Jim Hemmingway
Hero Member
- Jan 26, 2008
- 789
- 1,617
- Detector(s) used
- F-75, Infinium LS, MXT, GoldBug2, TDI Pro, 1280X Aquanaut, Garrett ProPointer
- Primary Interest:
- Prospecting
A Discombobulated Silver Prospecting Tale
The origins of our tale begin some years ago, with my annual autumn prospecting trip into the northeastern part of Ontario renowned for its silver production. The area represents a small part of a vast, heavily forested wilderness perched on the sprawling Precambrian Shield. Away from the small towns and villages, and widely scattered farms and rural homesteads, there exists a largely uninterrupted way of life in the more remote areas. There are uncounted miles of lonely country backroads, overgrown tracks leading to abandoned mining camps, innumerable rough timber lanes, and a virtually infinite tangle of winding trails that reach deeply into the distant forests.
The region is largely supported by forestry, tourism, and miningā¦for it is rich in nearly every mineral one can imagine, but especially of gold and silver, and the base metals. It attracts an annual autumn migration of hunters, fishermen, mineral collectors, and other adventurers seeking a full measure of the beckoning, companionable solitude of the remote wilderness. The photo below depicts an area where two prospectors claim to have sighted the highly elusive Sasquatch, sometimes referred to as the Abominable Snowman of the Himalayas.
Our journey back in time so many long years ago, finds us contentedly settled into a perfectly routine, bright morning following a highly interesting prospecting sojourn the previous day. That day I had made the companionable acquaintance of two staff members from Michigan State University. They had recently arrived in a magnificent motorhome to search for precious silver and other minerals with their assortment of metal detectors. Their silver prospecting had been unsuccessful thus far, but undiminished in their enthusiasm to expend some energy, they were eager to try probing for old relics and glassware. I suggested some promising abandoned homestead sites in the woods, and we made further plans to share some morning tea, view my silver recoveries, and possibly make some detecting plans for the day.
In preparation for the visit, I arose early that morning, performed the usual perfunctory personal ablutions, and stepped lightly from the camper to prepare a hungry outdoorsmanās breakfast at the picnic table. That normally means bacon and eggs fried on the fretful propane gas stove, conveniently located under the wide, foul-weather canopy. Now for the benefit of urban dwellers not fully appreciating such matters, I submit there is no more tantalizing scent that permeates the woodland aisles as solicitously to a ravenously hungry wayfarer than that of sizzling bacon in the frying pan. Thus to my dismay but not surprise upon returning from the camper with some handy utensils, I abruptly came face-to-face with a wayfarer in the personage of a moderate-sized blackbear immediately across the table from me.
Wellā¦ we both rather casually glanced at one another for some several secondsā¦ which is a long time reallyā¦ in what could only be considered a mutually earnest attempt to evaluate exactly just what the other's full intentions and possible capabilities might be. The issue at hand of course, was possession of the steaming breakfast now lying sumptuously before us, a seeming impasse that would brook no compromise.
Allowing that I was a man of action, a trait not one whit diminished by the present circumstances, and fully aware that a brand-spanking-new container of "Bear Guard" resided within my trusty backpack just inside the camper doorway, I promptly retired indoors to retrieve this potent pest serum. In the twinkling of an eye the bear spray was in my hand, safety mechanism removed, and finger on the trigger. Brimming with confidence that victory was within my grasp, I took careful aimā¦. who could miss... right?
Meanwhile, my uninvited, immobile guest had remained quietly composed and altogether civil in his demeanor, and I regret to relate, with rather sad, supplicating eyes fixed with unblinking steadiness on mine. But doggedly immune to sympathy for any but myself ā¦at that particular moment that isā¦ the trigger was released without any misgivings. And quicker than thought, a plume of debilitating chemical spray tracked unfailingly straight for the bearās nose.
But even quicker still, my newfound acquaintance ducked his head and sidestepped, indeed shrugging off the main thrust of my carefully conspired offensive as if it were inconsequential. And there was a further complication insofar as I had signally failed to consider the oncoming breeze. Almost as quickly as the implications occurred to me, I succumbed to the bear-spray fumes, abandoned breakfast in panicky confusion, blindly retreating back into the trailer. Subsequent to a half-hour convalescence of teary-eyed, spasmodic coughing and retching, I regained some semblance of normal breathing and cardiac composure. Ready to face the inevitable, I set forth to resume the contest, only to find my breakfast charred, and amiable new companion unmoved and indifferent to my enterprise thus far.
