Lure of the Caballos

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I dedicate this book to the many people who have made it possible for me to have written it, as well
as to those who have the inborn desire to prospect and/or mine.
Also, I sincerely thank everyone that is or has been a PCM member. Even though I have mentioned
the Sanders brothers in a few of the following pages, I need to say that if it was not for their
financial, physical and mental assistance PCM would never have gotten off the ground. And,
without PCM, Inc. (Preservation of the Caballo Mountains) Sierra County would not have a
significant mining or a property rights voice in which to battle Satan’s Green Synagogue.
Please note that I am not a writer. Plus, I am guilty of using incorrect grammar and make up
descriptive words to suit me. Although what I have written herein is based upon my notes and
memories I have striven to remain reasonably accurate. I’ve no doubt made errors and possibly
even added my own brand of mythology to an already confusing legacy of intriguing yarns. The
main purpose of writing “Lure of the Caballos” besides enlightenment is to entertain when there is
nothing better to do with your precious time.
TABLE of CONTENTS
PART I
LURE of the CABALLO’S
Chapter 1:
Chapter 2:
Chapter 3:
Chapter 4:
Chapter 5:
Chapter 6:
Chapter 7:
Chapter 8:
Chapter 9:
Chapter 10:
Chapter 11:
Chapter 12:
Chapter 13:
Chapter 14:
Chapter 15:
Chapter 16:
Chapter 17:
Chapter 18:
Chapter 19:
Chapter 20:
Chapter 21:
Chapter 22:
Chapter 23:
Chapter 24:
Chapter 25:
Chapter 26:
Chapter 27:
Chapter 28:
Chapter 29:
Chapter 30:
Chapter 31:
Chapter 32:
Chapter 33:
The Beginning
Prospectors and Miners
In Search of Silver
Infatuation
The Cable Claims
Burdens
Partner
Hells Door
Noss, La Rue & Naravez
Early Adventures
Assayers & Geologists
Turmoil
Forgotten Roots
Rasmensen
Taggart’s & Burbank
Polomas Gap
Noah’s Ark
Assays & Geophysics
Mistakes
Revisiting Disbelief
Goofing Around
More Lessons
The Adit & Shaft
Now Which Way
Hope
Sheep Cheat
The Anomaly and Objectives
Dancing with the Gods
A breath of Fresh Air
The Devil’s Brigade
Let There Be Light
Evolution
Bomb Shells
PART II
Metals, Man and Land
Chapter 1:
Chapter 2:
Chapter 3:
Chapter 4:
History
The Problem
The Solution
Summation
Note: Because I have not re-edited and due to the length of Part 2 it will only be available upon
request by emailing me at: [email protected]
PART I
LURE of the CABALLO’S
Essentially this is what I call a doc-u-drama relating to the adventures of the classic prospector
trying to find his pot of gold in the dry, scorched sands of the desert southwest. This would-be
miner is your typical American prospector, who believes that hard work and a little luck that he too
can taste the sweetness of success. After all, isn’t that what America is all about?
He set’s out on this endeavor by entering Nature’s foreboding environment in the Kingdom of
Metals. He knows that this place is fraught with curses and strange devils. But, so what? He’s never
let anyone or anything whip him yet. Besides, this adventure shouldn’t be that much tougher than
any other challenge he’s met.
Sure enough, he discovers the promise of wealth beyond belief. However, the Govt has set up a
variety of road blocks, complete with speed bumps, pot holes and land mines that can shatter
anyone’s dreams.
As his digging continues, he smells the fragrance of the honey ahead, and with his eye on the prize
there’s a faint but urgent whisper to hurry. As he’s about to break into King Solomon’s mine - low
and behold from out of nowhere comes a pack of rats the likes of which not seen before. These
hideous beasts oozing a green goo fouls the air with the stench of death, and everywhere they go
their trail of slime leaves rotting ruin and despair behind. As he retreats these menacing ghouls
gather in strength between him and the promised land.
Now what’s he to do? He tries yelling for help, but no one hears. He knows the green devils mean
him no good, so he seeks a safe home, but they’ve already ate Rome. With only a few options left,
he tries to trade his shovel for a can of rat control, but its been banned years ago. Their vicious
attacks have left festering financial wounds, so he trades his pick for a pen and writes herein.
Perhaps, all those reading this tale of hope and woe will grasp the task of driving away the hellish
green fiends. Then with our Rights in hand we can again dance upon this land.
Even though this book is about my quest in the Kingdom of Metals, practically every aspect of
these contents has, does and will affect all people no matter where they live, work, or play.
Primarily, I’ve tried to illustrate with words what the metals have done for man, for there is no
segment of this century that has enjoyed them not, except the poor and backwards fragments of
humanity.
In addition, I’m trying to warn all that will listen about the dangers we all face. The State and
Federal Govt’s are working overtime writing strangling laws and regulations causing strife to
American’s way of life.
Some people, in the face of reality, will not believe that a new plague has descended upon this land,
as they listen to the environmental band. However, eventually they will watch in utter disbelief as
these swarms devour everything green including their dreams.
Consequently, if you own land, home or business, no matter where or what kind, or work for no
matter who, your life and your children’s future depend on what you do to stop the deluge of the
polluting green goo.
CHAPTER 1
The Beginning
This saga actually starts when I was about 5 years old, while walking along a stream near the
Northern Washington Idaho border, with my Uncle and Mother. Uncle Martin, who loved
prospecting suddenly bent down and scooped up a rock from the fast running creek. Even with an
untrained eye I could see the gold speckled throughout the rock. From that moment on, I was
hooked. And now, with the final act of my spellbinding adventure drawing near to a close I’ve
often wondered if Uncle Martin didn’t pass me the ancestral torch, or worse, the family curse?
Fortunately, life has allowed me a vagabond’s freedom to see and live in a variety of States.
Upon reaching the ripe old age of 40 and having accomplished most of my goals (fast cars, great
female relationships, raising and training Arabian Horses and man eating Cats, playing with the
toys of the construction trade, cutting and polishing gemstones, as well as gold and silver smithing)
I was eager for something new and inspiring.
Over the years my life style acquired the desire of touching and tasting all things. Consequently I
had become a “Jack of all trades, and master of none”. Even though Lady Luck had graciously
given me all I had asked for I still had that childhood itch that needed a scratch. Early in March
1982, living in Texas, and a sole proprietor of a tiny construction business, I decided to pursue the
glimmering idea of discovering a silver mine. Not having a real vacation in years I and a friend
(Mike McCoy) decided to go prospecting for a week in the New Mexico mountains. We had no
idea where to begin, and decided to let fate take us by the hand. Looking back on that decisive day,
there’s no doubt that I was being led by scents carried on ancient winds.
With the disease of romanticism roaring through my veins I was ready for anything. Realizing
that I wasn’t getting any younger and mining meant work, I decided to go for broke or forever hold
my hopes.
We drove for what seemed like an eternity through the endless stretches of West Texas, stopping
only for a couple hours snooze along the road. When the morning sun began to peak over the
distant mountains tops, and anxious to get to we knew not where, we put the pedal to the floor. The
first place we stopped was at the ruins of Lake Valley. I didn’t know it at the time, but this was the
Famed Bridal Chamber mining community, about 80 miles North of El Paso.
This ghost like community watched silently as the two keen-eyed dudes used their metal
detectors over every ruin, and suspicious patch and crack. Surely, the old timer’s left something
behind. It didn’t dawn on us at the time, but this abandoned town was probably gutted prior to our
dads being in their prime. Never mind reality we were having a kick-ass time, and every rock and
gulch held the promising pleasure of hidden treasure. Naturally, we didn’t find a single coin, nor
any old bags stuffed with yellow dust. But, so what, this was only our first day, and what could we
expect? With dusk beginning to settle, we decided to blaze another trail. By night fall we stopped at
a roadside park, complete with flowing creek on the outskirts of Kingston.
In our haste we sure pitched a sorry excuse for a tent. Thank God darkness had wrapped us in a
dense black coat, so no one would notice us two boobs in the woods. A campfire was started,
though the cold winds blew it out faster than we could light it, so we tried to sleep. However, the
freezing air and the soaking snow made our first night a dreadful ordeal. At sunrise with my teeth
chattering, body shivering and the old head roaring, I said enough of this roughing it nonsense as I
washed my face in the ice cold creek. I had just received my first lesson. I just wasn’t as rough and
tough as I thought. So, we hurriedly packed our gear and headed back to Hillsboro for a shower and
feast. There was no doubt about it I was a city slicker, and didn’t like being without creature
comforts.
Armed with full bellies, we headed up to the continental divide. The smells and the scenery of
these high desert mountains were pure delight compared to the squalor of urban asphalt and
concrete clutter.
This was hog-heaven as we hiked the wooded mountain sides and waded the creeks. Hours raced
by, with not a clue as to why we were there, except it seemed like the right thing to be doing. When
the sun began to hide the huge pines began casting dark intimidating shadows, and we beat a hasty
retreat back to main street. One thing for sure, I didn’t want a repeat of last nights treat.
The next crack of dawn we enthusiastically headed-out again. This time we went West up the
steep winding road that was an adventure in itself. We were always dodging occasional oncoming
cars that for some reason or another always tried to straighten out the curves. After getting several
miles out of Kingston and about the 8000 foot elevation we noticed an obscure, dirt road, that
seemed to be beckoning us. Boy was I dumb, because as we went down this narrow rough road I
had no idea what kind of obstacles we’d encounter. Fortunately, my fairly new 4 WD Chevy
navigated this pot holed, boulder laden, and darn near washed out excuse of a road.
The old road came to an abrupt stop at a flowing creek, with just enough room to turn around and
park. We started looking around as to why this grizzly path was here. Sure enough, we spotted a
obscure abandoned mine opening. I could feel my adrenaline starting to flow, and silently said, now
this was living and what I came to do. We packed up a little food, flash lights, our trusty hand guns,
and advanced upon the mysterious dark hole.
As we cautiously entered the long deserted mine opening my mind was saying, what if we
encounter rattlesnakes or worse, a lurking Bear in the darkness?
Every niche and cranny was exciting as we continued our fascinating excursion deep into the
bowels of this old mine. Deeper and deeper into the gloomy tunnels we walked, often taking a right
turn then a left, but not to worry, we’d not get lost.
I was constantly on the look-out for relics and obvious minerals. And, if by chance one of the old
timers just happened to have left a lump or two of gold hanging on the walls, that was OK by me,
after all I wasn’t greedy. Our flash lights were poor excuses of adequate lighting, and we managed
to get semi-lost in what quickly became a maze of huge endless corridors. But in contrast, we were
having the time of our lives. Eventually, it was decided that perhaps we best start trying to find our
way back out of this mining maize, that I was later to know as the Patented Gray Eagle. While
taking what seemed like the correct tunnel and waiting for Mike I looked up and saw to my
astonishment small diameter interwoven branches holding back what appeared to be tons of debris.
As Mike approached I said that we’d better be careful, and showed him why. With the words barely
out of my mouth Mike shined his lantern down on the floor, and if I’d taken another step I would
have plummeted down a shaft that we couldn’t see the bottom of. Triumphantly, we got out there
without mishap and headed back to Hillsboro.
It was beginning to dawn on me that what I wanted to achieve was going to be just a bit more
than I knew how to handle. So, I started asking around town as to who had mining properties.
That’s when I met Sonja, the Postmaster and an after hours Realtor. After explaining to her that I
was interested in possibly buying a mining claim she told me of a couple, which were: The Wicks
for about $20,000 and the Gray Eagle for $180,000, both patented properties. Naturally, I was
interested, but knew I couldn’t afford the Gray Eagle. So Mike and I took off to look at the Wicks,
which was about halfway between Hillsboro and Interstate 25.
We spent the day going over the Wicks area, including the thorough investigation of the old stone
buildings in the Wicks Gulch. We panned for gold in the creek and found plenty of color, which
naturally urged me on. Upon returning to Hillsboro, I told Sonja that the Wicks was interesting, but
I wanted to see other properties. Therefore, she told me how to contact her father (Mr. Bee
Franklin), who had a few mining claims.
When we met this elderly gentleman, we were both captivated by his style and charm, as well as
his mining yarns. Eventually, he tells us about his numerous silver prospects in the Black Range
Mountains, and agrees to guide us to the sites.
I didn’t know it at the time, but Mr. Franklin (Bee) was becoming my tutor in the mining game.
After several days of looking at his properties high in the Black Range sky, I knew that I simply
had to have more of this kind of pie. Time was passing, and Mike and I realized that we both had to
get back to Austin. As far as I was concerned, and Mr. Franklin agreeing, I would work at least on
one of his mines when I returned.
Once back in Austin, it didn’t take long to get rid of all my stuff, acquire a travel trailer and
drilling equipment, before heading back to those enchanting mountains. One thing for sure, I was
going to give this quest my best and put it to rest.
CHAPTER 2
Prospectors and Miners
When I sat out to seek my fame and fortune I had no idea of the amount of bumps in the night
that I’d trip over, nor the amount of blunders I’d commit. I had read many a book on mining,
treasure hunting and done a little prospecting, but never found a book describing what mining is
really all about. Therefore, before getting too far ahead of myself, and due to the varied
misconceptions, and distortions it seems prudent to unmask a few basic concepts of what mining
means to the Individual, the Land, the County, the State, and this great Nation.
What is a Miner? In my opinion, it is anyone who digs in the Earth, to derive sustenance, pleasure
and/or income. This definition includes the following: Farmers, Plumbers, Rockhounders,
Spelunkers, Treasure Hunters, Archaeologists, Geologists, Paleontologists, Sand & Gravel
Operators, Road Builders, Quarry Operators, Construction companies, Oil, Gas & Water Well
Diggers, etc., to name what comes to mind at the moment. It should also be pointed out that miners
are also all of Nature’s creatures, including bacteria that munch-out on all minerals including your
teeth. Naturally, the dictionary doesn’t say this, but over the course of time, anyone with good
sense will recognize the truth in my description.
What is a Prospector? First of all, there are many kinds of prospectors. Take for example a
colony of ants, which remind me of human cities with their many scouts always prospecting for
food. And, when a source of sustenance is found out of their tunnels come the hoards to capture and
use this new, although temporary resource. Or, the salesman who is a prospector and is always
seeking the next sale around the next corner, street or the next building.
My first job was looking for used tin cans, which were recycled and sold to nurseries for plant
containers. My next profession was prospecting for customers who would buy metal forming
machinery. I would prospect for these illusive customers over several hundred to thousands of
square miles. However, the “prospector” I’m referring to is the one who actively tries to locate
metal/mineral deposits, so that miners can apply their trade of excavating and extracting.
Anyone can be a half-ass prospector. Though, the really good ones will be those of any age, who
have the will and the guts to set foot in the mysterious screaming quite of the Mineral Kingdom.
They will of course have at least one of the following attributes: the taste for adventure, a good
nose to smell out the illusive metals, be endowed with inner sight or the instinct as to where to
search, or guided by destiny. Consequently, “prospectors” looks a lot and digs a little, whereas the
miner digs a lot and looks a little.
Any serious student of mining will eventually learn that no one should ever attempt to impede
mining, nor prospecting, because man’s future survival is at stake. The young should be taught how
totally dependent humans are upon mining, but unfortunately, they’re not. All anyone has to do is
look back into history to recognize that man graduated from sticks and stones to metal. And, in so
doing he made a gigantic leap in his query to subdue the elements enough to find some degree of
pleasure and comfort in this place we call Reality.
With each metal discovery and subsequent use thereof his standard of living has risen
exponentially. Obviously, people should support mining, and I believe they would if they only
knew what they stood to lose if they continue closing their eyes to the miner’s plight.
Man through the centuries has learned how to extract and utilize most of the metals. The question
is: are WE willing and able to make the next technological quantum leap, by helping the little guy
discover the much needed bonanzas?
There are only a tiny fraction of Americans mining or prospecting today. Why? Because, the
incentives are not in place. This minute segment of society is now susceptible to all sorts of
diseases fostered and prompted by our elected representatives, who do the bidding of the plague
infested environmentalists, ecologists, archaeologists, paleontologists and conservationists.
Make no mistake about it, if the environmentalists (Sierra Club, Wilderness Society, National
Audubon Society, etc., etc., etc.) continue getting their way, none of us will be able to enjoy the
‘multiple-use’ concept of Federal (Public) Lands, nor the metals they contain. These Lands are
OURS and do not belong to any one special interest group. Nor, do these lands belong to the
Gestapo squads supposedly enforcing the myriad of rules the self-serving Govt bureaucracies has in
their infinite wisdom seen fit to shackle us with.
The environmental community appears to me to be exactly like the medieval priests. These elitist
priests who’s authority emanated directly from the church and/or government applied their ghastly
trades upon the people. Like today, those ancient people had little if any say in matters of how they
were to be governed. These priests fed the people all kinds of myth, and of course all manner of
remedies, which they monopolized and sold to the masses to guard against the made up myths. And
when a commoner attempted to sell any of the priests remedies, like garlic these entrepreneurs
would often be branded as witches. Once called a witch these people were then fined, jailed or
burned. Even though the methods of today’s elitists are different from ancient times the end results
are amazingly similar.
Prospectors and miners are truly becoming an endangered species. And without public support,
they will go the same way as the dinosaur. People without jobs know it’s tough in the real World,
so when the small independent miners and prospectors are gone most of the rest of the population
will learn what hard times really mean. And, if the Miners lose their independence to pursue the
American Ideals, then so will everyone else.
This great Nation was founded upon the ideals of Freedom, not the thesis of slavery. The Metals
liberate man from tyranny and ignorance. Surely, by simply looking around, the elements are
making life easier. Just imagine what our lives could be like if our most basic industry, mining, was
strong again.
It is often stated that this Nation is entering a new era, where we’re going to have to be smarter
and more technically oriented in order to compete in the new Global Order. Well, I say that not
everyone is, can be, nor will be a Astro-physicist, Rocket scientist, or Brain surgeon. Some us will
be street sweepers, nurses, farmers, mechanics, ranchers, clerks, plumbers, as well as Miners. A
case in point is: thousands of steel workers were laid off in 1992, some of those people learned the
sophisticated arts of computer programming, industrial Cad-Cam applications and still cannot get a
job. Even Silicon Valley (previously a silica waste land called a California desert) has laid off
thousands of PHD’s. However as of 1999 silicon valley jobs are temporarily plentiful. However, to
sum up this line of reasoning, there’s rock hard evidence that the vast majority of us will not be
financial wizards, political barons, nor mineral miners. But, without exception everyone prospects
for some kind of life or stomach filling promise and are thus prospectors.
Just try to conceive of what it would be like if mining came to a halt! If the small miners are
regulated out of existence it sure won’t take long before Neanderthal’s will again rule the face of
Earth with sticks and stones. Most people will likely say, in response to the foregoing that we’re
far too advanced technologically to ever become stone throwing spear chucking nomads. I simply
say, hogwash. Those who do not learn the lessons of history are doomed to repeat the horrors and
chaos of the past. Perhaps there is no better time and place to say herein, that we, and I mean all of
us are dangerously close to entering a new deeper dark age if we are not very careful.
Before prospecting and mining can occur there has to be available Land. There are 3 basic land
use classifications necessary for mining that every would-be prospector/miner should know, which
are: 1) Private, with or without mineral rights (non Patented), 2) Public Lands (govt managed),
open to mineral entry, and subject to the 1872 mining Law and the 43 CFR amendments. This
would include surface (Placer) and sub-surface (lode) mining rights. The maximum size of a lode
mining claim is 1500’ x 600’ (20 acres), that are marked by corner monuments. A mineral
discovery is required, although there is no limit as to how many claims a person may file upon.
Placer claims are also 20 acres, but square. 3) Patented mineral rights: These are few in number as
compared to public lands. This type of land has been granted and deeded from the Federal Govt to
private ownership. This was done to protect the owner by granting ownership to allow exclusive
rights to mine the proven minerals into perpetuity. Unfortunately, all these classifications by the
summer of 2000 are under siege and in total danger of becoming relics of the past.
It probably is wise to keep in mind that minerals (metals - either base or precious, in chemical
combination with other metals and/or organics) are commodities and subject to the whims of
supply, demand and politics. Therefore, when a mineral discovery is made usually one or more
claims is filed upon to further develop the property. In so-doing, vast sums of money, labor and
time is spent proving-up and extracting the sought minerals. When profits have been realized and
the property represents a continued source of minerals the claim owner sometimes applies for a
patent. However, in this day (1993) and age (environmental elitism) I wouldn’t hold your breath
waiting for the Govt to grant a Patent. Once a mine has been patented, the original mining claim
reverts to private ownership, and can be mined anytime at the owners discretion. Although, if the
environmentalist’s succeed in their plans, all mining by the little guy will cease.
What are the requirements of Land to justify the costs in time, labor and money to extract/exploit
potential minerals? 1) ORE in commercial amounts, and Accessibility (roads). 2) Benign laws,
regulations and political climate. 3) The close proximity to Smelting, Refining and Markets. 4)
Water for Drilling, Classification, Clarification, Beneficiation and Concentration.
The general rule for Milling and Placer operations is 2-3 x weight of water to weight of Ore
(rock). Examples: a small miner wants to process 200 tons per day of rock (ore and gangue), this
would require approximately 600 tons of water. Although water is recyclable it should not be
considered as renewable, because only some of the original water is reclaimed. Usually, in semiarid climates evaporation is a major source of loss. The following figures all prospectors should
know: a) 1 gal of H2O weighs about 8 pounds; b) 1 Acre Foot of H2O = 325,829 gallons or 1,300
tons; c) A 200 ton per day operation would require approximately 90 acre feet of water per year; d)
A 15,000 ton per day operation would require approximately 7000 acre feet of H2O per year; e) the
cost to buy one acre foot of water is roughly $5000.00 (1993).
It is conceivable that Sierra County could have 5-10 small operations (200 tons), a few Placer
operations (100 tons/1000 tons), and 1-3 larger (15,000 tons) operations going at same time. This
could represent a water requirement of 20-30,000 acre feet of water per year. Unfortunately, there
is not enough water to go around if the above scenario were to become the norm, and many miners
would go begging. Those lucky enough to have gotten in on the ground floor before several mines
opened, would still have had to buy their water rights from existing owners. The alternative would
be to let someone else who has the water do the concentrating, milling, etc.
Why did the people leave the Eastern cities, during the 1800’s and early 1900’s? While doing
historical research it became abundantly clear that most people were living in abhorrent ghetto
conditions. Likewise, diseases were rampant, partially due to unsanitary water, fly infestation as a
result of horse manure and just plain too crowded. Hence, the “go west young man” slogan began.
Maintaining personal health and having an opportunity to own Land that were powerful motives to
head out and away from the East.
Getting sick today is certainly unpleasant, but for the life of me I don’t know how anyone coped
with being treated by a surgeon or physician of that time? Even though going West meant hardship
and facing barbaric Indians, at least there was abundant land and the possibility of striking it rich.
The alternative was a miserable existence, which many people today (1993) are still experiencing.
To my way of perceiving history the 1800’s prospectors/miners, ranchers and farmers were the
advance scouts for an emerging American civilization. Based upon hundreds of historical accounts,
there simply is no-doubt that the pioneers (Anglo Conquistadors) set the stage for our collective
migratory inclinations, and our insatiable thirst for mind-boggling adventure. As these hardy
adventurer’s settled and tamed the West the fruits of their toil, whether on top or below ground, all
too often became the prizes of Eastern financial and industrial conglomerates.
The rewards for heading West were represented as staggering bonanzas and pristine living
conditions. However, the dangers were just as awesome. Try to imagine, back then, from the
Indians point of view the white hoard spreading West. Clearly, The Indian’s way of living became
at cultural odds with these land devouring pioneers. So, if the Indians didn’t scalp these future
would-be miners Mother Nature often served-up hardship and death to all who dared tempt Her.
Based upon old accounts of the early would-be miners, and knowing what I do today, I simply
cannot fathom how these men managed in the face of such adversity. I have often wondered how
these miners could get anything done while their eyes were constantly revolving around their heads
just to avoid an Indian arrow, little alone chip rock.
When the news reached the eastern seaboard that mineral bonanzas were common occurrences
the Eastern financiers began financing teams of men thirsty for riches, and so began the phrase
“grub-staking”. This practice continues today, but is now referred to as ‘Funding’, although seldom
these days for mining.
These early miners through much turmoil, torment and bloodshed set the stage for rules of
conduct and behavior. And to some degree many of these rules although modified are still utilized
today. Examples would be: Water rights, and the 1872 Mining Law, that essentially said - “first
come, first served”. This type of thinking and behavior became What is known as what some refer
to as the “Custom and Culture” of the West. To put the aforesaid another way - it is an unwritten
law and a common practice that those who blazed the trails West acted upon instinct handed down
since time began, which is - take and hold. Another way of saying the same thing would be - the
inherited Traditions of the past, which affect the present, will surely continue to influence the
future.
There should be no doubt in anyone’s mind that the Miner created the economic fuel that drove
the financial engines of the Eastern markets. As the West became populated and new markets
emerged in the settlements, it sure must have caused the Eastern financial interest’s pause and
concern. Could the giant eastern monopolies let these new players rival their long dominated
inheritance?
Big business is always saying that competition is healthy, yet it appears that the multi-national
corporations have always stomped upon any perceived threat. Take for example how the Seven
Sisters got the Govt to decimate Iraq during Desert Storm. Furthermore, is it just coincidence that a
World Class deposit of Tungsten was found prior to the Korean War, or that vast oil beds were
suspected of lying off the Gulf of Vietnam prior to that tragic debacle? What really caused the
British Empire to declare war over the Falkland islands? And, what about the worlds dominate
diamond player indicating in June 2000 that they won’t buy diamonds from so-called illegal (nongovt sanctioned) rebel forces in Africa’s Sierra Leone and Angola?
Obviously, the only logical way the Eastern establishment could hope to maintain a monolithic
hold on this potential Western mineral empire was through Govt control. It appears to my eyes, ears
and nose that the Eastern Interest’s did not and do not intend to compete with Westerners for the
bountiful Western Resources. Therefore, to control these upstarts the Easterner’s made laws and
rules, and in my opinion planted the seeds of the BLM, environmental, conservation and
archaeological movements, to be used when the needs arose. Anyone, living during the 1960’s
watched the greenie movements ripen and bloom. The wiser Westerner’s watched in horror as the
well camouflaged ploys forged regulation after regulation aimed at slowing or stopping the
Westerner’s Right of Passage into the new Real Power of this Country.
In an attempt to circumvent the Eastern Establishment’s rules you may remember the “Sagebrush
Rebellion.” Of course this grass roots movement was squashed by what is still heard today, “he
who owns the gold makes the rules”. This translates out to, as the early Easterners clearly
recognized, the West’s Resources (Minerals, Timber, Land) were and are a very real threat to an
impoverished East. Anyone with normal 20/20 vision can see that all the East has is abundant
people, financial wealth, and the halls of Congress.
It may well be, one day, that Westerner’s (Miners, Ranchers, Loggers, Farmers, Merchants,
Hunters, Trappers, Explorers, and modern pioneers) will band together to stop the Easterner’s
tyrannical injustices. I certainly hope so, for to not come together is just to horrible to contemplate.
