and leaving where the others are headed...

There are accounts. And such camps are worth a peek with a detector when located.
Often out of sight of the community, and near water.

A hobo is not a bum. A bum is not a drunk. A tramp is not a bum. Lines blur though and they do as they did , get painted with a broad brush.
Hobo's had more "rules" of conduct. And seldom let youths in thier camps. Due to abuse of youths by other parties , and not wanting accusations towards them by association.

At jungle sites , hobos did not camp directly with bums. A tramp perhaps , but preferred thier own "kind". They had thier own "court" when someone was out of line ect. that did not translate to others not sharing the same rules/standards.
A "hand out" meant (to Bo's) that you never set foot in a home where the lady's husband was not home.
"Just hand it out the door".
A hobo would work for a meal.
As would a tramp. Tramps being afoot and traveling on shanks mare where Bo's preferred hoppin trains.

Making for a mix of people and cultures in the "jungle" / camps.


Your post site likely had deliberate /welcoming camping area (s) for other cultures.
Some at least did.
Then there were routes with stops along it going to and from the post. Some sites better than others for a night.

The earth has long been a "bank" to secure things in. And under ones bedroll is fairly secure in a lodge. More so , making a deposit or withdrawal is more private.
Plus , just plain lost drops in snow or at night.

Great area you have to poke around. A person could stay busy a very long time there.
Click to expand...
Good Day RC
Good post up, as the broad brush takes too big of a swipe at times.

I got the Hobo label tagged on me once in the illegal alien sweep on the R/Rline 80 miles out of San Antonio.
The train stopped, and the conductor came back to the middle pusher units and gave me a meal and a drink, said up ahead the check was going to happen, and I'd get the boot off the train.

Awhile later the sky lite up with a chopper, train stopped, the mounted unit, the 4x4s with roof bar lights.
Crazy action, guns, dogs, and they hailed me out of the engine. I climbed down and was asked a few questions.
One guy came riding up on a horse, long gun, asked the other 2 what they had? Just a Hobo.
At that point I said thank you. 80 miles from the Alamo-I will say there's zilch out there except scrub brush. :tongue3:
 

pepperj said:
Good Day RC
Good post up, as the broad brush takes too big of a swipe at times.

I got the Hobo label tagged on me once in the illegal alien sweep on the R/Rline 80 miles out of San Antonio.
The train stopped, and the conductor came back to the middle pusher units and gave me a meal and a drink, said up ahead the check was going to happen, and I'd get the boot off the train.

Awhile later the sky lite up with a chopper, train stopped, the mounted unit, the 4x4s with roof bar lights.
Crazy action, guns, dogs, and they hailed me out of the engine. I climbed down and was asked a few questions.
One guy came riding up on a horse, long gun, asked the other 2 what they had? Just a Hobo.
At that point I said thank you. 80 miles from the Alamo-I will say there's zilch out there except scrub brush. :tongue3:
Click to expand...

Train times are about gone. Quite a reduction in folks rambling.
Even society (ies) used to follow the rails as they expanded.

Still folks with itchy feet. Fewer in number though.

Canadian hitch hikers I used to see held signs usually. Staying at the end of a hamlet towards the hamlet they wanted to go to instead of walking down the road farther.
Like your 80 miles to the Alamo , sometimes logic can hold someone closer to where they been , than towards where they would go.

 

releventchair said:
Train times are about gone. Quite a reduction in folks rambling.
Even society (ies) used to follow the rails as they expanded.

Still folks with itchy feet. Fewer in number though.

Canadian hitch hikers I used to see held signs usually. Staying at the end of a hamlet towards the hamlet they wanted to go to instead of walking down the road farther.
Like your 80 miles to the Alamo , sometimes logic can hold someone closer to where they been , than towards where they would go.

Click to expand...

There was no proper you go that way from anyone really.
Middle if the night, and you get going now.
Where?
That way, and a border agent pointed.
The highway is that way.
I camped the rest of the night, walked, and walked and finally hit black top late afternoon.
A fellow stopped to picked me up and said you look like you need a drink.
He went to the door of the bubble trailer tow behind. Opened the door and lifted the cooler lid.
I'll never forget the sight of the cold drinks bobbing in the ice chilled water.
Seriously was contemplating of just sticking my head right in the cooler.
(Would of been a tad rude) so I opted for a ice cold water and a bottle of Coke.
His request was just to write a little about myself in his logbook.
He took the maps out and had a look. We figured I had walked 11 miles in a big U, that was measuring across the open end of the U.
I missed the highway, completely starting off going out into the nowhere land before ending back onto the highway again.
Just about did the walk in circle lost thing.
Not a great experience.
 

pepperj said:
There was no proper you go that way from anyone really.
Middle if the night, and you get going now.
Where?
That way, and a border agent pointed.
The highway is that way.
I camped the rest of the night, walked, and walked and finally hit black top late afternoon.
A fellow stopped to picked me up and said you look like you need a drink.
He went to the door of the bubble trailer tow behind. Opened the door and lifted the cooler lid.
I'll never forget the sight of the cold drinks bobbing in the ice chilled water.
Seriously was contemplating of just sticking my head right in the cooler.
(Would of been a tad rude) so I opted for a ice cold water and a bottle of Coke.
His request was just to write a little about myself in his logbook.
He took the maps out and had a look. We figured I had walked 11 miles in a big U, that was measuring across the open end of the U.
I missed the highway, completely starting off going out into the nowhere land before ending back onto the highway again.
Just about did the walk in circle lost thing.
Not a great experience.
Click to expand...
I did almost the same thing while fishing. I came around a bend in the lake and hit a Wall of fog.I knew where I wanted to go(straight) so I kept the wheel straight. Somehow,and to this day I can't figure it out,when I came out of the fog I had gone 360 degrees ,right back to the same exact spot :icon_scratch::icon_scratch::icon_scratch: True story & there was no wind
 

pepperj said:
There was no proper you go that way from anyone really.
Middle if the night, and you get going now.
Where?
That way, and a border agent pointed.
The highway is that way.
I camped the rest of the night, walked, and walked and finally hit black top late afternoon.
A fellow stopped to picked me up and said you look like you need a drink.
He went to the door of the bubble trailer tow behind. Opened the door and lifted the cooler lid.
I'll never forget the sight of the cold drinks bobbing in the ice chilled water.
Seriously was contemplating of just sticking my head right in the cooler.
(Would of been a tad rude) so I opted for a ice cold water and a bottle of Coke.
His request was just to write a little about myself in his logbook.
He took the maps out and had a look. We figured I had walked 11 miles in a big U, that was measuring across the open end of the U.
I missed the highway, completely starting off going out into the nowhere land before ending back onto the highway again.
Just about did the walk in circle lost thing.
Not a great experience.
Click to expand...

A good Coke commercial though!
Unlike this one..

 

RTR said:
I did almost the same thing while fishing. I came around a bend in the lake and hit a Wall of fog.I knew where I wanted to go(straight) so I kept the wheel straight. Somehow,and to this day I can't figure it out,when I came out of the fog I had gone 360 degrees ,right back to the same exact spot :icon_scratch::icon_scratch::icon_scratch: True story & there was no wind
Click to expand...
Point A is where I ran into the Fog.Point B is where I wanted to go.But with wheel straight I wound up back at point A
003.JPG
 

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