I reviewed the alternatives carefully as things now stood. Breakfast was no longer a matter of dispute to me at least. But I could not simply hand it over either. The park brochures unequivocally admonished the reader not to feed the bears and I did enjoy the repute of being an experienced outdoors personage. More, my tentative little friend had demonstrated remarkable forbearance by not taking advantage of my temporary lapse. And worse, he fixed me with unwavering, sad appealing eyes, conveying eternal gratitude and sacrifice for my sake, if only he might sample the frying panās tasty scraps. I began to feel discomfiture and shame at my own indignant, confrontational behaviour towards this unobtrusive, gentle creature.
But I had company coming for tea, and knew we would have to leave camp shortly for the day. My new friend could not be left alone near camp. Long story short, I sidled over to my truck and spent an exasperating hour or so chasing this mangy, obstinate competitor from camp and hopefully from the park. Now, fully appreciating the desperate cunning I faced with this shrewd adversary, I arranged for the Ministry of Natural Resources to set a bear trap nearby, later in the day.
Content with this strategic maneuver, and in the afterglow of glad relief as can only be savored with successful, decisive conquest of brute strength by infinitely resourceful genius, my recently arrived companions of the previous day and I enjoyed morning tea, and merrily hit the treasure trail. Feeling secure any remaining camp contingency was suitably addressed, I for one had no more care in the world than the wispy, white clouds scurrying across the blue heavens above.
Late evening of that day found me alone at a remote site, deep in the wilderness and far removed from the welcoming lights of civilization. As had become habit over many years, darknessā¦ rebuked only by a slim sliver of veiled moonlight known affectionately to those who feel obliged to appropriate otherās livestock as a Rustler's Moonā¦ found me still rock hunting. The recovery of a promising target signal preoccupied my thoughts and effort. Iāve never been able to abandon a good signal and never will, regardless of circumstances. Finally, after exhaustive prying and digging, I packed my prize into the backpack and reluctantly hiked uphill to a wide bench where my truck was parked.
With nothing more profound on my mind than entertaining thoughts of tasty pork and beans for dinner over a hot fire, I stored my equipment and backpack into the back of the truck and made ready to return to camp. It happened so quickly, it was shocking and there was no time to think. Throwing the transmission into reverse, I did what I always do from long habitā¦ I looked into the interior rear view mirror. You might easily imagine my startled reaction to see two enormously elevated large glowing eyes, illuminated only by my reverse lightsā¦fixedly gazing into the mirror directly into mine. There was no sound, no contact with the truck.
In a furious fit of energy that would have garnered surprised favor from my boss back at the office, I quickly swung my Jeep aroundā¦ a credit to my youthful driving instructor, could he only have witnessed that splendid three-point turn. My lights immediately filled the misty gloom to revealā¦nothing. The creature had vanished into thin air, certainly not an impossible feat, but most unlikely. It was wide, open space on that bench, I could not understand how that creature has disappeared so quickly.
With the exigency of leaving the scene waning quickly, I drove some thirty yards downhill on the overgrown track and stopped. I jumped out of the truck with my high powered flashlight at the ready, and began a systematic exploration of the nearby woods, always staying within easy retreat to the vehicleās safety. The remaining foliage of innumerable aspen and tag alders interfered with a close scrutiny and I did not dare to go further afield. Yet, short of the distant forlorn cry of a loon, I could not see or hear anything unusual to disturb the eveningās tranquillity. Dismayed, I returned to the truck and cautiously resumed my way down the dark, abandoned track, crossed a tumbling wide brook at the bottom end of the lake to finally gain firm footing at the opposite shore, and headed for camp completely lost in thought.
Some three-quarters of an hour later I arrived back at the campsite looking forward to lighting a blazing fire and enjoying a steaming mug of tea before dinner. At such times, subsequent to a highly startling experience, it is unsettling to realize that no āsixthā sense had alerted me to the possible danger of a nearby large creature out at the remote minesite. A creature that was fully aware of my activities, and perhaps observing or even stalking me for some length of time. Yet as I jumped out of my truck at camp, that sixth sense came abruptly to the fore.