Prospecting is first and foremost for Mineral discoveries. Land development is the second stage,
followed by Mining (extraction), beneficiation (milling & laboratory analysis), winning (smelting),
and marketing being the last phase of exploitation.
Just one Prospector, properly outfitted (instruments, knowledge, creature comforts & equipment)
can pump thousands of dollars into any local economy and possibly influence political trends.
Consequently, it would behoove the multitude of local merchants in any community to allow
prospectors a flourishing climate. Thereby, maybe at least one prospector will make a strike, thus
creating abundant wealth that mining has always brought throughout recorded time. Generally, one
discovery brings in hundreds of mineral scouts and largely enhances the odds of more discoveries.
Just one small mining company (200 tons per day) can affect a local community’s economy by
millions of dollars per year. So, what could several small mines, or a couple of large mines do to a
small town, or a State in these troubled times? Oh, I know, when I wrote this in 1993 times were
different than the summer of 2000. But, keep in mind, what goes up always comes down. Also,
when the giant corporations need people they hire by the thousands, which creates the trickle down
wealth syndrome. But, when times start getting tough, as they always do then these same nice
giants fire by the thousands. The buzz words of the 70’s, 80’s and 90’s for communities is to only
allow clean industries to create employment. Well, in 2000 believe it or not the majority of
communities are impoverished regarding good paying jobs. And, naturally, because mining is a
nasty word very little is being done, except of course only by the big boys.
There are those (today) who say digging holes (big or small) in the ground disturbs the
environment, ruins the water, destroys the pristine beauty, and displaces fauna and flora. These
same people forget that they owe their very existence to what comes from the ground. They also,
just as obviously forget that all their comforts and goods came from the ground, and the more it
costs to mine always affects the standard of living for all. I guess that I’ve been luckier than most,
because I’ve traveled throughout the entire United States, and cannot draw any close resemblance
of ‘Miners Holes’ to the foul smelling and disgusting appearances of our cities. Yet, everyone says
that the big city is where the good-life is. Nonsense, this is pure propaganda. One day, and I don’t
know when, people will fear the city for the infestation of rot they truly are.
Yes, mining abuses have been and probably are being committed, but so-called abuses have been
the norm since time began. Currently our bathrooms, kitchens, and asphalt highways contribute
more to the mythical ecological pollution than all the past and present mining operations put
together. Likewise, it is impossible for any living organism to exist without creating waste. Clearly,
the only logical solution to the real or imagined environmental problems (air, water & land) is
through employing new technological use of the metals. Penalizing prospectors and miners, via
absurd laws and rules is most assuredly inviting a multitude of socio-economic disasters, that at the
very least will raise the price of all things beyond the grasp of the common man or woman.
Therefore, my premise is, the more mines the better all of our lives will be, no matter where we
live, work or play.
When the Spanish came to New Mexico, via the Rio Grande River Valley they were no different
than American prospectors. They too were searching for mineral deposits that would improve not
only their own personal wealth, but also Spain’s deplorable economy. Upon arrival it didn’t take
these mineral Conquistadors long to discover that the indigenous, stone age Indians had a
rudimentary knowledge of the metals.
Some Indians had learned the art of applying various colored minerals to their clay bowls. Other
tribes utilized native silver, gold and gemstones for ornamental purposes. Thus, it would seem
obvious that the American Indians were the first known miners in New Mexico, not the Spaniards
as the pretentious modern history book portray.
History suggests that the early Conquistadors utilized the Indians knowledge to locate these metal
deposits. It’s also equally clear that the brutal Spaniard’s made the Indians labor to extract the
precious commodities. Consequently, during the 1680’s the Indians declared war on the Spanish,
driving them out of New Mexico. Evidently, after the Spanish beat a hasty retreat South, the
Indians covered all traces of the mining activities, so that they would not have to endure the
hardships of slavery again. It is my opinion that this is the time period when most Indians
developed the superstition that Gold belonged to the Gods, and should remain in the ground.
Nevertheless, the lure of Gold and other precious commodities was just too strong and the Spanish
started returning in 1692.
European type civilization came to New Mexico because the necessary ingredients for Freedom
of Self Expression were and some-what still are, readily available to those courageous enough to
grab-a-hold of Mother Natures Merry-go-round. Furthermore, I believe, these daring souls created
our present nomadic tendencies, that is often referred to as the American Way of Life.
Transportation in the 1800’s and early 1900’s was the major limiting factor to mining endeavors.
Thus, for all intent and purpose most all mines worked only the ‘oxidized’ portions of the
numerous Lode Deposits. This was definitely the case of the Spaniards. Complex ores (sulfides)
were only partially exploited. Why? Because the smelters penalized the miners for the sulfidic
minerals regardless of the quantity of gold and silver. This penalty was due to damaging effects of
sulphur on the walls of the furnaces. Today, many of these rich old mines are flooded and the
current capital costs are prohibitive to re-open them. However, as technology advances, troubles of
the past should provide us with a very bright future. Even though the early pioneers plundered the
mineral riches - only the cream (the simplest of Ores) were taken, so there are many fertile and
abounding treasures just begging to be re-examined.
Technology and guts will re-open many old mines, as well as discovering new “el dorados”. Yet,
this will only happen if a conducive political environment exists. Therefore, Sierra County or any
past mining community cannot afford to let special interest groups or Govt agencies stifle
individuality and creative freedom(s)if the local human community is to survive.
Lately (1982-93) there has been an unprecedented deterioration of personal liberties regarding
prospecting and/or mining on Public “Multiple-Use” Lands. Groups of environmentalists and
archaeologists are hell-bent on restricting or completely stopping individuals (the little guy) from
utilizing their own Lands. I’m not sure as how to fight this new Green Pestilence that has financial
resources beyond my mere pocket change. Yet, the choices are radiantly clear -- either roll over and
play dead, join them, or stand and fight. The trouble is—us commoner’s (every day American’s)
are up against new versions of Stalin, and Mao Tse-tung, who are armed to the teeth while chanting
“Mine and Cattle Free by 93”.
The Bureau of Land Management (BLM), which seemingly conforms to political whims has even
created their own private gestapo to police our lands, under the cover of monitoring drug activities.
I personally think the drug issue is a hoax by the BLM. Why could I possibly imagine such?
Because controlling illicit drugs is the duty of the DEA, not the BLM. Nevertheless, I’ve been told
by BLM management (Linda Rundell - 1992) in Las Cruces that the DEA is under-staffed and
under-funded, so the BLM, under the auspices of President Bush’s War on Drugs, started hiring
and training this new swat patrol. Even the Forest Rangers and National Park personnel carry guns
under the authority of Federal Police. I have to ask—are these federal agents really protecting or
just intimidating the people? Is it possible that they are the front line defense (foot soldiers) of some
planned future event?
It is my opinion that it is the duty and/or obligation of our local elected officials to ensure the
people that mineral exploitation will remain protected and free. This type of attitude for mining will
ensure all American communities an opportunity of participating in the rewards well into the next
century. The alternative is a deplorable expiration of our life style, that has lighted the way for the
weary, enslaved and destitute for people the World over.
CHAPTER 3
In Search of Silver
Upon arriving back in Hillsboro, I parked the travel trailer behind Bee’s home. Because my
anxiety level was seeping from every pore it was all I could do to rest a couple of days after the
long drive. By the third day my feet were just-a-itching and the only cure for them was to be
scratched by hauling the equipment up to Bee’s Mine.
With Mr. Franklin leading the way we slowly snaked our way up the precipitous mountain sides.
Sometimes I didn’t know if I was going to make it, because the air compressor weighed as much as
the pickup. As all four tires spun trying to climb the steep narrow trail, I could just see the dern
thing pulling me backwards over one of the cliffs. Finally, after a lot of praying and great relief we
arrive at his “Pocket” mine site.
After the equipment was all set up, and the site readied, we started the grueling business of
drilling, blasting and mucking. For several weeks, we ground our noses on this stone in hopes of
locating the rich pocket of silver that a group of physics had told Bee was there. The name of the
tune we were playing was work, work and work. For the most part I was drilling straight up within
the adit Bee had previously started. With muck and grime constantly running down the hammer and
into my eyes I eventually became disgruntled, and decided to abandoned this illusive prize. Hence,
we decided to try another of his properties. However, this meant going back to Austin and getting
my backhoe.
Upon returning with the Backhoe, and after digging a rather large hole it soon became apparent
that I was not going to find silver at this spot without spending considerable sums of money that I
didn’t feel I could afford. So, I kind’a kicked-back and took stock of the recent events.
I began hearing tales of lost mines and Spanish treasures from several people, including an
elderly gentleman known as “crazy Bob”. He told me one evening, for no apparent reason, and out
of the clear blue that he was the person who orchestrated the caravan of trucks that hauled out the
gold bars from the Caballo Mts. He also told me about some stolen loot that was buried below the
fireplace in a Hillsboro home. Perhaps, this man’s stories is how he acquired his dubious nickname,
as well as his tendency to wreck his cars just about as fast as he could buy them. Whether or not his
fanciful tale of buried loot is real or not, is for Helen Evans to decide, because it’s her place. Till
now I’ve kept that information to myself, on account of I’m sure she wouldn’t want a bunch of
goggle-eyed treasure hunters banging on her door at all hours of the day. Likewise, I just can’t
imagine anyone bothering this gracious lady who has only the kindest words to say about everyone.
Furthermore, as far as I’m concerned if the world had a few hundred Helen’s we wouldn’t be in the
mess we constantly find ourselves.
For the reason that I had to have explosives, it was inevitable that I met Mr. Sunny Hale of
Hillsboro. This man always wears a smile and never says a mean word. From what I can piece
together -- Sunny has lived in the area a long time, and has worked a-many-a-prospect, including
the old Ingersole mine. I’ve always admired his tenacity of attempting to make ends meet and yet
seek-out his personal glory hole. Years later, while he was cutting a road and trying to expose
mineralization on someone else’s claims he and his dozer plunged through what was supposedly
solid ground into an old mine chamber. When he was telling me the story he was laughing, causing
me to bust-a-gut and get a much needed belly-rub. In spite of his humor, I’ll just bet-ya that he
filled his drawers waiting for the remainder of the ceiling to fall in leaving him buried and a goner
for sure.
As the weeks continued to pass, Bee started teaching me the rudiments of dowsing. And to my
surprise I could locate buried steel objects. Even though these brass rods would indicate something
buried I could never, sufficiently prove to my satisfaction that they pinpointed to anything, other
than pieces of iron. Perhaps it’s my skeptical attitude, but to this day I will not use them to justify
digging any hole. To my way of thinking and limited mental capacity it only seems logical that if
dowsing is really legitimate, there would be no goodies left for anyone to find.
A few years later I was reading a book on Spindle Top, which delegated a couple of chapters to
dowsing. Apparently, around the turn of the century about half the oil wildcatters, as well as
influential oil companies employed dowsers, and the other half used geologists in order to find and
drill for oil. As it turns out, both sides had about the same rate of success. Based upon the overall
results, it would seem that throwing a dart into topo wall map would result in similar success and
failures. What I found of particular interest was where Spindle Top was located, which was
previously thought of as worthless ground by the so-called experts of the day. Yet, without dowsing
and only a hunch and a lot of ridicule the wildcatter made it into one of the all time great gushers.
Eating in restaurants was a way of life with me. And one Day (1982) while dining at the S-Bar-X
in Hillsboro I met Ron and Shirley Hammond, who were managing the bar and grill. As our
friendship grew we went on several gold placer hunts. I would use the backhoe and Ron used the
wet and dry washers to process the gravels. We looked high and low over several thousand acres of
promising land. We almost always found color (specs of gold), but I could never warrant any
serious excavations. Most of the areas we dug showed from 1 to 4 dollars a yard in small gold
nuggets. Perhaps, someday, a few of these areas may become profitable if gold gets over 600
dollars an ounce. One thing for sure, all the frosting was devoured long ago, and the scraps the old
miners left will require expensive and sophisticated equipment to make any tangible profits.
On our best excursion, near the Rattlesnake Mine, while working a small dry steam bed we found
in the drywasher a half to one ounce nugget of what appeared to be Iridium. Some of you who
know the PGMs will say how could I make such a observation? When I picked it up, it was
unusually heavy, then I checked to see if it was magnetic, and it wasn’t. Next I bit it to see how soft
it was, and it didn’t dent. Could it have been a glob of stainless steel? I would have said it was
stainless, but it was just too heavy, and I’ve been around the various stainless grades of steel for
years and it just didn’t resemble it. At the time it didn’t mean much because I didn’t know much
about the Platinum Group Metals. However, I don’t intend to forget the area, because one day it
may well be worth re-examining to find the source of the nugget.
Just prior to Ron & Shirley moving out of State, Ron asked me to join him as he staked mineral
claims on the Ladder Ranch. I bring this up, only because, at the time it was owned by Robert O.
Anderson, and now (1994) owned by Ted Turner and Jane Fonda. When R.O. Anderson owned it
he employed horseback riding Cowboys, who ran Ron and me off the property with guns in hand,
while charging at a full gallop. Consequently, I never went back with Ron to stake mining Claim or
build the monuments.
We did go back, but not quite on the Ranch property one time to locate a show of mineralization
we discovered while prospecting the area. This time I had the air compressor and drilling
equipment and we were going to find out once and for all, what, if anything resided in this dark
green rock. Sure enough, as the drill steel penetrated deeper and deeper pure copper wires became
noticeable. We were both excited, however within just a few minutes of drilling, the sky turned a
menacing black, producing a frigid rain that turned to hail. These little balls of ice felt like I was
being attacked by a flock of woodpeckers, so we decided to hold-up in our pickups till the squall
blew over.
As I was sitting there waiting and enjoying a cigarette I noticed a trickle of water beginning to
flow. Realizing that my drill steel could get stuck I decided that I’d better pull the drillhammer and
steel from the spot and just start another hole when the storm blew over. By the time I got out of the
pick-up the water was ankle deep, and when I got to the drill about 50 feet away the water was knee
deep. Realizing that all-hell was about to break loose, I was barely able to save the hammerdrill by
uncoupling the drill steel, rushing as fast as I could, grabbing and throwing the air hose and drill in
the back of pick-up. And, by the time I was in the front seat, the water was looking like a raging
river. Needless to say, I was getting concerned. There was no land in site in which to drive to,
except the cliff walls or further down the canyon, to which we headed for as fast as we could. That
was a ride I’ll never forget. I couldn’t see where to drive. I didn’t know if I was driving into a hole,
going to hit a huge boulder, or what, I just knew I had to get to high ground somehow, and fast!
The pick-up was beginning to bob like a cork, and the water was splashing over the hood like a
boat in a storm. Fortunately, we made it to an isolated mound that in this circumstance resembled
an oasis. But, was this piece of high ground going to remain safe? The question was really
academic, by virtue of there simply was no choice. It was stay here and maybe drown or try for
higher ground and surely drown.
That was my first and last necessary lesson about flash floods. Apparently, the previous summer a
couple of people in the same general area were killed in a similar flash flood. Reflecting back on
the incident there’s no doubt in my mind that Lady Luck had saved our hides.
On a previous trip to this flood prone canyon Ron showed me a cave that had a silver plate and
candle holder removed by people he knew. However, this was not the day to explore, in view of the
fact that we didn’t have proper gear or lights. I always meant to go back to both places, but as
usual, something always took precedence of my time. On the way back out of the gorge I drove
over what looked like a huge rattlesnake. As I got out of the pickup to get a closer look at the coiled
rascal I noticed that it didn’t any rattlers, but it had a triangular head and ready for business. Not
knowing what to make of the creature, I poked at it with a stick, and naturally it struck at me
several times, showing me its lovely fangs. The question still haunts me, was it a Rattler without
rattles or a Puff Adder even though Adders are not known to be in New Mexico.
Close to where we almost drowned, Ron eventually staked and sold his placer mining claims to
Mr. Glen Swab. A few weeks later Ron went back to same area and re-staked lode claims over the
placer claims, and sold these to Mr. Swab. These claims became known as Golden Gulch, which
Mr. Swab worked, for the placer gold. He eventually sold or leased his Claims to Pete Olsen, and
became known as the “Genie Mines”. From what I understand Mr. Olsen had recently been
released from jail for some-kind of fraud, and he apparently set-about doing the same thing again.
Not too long after the Genie Mines’ scandal I heard that Mr. Olsen died. Then, shortly after
Pete’s death his wife, a banker and somehow mixed-up in a colorful set of circumstances also died.
And the drama continues, because, as I’m led to believe, Mr. Swab got his mining Claims back and
later sold or leased them to Mr. Barberra, and became known as Dyna Pak. It didn’t take long for
Dyna Pak to fold, with Mr. Barberra fleeing the Feds for swindling millions of investor dollars.
Another interesting tidbit, was, when a man I met told me about how easy it was to scam placer
miners by analyzing their black sands for gold. These “black sands” are often associated with
placer gold and difficult to get rid of without losing significant quantities of flour gold. I might as
well add that placer miners are notorious for believing that they are somehow losing their gold
when they fail to make any money for their efforts. And that the black sands must be carrying what
would make them rich if they could just separate the dern stuff. While in some instances this could
be accurate, but generally these prospectors or would-be miners just don’t want to admit that their
digging in the wrong place. So, by advertising in mining journals people from all over the United
States would send him samples, which he charged $15.00 per pound to analyze. He was raking in
about two grand a month and all he did was look at them, write them back, saying the sands didn’t
have anything and keep the money. Despite, the fact that he needed the money, this activity
became too much for his conscience to bear, so he stopped the scheme.
CHAPTER 4
Infatuation
Shortly after the flash flood incident Mr. Franklin introduced me to his properties in the foothills
of the Caballo Mountains, about 25 miles East of Hillsboro. Having nothing else that looked
promising I readily grabbed onto this gracious invitation to work in this new environment.
Over the weeks that followed Mr. Franklin told me many a strange tale concerning lost mines and
treasures in these rugged Caballo’s. And with the same enthusiasm, he seemed convinced that his
Caballo mining Claims contained an entrance, or at least a cavern that would lead to the lost gold
and silver of the Conquistadores. Little did I know that this is where I was to meet my future
partner Mr. Jack Crandall.
Mike McCoy, had came back to the area, for he also had the bug, and helped in Bee’s mine
excavation. As the grueling work continued in this new hole, I really learned the basics of
underground drilling, blasting and mucking, much to the credit of Mr. Franklin.
The trip from Hillsboro to the Caballo’s amounted to fifty plus miles everyday, and as time wore
on I decided that it would be better to move the Travel Trailer to the KOA Campgrounds on
Interstate 25. By doing so it would make the trip about 5 miles to Bee’s mine, and save wear and
tear on the pick-up. Plus, I wanted a new surrounding in which to explore when the time permitted.
I enjoyed the Black Range and all the rich history. But, most of the promising areas were
claimed. Plus, most of the area is dense forest and scrub brush managed by the Forest Service.
Furthermore, it snowed in these mountains too much, which did not suite my distaste for cold
weather.
While excavating in Bee’s hole one day, he asked if I’d get my backhoe and help a fellow miner
out of a jam. After he told me who it was I eagerly agreed. Here was my chance to meet the
legendary one-armed bandit - Fred Drolte. According to rumors and the book “100 tons of gold”
Mr. Drolte was many things besides being a treasure hunter. Supposedly, he was somehow mixedup with the CIA, gun running, and various other nefarious adventures, none of which I know are to
be true. What was requested of me was to use the backhoe to keep a big cherry picker propped-up
that was in danger of toppling over. Fred used this cherry picker to hoist men and equipment up and
down his 200 foot deep prospect shaft. Before I had met Mr. Drolte there was considerable
scuttlebutt that he was rude and didn’t pay his help. All I can say about the man, is that he was very
courteous, friendly and professional to me, and I never saw this unsavory side of his supposed
nature.
There are multiple versions to this following story, so, knitting them together is a composite of
many a strange tail. It starts out that Drolte hired a contract driller to sink core holes in hopes of
locating the Spanish gold mining tunnels that he was convinced were in the vicinity. The local
gossip that is firmly etched in the minds of many is that the driller encountered difficulty in drilling
a particular hole. And, when he pulled the drill stem out of the ground for inspection he saw the
carbide cutting head was clogged with smeared gold. No wonder he wasn’t making any footage!
But, because Drolte hadn’t paid him he covered over the hole, causing hundreds of people to go
bonkers searching for this illusive site. Adding a dab more spice to an already hotly contested
concoction of half truths, this driller supposedly saw a ghost of a red-haired woman. As I hear it,
this apparition so scared the beegeezes out of him that he fell off his drilling rig in an attempt to get
as far away from this spook as possible. For what ever his reasons he told a few people of the
incident and the news spread like a wild-fire through-out the story tellers landscape.
Every serious treasure hunter will eventually hear how Drolte had hired squads of men armed
with fully automatic rifles to guard his mine. Evidently, he wasn’t about to lose his treasure to
anyone who thought they could come in and take over, or rob him when he made the discovery. To
my way of thinking Mr. Drolte was no different in his actions than all the other paranoids who have
searched in vain. All prospectors, including me, and treasure hunters seem to share the optimist’s
chant of being absolutely convinced that any day the ground will open into the system of ancient
underground treasure chambers.
Of course this isn’t the only time armed men have been seen in the Caballo’s. As far back as
legends go there have always been desperado’s, bandido’s and renegade Indians, either stashing or
finding buried goodies. But then again, why shouldn’t the stories be true? Where else could one
hide their loot other than the safest depository known -- “The Caballo Mountains Bank.”
Not long after working in Bee’s mine I met Mr. Wells Horvereid and his wife Florence, and
became good friends. Wells, could tell a story like no other man I’ve ever met. So, in due course,
his ability to re-count the plentiful Caballo legends would always captivate my mind and time.
Wells’ was no green-horn, for he had been in the area seeking the treasure many years before I
arrived. Digging holes to him became a second language. I guess the one thing that Well’s in his
quest has going for him, that most others don’t, is that he at least learned where not to look for the
fanciful caverns with the stacks of gold bars.
On one of the numerous story telling excursions regarding Mr. Drolte, Mr. Horvereid starts
telling me about the time when a bunch of guys he heard about, got together and played a
shenanigan on Drolte. Supposedly, this group of pranksters quietly climbed down his shaft in the
thick of night and put old semi-decayed wood planks under the muck. The next day, the drillers
find some of the old boards, and Drolte goes bananas. Everyone is ordered out of the shaft and he
inspects the muck and rotted boards. Unfortunately for Fred, he was never to know that the source
of these boards were put there in jest.
After a few months of working in Bee’s mine, and not seeing any motivational results, I blew my
top, and decided to quit this den of frustration. However, this left Jack and Mike to continue
working by themselves, but I couldn’t help it, I’d had enough. Besides, I came here to find a silver
mine and have fun, not to explore the meaning of work.
While staying at the KOA it didn’t take long to meet Jimmy and Silvia Smith. Wherefore, I found
myself spending more and more time listening to Jimmy’s stories of lost mines, and gold bars
stacked like cordwood inside the Caballo Mountain caverns. I personally rank Jimmy near the top
in his ability to spin one yarn after another. Many of which, always indicated that somewhere in the
Caballo’s was a huge room used for smelting, piles of rich gold ore, huge stone pots, gold stained
ladles and smelted bullion laying around in a so-called cathedral room. From what I could piece
together, the area of best potential always seemed to be around the Southern End of Caballo’s.
When I first arrived, and became indoctrinated it seemed that the Western Caballo foothills
contained the greatest concentration of treasure hunters in all of Sierra County. Each of these
individuals or groups of people were holding mining claims, nestled around Granite Peak. Of
course, each believing that they alone held the mysterious entrance to the caverns that are filed with
the stuff dreams are made of.
Quite near Granite Peak lies an area known as the Reefer Rocks, which sort’a resembles a
monsters backbone. One day, several of us decided to excavate an area that was mighty suspicious,
mainly because it was a hot bed of many a tale. We dug on an area that had obviously been back
filled with decomposed granite. As we continued digging it looked as though steps had been hewn
into the solid granite. Despite the tremendous effort we eventually reached what appeared to be
solid bottom, with no-where to go. Yet, why was it back filled and who could have done such a
massive undertaking, and when was it done? Perhaps we should have looked for false doors, but
we didn’t, and simply filled the deep hole back up.
This was about the time that Jimmy said I could investigate his mining Claims around the Bat
Cave area. I had to admit that of all the prospects I’d seen, Jimmy’s definitely offered the best
promises of goodies for an observant individual, so I took on the challenge. Jimmy’s best selling
feature were the stories connected to Bat Cave, and that he had found evidence of gold in a vein of
some kind of black soft material.
Not too long after visiting the Bat Cave area for the first time a Mr. Pittman told me that while he
was investigating Bat Cave he found a small entrance that appeared to look as though it would get
quite large, and that there were goodies inside it. I’ve looked the inside of Bat Cave over pretty
good, but never found this small opening, even though I was given explicit instructions and
directions. However, I did not have a shovel, and if any really serious scrutiny is going to take
place, the shovel is an indispensable tool.
For an inexperienced nincompoop, like myself, climbing up to the Bat cave was an exploit, and
carrying a shovel always seemed a bit foolhardy. Once inside Bat Cave there are deep holes, with
old ladders, some of which are partially filled with bat guano. No one who’s ever been exposed to
this stuff forgets the foul obnoxious odor. One day an acquaintance who had a garden asked me to
bring back some guano for her garden, and being the nice guy I am, I agreed to do so. So, after
exploring this cave I proceeded to scoop-up all the rice-like kernels of guano into a plastic bag that
I could. As I scooped the stench became unbearable and I quit digging with only about 10 pounds
of the poop. The smell was so overpowering that I wrapped the bag several times before putting it
in my backpack. Like I said, getting up to Bat Cave is one thing, but climbing back down is truly
something else again. You can’t see where your feet are going and the cliff walls are smooth with
few toe and finger holds. Naturally I managed to bump my backpack a couple of times on the rock
face and it began emitting a reeking fragrance that would gag a maggot. Several times on the way
back to the pick-up I was tempted to throw my backpack away; but no, I made it this far, and I said
I’d do it. When I got back to town and gave her the crap I threw the ruined back pack, coat and shirt
in the garbage, and had to wash my pick-up bed with soap and water several times before the smell
was tolerable. A few words of warning about this god-awful substance, which I didn’t know at the
time. I’ve heard that the rabies virus can live in guano and that it can and does harbor an amoebic
critter, that if it gets in your lungs can cause serious mischief to you health. Hence, I stay away
from the evil smelling stuff. Yet there are people who actually mine the substance for a living. I can
only imagine what their homes and cars must smell like.
While on the subject of bat crap, it seems appropriate to give a treasure clue that as far as I know
no-one has ever mentioned before. While inside Bat Cave I found it rather odd that Bats do not
seem to frequent this cave, yet where did all the guano come from? And, to top it off, why is the bat
crap only in the deep holes, not on the cave floor? Did someone purposely put this foul smelling
stuff there to ward-off seekers of treasure? I find it particularly strange that people have dug all
kinds of holes in Bat Cave, but, never dug in the repulsive kernels to see what might lie at the
bottom.
