RANDOM STORIES THREAD - Post ANY "stories" you think would interest Tnet readers...

[ARC]

RANDOM STORIES THREAD - Post ANY "stories" you think would interest Tnet readers...

Yes folks... a story thread
For those who just like to read things...

Post ANY story you think that someone else out here just might want to hear / read about...
It can be about anything...
A tall tale grandpa used to tell...
A legend or story about something weird...
Something that only a few including you have heard...
A book excerpt... EVEN something you "made" for entertainment purposes such as an excerpt from your latest or "in the works" book...
Anything really...

All it has to be is something that was or still interesting to you... that you think may also interest someone else.

Just adhere to Tnet's rules of posting.

 

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[ARC]

I will start with one of my favorite stories...

The story of Juan Gomez...

John Gómez (also known as Juan Gómez and Panther John) was a semi-legendary but real person who lived on Panther Key near Marco Island in Southwest Florida in the late 1800s. He was well known in the area as an expert boat pilot and fishing guide on Florida's Gulf coast and as a teller of tall tales, mostly about himself. Among other things, Gómez claimed to have been born in Portugal in 1781 (which would have likely made him the oldest person in the world before his death in 1900), saw Napoleon as a youth in France, became a cabin boy on a merchant ship and jumped ship in the United States, served as a scout for the U.S. Army during the Seminole Wars, served as a coastal pilot for the U.S. Navy during the Civil War, did some filibustering and perhaps some pirating in Cuba, and escaped from a Cuban prison before finally settling in Florida. The exact content of these stories are uncertain since they were usually told in informal settings to small groups and survive only as later reminisces or third-party re-telling's.

Though most versions of the Gaspar legend claim that Gómez was a member of the pirate's crew or even his brother-in-law, no account written before his death in 1900 links Gomez's alleged piratical exploits to that of José Gaspar.

 

[infotraker]

Hiking with Wilson


Dale and I have been waiting months to try out the new but incomplete trail from Salmon Falls Bridge to hiway 49 above the South fork of the American River. Our idea was to be able to get further up river without hiking all of the rocks up and back. I’ve made several BLM calls to get an idea of the trail and its route and we were ready to go New Years weekend. Even though I was at the end of a 2-week cold I was ready to tackle the hike and Dale was very eager also.

We set out at 9 and found the trail in the manzanita, not being ready at the beginning for an easy hike but doable. We really enjoyed the oak woodlands in the beginning and after about 40 minutes we both were looking around a meadow and all of a sudden a very strange sight appeared next to a oak about 40 feet from us. To me the figure appeared to be a fully camoed sniper ready to attack us ! We called out to him and it turned out to be one of my neighbors who is a avid hunter and he was just seeing what may appear in the forest while he was hiding. He knew the area very well and told us how to get to the river from the trail. After about 2.5 hours of hiking we finally made it to the river about 1 mile above Webber creek. Now the real hiking started as this area of the river and all of the way down river is very rugged with billions of very large rocks and ledges to climb to get anywhere. We prospected for about an hour while making our way down river and found very little gold. We began to realize that we had made some distance down river and it seemed best to continue all the way to the bridge rather than backtrack back on the path.

We then decided that we had better get hiking and forget the prospecting, as it seemed that we had a very long ways to go. Dale found a basketball on the shore and threw it in the river. We named it Wilson and it became a game to try to beat it down river and this also took our mind off of the difficulty we were having making any headway back to the jeep. Wilson got stuck several times in the rapids and Dale hit Wilson with a rock to get him unstuck. We had to scale some very hard areas passing our packs to each other at times. We lost track of Wilson for a while and along came a canoer who said he got Wilson out of a tough area and he was on his way. This gave us some well-needed inspiration and we knew we could make it if Wilson could. Unfortunately after a spell a large group of kayackers came by and one of the girls was holding Wilson in her lap. Suddenly Wilson was hopelessly being tossed back and forth between the boaters. It seems as thou Wilson had made a decision to hitch hike to the bridge thus cheating at the game and thus left us behind. Our destination became a mirage in the distance, as I would tell Dale frequently that the very far corner ahead of us on the river seemed to be familiar and very close to our destination. This would constantly not become true and we just trudged on knowing that we had better get back before dark. Finally we could see the bridge and it was dark when we got back to the jeep after about 4 hours of constant hiking downriver.

