William-NM
New member
(pics of finds after the hair-raising tale)
So, I headed up to my favorite ghost town honey hole the other day. I was doing OK, found 5 wheats across the ravine from where I found the 1901 Barber dime a while back, as well as an old army knife (cutlery type), and a few other goodies. I had driven in to where I could just see the van from down in the ravine where I was working. I heard voices, sounded like some teens & figured they'd pass by before too long. A little while later, I hear them beating on my van, trying to break in. Well, I'm a 55 year old, live and let live mellow fellow... until somebody really gets me ticked off. Then, my 'inner Rambo' kicks in.
So, I go tearing up the ravine, yelling what the %^$#%$@ do you think you're doing? Get the &*^%$ away from my car! They take off running and I'm in hot pursuit, about 30 yards behind. Then, the biggest boy, a something-teen, pulls out a .22 pistol and fires off a few rounds. I'm still running, when he stops, turns around, and points the gun at me. I yell "go ahead, you little &$&^#, let's see what you got" and keep running. He fires a couple of wild shots and turns and runs. I continue to follow them, hoping to get a licence plate # or see where they go. Turns out, they live in a dump of a house maybe a quarter mile from where I was working - I can hear them talking. I don't know who else might be around, so I head back to where I was working. I try the cell phone, no service. Hmmmm, well, I'm sure I scared the crap out of them, so I decide to eat the other half of my lunch, dig a little more, and make a report once I have cell service.
Maybe half an hour later, a county sheriff steps out of the bushes pointing an assault rifle at me. I saw him first and said "Hi". He was less cordial, shouting "GET YOUR HANDS UP" repeatedly, even after I had done so, heh. He says "Do you know why I'm here?", and I replied "I imagine it's about the kids who were trying to break into my car". He's been intermittently talking on his radio, and soon 3 more sheriffs appear, 2 in their cruisers. He has me lean against a tree after having me drop my tool belt. The Lesche kinda freaked him out. He tells me that a guy reported a man at my location and meeting my description firing a rifle at his children. Apparently daddy had done some recon. He asked what I was doing up there and I explained that I was hunting old bottles and coins.
After chatting with the other officers, he asked me to gather up my gear and they'd escort me down to the house to get this straightened out. So, that's what we did - this section of road, if you can call it that, is even worse than what I drove in on, just massive ruts & boulders. As I get out of my car, one of the sheriffs says "did you know you have a flat tire?" Sure enough, one of the rear tires is not only flat, the sidewall has been sliced. The road was so bad, and my van is FWD, so I hadn't even noticed, and I was a little stressed out, cough.
The father immediately starts in on me in a belligerent way, so the sheriff tells him to to stand by a tree, and me to stand by my car. The guy definitely has a rabid dog look about him, and the house makes some of the ruins I hunt look like the Hilton. They talk to the guy and the wife and kids for a while and run through the story with me again. Of course, they've run the car and me, and both come up clean. I explain that I've never owned or even fired a gun, which happens to be true. I told them to feel free to search the car, test me for powder, etc. They're starting to come around, getting almost chatty. Of course, the teen boy with the gun has disappeared, so they can't check him out. I overheard one of the sheriffs say to another "one of the kids said 'we weren't trying to break into the car or anything' ". I think this helps my case.
After a little more standing around, they ask me if I need a wrecker, I said I had a spare, and they let me change the tire. I asked them to leave at least one officer around until I made my get away. No problem. I asked, "so, what happens now?". The sheriff says "we'll write it up and turn it over to the detectives, probably nothing". I had told them that I wasn't sure I could positively ID the shooter, too much adrenaline and too far away. Too bad.
The sheriff says "Sir, you're welcome to come up here anytime you like..." and I finish "but that guy could be trouble. That's OK, I've got other spots to hunt". Two cruisers escort me back to the main road, and that was that. What really sucks is that I was having a lot of fun hunting that spot. I may go up in a month or so, park far away, and walk in, electrical tape over the ProPointers speaker. We'll see. After the adrenaline level went back to normal, I felt both sad and angry. Why do the nut jobs get to call in false reports, lie like crazy, their kids get to break into cars and shoot at people, but I can't safely detect at my favorite spot, not bothering anyone? That sucks!! The good news: I had an unexpectedly wonderful morning on eBay and made more than enough to cover a new pair of tires, which I needed anyhow. Glad daddy didn't slit one of the new front tires!