While scurrying around like a pack-rat on Jimmy’s claims, just below the Bat Cave, I found some
old decaying paper wrapped dry cell flash light batteries. The only reason that I found them stuffed
into a crevice was because I was slowly climbing down a steep incline. Apparently, there’s a story
connected to these, which, if anyone ever found these batteries, belonging to Doc Noss, they were
at the opening to a main entrance into one of the main Chambers of the Caballo Caverns. Needless
to say I gave the area serious inquiry, but as usual I came up empty handed. Close by, 10 to 15 feet
away I noticed what looked like a huge flat round rock that was really two, one on top of the other.
They were about 5-6 feet in diameter, and each about a foot thick. I tried to move them with crow
bars and picks, but no-way were these going to even budge. What also made them particularly
interesting was that they were within 10 feet of a cave known only to a handful of people. I asked
myself why are these just sitting here all by themselves atop a natural outcrop of solid rock? Not
being able to budge them I decided that I’d pop them with a kenny pak or two. I detonated the top
rock a couple of times and low and behold, after cleaning away the muck, there laid a clean
horseshoe nail, that was obviously between the two flat rocks. How in the world did this nail get
there? Well, it’s still a mystery. Did I ever blast the other rock, no, I didn’t have any more Kenny
Paks, and I never found the time to get back there. Still, I know where the place is, and perhaps,
one day? There’s several engaging places on Jimmy’s claims, but in respect to him, that’s for him
to divulge, not me.
The trouble with chasing treasure is that it is like the flu, easy to catch, but tough to loose.
Catching this bug sort’a reminds me of Jimmy’s dog “Deedee”. This exceptionally intelligent dog
would bust her ass to catch the sticks I’d throw before they’d hit the ground. One particular time, as
she was racing to catch the falling stick her front paw landed smack dab in a pile of dog doo-doo.
She turned around to see if I was watching, with a particular pitiful on her face that implied - now
what do I do? She kept holding up her paw showing me the terrible dilemma she was in, and at the
moment I just couldn’t help splitting-a-gut, then with a water hose I rinsed her paw off.
Occasionally, I’d say to Jimmy and Silvia that if I were a dog I’d sure marry Deedee. This dog was
not only pretty, but the smartest one I ever saw.
Staying at the KOA had many advantages, because I’d often meet the most unusual people. A
few people I eventually became semi-friends with seemed to have actual routes buying and selling
Indian artifacts. Of course most of these people were very secretive, till I got to know them. I was
amazed at the time just how much money could be made in the clay pottery. I never could figure
out why anyone would either dig or buy pieces of broken clay pots. Or for that matter - buy clay
figurines, because they all would break. To me this clay stuff was just so much garbage.
Nevertheless, there seems to be truth to the saying “one man’s garbage is another man’s treasure.”
Over the course of time I would talk to Mrs. Langford who worked at the KOA. A lot of people
thought she was grumpy, but she always had a smile for me. Anyway, she told me about the time
when she was a young girl, and that either friends or relatives of hers brought in a quart jar filled
with gold. She went on to say that these guys had a mine at the southern top of the Fra Cristobals,
complete with shaft, windless and headframe. Her story intrigued me to say the least, but this land
was controlled by R.O. Anderson and his cowboys. Plus, it was common knowledge that no one
was permitted on the mountains. Perhaps, if the time is ever available and the circumstances are
different, I’ll just take a jaunt up there. Thirteen years later (1995) I was talking to Mrs. Langford
and I asked her about this story. Unfortunately, she did not recall ever saying such. Even though I
kept notes, perhaps my memory was wrong and someone else told me about this vein of gold.
Furthermore, this land is again off limits by the Turners. Regardless of the merits of this particular
story, this entire Spanish land grant was based upon a significant mineral discovery.
One afternoon, while visiting Jimmy, a woman that I had never seen before, also stopped by to
meet with him. After the formalities were out of the way she began telling the most outlandish story
I had ever heard. She recanted how she and two men had found an underground cavern that a jeep
could be driven in, located in the foothills of the Caballo’s. As she continued telling the yarn, I
essentially accused her of telling a gigantic golly-whopper. Disregarding my comments, she
continued by saying I could verify the story by asking the people who were with her. Well, I did
just that. Part of her account was substantiated, but not enough to pinpoint where the entrance was,
and she wouldn’t go back to the spot.
As I continued investigating one lead after another about the yarn I met an 85 year old man living
near TorC, who told me about a Silver Mine in Cable Canyon. He started by telling me of his
youthful adventures of rounding up horses on the Caballo’s for his dad. Apparently, he noticed the
old mine entrance when chasing a pack of horses along the crest, and that I could find it if I’d just
follow the old mule trail from the West side. Because I came to New Mexico to find Poor Man’s
Gold (Silver), this new allegation totally bewitched me.
By now my funds were getting tight and with no sustainable prospects in sight, I contacted an exemployer who graciously put me on the payroll. However, I would have to move to a more central
location, like Los Angeles. Naturally, this was not what I wanted, but I also didn’t want my
remaining funds to evaporate. I desperately wanted to stay in New Mexico, and as close as possible
to the Caballo’s, so Albuquerque was chosen.
While in Albuquerque, and not on the road selling, I spent every possible moment in the library
researching everything I could find regarding mining and treasure in the Caballo’s. Eventually, I
couldn’t stand it anymore, and during early spring I moved back to my hearts desire.
Weekends were Nirvana because I was on the mountain, looking for the supposed silver mine, or
visiting as many other areas as possible. Somehow I had to find something that would justify my
insatiable appetite for being here. I often asked myself - Why couldn’t I discover something or see
an Indian magically appear from out of nowhere, like others reportedly had?
By now I had heard the tales that the Apaches would grind up limestone and mix it with animal
blood and water for a mortar mix. And when dried it would look just like a natural cliff wall, totally
obscuring any possible entrance. While interesting and intriguing, I never looked for this type of
place, because my eyes weren’t capable of seeing such. Heck, I seldom ever found an arrow head,
even though while climbing the mountains my eyes remained glued to where my feet were going.
Yet Mike McCoy could spot them right beside me, and if they had been snakes I’d surely have
been bit a dozen times.
While on one of my excursions I met Brack Callahan, and we seem to hit it off as friends. We
made several trips into various inaccessible parts of the mountains. On one such jaunt to the East
side he showed me what looked like an old miner’s camp ringed with old car bodies. I guess these
mashed 1920’s cars were to stop erosion from the creek that circled around most of this mound.
Then one day while meandering the hill sides we stumbled onto an old iron riveted smelter with
pieces of ore and globs of silver, including large pieces of lead carbonate.
The carbonate really fascinated me. Where could it have come from? We looked for several days
in vain for the source of this cerrusite. On another trip to the same general mysterious area Brack
pointed out where hundreds of glass clear double terminated quartz crystals were laying around by
the thousands on just this one particular hill. It appears that every time it rains a new crop of what
looks like “Herkermer diamonds” are exposed. This is certainly a place that begs for intensive
exploration, because it suggests that an old eroded pegmatite is near by.
I also investigated a story an older gentleman (Mr. Raines) told me about in Greens Canyon to the
South, in the little Caballo’s. I shouldn’t even be putting this account herein because it is so absurd,
but what the heck, it just exhibits to what ends I’d go to find something of substance. He said that
when he was younger, he entered a cavern that would periodically open up enough to squeeze
through into a tunnel system that ended in Rincon about 30 miles South. He also said that once in
the cave structure I had better cover my mouth and nose with a handkerchief wetted in vinegar.
Because, I would pass by a pit that was erupting molten sulphur, and the toxic fumes would do me
in if I wasn’t prepared. To prove his story he showed me a clay Indian pot which was the only thing
he found. Eventually, I found the cave, that had burlap sacks stacked along the walls with soto
sticks for making torches. I spent several hours in this cave and never saw any evidence that it did
or would open in any manner, even though it was obvious that it was part of fault system. I even
placed pieces of wood and stone in several crevices to mark any movement in the event that it did
occur when I was not present. Of course, when I returned several days later, there was no
movement noted.
Again, as usual, I find myself asking why do these people tell such mammoth fibs? My only
guess is that they get a kick out of fooling greenhorns, or gullible idiots like me. And, I suspect that
they have told the story so many times they begin to believe it themselves, which makes them just
that more convincing. Plus, as bad as I hate to admit it, I wanted to believe these likable old-timers.
Later, I would find myself saying, I sure hope I don’t end up a broken, frustrated old treasure
hunter, with nothing else to do, but try an attract some babe in the woods, to listen to my wild
adventures.
Even though it was frustrating to track down these outrageous, polished, and mysterious
fabrications they did prove to be of value in the sense that I learned the country side. Plus, I was
rewarded by finding mineralization, which would add to my internal data bank, and provide food
for thought regarding the geology of the Caballo’s.
On a May day searching for my unfound silver mine, I stumbled upon my first sizable mineral
discovery. Obviously, this was an old prospector’s diggins. I took samples of the galena vein and
went to Socorro to have assays run by Mr. A.B. Baca. The initial assays showed promise, so I
began looking for better mineralization. Eventually I found such, and had more assays ran. These
new assays showed that gold was present, leading me to believe that I’d better start claiming this
particular area.
I often wondered how this Cable Canyon got its name. The only logical answer I’ve been able to
deduce was due to the old steel cable, about an inch thick, that stretches for several hundred feet in
upper reaches of the canyon. Apparently, it was used to raise and lower ore or supplies. However,
it’s such a crudely spliced cable it would seem that it was more work to use than any possible
benefits it might have produced. However, there was no doubt in my mind that this cable was an
important clue, if I could just somehow unravel the mystery. By this time I had found a few more
promising veins, but were these what I needed?
CHAPTER 5
The Cable Claims
I had looked the area over reasonably well and deduced that I needed three legitimate mining
claims. One thing for sure, I didn’t know at the time was that I was about to buy a one way ticket
on Life’s super rollercoaster. Unlike most thrilling rides this one doesn’t stop till it has climbed
Mount Everest and plunged to the depths of Hell, before attaining a possible fulfilling and
pleasurable end.
The first thing I had to do, was get some help. So I asked Chet from Hillsboro to help me stake
the first two Claims. It was a blistering early June day (1983) when we started building claim
corner monuments. As I was looking through the rangefinder watching Chet traverse the rugged
terrain, several hundred feet away, I noticed something odd and out of place. I returned my view
towards Chet then back to what appeared to be an Indian with a serape blowing in the wind.
The range finder was only a low power lens so I couldn’t make out with clarity as to what I was
really seeing. After switching back and forth, several times between Chet and the strange
phenomenon it vanished, never to be seen again. To this day I think I saw the ghost of a Spanish or
Indian Woman with a serape blowing in the wind. But there was no wind. Of course, it’s possible I
was suffering from heat exhaustion, and only thought I saw something. For whatever reason, the
phenomenon that other’s had seen had now been bestowed upon me. But was this an omen or a
blessing?
The apparition reminded me of a dream I had previous to coming to New Mexico. In this twilight
world of sleep I was riding a horse, in some desolate and barren place. Finally, I came upon an old
Indian woman wearing a serape sitting beside a freshly made campfire. I stopped to ask this woman
which way was the mine and she pointed, and I continued on, without looking back. If there was a
connection, I’ve failed to understand the symbology, because I have searched where the incident
took place countless times and found nothing to suggest that she may have magically marked the
spot. Although, I did observe an old crumbled log cabin in the immediate vicinity of where the
spook stood. Regardless, and as interesting as the event was I had to get on with the business at
hand - staking mining claim boundaries.
As the days passed I kept gathering samples that looked richer and ran as many assays as possible
with Mr. Baca. One of the samples produced a 96 mg Au bead. This was astonishing, because it
meant the equivalent of 96 ounces of gold to the ton. Many of the other assays indicated from 0 to 3
mg of gold. Mr. Baca was so excited with this he insisted that we go to the School of Mines and
show them. We did, though they dismissed it as being a fluke or a farce. Admittedly, I had to
somewhat agree, for to get this much gold was either happen chance or the sample had somehow
became salted.
When Mr. Baca and I were at this Bureau showing them the 96 mg gold bead, the assayer running
the lab took the bead and put it in boiling Nitric acid, and because it did not dismantle it was
confirmed as being gold. Even though I certainly didn’t know a lot about assaying I knew
something was amiss. Any capable assayer knows that this is not a proper method of analysis. All
gold prills are first cleaned then weighed, then rolled as flat as possible, and subjected to various
strengths of hot nitric acid. If the prill does not decrepitate, it still is not assumed to be pure gold.
To be sure of the gold content, the flattened bead is mixed with 20 times the weight of the bead
with silver, and wrapped in test (pure) lead, scorified, and then cupelled again. The resultant bead is
then digested in hot nitric acid. The insoluble portion of the bead is then again wrapped in lead and
cupelled again. This finished bead now represents all gold and possible contaminates of PGMs.
Nothing remotely similar to this procedure was done before the Bureau’s assayer made the
statement. Obviously, this assayer either didn’t want to be bothered or he did not know the proper
procedures.
As I continued to watch this assayer perform assaying and weighing of cupelled beads belonging
to other people I asked who’s samples he was running. He told me that they belonged to Mr. X, of
which there were multiple dozens and perhaps as many as a hundred. Several years later I was told
that the Bureau cannot run more than 3 or 4 assays for residents of New Mexico. Yet, they were
doing differently when I was there.
Over the course of time I had become quite skeptical of anyone and everyone claiming to be an
assayer, as well as their procedures. Therefore, as assays were performed I paid very close
attention, watching with great care, to assure myself that I was not somehow being duped.
I had grown to like Mr. Baca quite a bit, mainly because he had extended to me, as graciously as
possible a lot of his knowledge, expertise, and history. Besides, he seldom charged me a cent for
his efforts and expenses. I guess he thought I was a bit short in the pockets, and his wife even made
me sandwiches at no charge. Most of the assays I conducted were under his supervision, and by the
time of the 96 mg bead I was doing most of the work. So, if salting was going on, it was in my
opinion accidental as a result of re-using his graphite crucibles. However, I always made it a point
to scrape the insides of these crucibles before I would use them, to provide me with reasonable
assurances that contamination was not much of potential factor or threat.
Of course, these assays being so positive, only bolstered my enthusiasm. I remember laying in
bed at night wondering if someone would try to steal the Claims. This borderline paranoia caused
me many a sleepless night. In addition to worrying about my new found wealth I was also counting
my millions that surely was going to be deposited into my bank account. The elation and
satisfaction of a job well done had completely purged all sense of reality.
By now, approximately 100 assays had been completed, with about 50 percent showing excellent
promise. In contrast, I thought it strange that I wasn’t getting any silver, because Galena usually
always has some silver. Being perplexed, I dissolved about 10 pounds of ground-up galena ore in
nitric acid and precipitated the lead out with common table salt. I filtered this precipitate as best I
could, and wound up with about 1 pound of, hopefully, Lead and Silver Chloride. I let this dry in
the sun and took it and other samples to Mr. Baca. The result was a 330 mg bead of supposedly
silver. Mr. Baca confirmed such by using aqueous potassium dichromate, which gave a reddish
brown coloration to the bead. He said that it was supposed to be red and was puzzled by the
brownish tinge. Years later I dissolved this bead to satisfy my curiosity, sure enough it was silver
contaminated with gold and the PGMs, no wonder it didn’t have the bright red color that pure silver
would have produced.
As time passed I sought out other assayers, and the results were as varied as the number of
assayers. There were shows of silver and no gold to nothing at all. I was becoming confused and
upset over the differing results. Who was I going to trust to accurately fire assay? Later in the game
I learned that assaying is not a science, but considered an art. The trouble with art is that results are
seldom reproducible, which leaves the door wide open for charlatans and poor quality work.
Unfortunately, for me, my job selling machinery was getting a little sick. The business just wasn’t
out there to be had, which began causing my employer a lot of anguish. I had performed well in the
past, but times were different now for the machine tool market. What business there was, was
drying up faster than a well in the desert. I had left the machinery market in 1978, on account of I
could see that the whole industry was dying and knew that I’d better do something else before the
axe fell.
The steel industry was already a dinosaur, with the Asians eating on the few remaining bones.
Recognizing the early death signs of the machine tool industry, I opted to get into the construction
trade where I could play with some of the toys of the big boys. Many years later I was to learn why
America’s most basic industries were quietly dying when I too started feeling the weight and wrath
of the politically correct “New World Order”.
With my money getting tight, and of increasing concern, how was I going to do everything that
was so badly needed? Fortunately, my Uncle from California came to my short term rescue. I had
requested that he come to see for himself what I had discovered. Even though I was approaching
economic catastrophe, I was still quite proud of myself, and still experiencing the wonderful and
buoyant feelings of success.
CHAPTER 6
Burdens
I had three claims located, monumented and filed by the time Uncle Dick arrived. We wasted no
time in getting up the mountain, where I showed him what I had found and where the good assays
came from.
We gathered more samples and went to Baca’s, so Uncle Dick could see for himself what
spectacular results I would sometimes get. I didn’t tell Mr. Baca who Uncle Dick was, but said I
wanted him to witness the process and the results. Just before Uncle Dick arrived I went to
Albuquerque and bought new supplies. So, all I needed was Mr. Baca’s furnace and oven to
conduct several fire assays. By the end of the day I was deeply troubled and saddened by the poor
results. We only got about 1 mg size gold beads, and here I was touting myself, like a damned fool.
I should have received an Emy award for playing the role of an idiot in front of the man I respected
and admired most in life.
I pondered long and hard over this occurrence, for something had dreadfully gone wrong. Maybe
I was being a simpleton expecting amazing results. Nevertheless, why shouldn’t I expect good
results? The only conclusions I could come to was: 1) that Mr. Baca needed someone around him
for company and would somehow salt my samples, or 2) the new fire assay fluxes were
inappropriate, and/or 3) the samples didn’t have goodies in them, either because there never was
any or I had managed to pick barren rocks. Maybe the goodies were spotty and I had to learn what
to look for, but why was I able in the past to manage to pick mostly good samples? As
disappointing as the assays were they were still impressive by modern standards. Besides, I had
gotten many zero’s in the past, so I still had a chance. In actuality a 1 ounce of gold to the ton is in
itself extraordinary.
Previous to embarking on the Cable Claims Quest, I had always taken great pride in being selfsufficient. As well as able to accomplish any improbable task I set my sights on. It never entered
my mind that mining should be any different. By accepting aid from Uncle Dick so that I could
continue my dream had I unwittingly begun a journey of backbreaking burdens of maintaining my
integrity? Had I just crossed over the line that separates men of honor? Or was I only on a slippery
slope that required a helping hand?
I know that when a man loses his honor he also looses his good name. And, when this loss occurs
there can be no respect from anyone. I can only hope that I never compromise my standards;
because once that line is crossed I doubt if One can ever get back.
CHAPTER 7
Partner
It soon became readily recognizable that the Cable Claims had many a handful of questions that
required answers. So, I invited Jack Crandall to visit the area. On his initial trip (July, 1983) he
brought his VLF EM-16 (very low frequency electromagnetic mineral surveyor operating at 16
kilohertz).
After we got to the area where the spectacular assays came from, Jack made an incredible
discovery. To our surprise, the area produced readings to say the least that were unbelievable. The
data generated by the EM-16 was so astounding that we decided to team up and become partners.
Naturally, my aspirations were refortified, and from that moment on I unleashed my total
commitment.
As time permitted, Jack would use his other geophysical instruments (Neutron activated gamma
ray scintillometer, and ground penetrating & profiling radar units) to locate subsurface voids and
metallic veins. Working feverishly we accumulated much needed data. As a result we felt that we
could now effectively communicate our findings to major mining companies.
When we weren’t in the mountains we would be conducting microscopic and spectroscopic
analysis. His spectroscope allowed us to conduct hundreds, actually thousands of semi-qualitative
assays. This instrument continued to convince me that I was not a fool and the Cable Claims was
truly a remarkable discovery. The only trouble with this spectroscope it could not recognize any
gold unless the tiny sample actually held the equivalent of 2+ ounces of gold to the ton of ore.
Needless to say we did not always show the presence of gold. And, like my assays we seldom ever
got silver results. But the PGMs kept showing up. No-doubt, that without Jack’s instruments I
would have folded my tent and limped back to Texas with my tail between my legs like any other
whipped pup.
By now I was becoming more comfortable with using various acids to digest the pulverized
rocks, precipitate the lead and use the microscope to look at the remaining insolubles. Of course, I
really did not know what I was looking at most of the time. Still, it was a lot of fun and this activity
gained me hands-on experience.
It was common knowledge that the Spaniards and the “Old Timers” would use mercury to collect
gold, so I embarked upon this time-tested methodology. The results were at best hap-hazard and
confoundedly frustrating. By reading what books I could on the subject of mercury I found out that
sulfides, especially galena poisons the mercury. Thus, rendering it unusable as an efficient means
of collecting free gold. Nevertheless, and faced with few options I continued grinding the rocks
with a mortar pestle, and panning with mercury with a tad of nitric acid. I did accidentally discover,
that by adding nitric acid to the crushed samples while panning, that I was collecting microscopic
particles of gold on the outside of the mercury. However, I couldn’t get the mercury to take in these
particles, and I would always loose these iddy-biddy (individually microscopic) flakes of gold that
made the mercury shine as though it was a massive hunk of pure gold.
During my appetite of reading I had stumbled upon of an old Indian folk remedy for getting rid of
constipation. Supposedly, the Central American Indians would swallow liquid mercury like we
would take a laxative. Did the Yanqui Indians die, there was no mention of it and I doubt it or they
would have eventually learned that the shinny metal was bad for their health. Today the greenies
say Mercury is considered as a toxic substance, but I find it strange that I and others played with it
as kids, and we’re still around. Still and all, the fumes are another matter. The term “mad as a
hatter” originated when the people that steam pressed the mercury laden beaver hats to maintain the
proper shape often became irrational.
No doubt the ecologists have been using the mercury ploy to convince politicians that mining is
toxic to the ecology. Of course it is conveniently forgotten that mercury is a common element and
is constantly being discharged into the air and water by Mother Nature. Another interesting tid-bit
is that farmers, world wide, have been planting seed that is treated with mercury to halt the growth
of funguses. Seldom do we get ill eating the generated produce from the obviously contaminated
farmlands.
During our collective explorations of Cable Canyon we found that people had prospected the
area, but not as much as I thought they would have. Practically all the mineralized structures we
found were not even chipped by the prospector’s pick.
Over time I found galena crystals in veins and on the hanging walls of slip faults that had
oxidized. When I had previously prospected the same area I didn’t recognize these blebs of
discoloration. But, like stumbling over a gigantic rock these obvious geological apparitions
eventually stood out like sore thumbs. Nearby, on another adjacent area which I dubbed the
peacock vein I discovered hidden galena veins within the dense silica rich altered domolmite,
which is refered to as jasperoid. When I would break open these camouflaged veins within the
jasperoid the freshly exposed Lead crystals would eventually oxidize forming brilliant displays of
royal colorations that resembled bornite or iridescent peacock feathers. Why prospectors failed to
find these veins is still a mystery to me, unless they too experienced some of my bizarre assays and
abandoned the area.
Eventually Jack and I finally found the area that fit the description of the lost silver mine.
However, it had a huge pile of gigantic boulders on top of it. These rocks were obviously blasted
from the cliff to cover the entrance. We found it by searching for float, which is scattered
mineralized rocks that cascaded downhill from the source. By backtracking we noticed that these
scattered mineralized remnants were actually forming an old mine tailing pile that was grown over
with grasses and scrub brush. Years later we heard allegations that a family had worked a silver
mine high in the canyon that would feed the family as long as they lived. Nevertheless, and as what
usually happens in mining, the family got into a dispute and settled it by dynamiting the entrance.
Whether or not this is true, we did find in the canyon under considerable brush a full length RR rail.
Obviously, the only practical use of such is in a mine. In addition we found old hand steel drill bits
and related equipment hidden under boulders, as though more work was planned. Plus, we found
old hand tools commonly used with black powder that were carefully concealed between boulders,
as though they were going to used again. Then we found in the brush a 12 foot ladder; but where
did it fit? Search as we might, we never found why it was used.
Every time we made a journey into Cable Canyon we would stumble upon something new and
exciting. One such excursion we located a 70 foot adit driven apparently by hand in the Percha
Shale. We cautiously entered the opening on our bellies, hoping that we had found a lost mine. To
our surprise and dismay, it contained nothing but small piles of debris that had fallen from the
ceiling and not a safe place to be in. We couldn’t understand why anyone would go to the trouble of
driving this adit (tunnel) in shale, only to stop at an igneous intrusive dike. It simply made no sense
and to this day, we have not figured out the real reason. Once inside we expected to find critters
inhabiting the tunnel, but there was not a single sign of any kind of life.
On another of the many hundreds exploratory excursions, Jack and I discovered another tunnel in
the Percha shale on our Cable Claim #3. We found this particular tunnel only by chance as we were
collecting jarosite samples from a small cave, actually a large vug in the fusselman. We had noticed
what looked like a typical tailings pile, but quickly dismissed this idea cause it was obvious that
rains had washed this percha shale over the fusselman. But while examining the erosion of area we
noticed what looked like an old mining timber barely sticking out of the percha soil. As we dug
away the dirt that was covering the timbered entrance our excitement grew. Now, surely we had at
last found a real mine entrance. We dug enough of the dirt away so as to be able to crawl into the
opening. Once inside we could see that the bark covered pinion timbers were in perfect condition,
like they were just put there. Again, like the other, although partially timbered, it too was driven
back about 70 feet from the Fusselman ledge, with nothing else inside except fallen roof debris and
piles of boulders.
I made it a point to try and understand the reason why someone would make such tunnels. My
first thought was that the old timers had found placer gold, somehow, somewhere in the Shale. But
all my examinations came up dry. Years later, we heard several tales as to who made them and
why. Here’s a few unsubstantiated reasons: 1) Old man Rasmensen used them to store supplies; 2)
Rasmensen found Spanish gold bars stored in them, and after emptying them left them exposed; 3)
the Spanish used these as temporary storage for smelted bullion; 4) or dowsers locked onto goodies
with their rods that made people drive the tunnels; 5) or someone was looking for gold at the base
of the shale where in contact with the solid fusselman dolomite. All of these and others are
plausible but so far not provable.
In 1993 a group of psychics told me that the tunnel which we later would use as an exploration
project, was driven so the generated tailings muck would cover an entrance to the caverns at the
base of the fusselman cliff. Could this be true? I don’t know, but it’s as good as reason I’ve ever
heard or have been able to imagine. These same psychics also said that just inside the adit and
down about 20 feet, about even with the supposed opening buried by the tunnel muck was a ancient
machine that would give great (healing) power to whomever had it in his possession. They said that
another similar site as this one was discovered in Russia and that the Govt hushed up all further
information about it. While some of the psychics seem to have merit, I’ve yet to see any verifiable
results of their fourth dimensional gifts. Consequently, I listen to their brew and concoctions, but I
tell them politely that their valued information only goes into my data bank for future
consideration. However, if they want to dig I’ll watch and if anything is discovered they can have a
piece of the action. Needless to say, so far, none has been willing to dig on their beliefs.
