Hey bottledigger,
Lemme share a cautionary tale with you guys. That 50 feet from centerline Right-of-way is in effect in Canada, as well.
A couple years ago on a sweltering summer day, I thought I'd revisit a dump I'd dug a bit years before. This dump had never produced much in the way of good bottles. It was early 20th Century for the most part. But I was jonesing for a dig. I should note that this spot was in a particularly ugly part of the Hood.
On past visits, I'd accessed the site by entering through an old industrial property. This time they'd put up a gate, and it was no entrar. Okay, I'd just park up the street by the RR Crossing, and walk up the tracks to the hole in the fence, and go in that way.
It was only about half a mile from the crossing. This was down a hill from a residential area, adjacent to a lot of rusty old industrial sites. There had to be older stuff there. The homes on the hill were late 19th Century.
The Railroad had been doing some maintenance along this part of the line. I could see they'd replaced some ties and graded an area and put down that crushed stone. I walked on by, cut through the fence and returned to the old dump area.
I was happily throwing dirt, and scratching away when my phone rang. It was #2 daughter calling. I ignored the call, as I had been there less than half an hour and wanted to get to the glass. She called right back. I had to go pick up some stuff from the grocery...
Fiddlesticks! Things were just starting to look interesting, too. I'd just scratched out the bottom half of a Christmas Coke. "Okay, okay," I said. When does she need it? "Like, now..." I scratched a bit more, and grabbed my shovel, clam rake & bag and walked back out. As I approached the crossing, I could see a blacked out Crown-Vic parked in the driveway of a business directly across the crossing. I walked out, began to cross the tracks, nodded at the Crown-Vic as i was walking across the tracks...
He pulled out suddenly, blocking the street, and got out of the car with gun drawn. He started yelling at me to drop my stuff, and get on the ground. I couldn't believe it, and said, "What?"
Again, he ordered me to drop my stuff, back up and get on the ground. I dropped my stuff, backed up, and slowly took a knee, and was getting down, slowly.
I'm an old guy, and have a messed up back. I wasn't fast enough and was getting down when he assisted me by pushing my head into the dirt, and putting a knee on my back. He grabbed my arm, and had his other knee across my calves. He crunched on a hand cuff, on my left wrist, right to the bone. Right cuff is nice and loose.
He grabs my bag, and tells me to get up. I'm not moving fast enough for him. He gives my arm a yank and I get up slowly. My hat and glasses are stlll in the weeds. I tell him I've got a bad back, and ask if I could have my glasses. He ignores me.
He takes me to the Crown-Vic and shoves me in the back seat. He dumps my bag on the trunk and is examining my finds & scratchers. He gets on the radio and calls someone. I cannot see his badge.
Pretty soon, up comes the Official Railroad Cop in a shiny Jeep Cherokee. He's a young guy, and he's putting on the blue latex gloves. They have a discussion and look at my stuff.
The guy that hooked me up comes over and wants to know who I am and what I was doing. I tell him. He goes away to talk to the RR cop.
Now he wants to know, will I tell him about "my partner in crime?"
"Who?" I say.
He says, "that guy over there, who waved at you."
"What?" said I.
"If I wanted to get a lot of evasive crap outta you," mumble, mumble, walk away...
He then came over and started fishing in my shirt pocket, and took my Starbucks card.
"Have you got any better ID, than this?"
"Yes," I say, "in my back pocket."
Now, he pulls me out, turns me around and takes my wallet out. Doesn't wanna hear about the cuff being too tight.
"Credit cards," he reads them, "We don't need these, won't take them from you," takes driver's license and puts my wallet in the back window well. Grabs clipboard, and goes to run my record with the young RR cop.
They now drive me over to my truck. They want permission to search it.
"Do I have any tools or weapons in my truck?"
"I've got plenty of tools, no weapons," sez I.
The young guy opens the back and side door, looks around and closes her back up. He got a good look at some lesser glass, and assorted shovels, probes, and scratchers. And bug spray.
I then got un-cuffed and got the lecture about trespassing. Thefts in the area. A serial killer & rapist traversing these same tracks...
Then we were "buddies" and they're telling me which company to go ask permission from. The young railroad cop is telling me about a country flea market where I can buy some bottles, "Fifty cents, a piece!"
The guy that took me down was a private cop. Security for the local businesses that weren't closed, and had seen my truck before.
I told them I was sorry to have troubled them, and that they won't be seeing me again...
My left hand was numb for two hours. And, I didn't get any good bottles...
these are the bottles i picked up off the surface of the dump....