On an even happier note, I got my new AT Gold the other day, THANKS BART!! I'm already lovin' it, amazing sensitivity and separation. I took it up to an old mining area and did some practicing on their small and medium tailings piles. No gold yet, but good practice, and I'm sure that once I get some hours under my belt I'll start filling those little vials up!! In any case, I can't wait to fire it up in the old flood zone below town - the great discrimination and separation should help a lot.
On to the finds, before I was so rudely interrupted:
I found six Wheaties on the opposite bank from where I found the 1901 Barber dime a while back, and I was just getting going:
A silver plated "M" monogrammed spoon, an early army eating-type knife (it is stamped "US", no dots, on the handle, and "Silco Stainless" on the blade. They supplied cutlery to the army from WWI - WWII. I think this is early, because the later ones were stamped "Silco 1940 Stainless" on the blade and had a narrowing where the handle meets the blade, corrections welcome! And a junk stainless spoon, modern.
I love old bottles, and found a couple more interesting ones, like the little ink bottle:
Also found some more watch parts, a cool ornate brass whatzit, a ladies brass pin, 10 cents of play money, flattened brass thimble, etc.
And, of course, iron, including a 3.5# hand sledge hammer head, the cutest little pony horseshoe ever, some pulleys, a file, my daily ration of rusty can-openers, etc.
Some buttons, cuff link (matches the other one I found last week), rivets...
and some other junk, little Christmas tree, curlers, hinges, shoe bits...
and I still hit my recycling 'Profit Point', hah!
So there you have it - I'm taking a few days off to take care of pesky life details and heal my swingin' shoulder, but I'll be back at it (somewhere) tomorrow or the next day.
Best of luck in the hunt to all of you, especially if you're still reading this!
So, I headed up to my favorite ghost town honey hole the other day. I was doing OK, found 5 wheats across the ravine from where I found the 1901 Barber dime a while back, as well as an old army knife (cutlery type), and a few other goodies. I had driven in to where I could just see the van from down in the ravine where I was working. I heard voices, sounded like some teens & figured they'd pass by before too long. A little while later, I hear them beating on my van, trying to break in. Well, I'm a 55 year old, live and let live mellow fellow... until somebody really gets me ticked off. Then, my 'inner Rambo' kicks in.
So, I go tearing up the ravine, yelling what the %^$#%$@ do you think you're doing? Get the &*^%$ away from my car! They take off running and I'm in hot pursuit, about 30 yards behind. Then, the biggest boy, a something-teen, pulls out a .22 pistol and fires off a few rounds. I'm still running, when he stops, turns around, and points the gun at me. I yell "go ahead, you little &$&^#, let's see what you got" and keep running. He fires a couple of wild shots and turns and runs. I continue to follow them, hoping to get a licence plate # or see where they go. Turns out, they live in a dump of a house maybe a quarter mile from where I was working - I can hear them talking. I don't know who else might be around, so I head back to where I was working. I try the cell phone, no service. Hmmmm, well, I'm sure I scared the crap out of them, so I decide to eat the other half of my lunch, dig a little more, and make a report once I have cell service.
Maybe half an hour later, a county sheriff steps out of the bushes pointing an assault rifle at me. I saw him first and said "Hi". He was less cordial, shouting "GET YOUR HANDS UP" repeatedly, even after I had done so, heh. He says "Do you know why I'm here?", and I replied "I imagine it's about the kids who were trying to break into my car". He's been intermittently talking on his radio, and soon 3 more sheriffs appear, 2 in their cruisers. He has me lean against a tree after having me drop my tool belt. The Lesche kinda freaked him out. He tells me that a guy reported a man at my location and meeting my description firing a rifle at his children. Apparently daddy had done some recon. He asked what I was doing up there and I explained that I was hunting old bottles and coins.