These mysterious tunnels after being exposed to the air, should have invited a whole host of
critters into taking-up residence. Yet, to this day, no creature seems interested in them enough to
even visit. Likewise, I’m forced to question why don’t flies stick around like they do in all other
dark cool places? I’ve see a couple flies come in, but they don’t waste any time beating a hasty
retreat. The only thing that makes much sense, is that radioactive gasses (radon) are present or
some other obnoxious (toxic) substance that Jack and I cannot see, feel or smell, but the critters
can. In 1996 I make a trip to the adit and discover that squirrels or pack rats have visited, but no
signs that they wanted to take up house keeping.
As Autumn began announcing itself out of the blue I get a phone call from a lady friend (Diane
Conner) that I hadn’t seen or talked to in quite a while. She said she’d like to visit the Mountains
and see what I was doing as soon as she made landfall. She too was on an adventure few people are
strong enough to endure, that being in the merchant marines. This new profession of hers was about
as different as night is to day from her previous professional expertise of a full scale bookkeeper.
Her arrival, was surely made in Heaven, because, Diane was to become a lady friend I never in
my wildest dreams would have thought possible to experience. If not for her trust and confidence in
me, as well as, her compassionate and magnanimous support, I would have become bleached bones
long before being able to write what you are reading. I can only hope that she has made an
intelligent bet, and that she will be appropriately rewarded for her efforts.
CHAPTER 8
Hells Door
As ole man Winter began to knock - Mr. Dan Medley, President of Gold, Silver Exploration
started conducting analytical examinations on our rock samples at his El Paso laboratory. This was
my first real chance to watch how assays were really conducted on a professional level. Dan’s
chemist (Mr. Cardinal) was able to prove beyond any reasonable doubt that the Cable Claims
surface mineral expressions (PbS) would constantly indicate the presence of the PGM’s (Platinum
Group Metals). Of course this was music to our ears and further encouraged Jack and I to work
harder and harder. I could just see it, any day now we could probably retire to the Bahamas as rich
men.
One day while visiting Dan’s El Paso lab, Mr. Cardinal said, nonchalantly, that his job was not to
prove that my rocks had goodies, but to prove that they didn’t. However, he was confounded,
because no matter what he could not make the numbers go away that were being produced by the
DCP (Direct Current Plasma Spectrometer). Some of the numbers generated were spectacular,
such as: 1 to 10 ounces of combined PGMs, which was beyond belief. We were rich, Rich, RICH!
Even though I was primarily interested in being part of the analysis conducted in El Paso, Jack
and I continued making the grueling trips up the mountain. Constantly collecting hundreds of
pounds of rocks from various places, and kept conducting our own spectroscopic studies. Jack’s
small but efficient spectroscope most of the time indicated the presence of many base metals and
every once in a while some gold, and occasionally Platinum.
No matter how many trips we made, we were always discovering new veins. Most of which were
not previously discovered, which further suggested that we were in truly virgin territory. Yet, many
mysteries continued to baffle me.
Wanting to see the Caballo’s from a different perspective I rented a plane on January 4, 1984 and
started taking aerial photos of the entire Mountain range. As we flew over the mountains I kept
wanting the pilot to get closer, but he would not hear of it. He said that the only reason he was
getting as close as he was was due to the heavier winter air. I saw many places that really required
closer observation, like a dark foreboding hole in the top of one of the little Caballo peaks. Plus, a
place on the East side of Cable Canyon that looked like from a distance of a huge opening that had
been caved for a very long time. This new data and visual perspective was beginning to allow me
additional insights as to why the subtle mineralization hadn’t been discovered before.
On one of our outings we met a young man that agreed to do some core drilling for us in
exchange of Jack’s geophysical work on his claims in the Black Range. Trouble was we needed a
road so that he could get his portable drill rig into Cable Canyon. So, during the Spring of 1984 I
began using a front-end Track Loader to try and develop a road. I spent a whole month in freezing
weather conditions trying to build this road up the ancient mule trail that skirted a sheer cliff.
When I had it semi-finished we found out that the young man had reneged on his deal after Jack
had spent many a cold soaked and bone-weary day conducting a geophysical grid in horrible
weather conditions. Yep, another expensive, and bitter tasting lesson learned. However, the
advantage was to be a long term relationship with Mr. Bill Gray, who not only true gem, but a rare
find in these troubling times.
This road I was building was also covering up a supposed lost entry into the mountain, that many
old-timers said was right in the mouth of the wash. This entrance, as has been related to me, is
small, but opens up into a large room, which has another small opening that actually became an
entrance into the main caverns. I did find a small room before I started building the road, but it
certainly didn’t have any evidence that any other passages were connected to it. Furthermore, I did
not actually cover over where this room really is. It’s still there and accessible. Fortunately, when
I made the road all I did was use existing dirt and rock without actually disturbing any of the area
that was not already previously disturbed by the old 1930’s iron (paint pigment) mine.
Finally, once on top of the cliff I noticed the remains of a perfectly round camp fire that the
loader uncovered. I got off the tractor and investigated, but found nothing to indicate when and by
who this very old fire had been built by. What I mean by old is probably in the 1930’s. Some may
ask - why would I presume this fire to be in the 30’s and not much older. Well, because I only cut
down about 6 inches in this particular spot. And, from my perspective and obvious physical
evidence there has been enough sloughing of debris and dirt due to summer monsoons to quietly
bury this fire without washing it away.
Many people come to the Caballo Mts each and every year, and I suspect that at least a few of
these people are sometimes desperate. I often come to this conclusion because they illogically think
they can find the treasure, and get out of their financial messes. Many others, I presume heard a
story that for some reason or another completely captivates them, and became compelled to go off
in search of that particular fable. No-doubt there are hundreds of people either local or from the
dark side of the moon that have managed to discover some kind of old map, or tale, etc., which was
handed down through families that gave them an itch that just has to be scratched. So far, there has
only been a few recorded treasure finds, and these were not huge discoveries. But, who do you
know would blab or tell the World if they really did find a stash or cache of buried bandido loot, an
old Spanish mine, church treasures, or Indian artifacts? As my partner would sometimes say: “loose
Lips Sink Ships.”
Most people are wise enough to realize that if you did find the stuff dreams are made of - that the
State and/or a hoard of others would have their sticky hands in the pie. So it is quite
understandable that maybe some discoveries go unreported.
When I first arrived in TorC, it didn’t take the vultures long to spot this neophyte. Perhaps, it was
my fairly new pick-up with Texas license plates that made me stand-out like a chicken to be
plucked. Frequently, there were old gentlemen who would actually come up and get right in my
face wanting to tell me where there was a treasure or lost mine. Of course, only they knew where it
was, and for a price they’d tell me where to find it. The wiser one’s would be willing to show me
on a map their amazing and mysterious discovery after I put up some front money to show my good
faith. Ah, but then there are some really shrewd old-timers’ that can spin a yarn that will make the
mouth of a swamp rat water. Usually these characters have mining claims and are dowsers. To set
the hook they’ll even show you how good their dowsing is by letting you see some of their secret
dowsing instruments. These contraptions range from pendulums that they dangle over a map, to
witching willow limbs, rods that look like fishing poles, bent brass rods, Spanish dip needles, and
of course the latest, fancy space age gizmos that originated on Pluto.
Now, to set the record straight I don’t mean to say that there isn’t something to the art of
divining/dowsing. But I’ve never met a person who was financially successful at dowsing for
themselves. For the most part I consider dowsing as borderline psychics, whom seem to be living in
a world of strange powers that the rest of humanity cannot control. For the most part, there is no
doubt in my mind that some of these people are either a bit tetched, live in never-never land, or are
out and out frauds. Every time I meet one of these guys I’m reminded of what Barnum and Bailey
said: “there’s a sucker born ever minute”. I’ve also heard the expression, “tell them what they want
to hear then stick’m in the ear.” So a word to the wise, it would pay to be at least a little cautious,
because there are charlatans quite willing and able to liberate the fool from his money. I suspect
that these characters feel the ignoramuses don’t need it anyway, because they are just getting ready
to throw it down a rat-hole anyway. Then, of course there’s the other famous saying “where fools
rush in wise men fear to tread.” But then again, as my Partner sometimes says “its best to be a little
foolish and a little wise than all wise or all foolish”.
There are many a strange folk in the Caballo’s, and some folks might well consider me to be one
of them. Take for example the guys in the middle 1980’s that were looking for a kidney shaped
lump of gold weighing hundreds of pounds in the well worn area of Granite Peak. Why Kidney
shape, and why was it where they said it was, several feet deep inside solid rock? I don’t know and
haven’t met the person who did. They drilled, blasted and mucked for months on this project
obviously convinced that any day they’d have their hands on the prize. Naturally that didn’t happen
and they packed up and left. Does that mean the gold wasn’t there, certainly not. Drilling, blasting
and mucking is not only dreadfully hard work, but also time and money hungry. So, only the brave
or foolish set out to beat the odds, but usually wind up quitting in utter financial despair. On the
other hand, and in fairness to anyone seeking the Caballo Treasure(s) I also keep in mind that the
person who takes no risks is seldom ever rewarded.
Previous to me meeting Mr. Crandall, I learned that he too quietly and discreetly roamed the
Caballo Mountains looking for possible signs that would allow him to get into the mythical
cavernous tunnel system. He met and worked with “Whitey” an elderly gentleman, now deceased,
in the Apache Gap area. Years later Jack showed me where he found a crack in the mountain that
appeared to have some kind of box at the bottom of it. I’m sure that one day, life permitting, he will
try to satisfy his curiosity, and see if he can get to the bottom of that deep dark crack.
Occasionally, we would scout for mineral shows in Apache Gap with his EM-16. Even though we
found a few very promising spots they too will also have to wait till we get the Cable Claims
further developed. During this general period of time I met Rex West who was associated with
Wells Horvereid, and who had worked with Doc Perrick in the Caballo’s for many years.
Rex told me many a story connected to Doc, and I told Rex and Wells that I had gone to Flagstaff
a few days after Doc got himself stabbed to death. I wanted to see if I could recover a book of
photographs that Doc supposedly kept as a diary of the Indian and Spanish drawings he found and
would destroy. It was common knowledge, that when Doc found Indian or Spanish signs he would
photograph them and then dynamite the site to spoil anyone else’s chances to find the treasures that
Doc felt rightly belonged to him.
Doc had worked in Nonnie Pierce’s cave a lot. And just before Doc got himself bumped off, and
while heading to Las Vegas (lost wages) he told a number of local folks he was going to beat the
roulette wheel. When his pockets were full of winnings he would then return with equipment, and
get the goodies he supposedly saw while looking through a small hole he found by moving a rock
that pivoted in Pierce’s Cave. Apparently, sometime in 1982 Doc had been working with a Mr.
Cummings (not me - I don’t have a “g” in my last name) in Pierce’s Cave, but they got into a
disagreement and had a falling-out.
As one of the recent stories goes, Cummings hires a local man to haul him to and out of an
prearranged spot near Pierce’s Cave. This melody goes on to indicate that when Cummings, late at
night, was coming down the steep mountain side, this mysterious local resident driver who was
waiting for Cummings could hear the big burlap sack being drug on the ground making metal
noises. Naturally this could only mean gold and jewels. These same noises could be heard coming
from the sack, as the car hit road bumps heading towards the lake. I’ve been told that the driver was
given some of what was in the bag for driving him and keeping his mouth shut. Then Cummings
leaves town mysteriously, as though he’s broke, just like many of us have done and seem destined
to continue doing.
Did Cummings find goodies? I don’t know. But one thing seems true, because I saw a guy with
the same name on TV while in Turkey looking for the Lost Ark. Was it the same guy? I heard it
was, and that expedition couldn’t have been cheap. So, if it was the same Cummings then maybe he
did find Doc’s treasure. The Caballos take a lot of money, and usually will make a person poor real
quick. It might well be accurate to say that more monies have been spent looking for the treasure
than has or will ever be found.
Some folks will say that it’s wrong to look for treasure, or that these people are living in a fool’s
paradise. Maybe so, but, one sure bet is that these people sure do help the local economy. Besides,
and from my perspective - what’s the difference in spending money looking for treasure or birds?
Quite near where Cummings made his trip out of the mountain can still, just barely be seen a faint
outline of a zig-zag mule trail. Of course no-one can really see it till the sun’s just right and you
know where to look. As speculation says it was supposed to stop at the entrance to the main exit of
one of the Spanish Mines, where they worked the Indian slaves. A few people that know of the trail
have tried to walk it, but it takes at least two people outfitted with radios to actually stay on this
almost invisible trail.
Another interesting tale of some merit, next to this zig zag trail is of a local man. I believe his
name is Chavez, who was lowered into a cave somewhere on the East side of the Mountains. To the
best of my memory, and keeping in mind that rumors have a way of getting garbled, this man while
walking the maize like corridors found rotted leather bags filled with gold coins. Naturally, he
promptly filled his pockets to capacity. If I were him at this point I can only begin to imagine the
excitement he must have felt. As he tried to backtrack he managed to become lost, and after a few
days his flash light and food became exhausted. I can only imagine what it must have been like to
wander underground blindly. The terror he experienced must have become almost unbearable.
Luckily, just before he was about to give up hope he saw a pin-point of light, which he painfully
crawled to. However, the solid rock opening was dreadfully narrow, and wouldn’t let him out till he
dumped his bulging pockets. His panic must have been similar to the old desert prospector who lay
dying of thirst and willing to give away all his bags of gold for just a swallow of water.
With great difficulty he finally emerged near a jutting group of granite rocks on the North side of
the mouth to Cable Canyon. When he got back to town and tells of his ghastly ordeal, it naturally
drove many of those who heard the amazing story half-mad with desire. Especially when he was
able to show a single gold coin still in his pocket.
Without wasting time, back they go to the locality he theoretically emerged from, combing the
region relentlessly. Due to their greedy haste of not immediately finding the small opening they
bring in a dozer, thinking that it would uncover the hole. However, all their efforts were to no avail,
and quite possibly only succeded in burying the hole. I’ve been told numerous times that this man
(Chavez) adopted a fear of the Caballo’s to the point it caused him such mental distress that he
sought psychiatric help.
Several times I’ve seen Fox, Bobcats and a Lynx go into these rocks and never come out. I and
others have investigated these rock pillars extensively, but have found no trace of where these
beasts go. In addition, in the late 1990’s Rex shows me where there’s an old carving on one of the
granite monoliths. So, Maybe it is possible that there is indeed some truth to this tale. One thing for
sure – you can still see where the dozer made the cuts.
As is the norm - one day I heard a story that a psychic had told some friends that on the South
side of Cable Canyon, at the top of the Bliss formation, was a small cave with a small stash of gold
dust in a saddle bag buried in the floor. These friends had already found the place exactly where the
psychic said it would be. They didn’t do any excavation in it because they said it was too
dangerous. I said, let me see. So, up we go and sure enough there’s a cave that I should have found
long ago. I crawl in and it opens up into a somewhat large room. I carefully sit down on some huge
lose boulders and look the area over. Yep, the floor is of dirt and could be dug, although it’s full of
cactus rat thorns. I start to talk to my compradre outside, and my voice sounds like I’m in a deep
well. The resonating vibrations of my voice shake the huge boulders above my head, and I say to
myself, better get out of here while the gett’ns good. I’m fairly bold, but this hole, although very
interesting, does indeed take someone braver than me to explore little alone dig in.
While our roving adventures were going on I was also well involved with and utilizing the
A.S.A.T. laboratory in Silver City, directed by Mr. Walter Lashley. I had met many a so-called
assayer who preferred to keep their knowledge a secret, but Walter seemed willing to share. Due to
my self admitted ignorance I was struck by this man’s command of chemical nomenclature and
apparent brilliance. Walter could seemingly remember everything, something that I have great
difficulty in being able to do. To make sure that I wasn’t being duped I would endlessly ask him
questions, and without fail Walter always had a reasonable and logical answer, many of which I
would check out in available chemistry books.
Hundreds of hours were spent at this lab facility. And with Walter’s generous guidance I gained
much desperately needed knowledge as to how to conduct a variety of fire assay techniques, wetchemical digestions, distillations and micro-chem analysis. Of course I might add that these lessons
did not come cheap.
Armed with a battery of captivating assays and bizarre geophysics indicating that the Cable
Claims hosted a monumental discovery I met with a potential out of State investor. We worked out
an agreement, but was subject to a geological report that the investors wanted, to be conducted at
their expense to determine what the Cable Claims potential could be.
Eventually, the two contracted geologist’s arrived from the Denver School of Mines and we
proceeded directly to the Claims. Due to my curious nature I asked these men, who were supposed
PGM experts as many discreet questions as I could think of as we made the fatiguing climb. The
problem with asking questions is that it shows a degree of ignorance, but the main reward is I’ll
spot any flim-flam on their part. In general, these two were reasonably nice guys, or at least they
humored me graciously.
They asked me to take them to where I felt the best potential was for collecting samples. Finally,
it was becoming clear that these guys were not going to conduct a reasonably through geological
survey as I was led to believe. They did say, several times, that I had “good rocks” but without
elaboration. They spent only part of a couple of days on the claims before they headed back to
write a report. Much to my dismay the potential investor s backed-out of the deal because, these
geologist’s couldn’t find any evidence that the PGM’s were present in the assays of collected
samples sent to a laboratory. From the getgo and before I left the potential investors we had an
understanding that assays could be sent to any lab they choose except one. Guess what, these
geologist’s used that one I had said not to use.
When I finally received their report I was a bit bent, because the geologist’s had said on
numerous occasions that the Cable Terrain was conducive to mineral deposition. However that was
not reflected in their report. Nor did they even begin to indicate that ore could be present. Instead of
a geological report it looked more like a one sided management report focusing mainly on the
assayers work, in lieu of their own. Most surprising of all was the lack of analysis indicating the
amount of Lead present. Worse still was the complete lack of analytical work showing the
remarkable abundance of antimony (that consisted of multiple percentages) in all the PbSCaF type
veins. Congratulations Joe you’ve just been inaugurated into the “experts hall of inequities”.
Due to our combined ignorance on the subject of the Noble metals, Jack decided to go to
California. Because he’s a professional “Book Scout” he set out to locate as many books on the
subject of the PGMs as he could possibly find and afford. It was becoming quite apparent that we
could not play in a game without knowing more about the subject and the rules.
CHAPTER 9
Noss, La Rue & Navarez
Probably the most worn-out, yet fascinating story of the Caballos’ is of Doc Noss. It’s said that
Doc was a man of many talents, although, some say he was a charlatan who perpetrated the biggest
scams imaginable. He was known to be a foot Doctor, and presumably made a portion of his living
by this profession. Doc’s epic seems to start in the Southern end of the Caballo Mts. Where Noss
found a way into the caverns and discovered stacks and rows of various shaped gold bars. Some
were actually the types of bars we all recognize, but many were of various lengths that were made
by pouring the molten gold into hollowed-out soto stems or ocotillo branches. Thus, I presume
that’s how the expression “piled like cord wood” originated.
Doc allegedly sold many a bar on the black market, and because he feared that someone might
find his discovery he supposedly hauled many a gold bar in his Model T to Victorio Peak.
Theoretically, while stashing his booty in 1937, inside “Vickie Peak” he found another group of
caves with riches beyond belief. According to written chronicles the actual discovery in “Vicky
Peak” began when Doc and his wife Ova accidentally found a underground room while trying to
get out of summer thundershower. These exciting cavern chambers were supposed to have Indian
paintings and a shaft with a pole ladder. In 1938 Doc started bringing out a variety of goodies that
treasure hunters will foam at the mouth while contemplating such a strike.
At the base of Victorio Peak is Hembrillo Basin where an ancient ruins of a Spanish Fort is
reported to exist. Theoretically, old cannons have been found and can be seen half buried in the
sand. Of course this area is now basically off limits to prospecting, because White Sands Missile
Base controls and patrols the area. I have talked to many people that have snuck into the region and
have been told that not only are cannon present, but an old gattling gun, and modern pieces of
armament. Consequently, maybe this area was an ancient protected mining operation.
The fable goes on to say that a misplaced round of dynamite caused Doc’s cave to be sealed,
either by accident or design. And, in 1940 Doc makes attempts to reopen what became known as
the Noss cave. It is recorded that he hired D.C. Turner, B.B. Ownby, B.D. Lampros, and Benny
Samaniego to re-open the shaft that led to the caches.
If there’s no truth to the myth then it is rather strange that Benny Samaniego bought a new home
in Las Cruces just two weeks after the dynamite caused the cave in. This purchase can be verified
in the Las Cruces County Courthouse records. And, at the time of his death his estate was said to be
worth $73,000 dollars, a tidy some in those days, especially for a man reported to have been a
roust-a-bout, and of dubious character.
In 1941 a group of more than 20 formed a company to re-open the Noss Shaft. But, by 1942 the
War stopped the re-opening attempts and the Govt took over Hembrillo Basin area.
On March 5, 1949 Doc Noss was shot dead in front of his Partner’s (Charles Ryan) home in
Hatch, NM. In the book 100 tons of gold, there is a picture of Doc slumped against his pick-up,
with apparently more than one bullet in him. One of the stories I hear most often is that Doc was
considered to be a crazy half-breed, especially when he drank whisky. Apparently, when Doc
showed up and after some kind of argument the Ryan’s fearing for their lives decided to shoot first
and ask questions later. Mr. Ryan was later acquitted of all charges on a plea of self-defense.
Theoretically, in 1958, Air Force Capt. Leonard Feige and airman Thomas Berchett found rows
of stacked gold bars in a cave in the San Andreas. In 1960 Feige and the Airman tried
unsuccessfully to relocate the Cave of Gold. To corroborate their account, Feige was given a
polygraph test and passed it without a hitch. Later it was reported that the Govt found the cave, and
all the gold mysteriously vanished. In 1961 Ova Noss, high on a hill watching through binoculars,
said that the Army was excavating her mining claims, which they denied her entry into. Adding
insult to injury the Army denied that they conducted any mining or treasure hunting.
Mrs. Noss, seeing that she has a serious problem with the Army hires F. Lee Bailey. He accuses
the US Govt of covering up the Army stealing her gold. Eventually the Army at White Sands
admits to doing a mining operation at Victorio Peak, and will quit operations. Later, F. Lee Bailey
representing clients in operation “Gold Finder” presents gold bars, at different times, apparently
from the Noss treasure to the US Treasury and to Los Alamos Laboratories. It is said that these bars
assayed out at 60 percent gold.
In 1977 the Army agrees to let Treasure Hunters into White Sands area. Ova Noss, while on top
of Victorio Peak, in front of friends, the press (Dan Rather) and the Military, accuses the Army of
stealing all the Treasure and transporting it somewhere else.
I’ve heard many un-verified reports that the gold bars from the Noss Cave, stolen by the Army,
were smuggled through Asia’s ‘Golden Triangle’ in CIA planes to be traded for drugs with the
tribal chieftains.
While Doc. Noss was excavating Victorio Peak he’s supposed to have found many artifacts.
Some say even a Crown made of gold, studded with diamonds and a big blood red ruby. Still and
all, as far as I’m concerned, his most important discovery, if it is real and not some hocus-pocus he
made up, is the Manuscript written by Padre La Rue in 1797 to Father Rheuschome, of Madrid
Spain.
There are many versions of the Father La Rue legend and where the gold he sealed up is actually
at. I’ve met people who believed that they were working at the correct sites in the Organs, Fra
Christobals, and the Caballos, as well as, accounts of it being in the San Andreas Mts. As legend
has it Father La Rue was placed in-charge of a colony near Chihuahua Mexico, and the myth
begins. Among Father La Rue’s people was an old soldier, who told La Rue about a rich deposit of
gold that he’d found on one of his scouting trips. The place was high in a mountain range about two
days journey North of Paso del Norte. Eventually, La Rue’s crops began to fail, so the Padre asked
his followers if they would like to try their luck elsewhere. They agreed to move after being told
about the gold to the North. La Rue moved North without the knowledge or permission of the
Church, and found the Gold. They worked the mine and built a small settlement. The Church not
hearing from La Rue, sent the Army out after him. After several years the military located La Rue
and was ordered to surrender. But La Rue decided to hide all the Gold, as well as the mines, so the
Army destroyed the village and all inhabitants.
The following Padre La Rue Fable is quoted from the book 100 tons of gold. “Seven is the holy
number. There are seven days in the week, seven phases of the moon, every seventh year as
Sabbatical, and seven time seven years was jubilee. There are seven ages in the life of man, seven
divisions in the Lord’s prayer, seven bibles, seven church’s of Asia, seven graces, seven deadly
sins, seven senses, seven sorrows of the virgin, seven virtues, seven joys of the virgin, seven
precious things of the Buddah’s, seven sleepers of Ephesus, seven lamps of architecture, the
apostles chose seven deacons, Enoch, who was translated was seventh from Adam, Jesus Christ
was the seventh in a direct line. Our Lord spoke seven times on the cross on which he was seven
hours. He appeared seven times and after seven times seven days he sent the Holy Ghost. There
appeared seven golden candlesticks, and seven golden stars in the hand of Him that was in the
mind, seven lambs before the seven spirits of God; the book with the seven seals; the lamb with
seven horns, and seven eyes, seven angels bearing seven plagues, and seven viles of wrath. The
vision of Daniel was seventy weeks; and the Elders of Israel were seventy. There were also seven
heavens, seven planets, seven stars, seven wise men, seven champions of Christendom, seven notes
of music, seven primary colors, seven sacraments, of the Catholic Church, and seven wonders of
the world. The seventh Son is still endowed with preeminent wisdom; and the seventh son of a
seventh son is still thought to posses the power of healing diseases spontaneously. In seven
languages, seven signs, and language in seven foreign nations, look for the seven cities of gold
seventy miles North of El Paso del Norte in the seventh peak Soledad, these cities have seven
sealed doors, three sealed towards the rising sun, three sealed toward the setting of the sole Sun,
one deep within Casa del Cueva de Oro, high noon, and receive health, wealth and honor.”
Of course the epic doesn’t end here; In 1992 the Ova Noss Family Partnership is granted time to
try and gain access to Doc’s caved tunnels. To my knowledge, via hearsay, they are still there
(1994) excavating and finding evidence of Doc’s past presence, as well as, discovering more
subterranean tunnels. Nothing I’ve said herein has been taken from the Noss Family Partnership’s
web site. In fact, I would bet that what they say will be much different than what I’ve said here. I
don’t know what’s been happening as of late (1999 & 2000), but perhaps by visiting their web site
you will get an entirely different and updated point of view. (www.victoriopeak.com) Incidently, I
have not taken a single solitary item from their web site. In fact I have not read it, so as to not alter
or taint any of what I have heard and written here.
It is well documented that the Spaniards came to New Mexico seeking the “Seven Cities of
Cibola”. Where they believed the streets were paved in gold, and the doors of houses studded with
gems. However nutty this sounds, it is strange that this story started in Spain about 400 years prior
to Columbus setting sail to the New Lands. When the Spanish failed to find the mythic cities, it
seems that the seven underground cities of gold started a new fervor.
The following is rewritten verbatim from “The New Mexico Magazine”, by Otto Goetz in 1940,
because I feel it helps to explain why so many people search the Caballo’s for the illusive treasures.