We never saw our beloved friend Wilson again but he will be missed.

 

[infotraker]

Don,

Below is my story of dredging at Slate Creek outing.


Adventures of a neophyte dredger at Slate Creek


The excitement began when I traded some of my extremely hard to find gold for a cute little 2.5 inch Keene gold dredge. Now I had to rebuild my gold collection by sucking dirt and small (smaller than 2.5 inch) rocks into the sucking little nozzle hoping for a miracle nugget to appear. My Slate Creek adventure began when I actually found the dirt road out of La Porte all on my own with a little help from my newly acquired GPS of which I hardly knew how to use. I arrived Thursday morning before anyone else was there getting a prime spot in the forest. I got the dredge to the water first thing and low and behold all of the coveted bedrock in the carefully selected pool was covered by lots of large rocks which were all larger than 2.5 inches. Now I was in a pickle, move rocks by hand or wait for a larger rocking moving dredge to appear (thinking of the great dredge king Harley at this point). I sucked and sucked and moved and moved rocks getting many stuck in the hose, getting real good at whacking the hose with my rock hammer. All of this action was getting me nowhere but tired! A rest was in order, food was on my mind, gold could wait. As I surveyed my stream surrounding I came to the conclusion that most rocks in a stream in a dredging area must have been moved everywhere in the pool over and over year after year. A new plan was in order, Harley had appeared. In went Harley with the almighty 4 inch rock moving stream sucking dredge near my little floating beauty. We could become dredging buddies and work together (or at least close to each other) ! Harley agreed to this idea as he is a great guy! Our dredging holes were close together but separated by a ridge of rock. Of course as the day progressed the ridge began to break down into one large trench proceeding across the stream. We moved forward and gold was beginning to appear in cracks in the bedrock. I could see a very big problem in the making for me. We had a imaginary line in the sand (in my mind that) that no nozzle could cross from side to side as we certainly must guard our part of the claim. As a piece of gold would appear (on my side) I had to quickly put my finger on it as Harleys nozzle could suck any object from feet away right into his gold cache. I got so excited when gold would appear (on either side of the line) that I would put my finger on gold on his side and almost lost my hand to his nozzle! One day Harley quit early and said to me the claim is wide open and go for it and also let Randy use his dredge. I continued breaking rock and low and behold out popped a gleaming 2 penny weight gold nugget which was a treasure to behold. This first time dredge outing is now forever etched in my mind as I now have a great little nugget to mark the event. Fun was had by all with everyone finding enough gold to make it a great outing.

 

[Mifarmer]

While at the local watering hole one morning for coffee talking with the old timers about my finds (I actually brought some coins in to show them) one guy that rarely talks pipes up and says, " about 45 years ago such and such person was plowing the field behind his house with a Farmall m and his wallet fell out of his back pocket, inside of it was a silver dollar his grandfather had given him" I tracked down the farmers son who's in his 60's and he said " I remember it like yesterday we looked for that thing for hours, every time I am in that field I keep my eye out for it but haven't found it yet"
I'm anxiously waiting for spring!!!
Kyle-

 

[AbTexEx]

Long story

Click here.