The evening sky had given way to gloomy scuttling clouds, the wind had sharply risen to rustle fallen leaves, sighing fitfully through the treetops. Have you ever stumbled in the darkness of night into an unseen wall or obstacle that brought you up short? The moment I stepped away from my truck such an overwhelming foreboding sense came over me that I stood stock still, peering into the thick darkness in some vague attempt to comprehend the sharp, uneasy feeling. Now then, let it be clear that I am not one given to fears of the dark or superstitious nonsense. I never look over my shoulder dreading the sight of some phantom specter, not ever.
But my instincts were alerted, as I stood there motionless, considering possibilities. Grabbing my flashlight, I treaded slowly towards the camper. There seemed to be no indication ofā¦ KERKLANK!!!! The unmistakable, abrupt clang of heavy steel. Relocating my boots in a snit of unbounded fright and quickly retying them with an uncompromising knot, I cautiously probed around the far corner of the camper. For the second time in less than an hour, the steady beams of two blazing lanterns stared directly back into my eyes from the depths of darkness. For securely locked inside an MNR bear trap, placed strategically behind and adjacent to my camper by far-sighted government employees, was a rather large bear. At the moment he was huddled in cringing fear at the rear of the cage. āAnd so you should beā I swaggered with surging, buoyant relief.
Early the next morning, in the face of a steady driving rain, all thoughts of rockhunting were dismissed for the day. I hurriedly wolfed down breakfast, nodded a cheerful farewell to my erstwhile caged companion of the night, and lit out for the minesite. On arrival, I carefully looked for, but could not see any tracks. I felt certain that in the soft slag-sand substrate, there should have been some indication despite the rain. Certainly a moose or large bear on hind legs could be the only credible suspects with regard to the enormously elevated set of eyes that had glared into my rearview mirror the night before. I looked for tracks or any other evidence in vain.
Deflated and slightly incredulous, I retraced my way back to the nearest country backroad where, as chance would dictate, I abruptly encountered my acquaintances from Michigan. I described the event at the mine site to them, whereupon one individual opened his briefcase, retrieved some stapled papers and handed them to me. A fully documented account from 1924 of a Sasquatch sighting in the very same local. The article revealed that two prospectors arose from their fireside breakfast to observe an enormous man-like creature disappearing into the nearby forest. Their estimate was on the order of eight feet or so, a wild looking hairy biped. In those times such creatures were not nearly so widely known or celebrated in the media. That factor alone doubtless lends more credibility to the report.
Was meeting these two men again at that time and place mere coincidence? Did they have some other reason for visiting the area in addition to their relic, bottle and silver hunting? There was no question they had purposely brought the prepared Sasquatch information. You might ask in retrospect why I did not see the creatureās outline in my reverse lights. My answer is that my full attention was immediately drawn to those two blazing eyes. It was all so quick and unexpected.
I regard this event simply as an encounter with an unknown creature. Only the illusive Sasquatch of the deep wilderness, given that he exists, could have the sharp intelligence to outwit me with regard to his timely, quick disappearance. The removal of tracks was too clever indeed, but at the same time there is no support for the notion that any other wildlife in existence could possess the means or forethought.
A tale is never complete without a postscript. With the passage of many years, I have been unsettled by the memory of the bear with the terribly sad, pleading eyes. Call me a hopeless romantic. I later learned that berry production was very poor that season, doubtless resulting in higher bear mortality rates. Could I revisit those moments, if I thought there was any chance my uninvited guest would sit down at the table, mind his manners and otherwise behave, I would now gladly serve up my charred breakfast scraps were it only possible. But alas, time moves relentlessly forward, leaving only fading memories of scenarios we can never retrieve.
As regards the event out at the minesite, one beautiful, clear evening in the silvery radiance of full moonlight washing down over all the old familiar places, I revisited that particular site ostensibly to collect some pyrrhotite samples. But the truth is that I was contemplating that vivid memory from so many years ago. It was no fun getting back in there at night after the long passage of many years. I spent a pleasant few hours in observation, over sandwiches and coffee, then departed, crossing the old streambed perhaps for a last time. The beavers seem to have abandoned the spot and massive washouts appear imminent.
Think what you will, but that concludes our prospecting tale. Whether by design or chaos, we live on a tiny planet in a small, inconsequential solar system located on the outer fringe of the Milky Way. Life for mankind is nothing more or less than a twisty maze of circumstances and events that frequently generate no reasonable or satisfactory explanation for the odd happenstances of our existence.
