......you intend to shoot. That was an old saying back during the rougher days out west and of course it reminds me of a story.
When I first moved to Arizona, I was pleased to find out that you could walk around openly wearing a pistol. In a cafe in Ashfork I remember a sign stating "All guns will be checked with the cashier." Just like back in the old wild west days. It wasnt often you saw anyone wearing a gun in public places though, except for some of the smaller communities. But many people, like me,
were comfortable wearing a pistol while hiking around the mountain trails or out prospecting.
I preferred to always take someone along with me when I went metal detecting for nuggets in rough country but couldn't always find someone who was free to go as often as I was....like everyday for instance.
My friend Dave went with me as often as he could but his wife seemed to resent it and since she specialized in writing up Honey-Do lists for Dave, he couldnt always go with me. It was kind of weird, but seems like almost every time I went by myself, something out of the ordinary would happen.
I was out metal detecting on a long foressted slope that had some deep gullies eroded down it. I picked out the gully that seemed to have the most quartz in it and worked my way up slope. No gold for me as I finally reached the top of the gully. I had my head down, swinging my detector, and had not looked up for quite awhile. I suddenly realized I was smelling smoke and looked up to see a crude shack off to one side at the top of the gully. A pipe was sticking out the side of and above the shack with smoke coming out of it.
When I say this shack was crude....I mean it was CRUDE! It was built mostly out of large slabs of cardboard with an occassional odd sized piece of plywood artfully interwoven in here and there. There was one piece of corrugated tin used in the back wall where the smoke stack stuck out. The roof was canvass. Now this was National forest land I was on and it is illegal to build such contraptions there. Not only that, but the shack was built in the edge of an open power line right of way where it could be easily spotted and reported. And not only that, it was only about 300 yards from Walker road, a well traveled road, although not in site of this shack. It figured that whoever built this contraption could not have been too bright. I knew from experience that a lot of kooky loners lived out in the forests around there and most of my experiences with them had not been pleasant. I really didnt wont to meet this guy. I had just recently survived a cuss fight and stand-off with a nut that claimed I was trespassing on his gold claim and I didnt wont to repeat that experience. So I turned around and started back down the gully as quietly as I could.
I had not gone far down the gully untill I thought I heard something similiar to a door opening back up the hill. The shack was out of my site by then. I listened for awhile and heard nothing else so eased on down my gully. Then I heard some gravelly sounds like someone walking behind me and I spun around but couldnt see anything. I listened awhile and heard nothing. I took a few more steps and damned if it didnt sound like I heard someone else walking at the same time. I stopped, waited a few moments, took 3 or 4 loud steps, stopped suddenly to listen and sure enough heard someone take a couple of steps and then stop. Damn, I thought, there is someone over there in a gully paralleling mine. I tried it again, took a few quick loud steps and stopped suddenly. Sure enough, I heard him walking and then he stopped. There was someone else over in that other gully and he was stalking me. The two gullies were seperated by a little ridge about 8 to 9 foot high.
I have something like claustrophobia. I cant stand to be trapped either physically or emotionally. If you wont me to fight, just trap me in a corner where I cant get out. Otherwise Im a tame little pussycat and usually avoid trouble. I began to feel a little panicky. This guy could jump over that ridge at any time. I unsnapped the strap that held my pistol in its holster and tucked the strap out of the way behind my belt. As fast as I could, I climbed the side of my gully and stopped at the top. The guy standing in the bottom of the next gully over was a wild looking sight. An older guy, ragged beard, hair sticking in all directions, shirt tail hanging out of his britches with a belt and gun strapped over it.....and his hand working back and forth above the gun. Then I realized that there I stood also with my hand swinging near my gun. I was praying the he wouldnt draw that gun and for some unthinking reason, I slowly raised my hand shoulder high, facing forward, grinned and said "How, Chief".
He looked kind of dumbfounded and blurted out "What the hell you doing fooling around my place?" I explained what I was doing and stepped down into his gully like I had been invited and said, "Thats a nice little place you got there." Dang me if that didnt break the ice a little bit cause the old coot was kind of proud of his creation. We talked for awhile and while we didnt part friends, at least we no longer were stalking one another.
I went by Daves house and told him about that little adventure. Dave got a sort of calcalating look in his eyes and said, "how come nothing like that ever happens when Im with you." I may have read his eyes wrong but I got the impression that Dave thought I was lying. It ticked my off but I didnt say anything.
Not long after that, I asked Dave to go hunting with me. We parked beside Walker road and I grabbed a cooler of beer out of the back of my truck. Dave asked what the heck I was doing with that but I just said come on and I will show you. He was puzzled and kept holding back, asking questions, as we started up my former metal detecting gully. Dave was definitely not the adventurous type, didnt like any kind of confrontation. When we got to the top of the gully and Dave suddenly saw that old shack, he started whispering,"wait a minute, wait a minute". He looked like he was having a heart attack when I rapped on the side of the shack and hollered, "Hey, you old coot, come out of there and lets have a beer." This time, that old coot came out looking as wild as ever but with that big old pistol in lhis hand and it was my time to almost have a heart attack but I just said, "I thought you might like to drink some beer with us. Let me introduce my friend Dave to you." And he put his pistol up and we sat around and drank beer and told stories and he showed us his shack and it wasn't a bad visit, everything considered.
When we were walking back to the car, I said, "Now Dave, If you wont to, I will take you up that big V shaped gully where I came face to face with a herd of javelina's, they might still be there." Dave declined the offer. So I offered to take him over to the place where I had run into that extremely unfriendly prospector that claimed I was trespassing on his gold claim but he declined that offer too. After that, Dave spent more time working on his wifes honey-do list than he did metal detecting with me.