AJones

 

[RGINN]

Well just to give somebody somethin to research I'll talk about Ghost Mound in Caddo County Oklahoma. Rumored to be a treasure buried there. The facts are the stage road from Ft. Reno to Seger Colony passed right by here. Marcy's California Road passed by a couple of miles north. There are some interesting markings around Twin Mounds north of there. H.P. Lovecraft ghost wrote a story that probably was about Ghost Mound. Ghost Mound is private property owned by the Yearwood family. The speculation is that old story about travelers along the California Road fearing attack by bandits or Indians buried some gold here. Around the turn of the last century some group showed up and made attempts to find this treasure, without any luck. I been all over that part of the country, and I believe if there is a slim chance of buried treasure, it's farther north around Payne's Lake, closer to the old California Road. I have seen some carvings on rocks up there that probably were put there in the mid 1800's but it's anybody's guess. I also know a whole lot about that silver the Kiowas got back in the 1830's and some was recovered but still a good chance a little is still buried in SW Oklahoma, and is a more sure thing than the Ghost Mound story. I won't talk about that one right now, but you can google up Cutthroat Gap and get an idea of it.

 

[ARC]

Pirate Capt. Ross and the Ross Island treasures

Tiny Ross Island, in Upper Tampa Bay near St. Petersburg, Florida, holds the secret of a pirate treasure which has been lost since the late 1820s. Only about one mile long, north to south, and one half mile wide, this low lying isle was the site of a pirate colony, a lair for renegades who preyed upon merchant ships in the Tampa Bay area.

Captain Henry Ross, the ruler of the colony, buried a chest of gold there about 1821. More was buried later, but non has ever been recovered to the best of anyones knowledge.

Ross came on the historical scene before the War of 1812, when he served as one of the ship captains operating out of Barataria under Jean LaFitte. During his sea-roving days under LaFitte, he had spotted a small island in Tampa Bay which was ideal for a pirate headquarters. Later named Ross Island, it had a natural lagoon for hiding a pirate ship.

This it was that Captain Henry Ross recruited a band of ex-pirates eager for adventure and the opportunity to line their pockets. Acquiring a small but fast three-masted schooner, with less than a five foot draft, the band set sail about 1817-1818 to establish their colony on the secluded island.

About a dozen shacks were first constructed form old ships timbers found on the beach, and a well was dug. Docking facilities and a stout fort were then erected, along with two storehouses.

Ross did not restrict his illegal operations to mere pirating. Smuggling and slave trade also claimed a goodly share of his attention. New Orleans was naturally the best port for the disposal of smuggled goods, as well as the fencing of stolen plunder. After each transaction, the old pirate returned to his secret island stronghold ad buried his ill-gotten gains.

This easy life went on for many months until so many complains reached the Navy Department in Washington that the Anti-Piracy Squadron of the U. S. Navy stationed at Key West was ordered to take action against these sea marauders.

Ross Apparently did not know that the U. S. Navy was out to destroy him, for he did not curtail his operations. While in the act of looting a merchant ship just outside Egmont Channel, the naval sloop surprised the pirates.

Ross was successful in making a getaway, but the naval sloop followed closely I his wake. Reaching the island, Ross slipped into the safety of the lagoon. The sloop of war was deeper drafted and could not enter.

While Ross thought he was safe, he was not aware that the naval craft was fitted with new long range rifled guns. Approaching the island as closely as safety permitted, the warship zeroed in her powerful guns and sank the pirate craft with several direct hits.

The pirates were terrorized when they saw their ship smashed to splinters, particularly when they spotted a landing party of sailors and marines approaching in long boats. Picking up only a few of their belongings, the pirates and their families escaped into the mangroves. The attackers then proceeded to set fire to the shacks, warehouses, and forts. The captain of the naval sloop later reported that a brief search was made for treasure, but that none was found, as he did not have time for a thorough search. Whatever happened to Captain Ross is still a mystery, but it is fairly certain that the bulk of his treasure was never recovered since that disastrous day in the 1820s.