Revised April 2015
Jim Hemmingway
A Discombobulated Silver Prospecting Tale
Revised May 2015
The following is a recollection about a prospecting trip, encounters with wildlife, including an unidentified large creature. Since our story is firmly entrenched in wilderness prospecting environs, weāll scatter some native silver and other photos at appropriate points throughout the text. These happenings occurred over less than a twelve-hour period many years ago. Let's move on to our taleā¦ please read this as a campfire story. Revised May 2015
āThereās a long, long time of waiting until my dreams all come trueā¦
Till the day when Iāll be going down that long, long trailā¦with you.ā
Till the day when Iāll be going down that long, long trailā¦with you.ā
The origins of our tale begin some years ago, with my annual autumn prospecting trip into the northeastern part of Ontario renowned for its silver production. The area represents a small part of a vast, heavily forested wilderness perched on the sprawling Precambrian Shield. Away from the small towns and villages, and widely scattered farms and rural homesteads, there exists a largely uninterrupted way of life in the more remote areas. There are uncounted miles of lonely country backroads, overgrown tracks leading to abandoned mining camps, innumerable rough timber lanes, and a virtually infinite tangle of winding trails that reach deeply into the distant forests.
The region is largely supported by forestry, tourism, and miningā¦for it is rich in nearly every mineral one can imagine, but especially of gold and silver, and the base metals. It attracts an annual autumn migration of hunters, fishermen, mineral collectors, and other adventurers seeking a full measure of the beckoning, companionable solitude of the remote wilderness. The photo below depicts an area where two prospectors claim to have sighted the highly elusive Sasquatch, sometimes referred to as the Abominable Snowman of the Himalayas.
Our journey back in time so many long years ago, finds us contentedly settled into a perfectly routine, bright morning following a highly interesting prospecting sojourn the previous day. That day I had made the companionable acquaintance of two staff members from Michigan State University. They had recently arrived in a magnificent motorhome to search for precious silver and other minerals with their assortment of metal detectors. Their silver prospecting had been unsuccessful thus far, but undiminished in their enthusiasm to expend some energy, they were eager to try probing for old relics and glassware. I suggested some promising abandoned homestead sites in the woods, and we made further plans to share some morning tea, view my silver recoveries, and possibly make some detecting plans for the day.
In preparation for the visit, I arose early that morning, performed the usual perfunctory personal ablutions, and stepped lightly from the camper to prepare a hungry outdoorsmanās breakfast at the picnic table. That normally means bacon and eggs fried on the fretful propane gas stove, conveniently located under the wide, foul-weather canopy. Now for the benefit of urban dwellers not fully appreciating such matters, I submit there is no more tantalizing scent that permeates the woodland aisles as solicitously to a ravenously hungry wayfarer than that of sizzling bacon in the frying pan. Thus to my dismay but not surprise upon returning from the camper with some handy utensils, I abruptly came face-to-face with a wayfarer in the personage of a moderate-sized blackbear immediately across the table from me.
Wellā¦ we both rather casually glanced at one another for some several secondsā¦ which is a long time reallyā¦ in what could only be considered a mutually earnest attempt to evaluate exactly just what the other's full intentions and possible capabilities might be. The issue at hand of course, was possession of the steaming breakfast now lying sumptuously before us, a seeming impasse that would brook no compromise.
Allowing that I was a man of action, a trait not one whit diminished by the present circumstances, and fully aware that a brand-spanking-new container of "Bear Guard" resided within my trusty backpack just inside the camper doorway, I promptly retired indoors to retrieve this potent pest serum. In the twinkling of an eye the bear spray was in my hand, safety mechanism removed, and finger on the trigger. Brimming with confidence that victory was within my grasp, I took careful aimā¦. who could miss... right?
Meanwhile, my uninvited, immobile guest had remained quietly composed and altogether civil in his demeanor, and I regret to relate, with rather sad, supplicating eyes fixed with unblinking steadiness on mine. But doggedly immune to sympathy for any but myself ā¦at that particular moment that isā¦ the trigger was released without any misgivings. And quicker than thought, a plume of debilitating chemical spray tracked unfailingly straight for the bearās nose.
But even quicker still, my newfound acquaintance ducked his head and sidestepped, indeed shrugging off the main thrust of my carefully conspired offensive as if it were inconsequential. And there was a further complication insofar as I had signally failed to consider the oncoming breeze. Almost as quickly as the implications occurred to me, I succumbed to the bear-spray fumes, abandoned breakfast in panicky confusion, blindly retreating back into the trailer. Subsequent to a half-hour convalescence of teary-eyed, spasmodic coughing and retching, I regained some semblance of normal breathing and cardiac composure. Ready to face the inevitable, I set forth to resume the contest, only to find my breakfast charred, and amiable new companion unmoved and indifferent to my enterprise thus far.