Furthermore, it may well express what I could only allude to by referencing gossip. I do know a
few people who actually have old maps and copies of the weigh bills describing the whereabouts of
this and numerous other treasures, but I still prefer to quote Mr. Goetz. I’m not sure, but this man
could have been the Mayor of Hot Springs (TorC) in the 1920’s due to the similarity of names and
a hand drawn map of area that I have bearing his signature.
“The Conquistadores were not the originators of the fascinating sport of treasure hunting, as so
often assumed; they merely inherited the habit from the mother land. Ever since Ferdinand and
Isabella drove the Moors from the Iberian peninsula, the search for hidden wealth left by the
followers of Islam buried beneath the ruins of their homes, was a favorite pastime for nobles and
peasants.”
“The immense stories of precious metals and jewels found by Cortez Pizarro and their
companions in Mexico and Peru, made the Castilians of Mexico eager believers in the fantastic
report of Friar Marcos de Niza on the Seven Cities of Cibola and their inhabitants; They have
emeralds and other jewels, although they esteem none as much as turquoise, wherewith they adorn
the walls and porches of their houses, and their apparel and dresses, and they use them instead of
money. They use vessels of gold and silver, whereof there is greater use and more abundance than
in Peru.”
“It was therefore, an easy matter for Coronado to enlist the most enterprising and brilliant
cavaliers for his expedition to the unconquered eldorado of the North, New Mexico, an adventure
which promised wealth and military glory to all.”
“Nearly every hamlet in the Southwest has its legend of hidden hoard and can boast of having at
least one buried treasure within its immediate vicinity. None of these has been, or still is, sought
after with greater tenacity than the Caballo Treasure; not a day passes but that some searchers are
on the ground, parties of two or three, line prospectors, often formidable expeditions equipped with
all the necessary paraphernalia and instruments, divining rods, electric and all kinds of pseudoscientific instruments, picks, shovels, and rope, even trucks and pack animals. So plausible sounds
the reclatero (chart, directions), and moreover dovetails into history of the country, that these
searchers are beforehand certain that they will be able to find the hiding place. Yes, one can
imagine the circumstances under which the hoard was accumulated; for unlike other hidden wealth
of the Southwest, the Caballo treasure was not concealed on one single occasion, but is the regular
cache of loot of diverse raiding expeditions made by wild tribes of Indians and their Spanish or
half-breed allies, who infested the Camino Real.”
“The Caballo Treasure is perhaps the least known of the many hidden hoards of which New
Mexico can boast. There is reason for this. Although many copies of the original chart are in
existence, each holder deems himself the possessor of a valuable secret, an embryo millionaire.
Why should he divulge the information, and thus rob him of his own opportunity? No, is not
reasonable. Better wait until he himself can look for this fortune, the existence of which he has no
doubt.”
“That the loot was brought to this hiding place on different occasions is corroborated by this
chart. Speaking of a very deep cave it says: “Inside you will find arms, crockery, clothing and
harness and eighty atajos (string of mules) of bars of silver. There should also be more than ten
atajos of finished silver and many other articles”. When we consider that such pack trains consisted
of at least eight animals, and that a mule load averaged around two hundred pounds, it is possible to
arrive at some rough calculation as to the extent and value of this treasure.”
“The chart is the confession of one Pedro Navarez, a renegade Spaniard or half-breed, who joined
the murderous band of Indians either from a motive of revenge or avariciousness. Nor was he the
only one of his race who did so. For the chart states: “And as far as more permanent marks in this
range are concerned, you will find in some places the ruins of our dwellings, in which only we and
the Indians lived.” A detachment of soldiers finally captured Pedro Navarez in the latter part of
1649; he was taken to Mexico City, tried and condemned to death. Facing the termination of his
earthly existence, he turned to religion for consolation and confessed his transgressions to the priest
of St. Augustrine Convent. This clerical whose name is lacking in the narrative, evidently wrote the
original chart. One, Vicent Vasques, sacristan to the priest, having access to the document, made
copies, distributing them with the expectation of sharing in the ultimate recovery of the loot.”
“Assuming that the depredations of Pedro Navarez stretched themselves over a period of ten
years, and that his career as a bandit began in 1639, it fell into a period in which the newly-settled
province of New Mexico experienced a great influx of settlers and the bringing of stores and
provisions and all the other paraphernalia necessary for the organization of a newly-formed
government, its armed forces and religious system.”
“While robberies and murder took place on many points of the route, the section we have under
consideration is described in the chart as follows: “Mexico City, Convent of St. Augustine,
February 5, 1650. Ask in Paso del Norte where the Caballo Range is. You will find it in four days
by horse at a good pace up the river and not very far therfrom. Some of these mountains are of
equal height, they have two large passes, and a small amount of juniper timber. Coming on the
King’s Highway from Paso del Norte one will see on the left the mountains, and to the right a plain,
which the naked eye cannot circumscribe, and a small hill at a great distance from the road.”
“This brings us to the southern foothills of the Caballo Mountains, about the latitude of Upham,
which would be the South boundary; the latitude of Engle, the North Boundary; and the East slop
of the Caballo Mountains, between these two lines the region in which to look for the treasure. But
let the chart speak for itself again; “These marks are to the right, at the point of the compass where
the sun rises, and this range has two wide gaps, which end in arroyos, onerunning towards sunrise,
the other towards sunset, and the two have many ash trees, one more than the other. In the gap
where the sun rises look for a spring, it is very large; a city could be built in the plain. The spring is
not very far within this gap, and it is well covered with juniper poles, stones, earth and boards and
large and small stones on top. Look carefully, because it has great riches, you can take out much
gold below the water.”
“It is to be noted that this spring was extinguished; still there must be traces of an underground
water supply, which would make itself noticeable in the vegetation.”
“The narrator then continues: “And from this spring count two hundred and fifty varas towards the
brow of the mountain, being more on level ground; here you will find a stone with a large cross
chiseled thereon, which is not of this region but was brought here by pack mule. From here count
one hundred varas and examine a small piece of ground closely; it has few rocks; look closely at its
condition. Here you begin to take out silver bars; there should be eighteen atajos. Remove the
boards and the burlap and take out eleven atajos more in finished silver. These marks are to the
right before entering the gap, at the point of the compass where the sun rises, and when you have
completed this work return to the spring in order to climb the mountains to the left, here look for a
deep cave.”
“This is the cave in which the ninety atajos of silver heretofore mentioned, are hidden. After
describing the cave and its contents, the narrator continues: “I warn you not to make a mistake, for
there are two other caves, but this is the deepest; and the three are where the sun sets, and I also tell
you that there are some smaller caches and little springs, but all of them are covered.”
“Strange, some will say, that with so many looking for this hidden hoard no one has ever located
it. No, not at all. On the contrary it would be surprising if a searcher should discover its hiding
place by the ancient description given.”
“Erosion, deforestation, fire, and drought change the aspect of a locality; even the topographical
shape. Trails made by man or beast destroy the vegetation; the winds blow out the soil loosened by
foot and hoof. Rain gathers in these depressions and finally flows therein, creating a wash, gully or
arroyo; on more sloping ground a canyon. The trees of this region may have been cut for building
purposes or firewood, destroyed by a forest fire or perished through years of drought. The barren
hillsides then become the prey of rains and floods, rocks and earth being washed down cover the
springs and meadows. End-blown dust and sand lodge in clumps of bushes, building up hills. And
last, but not least, we must remember that during the great Indian revolt of 1680 the natives not
only destroyed the mines but also the springs in order to rob the invaders of the most necessary
sustenance of life, water, and thus impede their progress.”
“For these reasons a chart made nearly 300 years ago can be of but little assistance in finding a
certain locality described therein, and at best can only serve as a guide for general direction.”
“Perhaps, the most reliable landmark will be the placer fields; the narrator seems to have feared
such an eventuality when he says; “And if any of these marks have become obliterated, proceed
with care in carrying out of this task. Return to the spring and climb the mountain to the right in the
direction in which the sun rises. Not very high up you will find a small rolling mesa, the placer.
One can cut copper with an axe, and I believe from here comes the spring.”
“The Caballo Mountains do contain placer ground, such as the Shandon gold fields. Old timers in
Las Palomas still talk about the Indians coming to town many years ago trading gold nuggets for
provisions and other supplies, even fire water. That was in her days of glory, when Las Polomas
was the gateway for all traffic East and West passing through the Caballo Gap. The large plaza in
which the settlers drove their livestock for protection during the Indian raids, at one time was
entirely surrounded by houses, now is overgrown with weeds, and most of the buildings have
tumbled down. The highway from Hot Springs to El Paso passes the town a mile and a half to the
West, leaving the peaceful village to dream of by gone days.”
“Situated as they are, The Caballo Mountains made an ideal hiding place for the Indians and their
allies. To the East lay the King’s Highway; West the Rio Grande, with its less frequented trails on
either side of the river. From their summits any approach from North or South could easily be
detected. How many have stood on these mountains searching for probable locality which would
correspond with the description of the ancient chart? How many times at night around the camp fire
have eager searchers prematurely divided the Caballo Treasure?”
“The conversion of Pedro Navarez must be taken seriously. He seems to have been anxious that
posterity should find his ill-gotten gain. The chart concludes with this benevolent admonition;
“Other signs you will also find, in some places painted figures, with many writings engraved with
copper, and deer skin clothing. Therefore search well for all these marks; thousands of families
would be helped thereby.”
“Still there are people who know the mountains well, in whose families copies of the ancient
chart has been handed down from father to son for generations, who could not be induced to hunt
for the treasure. No, they even would not act as guides in what they consider sacrilegious
undertaking. They often have seen the strange and mysterious lights which appear from time to
time in the mountains. Are these not the camp fires of the watching Indians, who guard the tesero
de los muertos (treasure of death), and will never permit its removal? And then, who knows, they
may be the spirits of the slain, and death awaits all who should ever see the hidden hoard.”
“But the lure of buried treasures persists. And the Caballo Mountains will be the mecca of
treasure hunters as long as a copy of the confession of Pedro Navarez remains in existence.”
CHAPTER 10
Early Adventures
The Caballo’s are fascinating from many standpoints. To the East is the Jorando del Muerto
(Dead Mans Walk), and as far as I’m concerned this is an apt name for this valley floor. Some
people say that this valley was where the current Rio Grande River used to flow 10,000 years ago.
Anyway, there are many residing mysteries in the Jorando, with many small mines and several
small to large caves.
Quite near one of the Fluorite mines, right beside the road on the way to Radio Towers on Timber
Ridge (Caballo’s) is a limestone cave that many people say goes down 1400 feet. I’ve gone down
maybe a couple hundred feet, but decided that it simply wasn’t worth the effort, mainly because
others have already been down it. Besides, if you were down in it when a freak summer storm
dumped its bucket in the Jorando, you may as well kiss your sweet ass good-bye. Those that claim
to have descended its treacherous depths say there are two small lakes (mud pits) at the bottom with
holes going deeper.
Basically, I try to stay out of the Jorando, because if anything happens to you or the vehicle
you’ve got serious problems. Depending upon one’s health and physical stature a man could easily
die before he could walk out to the main black top road heading back to town. Of course, if you
knew how to get to Rod Hille’s ranch, you’d be OK; but if you didn’t lady luck better be riding on
your shoulder.
Despite the risks, Rex, Jack and I have made many trips into the area. One such trip and to just to
get away and see sights not seen before Rex and I were traipsing around in Mescal Canyon when
we noticed a stack of rocks about 8 feet tall, behind thick brush and on a year-round creek. Upon
closer examination we noticed that it was hollow and we could stand in it. What was it? It looked
like a fireplace or maybe an old smelter from the front, but it had no back and no mortar, and was
built against a cliff wall. Search as we did there were no clues. Years later, we were to learn that
structures like this were where the old Spaniards would camp and place their religious symbols.
Back then, the Spanish were very superstitious and would use Madonna dolls for protection against
the evil spirits, while traveling on such dangerous journeys.
On another day while swapping stories a local resident and hunter told me about a cave on the
Jorando that apparently only a few people know about. While hunting antelope he accidentally
stumbled upon a large opening going almost straight down. What makes this one fascinating is that
there is a 4 foot long by 2feet diameter stalactite lying beside the entrance. In addition, I was told
that those who do know about this entrance are sworn to some kind of secrecy. There seems to be a
story connected to this site that indicates there are several corridors stretching throughout the
Jornado, and that the military know about this cave entrance. Maybe one day this gentleman will
find the time to show me the spot so I can investigate it. My interest peaked when he said that he’d
heard rumors that it goes for miles and those who have been in it are afraid to talk about it. I tried to
find this gentleman in 1996 but was unable to locate any address for him. Perhaps he moved or
died. Regardless, it looks as though this will be another one of those things I never put to rest.
If you ever visit TorC and stay long you will eventually hear about Benny Saminego, who found
Spanish Body Armor in a cave out in the Jorando. There’s pictures of Benny riding a Palomino,
wearing the Armor down main street in Las Cruces, during a parade. Where Benny really got the
armor, is anybody’s guess, because he took that knowledge to the grave. Although, I’d bet that it is
entirely probable that he retrieved it from the Noss Cave and not from a Jorando cave. I’ve heard
several rumors that Benny was badgered even on his death bed as to where the armor came from.
Another hunter told me about seeing two big caves, while he was hunting in the Jorando that are
up high about a mile North of Polomas Gap, but I haven’t had the time to check these out. People
might ask why haven’t I investigated these caves? The answer is simply a lack of time, plus the
mountains are at least 20 miles long and several life-times could be spent in just a few square miles.
The Indians (Nana, Victorio and Geronimo) waylaid many a wagon train in this valley. They
would get up high on the mountain and see for miles any approaching calvary, mule trains or lone
riders. Consequently, those who traveled the Jorando were easy prey, due to the abundant places to
stage a raid or ambush. So, no doubt, the Apaches most likely hid a lot of booty in several Caballo
Caves. The problem is, how to find these illusive holes. To add a dash of danger there are
numerous stories of the Indians grinding rocks and putting rattlesnake venom in the mud used as
mortar to seal up entrances. And, for those people who persist in digging, they get a poisonous
surprise and die.
The Jorando has no potable water in many a mile, and people had to travel through either Apache
or Polomas Gaps to get to the Rio Grande River. However getting there was and still is treacherous
to say the least. When I’m in the Jorando or the Mountains I constantly find myself marveling at
the endurance and guts these people had to have to make such insidiously demanding journeys.
As we travel West out of the Jorando and up to the Caballo’s crest there were at one time several
6 foot sculptures of religious figurines, supposedly placed at strategic places. However, don’t waste
your time looking for these rock sculptures because they have long been carted off. On the cliff
above the Bat Cave is about a six foot opening that has what looks like one of these figurines still in
place. When anyone looks at it, it sure does look like a carved figurine of Madonna. However,
when up close, a few hundred feet and aided with binoculars it does not look like much except a
weathered rock. A person I’ve known for quite awhile told me that he’d been to the site hanging
from rope and it is a sculpture.
When traveling along the crest South of the radio towers towards Taggart’s claims, and looking
East and down the mountain side you can see what is known as Giaga’s Hole. From what I can
deduce - a Spanish man near the turn of the century dug this hole seeking one of the many
treasures. Several people are said to have tried descending its treacherous depths. But, most have
quit in fear for their life. I’ve heard that it just keeps going down and down, and there are loose
rocks that surely will fall if you just breath heavy. And if the rocks don’t get ya you’re sure to get at
least stuck or stranded and die long before help could arrive. A few people have also said that if
you do get to the bottom you’ll have to dodge the rattlesnakes. Others have said that there is some
kind of gas that makes you deathly ill. I’ve never met anyone who claims to have actually made it
all the way to the bottom, even though several have tried. Maybe you the reader will be successful
at putting to bed the myriad of half truths regarding this hole.
It is impossible to not discover hundreds of blind holes throughout the Caballo’s,some of which
are exceedingly dangerous to poke around in much. I don’t waste a lot of time in some of them that
look dangerous or appear to pinch. Of course, there’s always the ever-present chance of having a
friendly face to face conversation with the King of all Holes - Mr. Rattlesnake himself. Jack, while
exploring one of these numerous dreadful tunnels was walking down a steep timbered incline,
when he felt something gooshy under his foot. It didn’t take him long to realize that he had done
every prospector’s nightmare. That’s right, he stepped smack-dab on one these friendly cusses. The
problem is -- which way to move, and there aren’t many alternatives, and only a split second to
undo the potential horror. He had the option of moving quickly forward, but that posed several
interesting possibilities for he could fall or step into a whole den of the rascals. Or, he could try to
jump backwards uphill, and sideways was not an option, but whatever he did it had to be done
instantly. Needless to say he made the right decision, because he didn’t get bit, nor hurt. I’ve seen
what these snakes can do to flesh, and it isn’t pretty. Moreover, the lingering effects can last for
years.
There are many other tales of traps set by the Spanish. Such as big rocks ready to trip and roll
down on the unwary explorer. I’ve never seen any of these traps, but I have heard boulders crashing
while in a cave. Strongly suggesting that I’m right beside another cave, but can’t see or get to it.
In the other basin (valley) to the West lies the Rio Grande River, that has historically been the life
blood of central New Mexico. This river supposedly, during the days of the Conquistadores was
able to be navigable at certain times of the year with large boats. This same valley became known
as the Rio Grande Rift in the early 1980’s, although many local people still have not heard the news
(1993). Indians of many cultures have historically inhabited the banks of this river, and many
pueblo like dwellings can be unearthed. However, they are usually left alone due to the heinous
Federal archaeological restrictions. Pottery is abundant along the banks if you know where to look.
Just don’t get caught picking-up or digging-up any of the broken chard’s, because big-time fines
are levied. In fact, according to newspaper accounts (summer of 2000) the BOR (Bureau of
Reclamation) is fencing off many such places so The People will not be able to even visit these
places. What’s this say about a Govt for and by The People?
This Rift structure apparently runs from Mexico, following the river to North of Denver. Some
people even suspect that it extends all the way into Alaska. This Rift Valley was once a vast sea
where under water active volcanic activity took place exactly like what scientists are discovering all
over the world oceans.
Rifts are notorious for their associated mineral deposits, hot springs, as well as volcanic activity.
And Sierra County certainly is no exception to this norm. The town of Hot Springs, formally
Geronimo Springs, and before that called Stinkin Springs, and now called Truth or Consequences.
TorC got its name from the abundant flow of geothermal waters. These springs reach a
temperature as high as 140 degrees, although most are about 105 to 110 degrees. The famous
Apache Indians (Geronimo, Nana and Victorio) gathered here on a regular basis. All Indians were
welcome and no hostilities were displayed while taking the ceremonial and therapeutic hot baths.
But, I’d bet that many fights most likely took place after the bathes and out of the immediate area.
I’ve never read of any accounts that white man could share the springs. But, albeit that no white
man was stupid enough to try such folly.
History indicates that the Apaches would not toil in the soil like the Pueblos, Zuni, or the Navajo.
Instead they were Warriors and took what they needed. Consequently, all Apaches were either
feared or hated. Today, they would no-doubt be considered as common thieves or murderers. Still
many cultures throughout world history have practiced this type of life style. I’d be willing to bet
that some nations consider Americans to be of the same caliber as Apaches. After all, our methods
of acquiring and keeping what we consider to be of National Security isn’t all that different than the
Apache. Mother Nature even seems to have rules indicating that the weak shall succumb to the
demands of the strong. Man has been trying for millennia to form cultures that preserve a way of
life, and I suspect that each culture is a grand experiment. And all humans are going to try and
maintain their place on top of the food supply, or they too, like the Dodo bird will eventually
perish.
Furthermore, when a serious look at human behavior is investigated, it seems to be perfectly
rational why the Apaches hated the Conquistadores and Anglos. Obviously, these early arrivals
were threats, to not only their way of life, but cast serious shadows on their supply of food. Often, I
have heard it said, by those with a hidden agenda that the Land belonged to the Apache, but in
reality it belonged to whomever could take and keep it. So, I ask the reader, what’s the real
difference between the predatory practices of the Apaches and Anglo’s? Or, for that matter, what’s
the real difference between the predatory practices of the Apaches and all forms of current govt
bureaucracies?
CHAPTER 11
Assayers and Geologists
The summer of 1984 saw me spending a great deal of time at the El Paso Lab, and in Silver City
with Walter Lashley. The body of evidence was building in support of my treatise that the Cable
Claims is the discovery of many lifetimes.
At the same time the young metallurgist in El Paso was studying the variety of Cable Claims
samples, with a battery of techniques, such as: normal fire assays, DCP Spectrometry and the
Scanning Electron Microscope.
While experiments were being done in El Paso I would hop scotch between Silver City and El
Paso. While at ASAT I was learning a diversity of wet-chemical extraction techniques, like proving
Osmium and Ruthenium were an important constituent of Cable’s PbS ores via distillation
methodologies and the normal “trials by fire”.
I was constantly force feeding myself with as much data as possible, as to why so many
headaches plague the prospector. And soon it became abundantly clear that inaccurate laboratory
analysis is probably the leading reason why field exploratory work often ceases prematurely.
For some unknown reason it appears that Labs or Assayers are considered infallible, like
medicinal Doctors. The simple truth is that Labs are staffed by humans and are just as adept at
making errors, or plagued with incompetence as any other business. Take for example the time
when we kept getting faceted diamond shaped precious metal prills from standard fire assays.
These assays were being done by a chemist who’s responsibility was to extract Rhodium from a
major company’s silver electro-winning process. This well meaning chief chemist brought some of
his purified silver crystals to be inquarted into our fire assays. We kept getting, from our rocks,
significant shows of Rhodium, and I became suspicious because I had never ever seen these results
before. I asked this chemist if he had tested his silver to see if it was contaminated with any
Rhodium. His reply was that it was his business to be sure that he removed all the PGMs from the
silver. I said OK, but let’s just run a test fusion, so that we can be positive, and not be led to any
false conclusions. Reluctantly he agreed. Well, it turned out that his so-called pure (.999) silver had
significant amounts of Rhodium present, and did his face turn red. The point is, not to chastise or
throw rocks, but to never take for granted anything in assaying.
Most modern-day assay laboratories still practice what I consider obsolete “Fire Assay”
procedures. Which are commonly perceived to be the most accurate way of recovering the precious
metals. Normally, should a common fire assay fail to produce a precious metal prill, then it is
usually construed that the sought metals are not present.
From my perspective the Stone Age Art of Fire Assaying has its basic foundations laid down by
Medieval Alchemists. And is thus a poor excuse for Science in the late nineteen hundreds.
Nevertheless, it is still religiously practiced, although few modern assayers truly understand the
practice chemically.
Obviously, Fire Assaying has a place in testing and in the production of metal. But the
assumption that the Nobel Metals can or will withstand the “Trial By Fire” premise is simply
inappropriate today. One such example would be Osmium, which is one of the eight precious
metals, which will almost always volatilize during such a procedure unless of course it is alloyed
with iridium and/or gold. Even then significant amounts of osmium can volatilize, and be lost and
considered not present.
A prospector should also keep in mind that when analytical results are completed – the results do
not mean that commercial recovery methods will produce the same results. In fact, quite the
contrary. Almost always considerably less metals are produced than assays indicate are present.
Utilizing laboratories for rock/mineral analysis is usually very mysterious to the uninitiated.
Despite what many may or will say about assaying - the real problem is ignorance. For this “art
form” can and will take the would-be miner into several paths of oblivion. So, it is the wise
prospector that quickly learns as much as possible about laboratory techniques. However, this is
usually very expensive and consequently is seldom practiced by the miner or for that matter
ANYONE.
Normally, it thought that if the results are good then that’s great and has to be correct.
Unfortunately, good results are not a bit better than bad reports unless the samples are subjected to
multiple exact same procedures. But, this is seldom the case.
It is customary in the mining profession that when a mineral anomaly is located that a geologist is
called in to render a professional geological report. The geologist in good faith usually does indeed
provide valuable geological data pertaining to structures and mineralization. Although, based upon
the performances of most geologists I’ve seen they will only lead the ignorant down from the
mountain to the valleys of desolation. Of course, if a geologist reads this I sure that quite a different
opinion will be evident. In fact, if a student of rock mechanics just happens to read the foregoing
it’s likely I will get a ear full. But, that will be OK, for the rocks should drop where gravity intends.
The geologist should after inspecting the mineralization, terrain and collection of representative
samples only render a report based upon the facts that are visible and apparent. This so-called
professional should also issue an opinion relating to mineral deposition probabilities. What he
should do and does do seems often to be two different things. Unfortunately, most ignorant spellbound prospectors want to believe in a savior. And, just what is a savior? Naturally it’s the
geologist who is schooled in the disciplines of rock formations. To this last sentence I say horsepucky. To me, these often bearded wonders are usually just simple imitators of knowledge. Every
geologist I ever met or watched came to a property, made field notes, if paid enough, and took
samples. Then, went away without saying much except rendering his bill. While he’s away he
seems to be concocting some kind of magic, but in reality he’s only waiting for the white robbed
alchemist (assayer) to tell him how he’s to proceed to the next step.
I believe, what is all too often the case of giving his geological report credibility he builds his
case upon the assays. So, if the assays are inferior then his report will justify why the property
should be abandoned. However, let’s assume the assays are favorable. Now this hide binding
pseudo-rock mechanic will advise that an in-depth analysis should be undertaken. This is, of course
means expensive core drilling, which the geologist will over-see and personally log the correlating
data.
The prospector, not knowing any better has now entered the lair of the Saber Tooth Tiger. In my
opinion, the geologist should have only two functions, which are to conduct an extensive and
intensive field study, as well as collecting representative samples from all suspected or known
mineralized outcrops. Then, in the presence and supervision of the prospector, these samples are
logged, dated and noted on a topo map of exact extraction location. The next step is to send off the
properly split samples to at least three laboratories for a variety of analysis. The assayer’s reports
should not be sent to the geologist and the geologist should not be at anytime privy to the analysis
least he become biased. However, this is seldom if ever the case, or at least I’ve never seen such.
The really good Geologists like to work with facts, which are usually scanty at best. The real rock
hardened geologists will write their report based upon experience garnered on the property, such as
formations, mineral expressions (structures), and only use the lab analysis as reference to the
sample collection sites. Thereby letting the mineral property owner or investor(s) decide the merits
of the situation.
In my humble opinion - any geologist that writes and/or completes the report after the assay
analysis is a charlatan and you should run as fast as possible away from such a practitioner of
geology.
Now that the prospector has accumulated a little data, and assuming that he decides to continue
his quest, he needs more and better data. This could be accomplished by conducting a geophysical
study to determine if hidden mineralization has likely occurred. Plus, an in-depth analysis of the
many minerals that the terrain contains to obtain an over-all picture of any residual metal
signatures. This is often called a geo-chem grid study that seeks specific traces of elements that can
signal that the goodies could be in the area. In other words, the prospector is really a detective that
leaves no stone unturned.
Once the prospector starts the arduous journey into the mysterious jungle of laboratories, and if
he was quick witted and not scared off by the many webs and snares that lie in wait, he should have
learned what to be painfully wary of.