**************------------------------
Ross is the largest and southernmost of a string of small islands that lie south of the Florida Power complex and east of Weedon's Island in Tampa Bay. It's about a mile long from north to south and a little over 1/2 mile wide from east to west at its widest point. It is crisscrossed by drainage canals dug many years ago in an effort to control mosquito's. A large worn down Indian mound lies on the southern part of the island. While digging the drainage canals some years ago, the drag line operator uncovered several old iron ships cannon and a heavy anchor. These were so heavy that they nearly overturned the light drag line rig before the operator finally got them up on the bank, and It was there that they were covered over with sand and muck being dug from the ditch. Research shows that Ross Island was the headquarters for a pirate gang who kept their shallow-craft schooner in a lagoon on the east side of the island, using a channel which led directly to a deeper ship channel out in Tampa Bay. This particular gang of buccaneer's maintained a lookout in a crow's nest atop a nearby tall pine tree, when a likely looking ship was seen sailing up or down Tampa Bay, a pirate in the crow's nest would blow a horn made from a large conch shell. The crew would then assemble and sally out in pursuit of their victim, usually running them down near Egmont Key.

 

[ARC]

Well a few of ya have some stories.

Hope the thread gets more wood for the fire.

 

[Enginefitter]

Hey AARC,

I like all your random threads and hopefully this one will get legs too.

They are the 2nd thing I read after welcoming newbies.

Keep up the great work buddy.

(i would post but my marble bag has a huge hole in it and my memory is shot).

Engine

 

[ARC]

Thanks Engine.

 

[ARC]

Ehhh... liked this one years ago...

Here is a link to the article instead if interested.

https://news.google.com/newspapers?...AIBAJ&sjid=xGUEAAAAIBAJ&pg=6739,5934747&hl=en

 

[ARC]

Wrong thread :P

 

[releventchair]

Wrong thread :P

"Every picture tells a story don't it?"

 

[ARC]

Very true... very true...

I stand corrected.

 

[audigger53]

Okay my brother and I were in the mountains south of Sierra Vista looking for where 3 drunks went into the mountains and came out with over 30 Oz. of gold. They thought that was normal. It was dark when they came in, 2 asleep and dark when they left, again 2 asleep and the driver is also Dyslexic. They never could find where they were. We were searching one valley off a canyon there and split up to cover more ground. Later as I came around a point, I saw my brother just on the other side of the next point. "There you are, I'll be right over". "Stay there!" I thought maybe he had come around on a ledge and it petered out. "I'll go above you and throw you a rope", as I had the backpack with the ropes in it.
"No, Stay there!" "What's wrong?"(me) (him) "Snakes" Now we were carrying 6 shot .22 revolvers with a 2 inch barrel, less likely to catch in the brush and with CCI canister rounds, would do a 4 inch pattern from the waist to the ground. I figured he must have lost his gun, as I heard no shots. "I'll go above you and throw you mine" At which time he stuck his arm up in the air with his gun in it, "Stay there, too many to shoot!". He had jumped down on to a flat rock and surprised 8 rattle snakes sunning themselves on a southern slope in January. It had gotten to about 70 Degree in the sun. The Northern slope had 3 inches of snow on it. He said about that time the one the had coiled up and was shaking it's tail at him got tired and turned and went past him into the rocks. The other 7 joined him and my brother said he was "really busy" trying to keep track of them all as they went by him. Ah, the joys of hiking in the mountains going off trail. LOL Oh the drop off there was about 100-150 feet almost straight down.

 

[releventchair]

Alright AARC. I owe you a story/scrambled snapshot for buggin you.

Jr. High school winter days when too much snow closed the schools ,a friends mother would drop us off wherever we chose on the condition we caught her some fish.
We had the fish catching down and usually returned with a couple northern pike.

A more often chosen site was a power generating facility who's turbines were water cooled and the hot tub temp discharge channel led to a river that did not freeze on it's(the discharge channels) side.

Cigarettes were a whopping 35 cents a pack (clad) but a school associates dad drove truck and occasionally a couple bucks a carton made for a bargain.
Once at the "hot water hole" and a couple fish scored there was still much to do.
Smudge pots (metal pails with kerosene soaked rags as wicks to keep warm) were attended by some ,school mates and others. Some cordial socialization ,an occasional radio and hours of the day were filled.

Ciggs could be bartered ,depending on traffic , for beer or fish or vice versa or combinations there of.