After chatting with the other officers, he asked me to gather up my gear and they'd escort me down to the house to get this straightened out. So, that's what we did - this section of road, if you can call it that, is even worse than what I drove in on, just massive ruts & boulders. As I get out of my car, one of the sheriffs says "did you know you have a flat tire?" Sure enough, one of the rear tires is not only flat, the sidewall has been sliced. The road was so bad, and my van is FWD, so I hadn't even noticed, and I was a little stressed out, cough.
The father immediately starts in on me in a belligerent way, so the sheriff tells him to to stand by a tree, and me to stand by my car. The guy definitely has a rabid dog look about him, and the house makes some of the ruins I hunt look like the Hilton. They talk to the guy and the wife and kids for a while and run through the story with me again. Of course, they've run the car and me, and both come up clean. I explain that I've never owned or even fired a gun, which happens to be true. I told them to feel free to search the car, test me for powder, etc. They're starting to come around, getting almost chatty. Of course, the teen boy with the gun has disappeared, so they can't check him out. I overheard one of the sheriffs say to another "one of the kids said 'we weren't trying to break into the car or anything' ". I think this helps my case.
After a little more standing around, they ask me if I need a wrecker, I said I had a spare, and they let me change the tire. I asked them to leave at least one officer around until I made my get away. No problem. I asked, "so, what happens now?". The sheriff says "we'll write it up and turn it over to the detectives, probably nothing". I had told them that I wasn't sure I could positively ID the shooter, too much adrenaline and too far away. Too bad.
The sheriff says "Sir, you're welcome to come up here anytime you like..." and I finish "but that guy could be trouble. That's OK, I've got other spots to hunt". Two cruisers escort me back to the main road, and that was that. What really sucks is that I was having a lot of fun hunting that spot. I may go up in a month or so, park far away, and walk in, electrical tape over the ProPointers speaker. We'll see. After the adrenaline level went back to normal, I felt both sad and angry. Why do the nut jobs get to call in false reports, lie like crazy, their kids get to break into cars and shoot at people, but I can't safely detect at my favorite spot, not bothering anyone? That sucks!! The good news: I had an unexpectedly wonderful morning on eBay and made more than enough to cover a new pair of tires, which I needed anyhow. Glad daddy didn't slit one of the new front tires!
On an even happier note, I got my new AT Gold the other day, THANKS BART!! I'm already lovin' it, amazing sensitivity and separation. I took it up to an old mining area and did some practicing on their small and medium tailings piles. No gold yet, but good practice, and I'm sure that once I get some hours under my belt I'll start filling those little vials up!! In any case, I can't wait to fire it up in the old flood zone below town - the great discrimination and separation should help a lot.
On to the finds, before I was so rudely interrupted:
I found six Wheaties on the opposite bank from where I found the 1901 Barber dime a while back, and I was just getting going:
A silver plated "M" monogrammed spoon, an early army eating-type knife (it is stamped "US", no dots, on the handle, and "Silco Stainless" on the blade. They supplied cutlery to the army from WWI - WWII. I think this is early, because the later ones were stamped "Silco 1940 Stainless" on the blade and had a narrowing where the handle meets the blade, corrections welcome! And a junk stainless spoon, modern.
I love old bottles, and found a couple more interesting ones, like the little ink bottle:
Also found some more watch parts, a cool ornate brass whatzit, a ladies brass pin, 10 cents of play money, flattened brass thimble, etc.
And, of course, iron, including a 3.5# hand sledge hammer head, the cutest little pony horseshoe ever, some pulleys, a file, my daily ration of rusty can-openers, etc.
Some buttons, cuff link (matches the other one I found last week), rivets...
and some other junk, little Christmas tree, curlers, hinges, shoe bits...
and I still hit my recycling 'Profit Point', hah!
So there you have it - I'm taking a few days off to take care of pesky life details and heal my swingin' shoulder, but I'll be back at it (somewhere) tomorrow or the next day.
Best of luck in the hunt to all of you, especially if you're still reading this!