When I first moved to Arizona, I was pleased to find out that you could walk around openly wearing a pistol. In a cafe in Ashfork I remember a sign stating "All guns will be checked with the cashier." Just like back in the old wild west days. It wasnt often you saw anyone wearing a gun in public places though, except for some of the smaller communities. But many people, like me,
were comfortable wearing a pistol while hiking around the mountain trails or out prospecting.
I preferred to always take someone along with me when I went metal detecting for nuggets in rough country but couldn't always find someone who was free to go as often as I was....like everyday for instance.
My friend Dave went with me as often as he could but his wife seemed to resent it and since she specialized in writing up Honey-Do lists for Dave, he couldnt always go with me. It was kind of weird, but seems like almost every time I went by myself, something out of the ordinary would happen.I was out metal detecting on a long foressted slope that had some deep gullies eroded down it. I picked out the gully that seemed to have the most quartz in it and worked my way up slope. No gold for me as I finally reached the top of the gully. I had my head down, swinging my detector, and had not looked up for quite awhile. I suddenly realized I was smelling smoke and looked up to see a crude shack off to one side at the top of the gully. A pipe was sticking out the side of and above the shack with smoke coming out of it.
When I say this shack was crude....I mean it was CRUDE! It was built mostly out of large slabs of cardboard with an occassional odd sized piece of plywood artfully interwoven in here and there. There was one piece of corrugated tin used in the back wall where the smoke stack stuck out. The roof was canvass. Now this was National forest land I was on and it is illegal to build such contraptions there. Not only that, but the shack was built in the edge of an open power line right of way where it could be easily spotted and reported. And not only that, it was only about 300 yards from Walker road, a well traveled road, although not in site of this shack. It figured that whoever built this contraption could not have been too bright. I knew from experience that a lot of kooky loners lived out in the forests around there and most of my experiences with them had not been pleasant. I really didnt wont to meet this guy. I had just recently survived a cuss fight and stand-off with a nut that claimed I was trespassing on his gold claim and I didnt wont to repeat that experience. So I turned around and started back down the gully as quietly as I could.
I had not gone far down the gully untill I thought I heard something similiar to a door opening back up the hill. The shack was out of my site by then. I listened for awhile and heard nothing else so eased on down my gully. Then I heard some gravelly sounds like someone walking behind me and I spun around but couldnt see anything. I listened awhile and heard nothing. I took a few more steps and damned if it didnt sound like I heard someone else walking at the same time. I stopped, waited a few moments, took 3 or 4 loud steps, stopped suddenly to listen and sure enough heard someone take a couple of steps and then stop. Damn, I thought, there is someone over there in a gully paralleling mine. I tried it again, took a few quick loud steps and stopped suddenly. Sure enough, I heard him walking and then he stopped. There was someone else over in that other gully and he was stalking me. The two gullies were seperated by a little ridge about 8 to 9 foot high.
I have something like claustrophobia. I cant stand to be trapped either physically or emotionally. If you wont me to fight, just trap me in a corner where I cant get out. Otherwise Im a tame little pussycat and usually avoid trouble. I began to feel a little panicky. This guy could jump over that ridge at any time. I unsnapped the strap that held my pistol in its holster and tucked the strap out of the way behind my belt. As fast as I could, I climbed the side of my gully and stopped at the top. The guy standing in the bottom of the next gully over was a wild looking sight. An older guy, ragged beard, hair sticking in all directions, shirt tail hanging out of his britches with a belt and gun strapped over it.....and his hand working back and forth above the gun. Then I realized that there I stood also with my hand swinging near my gun. I was praying the he wouldnt draw that gun and for some unthinking reason, I slowly raised my hand shoulder high, facing forward, grinned and said "How, Chief".
He looked kind of dumbfounded and blurted out "What the hell you doing fooling around my place?" I explained what I was doing and stepped down into his gully like I had been invited and said, "Thats a nice little place you got there." Dang me if that didnt break the ice a little bit cause the old coot was kind of proud of his creation. We talked for awhile and while we didnt part friends, at least we no longer were stalking one another.
I went by Daves house and told him about that little adventure. Dave got a sort of calcalating look in his eyes and said, "how come nothing like that ever happens when Im with you." I may have read his eyes wrong but I got the impression that Dave thought I was lying. It ticked my off but I didnt say anything.
Not long after that, I asked Dave to go hunting with me. We parked beside Walker road and I grabbed a cooler of beer out of the back of my truck. Dave asked what the heck I was doing with that but I just said come on and I will show you. He was puzzled and kept holding back, asking questions, as we started up my former metal detecting gully. Dave was definitely not the adventurous type, didnt like any kind of confrontation. When we got to the top of the gully and Dave suddenly saw that old shack, he started whispering,"wait a minute, wait a minute". He looked like he was having a heart attack when I rapped on the side of the shack and hollered, "Hey, you old coot, come out of there and lets have a beer." This time, that old coot came out looking as wild as ever but with that big old pistol in lhis hand and it was my time to almost have a heart attack but I just said, "I thought you might like to drink some beer with us. Let me introduce my friend Dave to you." And he put his pistol up and we sat around and drank beer and told stories and he showed us his shack and it wasn't a bad visit, everything considered.
When we were walking back to the car, I said, "Now Dave, If you wont to, I will take you up that big V shaped gully where I came face to face with a herd of javelina's, they might still be there." Dave declined the offer. So I offered to take him over to the place where I had run into that extremely unfriendly prospector that claimed I was trespassing on his gold claim but he declined that offer too. After that, Dave spent more time working on his wifes honey-do list than he did metal detecting with me.