I once snagged a tangle of mono line containing a heavy turquoise ring some one must have used for a desperate weight/sinker..or who knows.
Wish I still had it.
Must have bartered it or give it to some one.

Then as now there was a war going on.
Older teens were scarce and we seemed to fill in the gap and grew up faster with more responsibility for our actions.
Got by on low budgets , and learned to network with a cross section of society by in person negotiation and mutual respect.

Not sayin all we did was kosher , but accounted for ourselves without blaming others.

 

[Peyton Manning]

anyone wanna hear about the time I beat bieber to a pulp, threw him in my trunk and dumped him back in Canada?

wait, maybe that was a dream..

 

[Terry Soloman]

“Lost and found.” - By Terry R. Soloman

I had been doing some research to find new areas to metal detect when I discovered a field behind a local supermarket that was a park from 1925, to 1980. I decided to try and get to the field with my metal detector and see what I could find. When I pulled into the back of the store I didn’t see any other cars. I got myself together as quickly as I could and got on into the woods before somebody from the supermarket could tell me I was trespassing.

Studying the site with old aerial photographs from the 1940s, and newer satellite imagery on Google Earth, did not prepare me for how difficult it would be to get through the heavy tangle of brush and thistles. I really had to fight my way through thorn bushes and brambles that caught my hat, pants, sleeves, and skin with almost every step.

After a few minutes, some scratches and a lot of cussing, I finally made it to the clearing. I took a quick look around the large field, turned on my machine and dialed in my settings. I decided to start working my way to the far side of the field and turned around to start swinging my detector. Well, I almost jumped out of my skin!

There was an older man using a metal detector not 100-feet away from me. His back was to me as he swept his coil back and forth, and I was pretty sure he hadn’t seen me either. When he got over to the other side of the field and turned around, I waved to try and get his attention. He either didn’t see me or, just decided not to acknowledge me.

I shook it off and walked down to the east end of the field to give him plenty of room. I started finding some coins from the 1970s, and even a few silver coins from the 1950s and ‘40s. I had pretty much forgotten about the old man when I heard a voice ask, “Finding anything?”

He was standing about 10-feet from me, with a pleasant smile and easy demeanor. I said, “A couple of silver dimes and a war nickel so far, how about you?” He told me he hadn’t found anything yet, but that he was really looking for his daughter’s lost wedding band. He seemed like a gentle fellow, probably about 70 or so, but in pretty good shape for his age. What struck me was his metal detector. It was an old Garrett machine from around 1975, and it looked brand new.

He said his daughter had bought a house around the corner and was down here playing with her kids when she lost the ring. He explained how it had belonged to his now deceased wife before he had given it to his daughter. A sad look came over him as he said, “When I got it for my wife, I had it engraved with ‘R.I. Loves C.I.’ which is our initials. My Wife died before our Daughter got engaged, but it turns out the initials on the ring were perfect for Ray and Cindy, because his last name is Ingram, ours is Ivers, so I knew her Mother was looking down on her, and I wanted her to have it.”

I told him I would give a holler if I beeped it. He touched the bill of his tweed cap, said he appreciated it, and started swinging back toward the other end of the field. After a moment, I had the thought I should ask him how to get back out to the parking lot without getting all scratched up. I turned around and started to take off my headphones to ask him, but he was gone.

As I began swinging the coil of my machine over the grassy field again I got a signal almost immediately. “Zip-Zip!” The signal was strong and the tone was high and sweet. I turned 90-degrees to the target and swept it with the coil again. Zip-Zip! I dropped down on my knee and pulled out my digging tool, cutting a generous plug in the damp soil. As I folded the turf flap out of the hole I saw it immediately – a small gold ring! For a second or two I just knelt there looking at in the dirt.

I did a little happy dance right there on my knees, and picked up the ring to clean it off. It was a plain gold wedding band marked 18K, and inscribed “R.I. Loves C.I.” A very strange feeling came over me. I was happy about finding the ring but, something about the old guy was still bothering me. I still couldn’t figure out how he had left the field so quickly.