I reviewed the alternatives carefully as things now stood. Breakfast was no longer a matter of dispute to me at least. But I could not simply hand it over either. The park brochures unequivocally admonished the reader not to feed the bears and I did enjoy the repute of being an experienced outdoors personage. More, my tentative little friend had demonstrated remarkable forbearance by not taking advantage of my temporary lapse. And worse, he fixed me with unwavering, sad appealing eyes, conveying eternal gratitude and sacrifice for my sake, if only he might sample the frying panās tasty scraps. I began to feel discomfiture and shame at my own indignant, confrontational behaviour towards this unobtrusive, gentle creature.
But I had company coming for tea, and knew we would have to leave camp shortly for the day. My new friend could not be left alone near camp. Long story short, I sidled over to my truck and spent an exasperating hour or so chasing this mangy, obstinate competitor from camp and hopefully from the park. Now, fully appreciating the desperate cunning I faced with this shrewd adversary, I arranged for the Ministry of Natural Resources to set a bear trap nearby, later in the day.
Content with this strategic maneuver, and in the afterglow of glad relief as can only be savored with successful, decisive conquest of brute strength by infinitely resourceful genius, my recently arrived companions of the previous day and I enjoyed morning tea, and merrily hit the treasure trail. Feeling secure any remaining camp contingency was suitably addressed, I for one had no more care in the world than the wispy, white clouds scurrying across the blue heavens above.
Late evening of that day found me alone at a remote site, deep in the wilderness and far removed from the welcoming lights of civilization. As had become habit over many years, darknessā¦ rebuked only by a slim sliver of veiled moonlight known affectionately to those who feel obliged to appropriate otherās livestock as a Rustler's Moonā¦ found me still rock hunting. The recovery of a promising target signal preoccupied my thoughts and effort. Iāve never been able to abandon a good signal and never will, regardless of circumstances. Finally, after exhaustive prying and digging, I packed my prize into the backpack and reluctantly hiked uphill to a wide bench where my truck was parked.
With nothing more profound on my mind than entertaining thoughts of tasty pork and beans for dinner over a hot fire, I stored my equipment and backpack into the back of the truck and made ready to return to camp. It happened so quickly, it was shocking and there was no time to think. Throwing the transmission into reverse, I did what I always do from long habitā¦ I looked into the interior rear view mirror. You might easily imagine my startled reaction to see two enormously elevated large glowing eyes, illuminated only by my reverse lightsā¦fixedly gazing into the mirror directly into mine. There was no sound, no contact with the truck.
In a furious fit of energy that would have garnered surprised favor from my boss back at the office, I quickly swung my Jeep aroundā¦ a credit to my youthful driving instructor, could he only have witnessed that splendid three-point turn. My lights immediately filled the misty gloom to revealā¦nothing. The creature had vanished into thin air, certainly not an impossible feat, but most unlikely. It was wide, open space on that bench, I could not understand how that creature has disappeared so quickly.
With the exigency of leaving the scene waning quickly, I drove some thirty yards downhill on the overgrown track and stopped. I jumped out of the truck with my high powered flashlight at the ready, and began a systematic exploration of the nearby woods, always staying within easy retreat to the vehicleās safety. The remaining foliage of innumerable aspen and tag alders interfered with a close scrutiny and I did not dare to go further afield. Yet, short of the distant forlorn cry of a loon, I could not see or hear anything unusual to disturb the eveningās tranquillity. Dismayed, I returned to the truck and cautiously resumed my way down the dark, abandoned track, crossed a tumbling wide brook at the bottom end of the lake to finally gain firm footing at the opposite shore, and headed for camp completely lost in thought.
Some three-quarters of an hour later I arrived back at the campsite looking forward to lighting a blazing fire and enjoying a steaming mug of tea before dinner. At such times, subsequent to a highly startling experience, it is unsettling to realize that no āsixthā sense had alerted me to the possible danger of a nearby large creature out at the remote minesite. A creature that was fully aware of my activities, and perhaps observing or even stalking me for some length of time. Yet as I jumped out of my truck at camp, that sixth sense came abruptly to the fore.