And, as he proceeds down the halls of science he should learn that: 1) There is NO one way to
accurately assay for ALL the Metals; 2) Analytical methodologies are as varied as there are
assayers; 3) That secrecy is abundant; 4) There are several Fusion and Chemical types of
assaying; 5) There are multiple types of analytical Instruments that have both positive and
negative attributes; 6) The Science and understanding of the metals is still in its infancy, despite
how sophisticated our technology is; 7) That unskilled, unscrupulous and incompetent assayers
are abundant, and difficult to spot, and 8) that errors are rampant, and accuracy is elusive.
Assuming that the miner was not mortally wounded in the laboratory labyrinths. And, he
successfully emerged with conclusive data indicating he has truly found a potential glory hole. He
must now determine the extent of mineral value, how to extract the metal values, and whether to
market the metals or the property.
I look at assayers and geologists with the same eye as I would financial consultants. I once asked
a man I respected quite a bit, who was in the steel fabrication business, if he would base his
financial future on what his estimator bid the job at? This CEO said -- heavens no! Estimators,
financial planners, geologists and assayers are at best merely aids to accurately determine what
course of action should be taken. So, when the prospector gets reports, regardless of what is stated
the responsibility always lies with the person who is at risk.
It is wise to keep in mind that many people seek to blame someone else for actions that have gone
sour. Or attempt to place their responsibility onto someone else for their decision making process.
Correspondingly, the prospector or would-be miner is at the mercy of his own ability to
comprehend the data in any and all reports.
In a sense all prospectors and would-be miners will at some point in time have to strap on the
burdens that responsibility demands. Therefore, he must be prepared to run what I call the miner’s
gauntlet. In order to survive he had best be prepared intellectually in as many vocations as possible.
Thus and in my feeble minded opinion no one can enter the Kingdom of Metals without earning the
right of passage. In most honorable professions this is called paying one’s dues.
Before going on, it seems appropriate that all who read this, especially miners, should recognize
the individual kinship that man and Earth have in common. Most people are not aware that their
bodies are chemical processing plants. These walking factories grind up the minerals (commonly
called food), then dissolve them with stomach acid. Next, this paste (complex matrix) is sent to the
concentration camp where the bacteria slaves separate the waste (gangue) from the precious
elements (ions/enzymes). If food is constantly being consumed the circuit works 24 hours a day,
allowing for the enzymes (goodies) to be transported through specialized filters (membranes,
kidneys and liver), and transported away via the blood veins (roads). When each solubilized
metalloid (organo complexes) reaches its targeted cells (cities) new life begins.
I’d also like to point out that waste generation is a natural process and everyone participates in
this offense to some extent. Example: Miss wise environmentalist sits down and eats her morning
breakfast of eggs, bacon and toast. At some point in the day the inevitable has to take place, with no
exceptions. The stomach hydrochloric acid when in contact with any sulphur product has to release
hydrogen sulfide gas, and results in the passing of wind, that smells like rotten eggs. Any organic
(food) compound containing sulfur (beans/eggs) will work nicely for this phenomenon to occur.
This same odor is generated when galena (lead sulfide) is subjected to any strength of hydrochloric
acid. However, it should also be noted that this same gas while smelling offensive also serves as a
precipitator of metals in an acidic solution. Therefore, the main purpose of stomach acid is simply
to tear apart the various mineral complexes and let the generated gasses precipitate out of solution
metallic ions. Some of these metals are then further processed, and that which cannot be readily
utilized is discarded, most often referred to as feces or waste byproducts. I wonder if it would be
appropriate to get an exhaust smog tester for Miss ecoist to see if she is passing wind, thereby
polluting our common environment?
The environmentalists have said that cows belch and fart too much polluting gas. I’d just betcha
that when all the environmentalists and their comrades are accounted for they produce more foul
odors than all the cows and industry put together.
By Fall, and the desert air turning a-bit brisk I received my geological report from Bill Van Dran
a young Geologist that I had previously contracted with. His report was matter of fact, somewhat
sterile, and suggested that the Claims deserved a more serious look. Later, I made a video of him
reporting what he’d personally seen on the Claims terrain. As well as his verification that a
geophysical anomaly was indeed present. And, that some samples he gave to an assayer of his
choosing showed results better than he thought possible.
With “Jack Frost” making room for Ole Man Winter I took a major oil company’s geologist to
the Cable Claims to collect samples and conduct a preliminary study. Some of his encouraging
words were “you’ve got good rocks and a proper setting”, but didn’t have much else to say, except
telling me of his many global geological adventures.
After the geologist had taken the samples to the oil company’s laboratory(s), I occasionally
communicated with their chief chemist. This chemist readily admitted to finding gold and silver,
but never mentioned in a positive manner if the PGMs were found. Every-time I called, the
receptionist, who always seemed to know who I was and treated me sort’a special, would patch me
straight through to the chemist without ado. Boy, those millions in the Bank, were looking mighty
good.
After several weeks of being in contact with this oil giant, I knew that just any day now they
would be slobbering at the mouth for our Claims. However, did I get a surprise, when one
afternoon I called the chemist and was interrupted by a manager who told me not to call the
company again, with no reason given. I was speech-less. I didn’t know what to say, so I simply said
that I was sorry for bothering them, and hung-up the telephone. I’ve had body blows before, but
this one left an impression, that hasn’t been forgotten.
After getting over the initial shock I asked myself over and over why did this company behave
this way? Did I somehow make a nuisance of myself, or perhaps they had had their belly full of an
ignorant prospector? Or, could it be that they were disappointed in their lab reports? Is it possible,
that they found spectacular amounts of goodies, then subsequent assays failed to show any precious
metals? If this last scenario was the case, that would have indicated that I had salted the ground,
and that I was a fraud? But, this was not too likely a chance because they chose their samples and
not always from where I suggested. Their behavior is still a mystery, although I certainly have my
suspicions as to why I was treated in such an unprofessional manner.
In the mining game there are many con-men, and everyone entering this endeavor should not
sleep too soundly or at least sleep with one eye open. In the old days it was sometimes a common
practice for the charlatan to take a shotgun loaded with flakes of gold and blast the rocks. The
modern rascal, who knows anything at all about chemistry would most likely take a syringe filled
with an aqueous solution of goodies and then squirt the liquid onto the rocks. This type of action
would allow the solution to penetrate deeply, via the minute cracks, and no-one would be able to
see what had been done to produce outstanding results. Of course dilution can or would occur if it
rained before samples were cut and assayed.
There is an old saying that you can’t beat a con-man at his own game. However, the astute
prospector can certainly be aware of the hazards. There is one thing the lonely prospector and little
miner can take heart in, that being -- he doesn’t steal for a living, instead he is the giver of hope and
new life.
In today’s world it looks like the thieves hideout is no longer in some box canyon, or in dark
foreboding alleys. Just the opposite, they walk the streets boldly and have glorious towering
monuments erected. Some people might call them banks, city halls, county courthouses or capitals.
Have you ever noticed how banks and other institutions proudly display the Eagle swooping
down on some poor unsuspecting victim with their outstretched talons? I for one always have an
uneasy feeling when I go near one of these respectable establishments. Kind’a like the saying
“come on in and visit for a spell says the spider to the fly”. Based upon the spiders subtleties I
guess the Eagle Logo at least warns those who have open eyes to the dangers. Yet, as in nature the
ugliest predator does not why hide or stalk, instead lies right in the open for the world to see. What
better camouflage could there be to snare the ignorant?
Nature in Her wisdom has seen fit to mark all things, as well as want those things to naturally
cluster in close proximity. Take for example the minerals. They always seem to form a particular
crystalline structure. Therefore the keen eye of the prospector will notice these patterns and deduce
the probability of its character. It would also seem reasonable to assume that those who prefer the
shady side of life also standout like crystalline beacons to the person who has removed his blinders.
When I would conduct micro-chem studies, I always found it fascinating that the precipitating
crystals would form in well defined and consistent geometric patterns. This type of crystalline
growth behavior is one of the ways to isolate and recognize a particular metal salt. Those of you
that fly a lot or have scrutinized aerial photos will probably have recognized that human cities also
seem to have consistent recognizable geometric cluster patterns, which are amazingly similar in
appearance to the precipitated metallic salts. This same pattern is also born out and mimicked by
the human body, for there is no part that does not have a particular geometric (crystalline) format.
It may appear to those who read this chapter that I’ve been unduly harsh on Assayers and
Geologists. What I attempted to do was warn the ignorant and the too trusting prospector to at least
be careful and/or skeptical. In fairness, there are good to excellent assayers and geologists, who are
just as hard to find as commercial metal deposits. From my viewpoint I see a definite correlation of
seeking a physician for open heart surgery and the assayer/geologist. Therefor, the would-be miner
had better get the best or suffer the consequences. I doubt that exemplary assayers and geologists
will be offended by my remarks, in fact they probably will agree with what I’ve said in most part.
CHAPTER 12
Turmoil
By late Fall I was registered into a history course at the University in Las Cruces on account of
Jim Cain who died shortly after I met him. During our numerous conversations he told me about a
set of old leather bound books in the Juarez Catholic Church. According to Jim they contained the
dates and maps of where the old Spanish mines could be found in the Caballo Mountains.
Now for the first time I might be able to have credible proof that I so desperately needed to ease
my anxieties. However, in order to review these documents I had to have some justifying pretext.
Jim said, the Church officials would allow history students to review the ancient manuscripts; but
only in the presence of a priest.
The priest was lined up, the class about to start, and at the last moment I chickened out. Why?
Because, I didn’t know what might happen to me while in Juarez searching through these old
documents. What if they got wind that I wasn’t a real student, but instead, only a nasty miner trying
to get their gold. I certainly couldn’t afford for the Federales to put me in a Mexican Jail. So, to this
day that information, if real, is patiently waiting for some brave industrious soul.
Constantly working in the same place was starting to drive me mad. I wanted to know why the
minerals were in Cable Canyon, and that required scouting the adjacent terrain. Yet, spare time was
a luxury, so I would occasionally steal time away from Cable and make trips into the little
Caballo’s.
These smaller mountains lie just South of Cable Claims, separated by Apache Canyon. According
to Bulletin 10, published in the late 1920’s by the Bureau of Mines in Socorro, there was a silver
mining project in these mountains. The article is a brief one, but it says this mine had long tunnels,
and was extracting 14 oz silver in a lead matrix. Search as I did I wasn’t able to find an entrance.
Nevertheless, I did find stacks of small piles of Galena ore, which could have carried the silver, and
the appearance of the Lead crystals looked exactly like Cable galena.
While investigating the paths and old roads that are almost non-recognizable, and while standing
next to a small ore pile I could hear rocks falling seemingly near and beneath me. Look and scratch,
as I might, it remained obscure. Maybe at another time I’ll get luckier.
While running around in the little Caballo’s I met Mr. George Taylor while on his way through
Apache Canyon with a track loader. He said that he was heading to his placer claims out in the
Jorando flats. Being a typical prospector he was essentially working alone trying to develop his
claims. I told him that I didn’t have much time, but would give him a hand by running his tractor
for a couple of days.
His claims were all around Haystack peak, a lone pointed hill. I have to admit I wasn’t being
altogether altruistic, because this was another chance to gather first hand information without a lot
of expensive, time consuming, secretive detective work.
His placer claims seemed to have merit due to the depression days diggins. I successfully panned
a little color from a few places he said carried gold. Though the strange thing about the gold is that
each small piece is round and flat, almost like someone had salted the area a long time ago with a
shotgun.
There are two items that the vicinity of Haystack intrigues me with. The first is, while I examined
some of the gravel beds in several of the arroyos, one had what appeared to be abundant black
sands. But, they were non-magnetic and under the microscope these crystals appeared to be beryl
and truly deserve further investigation. The other is about a grave site where an old prospector dug
a 90 foot shaft back in the 1930’s. Rumor has it that he found what he was looking for. It’s also
said that just prior to his death, he hired a drifter to help excavate. It was assumed that this young
guy stole the gold and fled after killing and leaving the old man in the bottom of the shaft.
Several months after helping Mr. Taylor, he voluntarily visited Jack and me in Cable Canyon. He
said that seeing how we were nice to him he would dowse our claims from the mouth of the
canyon. Naturally, I did not want to hurt his feeling by saying what I thought of the dowsing art.
Furthermore, I was curious as to what he’d say and how he would do his song and dance. He got
out his long metal rods with a bottle of one of the metals attached to the end. After a time it started
a peculiar jig of weaving and bobbing. When he was done he said that we didn’t have much gold,
but we were loaded with silver. As I have said earlier, I put little faith in the art of witching.
To prove to us his abilities, and disregarding my views, George showed me and Jack an out-crop
of rocks on his claims and told us that at a certain depth there was a rich vein of gold. Jack and I
later conducted a cursory EM-16 grid on that spot, sure enough, ole George was right about having
something near the depth he had indicated. Nonetheless, I hesitate to say that it is gold, because I’m
not gifted with fourth dimensional abilities, nor do I have X-ray eyes. Of course that’s not to say I
wouldn’t accept that special talent, for I could sure use it. Trouble is, no one would likely believe
me either if I truly had such a talent.
While working with George he also showed his oil and water witching craft. Regardless of what I
suspect about this art, he had found potable water in the Jorando where none is known to exist. He
had drilled 10 water wells, which were steel cased, and water was within 10 feet of the top of the
casing. Unfortunately for George, he said that the BLM forced him to abandon this water, because
they said he did not have the right to use it. Pure hog wash. The BLM has no legal right to deny a
miner/prospector the use of any locatable water, but they do carry the big stick. I find it curiously
odd that the various environmental NGO’s (legal defense fund, etc.) can sue the various state and
federal agencies, but let you or me try the same thing. Naturally, we won’t get to first base due to
their so-called immunity. Obviously, something is way out of kilter. In my way of looking at the
environmental organizations funded by the majority of the major corporations and our own govt
these are progeny of the corporate mentality. Thus, these EcoElites are privy to getting what they
want because the corporate state wants what the goose stepping environmentalists can publicly do
without rising the suspicions of the people.
Searching in Cable Canyon was becoming a doctrine. Often I would take a rope and crawl up
sheer cliffs, peering into as many holes as possible. On one such enterprise, I had tied the rope off
to a big jutting rock atop the cliff. Then went back to the bottom and started skinning up the rope to
a promising hole. About half way up my arms gave out. Talk about a panicking predicament. What
to do? So, I did what any self-respecting simpleton would, I froze to the rope for dear life. I stayed
that way for a long time then slowly started down. Needless to say, I quit trying to be a monkey,
that’s for better, stronger and more agile people than me.
One of the strange and peculiar sights to behold on the Cable Claims terrain is an area with big,
dead Pinion trees, and an adjoining area with dead junipers resembling a Tree Cemetery. Most of
the trees seemed to be of same approximate age and size. So, what could have caused these tree’s
demise? Could it have been stress brought on by fire or drought or could it be intolerance to the
mineralization? Of course my opinion is that the roots penetrated into rich metalic salts. Sounds
like an eternal optimistic miner doesn’t it? However, I did investigate these trees that were
undoubtedly several hundreds of years old. There was no evidence of burnt bark. I sort’a ruled out
drought because at least one of the Juniper would have survived. There just doesn’t seem to be any
logical explanation other than abundant mineralization. The only way I’m ever going to know for
sure is to take cores from the trees and retrieve soil samples for analysis. It’s on my list of things to
do, unfortunately there are hundreds of more consequential items that bear precedence.
The last days of winter found me in Houston talking to a couple of potentially interested
investors. The first one was an independent oil man arranged through a personal friend and past
employer. This gentleman who after consulting with Mr. Lashley agreed to participate after he
finished drilling an oil prospect. Finally, I had met a man of his word, and I could again see a
shinning light at the end of the tunnel. Sadly though, his oil well turned into a economic disaster,
which left me high and dry. But, I wasn’t the only one in this precarious position, for the oil bust
was in fast forward, and it eventually shook the whole Nation to its knees.
The second man, an attorney who said he was interested, but wanted someone he knew to first
inspect the property. Naturally, this was only to be expected and certainly warranted. However, this
event was to unleash a brewing rotten mess soon to hit the fan. This mining consultant came to the
claims, took samples and later allegedly sent a representative sample to the Bureau of Mines in
Socorro for analysis.
Over the next several months I was zipping from Texas to California meeting possible investors,
which were long in the tongue, but short in the hand. Then, I heard that a report had been issued to
the Houston attorney suggesting that he not get involved with the Cable Claims. Why? No goodies
were found in the assay(s). Fortunately for me, and with the discreet help of a friend I came into
possession of that report. Needless to say it confirmed my fears for it was quite damaging to my
integrity, and probably libelous on the part of a few personnel at the Bureau of Mines. This incident
was destined to become bigger and uglier as time wore on.
To further understand the potential scope of this odorous circumstance and to see if my fears and
suspicions were justified I called the School of Mines. I talked to the person in-charge of scholastic
grants regarding research funding. As friends listened to the conversation I asked this “gentleman”
that if I sent several thousand dollars to the school for specific research would the school be able to
keep the research and results proprietary, as well as including who sent the monies? He assured me
that no-one would find out where the monies came from. I asked him what about the freedom of
information act, and he said that anyone wanting the information under this Act would still have a
great deal of difficulty of getting it, because they could keep the knowledge buried in paper-work. I
had heard enough to know that probable chicanery was taking place. Furthermore, I knew I would
never give this school a dime for any research. If I couldn’t trust them due to their secret under-thetable methodologies, how could I trust any of the cooked results?
A few years after this event, I heard that the school was trying to change it’s name. But the
School Regents were not permitted to do so without losing grants. And obviously, money was
worth more than a name change. Evidently, there are people in high places that do not like the fact
that New Mexico has a mining history, and do not want to participate in being proud of that
heritage.
When not in the mountains I was constantly conducting micro-chem studies every chance I got so
as to learn as much as possible about the Cable’s mineralization. One of the intriguing sights I often
saw while samples were being dissolved with nitric acid were microscopic wires or flakes of gold
being ejected from the galena. But these microscopically small wires and flakes were quickly
obliterated by the eruption of elemental sulphur as the HNO3 dissolved the Lead. While this is not
a significant discovery, it does prove that elemental gold is somehow combined in the PbS matrix.
However, to prove this amazing sight to anyone would require many hours looking through the lens
as small pieces of galena crystals are being dissolved, and few if any people have the patience or
the interest to conduct such exhaustive tests.
Back in 1983, Jack and I also discovered and claimed a small area in Longbottom Canyon. The
mineralization had both copper and lead mixed with purple fluorite. These Claims became known
as J&J 1, 2, & 3, which was vernacular for Jack & Joe. The main PbS vein always produced
interesting amounts of gold when dissolved with nitric acid or panned with mercury. And while
conducting a limited EM-16 grid we discovered a small anomaly. This anomaly is not big enough
for a mining company, but could be quite profitable for a little guy. If it is what I suspect, a
pegmatite, for all the classic signs are present, then it could indeed be exciting. Pegmatites are
known the world over of often containing dazzling displays of crystals, including gold, which could
be sold to collectors.
Years later I was to find out that this canyon was named after a man referred to as “long bottle”,
or “long in the neck”, due to his compulsive drinking. Plus, there are rumors of a stash of Wells
Fargo loot hidden in a deep, but covered over mine shaft, and of a lost silver mine. In the summer
of 1992 I accidentally found out by talking to a local man that he and his wife discovered an old
silver mine in the upper reaches of the canyon. He informed me that they found several artifacts,
which were given to a museum. However, the silver was not exploitable, because they shipped
several tons of ore and it didn’t cover their expenses.
The question that haunts me about the value of their shipped ore is - was it really worthless or did
they really pick the right rock for shipment? Someday I need to find this ancient mine in
Longbottom and check it out for myself. Years before meeting this couple I had met a miner that
told me an interesting scenario about his ore, that darn near bankrupted him. He said that he was
shipping a siliceous silver and gold ore to the copper smelter near Silver City, but wasn’t getting
paid for what he knew the rock was worth. In due course, he discreetly pays the smelter a visit
while they were processing his rock. He watches as the rock is being transferred from the stock
piles to the grinding circuit then onto the pulverizing and blending operations via conveyor. As he’s
watching, the company’s lab technician periodically takes samples from the conveyor so that they
will know how much to pay for this stock of rock.
This miner, being around the block a time or two, notices that the conveyor is slightly tilted,
causing the heavier rock to gravitate to one side of the belt. No problem, except that the technician
was selecting samples from the other side of the conveyor. The novice wouldn’t know what’s
taking place, but this man knew right away how they were picking his pocket.
Anyone who’s been around ground rock very long knows that the heavier portions has a strong
tendency to separate from the lighter portions. Well the technician was taking samples from the
lighter materials which would be carrying less values than the heavies. The smelter wasn’t doing
anything actually illegal, but the miner was getting a royal screwing. Obviously, a miner has to
recognize the tricks of the trade if he intends to survive long in the mining arena.
Before leaving this chapter I have to quote an old saying that Dan Medley kept saying to me:
“Mines are Made, Not Found”. Entering the Mineral Kingdom takes a brave lad, and finding that
pot of gold is a challenge few can handle. However, that’s only half the battle, for the minerals
must be harvested to appreciate the sacrifices. Keep in mind that the major mining companies
won’t even consider a property unless it is worth at least a billion dollars. Plus, it might be wise to
keep in mind that the bigger the prize the bigger the dragons.
CHAPTER 13
Forgotten Roots
On a beautiful spring afternoon while driving down the West side of the Black Range Mountains,
returning home from Silver City I encountered a site to behold, that is seldom, if ever, seen. There
in front of me were two mule pack trains, 12 each, completely geared, being lead by a man and a
woman. If that wasn’t strange enough these two looked like they just stepped out of the 1800’s.
Naturally, I didn’t have a camera, and there wasn’t room to stop and find out who these people
were, where they were going, or where they lived.
Another time, while eating at the S-Bar-X some well dressed people came in, ordered lunch and
while eating, asked us what all those strange green piles were lying on the road in the Mountains?
They said they got out of their car (Cadillac), got a stick and poked and stirred these flat piles, but
were simply at a loss as to what they could be. One of the persons setting next to me told them that
those strange green slurpy piles were cow patties. Obviously, they were humiliated by showing
their Eastern ignorance. It just never occurred to them to think that cattle could roam free. I guess to
most city dwellers the thought of cattle roaming the highways is just inconceivable.
On a similar thought – I wonder if the environmentalists (greenies) are any kin to the green
sickness called envy? Or, are they related to green bile and gangrene?
CHAPTER 14
Rasmensen
Several people have told me about an old man (Joe Rasmensen) who lived up high on the
Mountain. This man supposedly worked a secret lost mine and lived close by in a Log Cabin
between Cable and Indian Canyons.
As the fable continues, he would cart out a yellow looking mineral in leather bags on his mules
over the crest. The faded trail can still barely be seen, and Jack and I did find a buried and burned
cabin, that Jack eventually excavated.
While Jack performed his Herculean digging feats he found several old bottles. The prettiest one
a hand-blown champagne bottle dating to the 1860’s. Jack also uncovered the remains of a crude
stone fireplace. One of the fireplace rock’s sent the metal detector just a zinging. But a microscopic
study failed to show any metal. We have learned by experience that there are certain rocks on the
Caballo’s that will make a metal detector howl like coyote, but not have any visible metal in them.
Jack also found in this immediate area a limestone rock that stunk like rotten eggs when broken,
in other words sulphur dioxide, which indicates possible petroleum or some kind of heavily laden
sulphidic mineral.
During the course of Jack’s excavation it became noticeable that this area had been pushed and
bent by Mother Nature. The bedded layers went from horizontal to almost ninety degrees forming
an arch. Just as obvious was the alteration of these bedded layers. For instance, what was either
once limestone, or maybe even percha shale was now kinda like a white chalk. So, Jack being a
curious lad sent samples off to be assayed. Although there was only a trace of goodies it did show
significant amounts of chromium. Naturally, this could mean that the PGMs could well be in the
area. Why? Because chromium and other elements can be considered as pathfinders or footprints
due to historical PGM associations.
The stories go on to say that Rasmensen took sick one day, and landed in the hospital. For some
unknown reason, possibly an old grudge, people came to his cabin and burnt it down. This part of
the tale seems to have truth, due to the burnt logs. However, I’ve looked for the remains of the
mules that supposedly starved to death while Rasmensen was ill, and couldn’t find a trace them.
A few people have said that Mrs. Peron during the 1920’s and early 1930’s would make monthly
excursions into the Mountains bringing the Taggart’s and Rasmensen needed supplies. The mystery
is where did Rasmensen get cash to pay for the grub? I have often wondered if Rasmensen versus
Doc Noss was the real father to all the stories. And, because Doc was a known friend of Mrs. Peron
maybe Doc became privy to Rasmensen’s secret and did away with the old man.
On one of my numerous coffee breaks in 1993, Mr. Druce told me that while he was up in the
area many years earlier that he and associates discovered a wooden door covering a timbered mine
entrance. Although they didn’t enter it, because they had no lights. Was this Rasmensen’s lost
mine? Quite naturally, I investigated this incident as thoroughly as practical, but found no evidence
of this trap door.
Jack and I have found numerous prospect holes, driven in the Jasperoid Fusselman, near the
deserted cabin(s). Our examinations of the rock showed large amounts of very small Iron Pyrites,
that are not normal in microscopic appearances to traditional pyrites. A few assays did show minor
amounts of gold, but nothing to jump and down about.
We also found an old decomposed windless, next to a very suspicious spot. This ‘windless’ may,
but not necessarily, be next to the entrance to an old mine, although it does fit the area Mr. Druce
told me about. As usual, to prove-up any story one has to dig, and there just doesn’t seem to be any
end of that misery. I guess I’m not too unlike most other people, if I’m going to dig I want some
kind of reward. Besides, there are hundreds of places that deserve digging. Consequently, at some
point a person has to set his priorities. On the other side of this coin, if you don’t dig, there won’t
be any discoveries. Likewise, could this latter sentence be what the greenies have in mind for all
prospectors?
This same area a few years previous to my arrival was prospected by people who reported finding
“Angel Eggs” that could be dug-up in random places. I know that men are natural born liars, but
this was quite a whopper. I’ve roamed this area extensively, and as yet have not been able to find
any-kind of mineralization that would lead someone to believe in “Angel Eggs” that have a
platinum core. Yet, and for what it’s worth, I did see this man’s many boxes of rock samples, and
they did have delivery tags marked from Russia. So, at least part of what he said was true. I have
found quite large iron looking sulfide crystals, which were in the process of being decomposed.
But, in order for these to become Angel Eggs I sure would have to butter up my imagination.
Yet, and just as odd - I’ve seen what appeared to be free gold, contained within microscopic
double terminated quartz crystals. These microscopic crystals in Cable Canyon lie in what I refer to
as the Breccia zone and might be what Rasmensen was getting, but this would mean machine
grinding, and I doubt that such existed. Assays on this mile long structure have indicated
sometimes as much as a half ounce of gold to the ton. But all the stories say Rassmensen had bags
of yellow stuff. Could his mysterious yellow stuff been nothing other than the jarosite clinging to
the fusselman cliffs. There is no doubt about this stuff looking like gold when the suns shines on it.
But it’s only iron sulfate that has leached through the rock and oxidized and dried upon contact
with the air. Although it was used to make exceptionally fine gold paint. it doesn’t make credible
sense that Rasmensen would go to the trouble of collecting this yellow mineral, on account of it
would take a lot of this material to make much money. Unless of course he enjoyed poverty, or
didn’t require many creature comforts which seems to have merit.
On another story gathering day a friend told me that he’d actually seen a Civil War Cannon lying
in the grass way up high over-looking Apache Canyon near Rasmensen’s cabin. Naturally, while on
many of my reconnaissance trips I kept my eyes on the lookout for this relic. Of course I haven’t as
yet found it. Still and all, it is true that the Confederates were in the immediate area. And being able
to control Apache Canyon would be an obvious strategic advantage for who-ever held the high
ground. By having this strategic position anyone could keep the opposition from reaching the Rio
Grande River and watering their stock. Thus, just a couple of men armed with a cannon could sure
raise hell with those down in the valley floor.
I have to point out, that I’ve not walked the entirety of this questionable cannon area, but time
permitting I will. About this same period of time Jack was given a map that was professionally
(paid for) dowsed pointing to an exact spot where there’s supposed to be a couple of rich veins. The
trouble with these two “rich” veins is that they just happen to be located on the side of a shear cliff
near where the Cannon is reported to be. I wonder, do you suppose that the crafty dowser knew
how to read topo maps and could tell where there were vertical cliffs, knowing that the odds of
anyone checking the validity of his dowsing would be nil or none?
During a few of my exploratory trips into the area, I’ve found very old and intact bottles still
standing in very odd square cut in solid rock prospect holes. So, this suggests that in order to be
sure that I haven’t overlooked a promising spot I’ll have to be very thorough on all future
prospecting excursions. So far I’ve found only 2 of these peculiar square holes, which are about 20
inches high by 20 inches wide by maybe a foot deep. I’ve heard that these are markers indicating
that a mine entrance is near by. Who knows, maybe one day Lady Luck will allow me to stumble
upon an entrance just like she allowed me to discover these strange holes?
It is possible that Rasmensen or some other prospector who lived in the other log cabin found a
way into the most exciting place that I’ve ever heard of.
This fascinating story was told to me late one night by an Indian lady, and I have no way of
proving whether or not she was teasing my obvious hunger. Anyway, she said that there are several
ways into the underground caverns, but no white man knows where any of the Indian entrances are.
Similarly, no white man has ever found and lived to tell of the wondrous amounts of gold that are
free for the taking. Apparently, the Conquistadores worked the underground river for nuggets as big
as pinon seeds.
After the Spaniards were driven out of the area the Indians would occasionally work these golden
waters. Indians, like white man will not work any harder than he must to acquire his earthly
pleasures and desires. Similarly all one has to do is look at the majority of American Indians to
realize that their wants and desires are uniquely different than white eyes. Gold to the Indian was a
means to buy what they needed when all other endeavors were barren and dry. Apparently, as she
indicates - no one Indian alone could do this grueling work, it required many. They would have to
haul large quantities of wood, unnoticed, down deep into the bowels of the Great Mother, which
took several days alone. Then, they would build large fires and send men down into the fast moving
depths. The river bottom was both fine sand and large boulders, and the men would gather what
sands they could into leather and wood baskets and return to the surface. These gravel’s were then
transferred to big wooden bowels where other men would sift and sort by fire light the larger pieces
of gold.
From what this Indian princess told me, few Indians are permitted to journey to this place in this
day and age. Of course those that still work the gold do so by modern placer dredges and
underground lighting systems. She said that if I ever find this place I will know it by the huge piles
of ashes, the large iron bowels of pinon pitch, and ancient stone/clay kilns that are built in the cave
walls. As best I can tell, this river has a treacherous current, for the Indian men would not venture
into the water without ropes being tied to one of their legs. I wished that I could have gotten more
of the story, so as to better pin point the actual depth inside the mountain. But if you have ever
talked to an Indian you’ll know that when they’re through talking there is nothing more to be
discussed, at least at that time.
I did try to talk to this woman on several occasions, but she would have nothing more to do with
me. I often wondered if I had said something to offend her, which I didn’t think I was stupid
enough to do. Yet, the fact remained that try as I might, there was no more talk about this awesome
place where my dreams live.
CHAPTER 15
Taggart’s & Burbank
Ever-since my first few days in the Caballo Mts., the name Taggart constantly spun around many
a treasure yarn. And just by chance I was about to meet the legendary Mrs. Taggart.
By late Autumn Mrs. Taggart and I arrived at the top of the mountain, overlooking the Cable
Claims. Being in her 80’s and a bit weak in the legs she couldn’t walk far, However, her grip was
as strong as an ox. There’s no-doubt in my mind that when she was younger and got riled-up, that
she could whip a grizzly bear. Hell, I’ve met men who didn’t have the grip she possessed.
I wanted to know a number of things from her, but my main question was where did she think the
gold on the Shandon originated? Naturally she proceeded to tell me in detail about her adventure’s
when she and her husband (Charles) worked the Shandon in the late 1920’s. Eventually, she said
that she believed the source of the gold originated from somewhere in Indian Canyon (the canyon
directly South and next to Cable Canyon). I too had long suspected such, but couldn’t prove it.
I have heard reports that the Denver Mint accepted Gold mined from the Shandon Placer, because
it was so pure. A few printed articles that I’ve read, put the value of total “reported” gold mined to
be in the millions of dollars at todays value. There is no doubt in my mind that only a fraction of
the gold has ever been reported. Plus, it is my belief that the Spaniards found this same deposit and
pillaged all the bigger nuggets long before the arrival of white man. Apparently the Indian Silva
who acted as Mrs. Taggart’s body guard had a couple of brothers, and one of these brothers
actually found the Shandon in 1901.
Another reason that I believe that the gold originated from Indian Canyon, is, because the
reported recovered gold not only came from the arroyo floors, but also from the tops of the arroyos.
Therefore, coming from the top of these arroyos can only mean that it was washed down during
torrential rains from somewhere inside this Canyon. The downside to this hypothesis is that the
total amount of gold in Indian Canyon was washed out of the canyon eons ago, leaving behind a
barren gorge.
Another one of my plausible hypothesis is that the gold actually originated from volcanic necks
when the Rift was quite active and when it was deep under the ocean. If this was the case this
would explain, at least to me, why the gold is also located atop the arroyos.
During the course of time I’ve met several people who had prospected Indian Canyon for a lost
gold mine. An elderly gentleman (Joe Eberling) who lives in Williamsburg told me that he watched
as his Indian friend (Indian Joe, not the Indian Crazy Joe or Locomo Joe), blasted shut a deep
pocket of placer gold. This really nice, but kinda odd gentleman, has been after Jack and I to find it.
He’d always say that it wouldn’t take much work, and it’s only covered over by a foot or two. I
have to admit that there is some credibility to Mr. Eberlings’ tale. Why? Prior to me ever knowing
Mr. Eberling - Jack and I found an old bottle on the South Side of Indian Canyon, under a rock, that
had several old dynamite caps in it, and a piece of paper with Joe’s name on it. People just don’t
cart around dynamite caps for the heck of it, so, maybe, dynamite was indeed used to blast shut a
rich pocket of placer gold as he insists happened.
I’ve panned small amounts of free gold from the dry steam beds of both Cable and Indian
Canyons, but nothing to suggest that much gold is or has been present. At least in the limited areas
I looked for this evasive metal. Supposedly, somewhere at the western mouth of Cable Canyon, and
I know the place, several Mexican people during late 1800’s and early 1900’s would work the
gravel bars for placer and actually got large nuggets.
Gold does amazing things to people, some of which aren’t particularly nice. Whenever I watch
people placering, I’m constantly amazed at the goggle-eyed expressions they’d get when they’d
capture some of the dazzling metal. Apparently, this group of Mexican men got in a squabble over
the gold and settled the dispute with forty fours. Thus, no more placering.
While doing research (abstracting) in the Sierra County Courthouse I noticed that Charles Taggart
and the Indian Silva had claimed many mineralized areas all over the Caballo’s. Suggesting to me
that Mr. Taggart was shown numerous outcrops of minerals that might become profitable to mine.
Furthermore, I suspect that the Taggart’s, by being so secretive started many of the speculative
stories and yarns that permeate the bars, as well as fireside chats. Although, there can be little doubt
that at least some of the folklore is true. Surely, where there’s a lot of dense smoke there’s got to be
a little fire.
Some of the stories about the Taggart’s are not mentioned in her book, but she elaborated to me
while on the mountain. The 1st one was - that a couple of her workers removed large gold spheres
from a cavern without her knowing about their nefarious adventure. And, that she and her husband
found a burial cave with hundreds of skeletons, but covered it back up because she believed that it
was a sacred place. The tale that grabbed my attention most was that Mr. Taggart had Mexican
workers crushing the limestone rocks from the cliff’s edge for the wire gold. It is commonly
believed that somewhere near Noah’s Ark wire gold could be had for the work. Is there an ant’s bit
of truth to this? I don’t know, but there is a multiple mile long fault paralleling where the gold
reportedly was recovered. This same fault runs through Cable, through the Taggart’s claims,
crosses Burbank Canyon and plunges into Sardine Canyon then splits. And one these branches cuts
back to and intersects with the fault that cuts through Granite Peak and heads into the exact place
where Jack and I had our J&J Claims.
According to her book, Mrs. Taggart was born Rebecca Diaz, the daughter of a wealthy Mexican
family. She apparently met Charles Taggart by translating an old document, which was a
confession of Pedro Navarez. This document according to her accounts was originally written in
Latin and partially re-written in old Spanish. Apparently, just before Pedro Navarez was to be put
to death for being a murdering bandit, who had looted several Spanish caravans with native
Indians, he decided to mend his ways by confessing to a Franciscan Priest where the booty was
buried in the Caballo’s. Somehow, Charles Taggart got the document from a priest, who probably
desperately needed dinero, and was willing to compromise his position with the Church a little bit.
Evidently, even the Church has sought this location on several occasions, because there are
reports that robed Priests seen entering the West side of Burbank Canyon. They’d travel towards
the crest, near the Taggarts Claims and disappear around a bend and never be seen again.
Naturally, this kind of spell binding fireside jawboning would cause any serious, or rank amateur
treasure hunter to speculate as to where these priests could have gone. Most of the yarns suggest
that these priests, who were last seen in the 1970’s, now journey underground to curtail the
possibility of being discovered. Or, as a few people would have you believe that these priests were
killed by the Apaches who still hold a grudge.
Of course, there are probably as many tales about the spirits that guard the treasure as there are
treasure hoards. Most of them always indicate that no white man will ever find any of these secret
stashes. Why? Because the strongest, meanest Apache braves were sealed in the caves to forever
guard them. I would suppose this would be similar to King Tut’s Curse.
I’ve even heard that Pima and Apache Indians used to work old gold mines in both Cable and
Indian Canyons. And if a person was careful in his observations that the entrances of these old
mines could be seen when there was a thick blanket of snow. Apparently, the snow would show the
tell-tale outlines of the cross-timbered shafts. I gravely doubt that this is true, but I cannot discount
this tale completely. Because, as anyone knows, surprises are constant in these mountains. Plus, the
Indians have long lived in these mountains and there can be little doubt that if anyone knows the
whereabouts of lost mines or caves it would be them. However, I wonder if the Apaches would
have ever let the Pima’s onto their sacred mountains?
To add a tad more flavor to the many dishes of brain food yet to come, while in the Turtleback
restaurant, in the wee hours after midnight, a waitress told me a captivating narrative. After she
knew I was a miner and not a treasure hunter she said she belonged to the Gray or White Wolf
Indian Society, can’t rightly remember which. Anyway, she warned me in no uncertain terms that if
I ever got into the cavernous system, the Indians that were using these corridors would kill me as an
intruder. She stated that these Indians travel undetected for hundreds of miles from North of
Albuquerque to as far South as old Mexico, and have been doing so for a couple hundred years.
Also, that only certain members of the tribe are allowed underground, so as to assure that their
secret will remain safe.
There are reports of people accidentally stumbling onto an entrance, going in without adequate
supplies, getting lost for days, and emerging many miles from where they entered. And, even more
amazingly are never able to find the entrance again, even though they may search for years. One of
the first things Charles Taggart found in Burbank Canyon, embedded high on a cliff, was a piece of
hammered Copper with letters “I M T O”. What do the letters mean? As far as I know, no one has
ever figured it out.
Burbank Canyon got its name from an old sheepherder, who mysteriously disappeared. Leaving
many local inhabitants to believe that he found some of the treasure, and quietly moved away. Yet,
others believe that after he found the treasure he was murdered by the Apaches. Then there’s the
story that Mr. Burbank, during the very early 1900’s, and on the East side of the Caballo’s
accidentally found an entrance. According to what I’ve been told and seen, Mr. Burbank, near the
dried-up and lost “Aqua Escondido” springs, while gathering up cows or horses was sitting on a
rock that slightly moved. Burbank, being a curious man investigated the movable rock and found
that it was sealing a hole. Naturally he goes in, but is not prepared, having only a few matches. As
he uses up his matches he discovers that the room was full of old guns, pots, and piles of blankets,
plus a wall that looked as though it was constructed by man. When he emerged, he covered it so
good that he was never able to find it again, even though he searched in vain for several more
years.
Late in, 1996 while eating at the Rio Cafe in TorC I was told by an old timer that an old
prospector found a spring covered over with logs. By the time this prospector got back to this site
apparently the rancher had also found the site which could be the currently lost “Aqua Escondido”.
This rancher uncovered the spring and piped water down to his stock tank in the East end of
Apache Gap. By the way, this earth tank is still there, but I never noticed any pipe. Needless to say,
it would behoove me or anyone else to follow up on this story, for it could prove to be quite
valuable.
The area where the Taggart’s dug so many tunnels is really quite gorgeous. It is probably the only
oasis type setting anywhere in the mountains. It has carpet like grass and a virtual forest in a sunken
area, as though somewhere deep within the mountain a huge cave partially collapsed eons ago.
There is of course scuttlebutt of springs atop the Mountain that was sufficient for the Indians who
lived there. Some say this is where large accumulations of Indian booty is buried, others believe
that it was covered to prevent it from being used by their enemies. Which side is correct? I don’t
know, maybe both. Furthermore, I rather doubt that a spring ever existed on top of the mountain,
because the pressure required to reach the top would be enormous. However, my Uncle told me that
at the tip top of a mountain in the Silverado Canyon in Southern California he saw water gushing
out of an abandoned silver mine. So these springs are possible. But, it would mean that the water
would have to be under enormous pressure to rise to the top of this mountain. Then again, it be that
the trapped rain water is merely following the fault. And because the sunken area is lower than
much of the surrounding terrain a limited quantity of spring water could very well be true. So,and
based upon my many travels in this sunken area I have a strong suspicion as to where it most likely
would be. Of course, some digging would naturally be required.
Quite near the Taggart’s camp site is the remains of an old (ancient) stone ruin, which could have
been an old Spanish Fort, but to find it you’ll have to have a keen eye and then and only then does
it stand out like a sore thumb. Obviously the area deserves considerable prospecting to better
understand why this ancient building was built.
The 1929 stock market crash apparently ruined Charles Taggart’s great family wealth. And not
too long afterwards, while excavating a promising area, he was hit in the head by a falling boulder.
This tragedy caused a blood clot on the brain, and eventually lead to his death. Before he died,
according to Mrs. Taggart’s book, he made her promise to find the hidden treasure. Of course by
the 1990’s she died and was unable to complete her husbands dream.
Near the end of WWII, Mrs. Taggart met Bob McAuliffe, who became her partner. And he’s the
one who constructed the horrible and exceeding rough road on the crest of the Mountain. I
personally believe that they found many interesting and encouraging artifacts, that would keep
inspiring them to keep digging just a little further. Like during the summer of 1970 Mrs. Taggart
and Mr. McAuliffe found burnt timbers in one of their excavations. However it led to nothing of
substance, just more mystery.
According to her chronicles and my personal interviews, she said that there were times that she
and her men could hear digging activities going on inside the mountain. But, try as she might they
could never pinpoint the source. If there was someone mining inside the mountain, they sure
managed to keep it a secret. Furthermore, if this is true, it would suggest that the only treasure is the
mineral veins, and not treasure by the wagon loads laying around just waiting to be easily scooped
up. Or, it could also mean that whomever was mining believed that the treasure was best left alone
and the rich veins of metals was all that they needed. Thus, gold ore would not raise as many
eyebrows when it came time to sell it like gold coins would.
It’s amazing how a few flakes or a small bar of gold will make people react. I’ve read and heard
how people will commit unmentionable acts of violence to get their hands on some of that magic
yellow substance. And, that through out recorded history humans have committed every
conceivable act just to possess this supernatural metal. Maybe, why people behave so strange when
they hold this tantalizing and mysteriously soothing metal is due to the saying “he who owns the
gold also makes the rules”. One thing for sure, no Govt has ever won a war without it or the
promise of it.
In Rebecca’s book she states that glowing balls of light would occasionally roam the camp
spooking animal and man alike. Naturally this kind of activity would create unrest or cause some of
her superstitious hired help abandon the mountain or wanting higher wages to put up with the
spooks.
As Mrs. Taggart and I were about to leave the crest of the Mountain I noticed a couple new claim
markers, that were staking over a few of the Cable Claims, and I wondered as to who was jumping
our claims. I’d have to look into this new problem after I got back to town. While heading back and
on account of we were driving through her claims she said that she wanted to stop at her old
workings. Naturally, I eagerly agreed, because this may well be my one and only chance to have
some first hand knowledge.
She started by showing me the main tunnel where she often lived in primitive conditions. We
went to the back of the tunnel and looked down the shaft that was supposedly a couple hundred feet
deep. She asked if I wanted to go down and inspect the bottom. As I looked at the decaying and
obviously dangerous wooden ladder I decided that I’d be a complete fool to attempt such a reckless
journey; but I didn’t tell her that. I simply said, perhaps another time.
There were stacks and stacks of boxes filled with dirt in the tunnel, which she explained to me
was for raising mushrooms. Apparently the mushrooms were grown to raise badly needed cash to
assist her in the digging expenses. She did not say if these were behaviour modifying mushrooms,
nor did I ask her to explain how normal mushrooms could possibly make her enough money to pay
hired help.
Before we left the mine entrance she proceeded to tell me a couple of spook stories. The most
interesting one took place about 60 years ago while she had a Priest at the site. As she began to
reminisce I could see that far-away look in her eyes. She said that rocks started to rain from the sky,
and when they ran and hid behind some of the trees the rocks came at them from all directions.
When the rocks stopped for awhile they ran to the main tunnel entrance, and just barely made it
before the rocks started falling like hail. Look as they could, there did not seem to be any source
from where the rocks could be coming from. As she kept going on and on about this strange
episode, she said that the Priest said it was the spirits who were protecting the mountain and its
secrets.
Years later, Wells Horvereid took me to an area, not far from Rebecca’s tunnel that a famous
dowser said held a small cache of jewelry and gold. According to the dowser the goodies were a
mere 20 or so feet down in a small cavern. Not being able to resist the temptation to see how much
credibility that this dowser had I went down the rat hole. I soon discovered that the area could
contain a small cavern for there were voids and cracks. But it was just too dangerous to stay in, and
there was the distinct possibility of getting snake bit. Plus, as I’ve stated earlier I do not put much
stock in dowsers. I’ve always heard it said that diviners are liars and I suspect this is at least
partially true. Oh, sure there’s many a allegation that state flat-out that dowser’s have found water,
oil, buried gold and lost mines. All of which tend to fire up the lust of the week-end warriors. But,
I’d suggest that anyone who is serious about searching for hidden fortunes invest in the latest
technological instruments before beginning any serious digging.
To illustrate my point, several years later, Jack was on the rough, but navigable dirt road, in
Apache Gap. Where he met a man who was digging on his own dowsed area for placer gold. He
told Jack that he found a Cross chiseled into a rock and that his dowsing indicated a huge cache of
gold in the immediate area. He flat-out informed Jack that if Jack did any digging that he’d have to
split what he found. Little did this man know that I had chiseled that cross into the big boulder a
year earlier. I did so as a prank to drive treasure hunters further down that trail they’re traveling.
Heavens, any serious treasure hunter knows old markings from the more modern graffiti. I can only
presume that this guy thought Jack was some kind of boob. Because, as anyone knows, babes in the
woods, are duck soup to sly artists who dabble in the so-called paranormal.
When Mrs. Taggart and I got back to town, to show her appreciation, she gave me a signed copy
of her book. And I immediately set about making inquiries as to who was jumping our mining
claims. When I met up with him he said that he was in the right, because he had gone to BLM and
checked to see if the property was open. What he failed to do was go to Santa Fe for a thorough
abstracting. Plus, he should have looked the area over, because the Cable Claim corner monuments
are clearly visible and duly reported. In the course of our heated discussions, I felt as though I had
no alternatives, but to simply state to him that we had three choices to resolve this dispute. As he
listened I stated - he could abandon his claims and write me a notarized letter saying such, which is
the reputable way, or we could go to court and we’d all loose, or we could shoot it out and the
winner take all. Fortunately, after he saw our paper-work he decided to do the equitable thing. This
person had made an honest error and it happens all the time on Public Lands. As time kept moving
this gentleman and me have come to what I call mountain friends. We respect one another, but
don’t go out of our way to be city slicker friendly. In other words – live and let live.
When visiting the top of the Mountain, there will be found what is commonly called charcoal
pits. These shallow pits do have pieces of burnt wood that could be rudimentary forms of charcoal.
Some people believe that these “pits” were for roasting sulfide ores, or making charcoal for the
underground cavern smelters. Many others believe that they were for making charcoal for the late
1800’s lead/silver smelters a few miles to the North, or for heating tools to be sharpened. I however
suspect that these were merely Mescalero Apache Indian constructed pits for roasting Century Plant
(Agave) roots and leaves. To Apache’s agave roasts is similar to our outdoor barbeques, which are
often celebrated as a great feasts or sacred rituals. These plants not only fed the Apache, but
provided the needle and fibers for making sandals and bags. Perhaps one of the reasons these plants
were considered as sacred is because they do contain hallucinogenic alkaloids, and are capable of
making a darn right intoxicating brew. Furthermore, it is well known that American Indians have
long enjoyed marihuana and peyote. I wonder why the Apaches never formed goon squads to
police their fellow Indians who used drugs? I would suspect that they treasured the right to be free
to do with their bodies whatever they felt best. Plus, because they could grow as much of the stuff
as they wanted there was no need to control the crops to make money.
There’s probably no better time than now to introduce some of more famous treasure seekers, that
led very colorful lives seeking the Caballo treasures. I’ll start with Willie Doughit. According to
Mrs. Taggart’s book, Willie was a young drifter, residing in Hot Springs (TorC), that made a
nuisance of himself around the Taggart’s camp. As she reports, Willie tells local townspeople that
he knows where the goodies are on the Taggart’s place. This stirs the blood of many, and they,
including the sheriff arrive at the top of mountain. But poor Willie cannot seem to find the right
spot, and was led away by an angry crowd. If what Mrs. Taggart says is true about Willie, I’m
struck by the boldness of his schemes to appear as a dim witted fool or liar. I’ve found that when
people set out to deceive, they often will go to elaborate lengths, and I doubt that Willie was the
fool Mrs. Taggart made him out to be. If I was in Willies’ shoes and had found the treasure I
suppose that it would be just fine to have the town convinced that I was merely a babbling idiot, to
be left alone.
The stories about Willie Doughit are as many as there are people who talk about him. Some
reports say Willie and Buster Ward found at least one entrance near Granite Peak (the old Gordon
Homestead, now belonging to the Grantham’s). And, from which they would bring gold bars out
and sell them on the QT. This same locality sports the description about Willie and Buster
disappearing into a small hole, that has only a flat rock covering the entrance near Granite Peak.
Thousands have looked for this rock intensely and extensively till this day.
Wells Horvereid has for many years looked high and low in this area without success, but always
feeling as though he’s getting closer. I guess this logic is rationalized by the simple process of
elimination. Wells has even met with Willie many times in Southern California. I presume that he
was trying to obtain better clues as to the exact whereabouts of this elusive doorway to riches
beyond imagination. Wells being a tenacious man, has spent many an hour using instruments,
dowsing rods, psychics and core drilling to try and locate the tunnel that Willie and Buster used.
All I can say is that Wells is one of the most tenacious men I have ever met. And who knows,
perhaps he will be allowed to find his prize.
Willie, being a prankster, and supposedly driving the local treasure hunters bonkers, would, once
inside the old Spanish mine tunnel that constantly ran in ankle deep water, put food coloring in it so
that it would color the surface spring water blood red. Naturally, this added much fuel to an already
over heated ravenousness fire, that now appears to be non-extinguishable.
It has been gossiped and written that Willie was captured on a few occasions. Plus, tortured
extensively to get him to tell the whereabouts of the entrance. But, each time Willie managed to
escape with limb intact, without blabbing and supposedly getting revenge by killing the parties that
tortured him. And, as the stories go, he killed anyone else that found the entrance. Most everyone
seems to agree that Willie after killing his victims would leave the bodies inside the tunnels, so that
they would never be found. It is also widely rumored that Willie for years would not come back to
the area in fear for his life. The natural question is - who would want to do Willie bodily harm?
Maybe crazy, greedy treasure hunters, or those who held old grudges, or the Feds that are
supposedly secretively monitoring his movements.
There are many credible reports that Willie has been back several times, to the general area, after
it was legal to own gold. And, even as recently as early 1990’s and stayed at the Rio Grande Motel
in Williamsburg.
Many times I’ve listened to people’s long distance conversations with Willie. These same people
would say that Willie was trying to help them and had just given them valuable clues as to where
the entrance was. I would often counter by saying to them that Willie is the best and biggest liar
I’ve ever heard of. I would often ask these people, why do you believe that Willie would tell you
where the goodies are? What’s in it for him? To this day, I personally believe that Willie could very
well know where an entrance is to the underground caverns and possibly the Cathedral Room. But I
doubt that he’s going to tell anyone till maybe on his dying breath. Even then I doubt that he’ll
divulge anything, except more lies. I’ve had his assumed name, address and telephone number for
years and have never bothered to call or stop by and see him. Some may ask why not? I’d respond
by saying: I’ve never seen any tangible results with the people who were supposedly his buddies
that have known him for years, so why should I be any different?
The people that personally know Willie indicate that he’s quite well-off financially, yet there does
not seem to be any history as to how Willie obtained his wealth. Except possible gold bars which
were sold to a variety of black marketers. I’ve always suspected that many of the people who
allegedly discovered one of the treasures, really found someone else’s valuables. And this type of
behavior is normally referred to as burglary or common thievery. Heck, if I had lived back then, I
too, probably would have been a bandit of sorts. Furthermore, to cover my trail, I’d let people
believe that I found some of the treasure and was just a bit loony.
There are magazines, books and newspaper accounts of Buster Ward getting his legs cut off by
failing to hop on a fast moving train with a couple of gold bars while trying to elude profiteers.
You’d think the story would have stopped there. Well, you’d be wrong. Because, some say that
he’s been seen riding a horse, and could get around in the mountains by walking on his hands.