After finding the ring I decided to call it a day. I thought I would take a look around and see if I could find the path the old guy and his Daughter were using. After about 15-minutes of frustration I finally went back the way I came in, getting scratched up and bleeding like I had been in a fight with a herd of feral cats.

That evening I cleaned up my finds and laid them out on the kitchen table to admire. I had done pretty well for myself detecting several old silver coins, about $2.00 in modern coins, and the gold wedding band. After dinner, my wife went through the phone book, and found a “R. Ingram,” on a street about a block from the supermarket. I called the number and got an answering machine, so I left my name and number and said I thought I had found their wedding band. Over the next week I left several more messages but got no response.

I finally decided to drive by the address and see if there was anyone home. After picking up my Wife from work that afternoon, we drove over to the house. There were a couple of cars in the driveway and the lights were on inside, so we pulled up and parked. I rang the doorbell and an attractive woman in her 40’s answered the door. I asked, “Are you Cindy?” The woman looked surprised, and then angry! She said, “Are you the guy that keeps calling here about a lost wedding band?” I started to say yes, but she didn’t give me a chance.

She stepped outside and closed the door behind her saying, “I don’t know what kind of scam you two are trying to pull on my Mother, but I’m here to tell you I’m going to have you arrested! You have caused a lot of pain in our family and I will not stand for it!” Both my Wife and I just kind of stood there with our mouths open in total shock. I finally said, “Hold on miss, I’m just trying to return a wedding band I found over behind the supermarket. I don’t want anything from your Mother.” The woman angrily asked, “What makes you think it belongs to my Mother?” At that point I was pretty sure this had been a huge mistake.

“Look, I apologize,” I said. “I met this old gentleman, a Mr. Ivers I think. He was metal detecting over behind the supermarket, and he told me his Daughter had lost her wedding band over there while she was playing with her children. Obviously I have made a mistake.” The woman looked confused, almost dazed. My Wife asked her if she was alright.

“Can I see the ring please,” she asked softly. I took the ring out of my pocket and gave it to her. As she looked at it she began to cry. My Wife put her hand on her shoulder and again asked her if she was alright. The woman was weeping now. A man came out of the house and asked her what was wrong. She put the ring in his hand and said, “He found Mom’s wedding ring.”

The woman looked at me and said, “What did the man in the park look like? What did he say?” I had a bad feeling about the whole situation and said, “Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but if that’s your Mother’s ring then just keep it. I don’t want anything from you.” I took my wife’s hand and started for the car when the woman said, “I’m sorry, please, wait!”

“My Mom lost that ring in 1975. I was seven, and he was nine,” she said, pointing to the man on the porch who was still examining the ring. “We were throwing my Brother’s new football around and she lost her ring somehow. She was heartbroken because it had belonged to her Mother before her.” My Wife was out of the car now with her arm around the teary woman’s shoulder. I said, “So who is Mr. Ivers, the guy that told me about the ring at the old park?” The woman began crying uncontrollably again.

My wife was trying to comfort her, offering a tissue from her pocketbook. I hadn’t noticed the man walking over to the car until he took his Sister’s hand. “Mr. Ivers was our Grandfather,” he said in a soft, gentle voice. Hugging his Sister he continued, “Pop-pop had a heart attack and died in that park 36-years ago. He was looking for Mom’s ring with his new metal detector.” My legs suddenly became rubbery and I sat down on the curb, stunned.

It had been almost eight-months since my encounter with Mr. Ivers, and today we were guests at his Great Granddaughter’s wedding. We stood as “Here Comes the Bride” flowed joyously from the organ and filled the small church with music. A ray of sunshine came through the stained glass windows, illuminating the gold band the Bride wore on a delicate chain around her neck. I smiled as I caught sight of him standing at the back of the church. He smiled back at me, tipped his tweed cap then disappeared.

 

[Sherpat]

“Lost and found.” - By Terry R. Soloman

I had been doing some research to find new areas to metal detect when I discovered a field behind a local supermarket....

That was really well written. Nicely done!