The evening sky had given way to gloomy scuttling clouds, the wind had sharply risen to rustle fallen leaves, sighing fitfully through the treetops. Have you ever stumbled in the darkness of night into an unseen wall or obstacle that brought you up short? The moment I stepped away from my truck such an overwhelming foreboding sense came over me that I stood stock still, peering into the thick darkness in some vague attempt to comprehend the sharp, uneasy feeling. Now then, let it be clear that I am not one given to fears of the dark or superstitious nonsense. I never look over my shoulder dreading the sight of some phantom specter, not ever.
But my instincts were alerted, as I stood there motionless, considering possibilities. Grabbing my flashlight, I treaded slowly towards the camper. There seemed to be no indication ofā¦ KERKLANK!!!! The unmistakable, abrupt clang of heavy steel. Relocating my boots in a snit of unbounded fright and quickly retying them with an uncompromising knot, I cautiously probed around the far corner of the camper. For the second time in less than an hour, the steady beams of two blazing lanterns stared directly back into my eyes from the depths of darkness. For securely locked inside an MNR bear trap, placed strategically behind and adjacent to my camper by far-sighted government employees, was a rather large bear. At the moment he was huddled in cringing fear at the rear of the cage. āAnd so you should beā I swaggered with surging, buoyant relief.
Early the next morning, in the face of a steady driving rain, all thoughts of rockhunting were dismissed for the day. I hurriedly wolfed down breakfast, nodded a cheerful farewell to my erstwhile caged companion of the night, and lit out for the minesite. On arrival, I carefully looked for, but could not see any tracks. I felt certain that in the soft slag-sand substrate, there should have been some indication despite the rain. Certainly a moose or large bear on hind legs could be the only credible suspects with regard to the enormously elevated set of eyes that had glared into my rearview mirror the night before. I looked for tracks or any other evidence in vain.
Deflated and slightly incredulous, I retraced my way back to the nearest country backroad where, as chance would dictate, I abruptly encountered my acquaintances from Michigan. I described the event at the mine site to them, whereupon one individual opened his briefcase, retrieved some stapled papers and handed them to me. A fully documented account from 1924 of a Sasquatch sighting in the very same local. The article revealed that two prospectors arose from their fireside breakfast to observe an enormous man-like creature disappearing into the nearby forest. Their estimate was on the order of eight feet or so, a wild looking hairy biped. In those times such creatures were not nearly so widely known or celebrated in the media. That factor alone doubtless lends more credibility to the report.
Was meeting these two men again at that time and place mere coincidence? Did they have some other reason for visiting the area in addition to their relic, bottle and silver hunting? There was no question they had purposely brought the prepared Sasquatch information. You might ask in retrospect why I did not see the creatureās outline in my reverse lights. My answer is that my full attention was immediately drawn to those two blazing eyes. It was all so quick and unexpected.
I regard this event simply as an encounter with an unknown creature. Only the illusive Sasquatch of the deep wilderness, given that he exists, could have the sharp intelligence to outwit me with regard to his timely, quick disappearance. The removal of tracks was too clever indeed, but at the same time there is no support for the notion that any other wildlife in existence could possess the means or forethought.
A tale is never complete without a postscript. With the passage of many years, I have been unsettled by the memory of the bear with the terribly sad, pleading eyes. Call me a hopeless romantic. I later learned that berry production was very poor that season, doubtless resulting in higher bear mortality rates. Could I revisit those moments, if I thought there was any chance my uninvited guest would sit down at the table, mind his manners and otherwise behave, I would now gladly serve up my charred breakfast scraps were it only possible. But alas, time moves relentlessly forward, leaving only fading memories of scenarios we can never retrieve.
As regards the event out at the minesite, one beautiful, clear evening in the silvery radiance of full moonlight washing down over all the old familiar places, I revisited that particular site ostensibly to collect some pyrrhotite samples. But the truth is that I was contemplating that vivid memory from so many years ago. It was no fun getting back in there at night after the long passage of many years. I spent a pleasant few hours in observation, over sandwiches and coffee, then departed, crossing the old streambed perhaps for a last time. The beavers seem to have abandoned the spot and massive washouts appear imminent.
Think what you will, but that concludes our prospecting tale. Whether by design or chaos, we live on a tiny planet in a small, inconsequential solar system located on the outer fringe of the Milky Way. Life for mankind is nothing more or less than a twisty maze of circumstances and events that frequently generate no reasonable or satisfactory explanation for the odd happenstances of our existence.
Revised April 2015
Jim Hemmingway
Last edited:
