mofugly13
Full Member
This is fascinating. I would love to do something like this! It really sounds exciting. Please keep it going RowdyYates, I sure hope there's another installment.....
A Hard-Rock Mining Tale from Mariposa County in the 1980s ......
- Thread starter Rowdy Yates
- Start date
CharlesP
Sr. Member
- May 18, 2012
- 258
- 53
- Detector(s) used
- Still searching for the right one
- Primary Interest:
- Prospecting
I'm loving this story. I can't wait to hear how it milled out
chupacabra
Jr. Member
- Jul 23, 2013
- 77
- 74
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- All Treasure Hunting
Rowdy is there any info you have on this gentleman who the video was made about?
I did do some snooping around and found the Mr Meztler had a few hard rock and placer claims and I believe they are above 140 bridge but its been awhile since I did that. Map of area his mines are in
http://westernmininghistory.com/mine_detail/10031213
Heres the video
I did do some snooping around and found the Mr Meztler had a few hard rock and placer claims and I believe they are above 140 bridge but its been awhile since I did that. Map of area his mines are in
http://westernmininghistory.com/mine_detail/10031213
Heres the video
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Rowdy Yates
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- #24
Yes, that's Bob. I can't say I knew him well, but we met on a few occasions and he was a perfect gentleman... Here's his obituary...... Robert (Bob) Dell Metzler | [url]www.mariposagazette.com | Mariposa Gazette | News for the Mariposa-Yosemite region
[/URL]And, of course, if you haven't figured it out yet, Bob is the one who sold us the aforementioned "weepy" dynamite.
[/URL]And, of course, if you haven't figured it out yet, Bob is the one who sold us the aforementioned "weepy" dynamite.
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Head 'em up Rowdy. Thanks for the great read tonite. I had a friend that I'd visit many moons ago (Back when you could raft the river) that lived on a road that crossed Bear Creek. Just down the road from a "closed" ranger station. Can't remember the name of that road, dang it. Had great memories 3-wheeling those roads and doing a little fishing and panning in Ned’s Gulch. (didn't know any better then but probably on someone's claim...ooops). Please keep up with the stories.
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Rowdy Yates
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- #26
Hi Mendo, you probably knew Jack Bass who lived at Briceburg. After you cross over the Merced River on the swing bridge, the road down the river to McCabe Flats is called Briceburg Road and is the old railroad bed for the Yosemite Valley Railroad. Across the bridge, the road that switchbacks up the canyon has had quite a few names, Burma Grade being one of them, now it's called Bull Creek Road (or Briceburg Road on older maps).
http://ca-mariposacounty.civicplus.com/DocumentCenter/View/48510
Unfortunately, Jack Bass (who was a good guy) got into some legal issues due to his less-than-desirable nephews and his property at Briceburg was forfeited back to BLM.
http://ca-mariposacounty.civicplus.com/DocumentCenter/View/48510
Unfortunately, Jack Bass (who was a good guy) got into some legal issues due to his less-than-desirable nephews and his property at Briceburg was forfeited back to BLM.
Rowdy...been awhile since I've logged on but thank you...It was Bull Creek road. There was an old fallen in shed way at the back of my buddies cabin that I searched thru, well kinda fell into and discovered a pair of non-typical antlers. They where huge like sixteen or so points. Alas, got burned up in a storage unit fire. But I guess that's just one of those things about memories..stuff comes and goes but memories last forever. If I ever venture down/over that area again I'd love ta tell you about the time I hauled a load of cedar rounds home down Old Priest Grade in a 1963 Dodge truck with marginal brakes...wheeeee!!!
familyhunter
Jr. Member
- Oct 13, 2011
- 51
- 26
- Primary Interest:
- All Treasure Hunting
Rowdy the story has been great.I havent been on this forum since my friend walking Eagle passed away. Your story is the only other one Ive found about Mariposa hope you keep it up.
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Rowdy Yates
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- Thread starter
- #30
Wow!!!! Has it really been seven years since I wrote that last chapter
Well, I guess I'll revive this thread with a new chapter. Sorry for the delay.........
"Of course, we wouldn’t know right away because everybody knows you can’t enter a recently blasted underground mine until the next day……. toxic fumes and all."
Chapter Five: We Get the Ore Out and Crushed
We spent the rest of the day celebrating what we hoped was a successful blast, back down at the Mill Site on the Merced River, drinking beer around a campfire. The next morning we were very excited to get back up into the mine to see how much ore we had blasted out. We loaded our ore cart with sledgehammers and digger bars, shovels and hand sledges. (Digger bars are 5-foot long steel bars like a crowbar only straight and not curved). When we reached the blast site, we figured we had blasted out maybe ½ ton of ore. Not as much as we anticipated, but we figured it wasn’t too bad for a first try.
We noticed that there was still quite a bit of ore, all cracked and loose still adhering to the wall and ceiling of the blast area. The first order of business was to make our work area safe. Using the hand sledges and digger bars we were able to pry and bring down all the loose ore in the wall and ceiling. We figured we probably brought down another ¼ ton of ore. Now the real work began. Our jaw-crusher could only handle chunks of rock about the size of a cantaloupe or smaller. Our job was to use the sledgehammers to reduce all the chunks down to cantaloupe size or smaller. First, we loaded the ore cart with every piece of ore that the crusher could handle. No problem. Then the hammering began. Although it was a constant temperature inside the mine of around 65 degrees or so, after about 10 minutes of sledgehammering our shirts came off. Covered in sweat, muscles aching, we pounded the crap out of the remaining quartz. And pounded, and pounded, and then pounded some more. Even though we were young bucks in our teens and twenties, this was hard work!! We joked about being on a “chain gang” busting rocks like Paul Newman and George Kennedy in “Cool Hand Luke”.
In the bits of darkness inside the mine we were making sparks fly!! We also noticed that small, sharp slivers of quartz were being imbedded in our arms and chests causing little rivulets of blood mixed with sweat. After a few hours, the task was done, we loaded up the ore cart about ¾ full with all the rock we had blasted out and broke up, hopped on the ore cart and rode it out to the entrance to the mine. We loaded my Jeep and GH’s Bronco, drove the ore to the jaw-crusher where it took about half an hour to crush it all down to minus ½-inch. By this time, it was late afternoon so we loaded the Jeep and Bronco back up with the crushed ore, and drove it down to the mill site on the river where we off-loaded it at the ball mill. J took a sample to assay that night (he had a small hand-size cast iron mortar and pestle to powderize his sample) and we were so exhausted, we all went home and I know I slept like a rock (no pun intended) that night.
The following morning, sore and hurting, I made my way down to the mill site. When I arrived, GH was there along with a Mariposa County Sheriff. Jay had passed away during the night.
Well, I guess I'll revive this thread with a new chapter. Sorry for the delay........."Of course, we wouldn’t know right away because everybody knows you can’t enter a recently blasted underground mine until the next day……. toxic fumes and all."
Chapter Five: We Get the Ore Out and Crushed
We spent the rest of the day celebrating what we hoped was a successful blast, back down at the Mill Site on the Merced River, drinking beer around a campfire. The next morning we were very excited to get back up into the mine to see how much ore we had blasted out. We loaded our ore cart with sledgehammers and digger bars, shovels and hand sledges. (Digger bars are 5-foot long steel bars like a crowbar only straight and not curved). When we reached the blast site, we figured we had blasted out maybe ½ ton of ore. Not as much as we anticipated, but we figured it wasn’t too bad for a first try.
We noticed that there was still quite a bit of ore, all cracked and loose still adhering to the wall and ceiling of the blast area. The first order of business was to make our work area safe. Using the hand sledges and digger bars we were able to pry and bring down all the loose ore in the wall and ceiling. We figured we probably brought down another ¼ ton of ore. Now the real work began. Our jaw-crusher could only handle chunks of rock about the size of a cantaloupe or smaller. Our job was to use the sledgehammers to reduce all the chunks down to cantaloupe size or smaller. First, we loaded the ore cart with every piece of ore that the crusher could handle. No problem. Then the hammering began. Although it was a constant temperature inside the mine of around 65 degrees or so, after about 10 minutes of sledgehammering our shirts came off. Covered in sweat, muscles aching, we pounded the crap out of the remaining quartz. And pounded, and pounded, and then pounded some more. Even though we were young bucks in our teens and twenties, this was hard work!! We joked about being on a “chain gang” busting rocks like Paul Newman and George Kennedy in “Cool Hand Luke”.
In the bits of darkness inside the mine we were making sparks fly!! We also noticed that small, sharp slivers of quartz were being imbedded in our arms and chests causing little rivulets of blood mixed with sweat. After a few hours, the task was done, we loaded up the ore cart about ¾ full with all the rock we had blasted out and broke up, hopped on the ore cart and rode it out to the entrance to the mine. We loaded my Jeep and GH’s Bronco, drove the ore to the jaw-crusher where it took about half an hour to crush it all down to minus ½-inch. By this time, it was late afternoon so we loaded the Jeep and Bronco back up with the crushed ore, and drove it down to the mill site on the river where we off-loaded it at the ball mill. J took a sample to assay that night (he had a small hand-size cast iron mortar and pestle to powderize his sample) and we were so exhausted, we all went home and I know I slept like a rock (no pun intended) that night.
The following morning, sore and hurting, I made my way down to the mill site. When I arrived, GH was there along with a Mariposa County Sheriff. Jay had passed away during the night.
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Rowdy Yates
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- Thread starter
- #31
Actually (my mistake) nine years since I wrote the last chapter....... Jeez.......
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