Others have said he’s been seen carting out more gold bars, and lives comfortably in South central
California.
There are many people who earnestly believe that they have or know someone who has an
authentic map of lost Spanish mines or treasure hordes. Many of these maps that I’ve seen look like
a bunch of chickens scratched around. Or, are old pieces of frayed paper showing an entrance with
the “X” marks the spot near a few known landmarks. Other such old documents are called weigh
bills or confessions. But, a discerning person would do well to remember that there were many
phony maps printed in the 1800’s in Silver City, as well as Paso del Norte (Juarez). No doubt many
of these maps have survived to this day, and are considered authentic merely because they are
obviously old.
The one thing all the maps that I’ve seen have in common is that they are vague. The only map
that I’ve ever seen which really indicated that someone went to a little trouble of making is the one
that Jimmy Smith showed me that was found in a wooden box and made of cast lead. It was about
the size of a dollar bill, maybe a little bigger and had a caste relief outline of the Caballo Mts. This
casting about 1 inch thick had several tiny holes, apparently denoting the entrances. Woefully, this
hunk of lead was destroyed in a fire that burned his house to the ground. The biggest problem with
maps are, assuming that they are accurate and legitimate, is that the Caballo’s are big and trying to
find a hole, that’s three to ten feet in diameter, or smaller, that’s been covered is really like trying to
find a needle in the haystack the size of the Atlantic Ocean. Furthermore, to even consider lifting a
rock and getting into a cavern is just plain crazy. There are so many rocks that it would require
thousands of life times to turn each one.
Another common spell binding myth is that of the strange marks on the trees of the area. These
slashes, gashes, or odd shapes are often thought to be of Spanish origins and mark the whereabouts
to an entrance, or a trail to a particular mine. During my early adventures in the Caballo’s, I had to
admit that these markings were intriguing. However, I believe Rex and I have finally put to rest
what most of these features on trees really mean. One day we were investigating many areas that
had strange stories connected to trees, and as we traveled mile after mile we began to notice that the
marks were only on the Pinons. There’s no-doubt that the marks were done by humans. However,
as we became more observant, we noticed that every Pinion of a certain age and older had from one
to several bizarre marks that resembled daggers, or blazes, usually near the ground or up high.
At first we surmised that they were trail markers, but then, we came to the conclusion that the
Indians marked these Pinions as personal property. Why would an Indian want to claim a tree? The
answer is so obvious that it has been simply over-looked. The Indians gathered these tree produced
nuts for their food, and what better way to claim it than to mark it in a certain way. Of course this
does not explain the markings on a few Hackberry trees in several canyons, including Burbank.
Other than the Taggart’s area, Burbank Canyon is exceeding rich in folklore. Mr. Hovereid told
me, due to my sincere interest in minerals, that he found a rock in Burbank that when assayed
produced several ounces of gold to the ton.
Unfortunately, Wells wasn’t able to find the source, even though his friend and psychic said that
the vein was close at hand. The area that Wells described to me suggests that the golden rock was
intimately associated with the major North South Fault system that cuts through Cable Canyon all
the way to Longbottom. This fault zone as far as I’m concerned, is most likely associated with all
the mineralization in the entire mountain range. In addition, this same fault system is in my opinion
responsible for the vast underground cavern system reported to exist.
If a person was seeking a real physical clue as to where these subterranean channels are they
might do well to seek out all the red stained rock formations containing visible cracks. I’ve been
inside at least one rather large chamber and at the ceiling was this crack. And when examining this
crack from the outside there is this jasperoid (red) coloration on either side. Therefore, any person
who has the state of the art geophysical instruments would most likely do well in discovering the
whereabouts of the underground channels by simply going about halfway up into Burbank Canyon
on the North side, where this physical phenomenon occurs over a long distance.
On the Northwest side of Burbank is a protrusion that is referred to as Needles Eye, and many
rumors circulate that Indians would sit in the eye and watch for intruders. Likewise, a Doctor from
Las Cruces is said to have had a map designating a spot next to Needle’s eye of another entrance to
the caverns and the bars of gold. Apparently, this doctor rented a helicopter, just before I arrived in
the area and miraculously managed to get to Needles Eye and remove golden artifacts, then just
simply flew away. Naturally, I cannot attest to the accuracy of this. All I can say is that of all the
people I’ve talked to who have actually gone to Needles Eye say it’s a very dangerous and a
grueling ordeal. So, to have landed a helicopter must have been a hair raising experience.
I have accompanied Jack a couple of times to the Radio Towers, which are at the top of the
mountain about due East of Needles eye. After parking near these towers we traveled down the
steep side several hundred feet, for the simple reason that Jack wanted to show me a very curious
place. When we got to this God forsaken hideaway he showed me a large boulder, with a deeply
carved, and very unusual drawing which looked like a box with a funny looking “K” and an
Indian’s Head.
I later found out that this area was part of Mexican Land Grant and these marks could have been
boundary markers. I also have to say, that I’ve always got unusual feelings when I been in this area,
as though I shouldn’t be there and to get the hell out or suffer the consequences. Whether, or not
this feeling is valid I do heed it and only infrequently walk around in the area. If you haven’t
experienced what I’m trying to say, then no-matter what I write it will not begin to make sense. I
guess it just has to be experienced to be partially understood. The closest way of making anyone
comprehend the feeling is would be like walking in the woods on a pitch black night after someone
just told you that a grizzly was seen a few hours earlier.
While Rex was helping Doc Perrick (1970’s) excavate a cave just inside and on the North side of
Burbank he found a bound parcel of Apache arrows shafts. Rex at the time just thought they were
an odd bundle of sticks. He later found out what they were after he gave them to a person who’s an
expert on artifacts. Plus, Mr. Franklin has an old flintlock that supposedly came from a cave in this
general area. Of course whether it did or not is speculative, and I doubt that I’ll ever know for sure
where it came from, but I did see it.
Near Needles Eye, but a little lower and to the North is Wildhorse Canyon, and many people
have, over the years, searched this area. I’ve heard many accounts of a peculiar stone wall that
looks like dwelling sites or possible fortifications. Jimmy Smith told me once, that while he was
sitting on a pile of rocks resembling a small slide and eating a can of sardines, that he laid his spoon
down on the rocks, and the spoon promptly fell into the rocks and kept falling. Obviously, this
suggests that these rocks were covering something that was meant to be hidden. Why didn’t he find
out where the spoon went? Probably for the same reason that the stories continue. That being
because it requires a lot of work digging.
There are also a few old news clippings which indicate that the Chinese had camps in the
Mountains. Although, to my knowledge, no-one has ever found their old workings or homesteads.
Quite near Wildhorse is Soldier Springs. I’ve investigated the old soldier’s ramshackled building
and the concreted spring fairly well. And as usual came away empty handed. I sure couldn’t find
the supposed buried loot belonging to the Old Soldier, that some say was nothing more than a
scroungy old thieving deserter.
Once barely inside the mouth of Burbank is Sardine Canyon. This area has had it’s day of heated
treasure hunts. This is the area where Jack Palmer is supposed to have been able to get into another
cave lined with stacks of gold, as well as an old Spanish Mine.
Jack Palmer, allegedly killed at least three people and put them in the entrance before blasting it
shut. There’s an incredibly long story connected to these three unfortunate people, and a book
could probably be written on it alone.
In the early 1980’s a group of people came to Sardine Canyon, some of which I met, to find the
opening that Palmer blasted shut. And, in order to get equipment there they built one darn nice
road. In the process of constructing this road, Gene Miller found a silver vein that was just barely
visible. Hearing about this discovery and seeing some of the vein samples at Brack Callahan’s
chiropractic office, I decided that I needed to observe where this occurred.
I told Jack about the silver vein and up the canyon we go. We drove as far as we dared, although
we stopped and parked still way down low. Construction equipment was being used on the road
and we didn’t want to get in anyone’s way, so we set out on foot. As we got part-way up the road a
man stopped us and said that we could go no further. I told him that this area was all Public land
and everyone has a legal right to walk where they chose. But this self-righteous Baptist preacher,
pointed a semi-automatic rifle at Jack’s stomach and said that if he took one more step he’d shoot.
I’ve never seen Jack get mad, for he’s probably the most peaceful man walking on two feet. But,
if he ever did mad I sure wouldn’t that wrath directed towards me. I never met the man that I was
truly scared me, but I know that Jack could eat my lunch, even though I’m 15 years his junior.
Anyway, Jack, starts to continue walking, and the preacher says that he means it, he’ll shoot. This
got Jack’s dander up, and he told this character that he’d better shoot, because if he didn’t he was
going to tear his face off unless he lowered the rifle. I suggested to Jack that it was not worth it, and
for us to leave, which we did, fortunately for everyone. Needless to say, their attempt to find the
cave opening failed and they all left bag and baggage. Jack and I encouraged Mr. Miller to stay, but
he ended up leaving, because he too had the terrible habit of liking to eat.
To my way of thinking, the heart of Burbank is Granite Peak. It lies in the Western foothills, has
the spring that the cattle depend upon, and is rumored to contain the treasure entrance. East of the
spring is an old Hackberry tree that has Doc Noss’s initials and date cut deeply into one of the
gnarled limbs. What this is supposed to mean is anybody’s guess, and no-doubt there will be a
treasure story connected to it someday.
As one actually gets deep into the Canyon the old horse trail used by the Taggart’s can be
followed. And, at certain times of the afternoon, with the Sun just right, a person can trace most of
the remaining trail from the crest to the valley floor. Many people have wanted to find this trail and
have searched in vain. Fortunately, I an a few others have been permitted to be at the right spot at
the right time of day to actually be able to see the entire trail. As the fable goes, supposedly, Willy
would be inside the mountain and could hear the Taggart’s horses, indicating that he was in a cave
that was very close to the surface. Although some people believe that this story is more closely
fitted to Bee Franklin’s or Granite peak area than the Burbank Mountain side.
There is another myth that along this same horse trail was a shallow overhand where Indians
(Chief Yellow Horse) gathered and many believe has been blasted closed to hide whatever was
stored in it.
On another excursion to Burbank a group of us went into this canyon to find and look at a natural,
straight down cave found by a friend who wanted someone to go down it and see what was at the
bottom. The curious thing about this spot was that it could not have been seen from any vantage
point unless standing at the exact site. To make this spot even more intriguing was that it had an old
rusted steel bar over the hole with a partially decomposed rope hanging from it. Obviously this
suggested that someone a long time ago descended into this deep dark hole. Several of my friends
went down this exciting discovery, after tying a new rope to the bar. To their dismay they found
only a very muddy bottom with coatimundi foot prints everywhere. Due to structure of this
precarious hole I haven’t been able to figure out how these critters get up and down without a rope.
Could there be another opening we missed? Could there be buried loot in the mud? Or, and
possibly more likely is the mud hiding another passage way into the mountain? Also, why leave the
iron bar over the hole, unless it was intended to be used again. Again another tantalizing mystery
that deserves further investigation. But, this mean work, and who in their right mind wants to work,
especially when all one has to do is find the right place and walk into all the piles of loot.
Humans aren’t the only one’s frequenting this rugged Burbank Canyon. Mountain lions like its
thick underbrush, precipitous cliffs, and scraggly Junipers in which to hide in or pounce from.
Years ago, a local treasure hunter was poking around in the canyon when he saw a cave and started
to stick his head in it, but was confronted with two glaring yellow eyes, and a deep thunderous
growl. The eyes and growl spooked him so bad that it caused him to trip over backwards and fall
down the bank into a cactus patch. Needless to say that spot probably hasn’t been looked at and
deserves further scrutiny.
On the way back out of Burbank, after looking at the coatimundi hole I noticed an overhand in
the limestone cliffs that looked as though it could turn into a cave. So I got a flash light and crawled
in. A dangerous thing to do, due to rattlesnakes and lions. After getting in a few feet - out I came
like greased lightning. I was covered from head to toe with flees. I’ve been in more rat holes and
caves than most people, but never have I encountered such an infestation of varmints. I stripped as
soon as I could, and after a careful inspection put my clothes back on. However I kept a constant
lookout to make sure I gave the critters no time to bite me, because New Mexico is known to
harbor the Black Plague.
On another expedition into Burbank, this time on the northern crest, Jack, I, Richard Carter, and
James Smith, located 4 holes filled with prickly pear, cholla cactus needles, and abundant loose
rocks. The air that emanated suggested that these rat infested holes could lead to bigger tunnels.
James was elected to go down these darn right dangerous cavities. But, as is normal they each
turned out to be worthy of serious excavation. But, for now they were just to small, even though
according to the radar work Jack was simultaneously doing suggested that the holes had
interconnecting passages.
During 1985 I had met a man who had conducted a computerized profiling radar scan of an area
near Granite Peak. His instrument indicated the presence of a metallic object in a hollow spot about
10 feet beneath the surface. This area was so contested as to who actually held the mineral rights
that I decided to dig. I dug all night, only the sand kept collapsing, which forced me to quit and
cover the hole back-up before sunrise. However, in my haste it was still noticeable that someone
had worked there. And I’m told that Drolte discovered what I had done and came in with big
equipment. Thus, within a couple of days he’d excavated the whole area down to bed rock. Did he
find anything, I have never found out. Was the radar instrument accurate, I’ve never been able to
know that either, but I certainly had my doubts.
When Mr. Rex West first arrived in the area of Granite Peak, on Easter Sunday 1973, his first
experience was a rather bizarre one, that probably still haunts him today. As he was casually
looking over the area, trying to see if he could get lucky and stumble upon the famed entrance, he
noticed a woman in black, that appeared to be a three foot tall Nun. She had no shoes, and a black
veil was blowing in the wind, yet there was no wind. She was looking directly at him from several
feet away, but Rex knew that she was either a figment of his imagination or an apparition. She was
too far away to immediately shake hands and before he could say anything or even think about
moving she left as she had come. Another interesting thing was that she was standing in an area
that was enclosed in a circle of half buried, and barely visible rocks. Unfortunately, Doc Perrick
removed these rocks before any further study of what they meant could be resolved.
This same general area, is where it’s reported to have been an ancient Catholic Church. I’ve never
seen the old foundation of this Church, but several long time residents swear that they’ve seen it.
Supposedly, there was another older Church ruin on “Wooded Hill” several hundred feet to East
North East of Granite Peak. Again, I’ve never seen what was supposed to be an old foundation of
such, but I have seen an old map that suggested this Church was real.
During Jack’s and my many hundreds of excursions on the Cable Claims terrain, we’ve come
across a few interesting phenomenon’s. Take for example the large boulder at the crest in Cable
Canyon that looks like a chiseled face.
To me it’s ironic or exceedingly coincidental that it just happens to be immediately intimate with
a major N-S trending fault zone, a large geophysical anomaly, and where a spectrographic assay
yielded about 4 ounces of Osmium to the ton. When I first saw this face it reminded me of what
numerous waitresses over the past several years called me “old Stone Face” because I seldom
smiled.
Another interesting sight we discovered before putting in the last of the 27 mining claims was a
cave like opening in the shear cliff of the fusselman, that appears to be about 10-12 feet in diameter
and looks like a turtle. The outline has 4 legs, a head and a tail, and from a distance there is no
mistaking it for a turtle. Could this be a treasure spot? Perhaps one day I’ll be able to climb the
cliff and find out. Well, about 1996 Stan Sanders, Rex West and I finally put this to bed too. The
cave is completely bare.
The only other legitimate turtle I’ve ever seen was in the the Little Caballo’s. It is approximately
40 feet in diameter, with four obvious legs, a head and a crooked tail carved in a shear 100 foot
cliff. Before this turtle can even be seen, you have to pass through a particular arroyo. Adding to
this turtles mystery is and while on the way there’s 40 to 50 feet tall granitic hill that has a big
white quartz boulder on either side of it.
I’ve never seen this pure milky looking quartz anywhere in Sierra County, so where did these
come from, and why are they there? They had to be carted into this arroyo, and just as obvious they
say something important to those who speaks sign language. Several years later Rex And I hiked
into the area. We found the granitic peak with white quartz boulders but never found the turtle.
However, we did locate where the quartz boulders probably came from way up the same canyon.
So the same question remains – why did someone go to so much work to haul these two quartz
boulders to this particular location?
CHAPTER 16
Polomas Gap
Over the years, I and several friends have made several explorations into the Polomas Gap area,
both from the East and West sides of Mountain. When entering from the West, and if a careful eye
is applied while navigating the narrow road, that has a cliff on one side and a several hundred foot
shear drop-off on the other side, there can be seen several pictographs. Some of these drawings and
carvings may have originated from the Spanish Conquistadores. Although some are obviously of
Indian origin. The others are probably very old graffiti or bogus signs pointing the way to treasures.
There are many legends concerning this area, a few of which are: 1) a monkey child buried
somewhere close. Apparently an Indian or old Spanish lady had a baby that was born with a tail
that died shortly after birth, and one of the pictorials tells of the Mothers’ sorrow. 2) lost mines, and
caves filled with Indian and bandit loot. 3) rock stained Indian drawings, as well as what appears to
be ancient Ogam writings.
Once on the canyon floor there are usually 3 holes that contain year round water. Where this
water comes from is a mystery. When the torrential rains occur in the Jorando part of that water
drains through the Gap on its way to the Rio Grande. So, and because these small ponds stay wet
year around I suspect that these holes are actually springs.
With the help of others we dredged one of the smaller ponds and found startling amounts of flour
gold without hitting bedrock. Someday, if I’m able I will look into this matter much deeper. The
question is where does the gold originate? Does it come from the canyon walls, hidden veins, or
from the Jorando?
Bulletin 10 published by the NMBM indicates that the whole area of the western mouth of the
Gap is placer ground. Also, on the western side of the Gap are large sand dunes, which may contain
small centers, or pockets of windblown gold. To my knowledge no one has ever investigated these
dunes for gold, which really needs to be done. In these same sand dunes it was reported that a
tremendous quantity of large smelted copper bars were found. The question has been asked, who
put them there and why? Ask as much as possible, there doesn’t seem to be any forthright answers.
The largest pool of water in the Gap is about fifty by one hundred feet in over-all dimensions.
Being a prospector, I just had try a little panning. I began by scooping away a bunch of top sand,
and when getting ready to get a pan full of gravel something big, maybe 6 feet long, that looked
silvery-white, kind’a resembling an eel looking beast with jagged back-bone fins raced up towards
me, causing me to instinctively jump back in astonishment. Fortunately for my sanity Rex was also
standing there and saw the creature. We didn’t see it again after it turned and dove into the murky
depths. Neither of us said anything for a moment, we just stood there frozen like, wondering what
in the world it could have been. When I did speak, I said what did you see, and what is something
that big doing trying to live in this small pool? There’s no visible food, what could sustain it, and
where in the world, or which world did it come from?
A few years later Rex was scouting in the same area. As he approached the patch of small water
worn pocket like holes in the limestone canyon floor, which were at the time filled with rain water,
he noticed brilliant multi-colored baby snakes.
He’d never seen such creatures before, even though he has spent countless hours in this Gap.
When Rex approached with his hand outstretched these darling little babies would rise up and try to
bite him. What could these critters be? I’ve been back to the canyon a couple times since, about the
same time of year and have not seen any of these cuties. Obviously, this Gap holds many mysteries
just begging for discovery.
While having lunch in early 1993, I met a waitress who told me some of her adventures in
Polomas gap when she’d take her children swimming in the big pool. She said that her husband had
tried to touch the bottom, but couldn’t. Consequently, he convinced some of his friends with scuba
gear to see how deep the hole actually was. Apparently, the scuba divers couldn’t find bottom
either, and said that there was a crack running deep at the bottom. Her story goes on to say that this
deep crack would occasional close. Probably what really happened was the sand and gravel filled
the crack. She said that her family would occasionally camp-out near the water and at night strange
lights and noises were seen and heard. Her final comment was that she thought everybody knew
about the noises and lights. Someone with a lot of guts needs to follow-up on this phenomenon.
Who knows, maybe there’s placer gold by the sack load waiting for the ambitious guy.
The road through the Gap was made essentially for the miners, and stage coaches. Yet, it was
used by anyone wanting to go through the easy way for a nominal 10 to 25 cents each way. To
make sure no-one snuck through there was a stone guard shack built to monitor all traffic, which is
still standing.
When I panned for gold in the small ponds I also would inspect the natural crevices which act as
riffles and always found Galena in them. Apparently, these small crystals washed in from the lead
mines at the Gap’s East mouth. The curious thing about these Lead mines are that verifiable
Vanadium in percentage amounts occurs with the galena, something very rare indeed.
Upon finding these small abundant galena crystals, it dawned upon me that Lead does not pollute
the water as ecologists and their like minded cousins would have the ignorant masses believe.
Maybe, in other areas Lead may cause toxic accumulations; but the water in the Gap is not acidic
due to the pacifying nature of the limestone. I even took a handful home to view under the
microscope and could see no discernable evidence that these small crystals were being dissolved.
The more I see, the more I’m convinced that the claims of environmentalists are pure boulder dash,
spiced with hogwash and green malarkey.
Several treasure hunters and explorers have told me about seeing flying saucers and hearing
Bigfoot like creatures in the general vicinity of the Gap. Based upon what I’ve seen, and my bizarre
experiences I don’t dispute the experiences of others, I just file it away for possible future
reference. As an example: Just before leaving Austin to start this quest I was outside my home,
about midnight, and for some dern and unexplainable reason I was looking straight up into the
piercing black night. The brisk night was completely filled with a dazzling display of brilliant
gems. When, all of a sudden a star actually moved. This speck of light the same size as the other
stars began moving rapidly from the South and stopped dead center overhead. Then a few moments
later another star raced from the West to the same spot where the previous star stopped and
vanished. Naturally, I became convinced that I was watching some kind of space travel. Absurd I
said to myself, why should I be selected to see this alien happen-stance? By this time my neck felt
like it was maxxed out in discomfort, but I couldn’t stop looking now, maybe another point of light
would move. Sure enough out of the maze of stars another speck of bright light moved from the
East. Did it continue going to some unfathomable destination? No, it also stopped where the other
two had vanished. When these strange lights stopped, I could no-longer distinguish them from any
other star. Now my neck was really about to break, but I continued looking for several more
minutes waiting expectantly to see the fourth quadrant star rendezvous. No such luck.
What were these strange lights? And how could they just vanish overhead? The only logical
conclusion was that they were some kind of space craft, and docked within something bigger.
Occasionally, I reflect upon this occurrence when people tell me of strange sightings. Even though
I may not totally believe these people’s strange stories, I cannot dismiss their experiences.
Likewise, who am I to question the validity of others, especially when I too might well be a bit
cracked?
About a mile before entering the Gap from the East side is an old prospect hole or shallow cave
that is partially filled with long-time dead goats. Why someone would put them there is a mystery.
Heck, even the local rancher did know of this mass grave. Even though the skeletal remains have
obviously been there for 50 to 100 years, and look mummified, the stench will nevertheless still
knock you down. I suspect that a disease rampaged the area and the owner threw the dead, dying
and sick into this hole so as to try and save what remained of the herd. Now, if I was to let my
imagination run wild - perhaps these goats belonged to old man Burbank. And, maybe Burbank
himself is under these stinking carcasses? On a later trip and showing this cave to another person I
noticed that all the goat heads were gone. I can only marvel at the bravado of whoever was willing
to risk disease and breathe the foul stench.
According to Bob Hoffer there is a deep vertical crack on the North side of Polomas Canyon, just
as you enter from the West, that he discovered on one of his outings. Plus, when he shined a light
down this slit there appeared to be metallic objects at the bottom. As anxious as he was to see what
these metallic objects were he would not try to descend the narrow straight up and down, smooth
walled crack for fear that he couldn’t get back up. I’ve been interested in the site he’s talking about
from the mineral perspective, because anyone with an eye for faults can sure see this one. I doubt
that Bob has told many folks about this place because it coincides perfectly to another known
treasure story of the Gap.
Somewhere on the Northwest side of Polomas Gap mouth, in one of the washes is Leno
Cardiego’s cave. Apparently discovered in 1910, and used to be covered with goat skins and carved
steps leading down into a rather large chamber. Nevertheless, as usual ole Doc Perrick found this
cave and destroyed the steps. I’ve never been in this cave, but by all accounts of those that have,
they say that many a person has been in it excavating trying to locate adjoining rooms, and has
become very dangerous.
Over the years traveling I-25 to and from TorC, and approaching the old townsite of Polomas,
now mostly covered over by the Caballo Lake I would often smell rotten eggs. At first, I thought
that the stench was from a catalytic car converter trying to scrub bad or high sulfur content gas.
Still, as the years ticked by I would only smell this obnoxious perfume in this immediate area. I’ve
asked several people that have lived close by about the odor, but they didn’t seem to know what I
was talking about. Therefore, the only logical conclusion that I’ve come up with is that methane gas
tainted with sulphur is emanating from the ground. Why someone doesn’t capitalize on this obvious
natural gas signature (footprint) is beyond me.
In 1992, I was told by a lady whom I respect a great deal and is not prone to exaggeration that
there’s seemingly credible evidence that from the Silver City area to the White Sands Missile
Range lies the biggest untapped natural gas pocket in the USA. A few years later I even sent letters
to various Houston oil and gas companies about this area. I never asked for a dime. Guess what, I
never received so much as card asking for more information. As nasty as the rotten egg smell is the
smell of non-interest is even worse, and suggests that this lady who told me about the maps she saw
is true and can only mean that one day the big boys are coming.
On a cold winter night in 1992, I asked Bob Holden, most or all of his life in the area, and who’s
family has been a focal point of many a treasure hunt, if he knew anything about this Polomos odor.
He said no. Though, he went on to tell me that it was common knowledge that odd and spectacular
lights were sometimes seen in the Polomas valley West of I-25. He expanded the story by saying
that there used to be ghoulish tales of the headless horseman riding at night.
When he was younger and dating he and his lady friend went there hoping to see just such an
occurrence. As it turned out, he got what he went there for, because they saw big luminous balls of
light. And, one big ball of light went right through their car, and scared the be-gezzes out of them,
causing them to flee the area. What were these abnormal balls of light? I suspect, as does Bob, that
they were electrostatically charged gases (plasma) being emitted from the ground. I should point
out again that there are numerous written articles relating to strange occurrances where ever there
are large fault systems, and the Rio Grande Rift is truly a lulu.
Just a little South of Polomas Gap on the western face, up high is Geronimo’s cave or sometimes
called Crystal cave. Hundreds of people have been going to this cave for over a century. I’ve never
been inside it, but, Norman Chatfield said he’s spent many an hour looking for the rumored
chambers that connect to it. He said that it is too dangerous to do much digging in because of the
efforts of many others. It has been said that an Indian Chief’s head is painted on one of the walls
inside an adjoining room. Also, that the floor is gravel, suggesting that it was at one time a
subterranean river channel. There are also many rumors that several people have spent multiple
days inside the tunnels that lead to other rooms, including the discovery of a major stash of
Geronimo’s stolen loot and Indian artifacts.
There was an old story connected to and circulating far and wide about Geronimo’s Cave. As the
story goes -- several people, who obviously were privy to some kind of information found adjoing
rooms and tunnels. As the plot gets deeper they wandered for days, and apparently ended up
beneath the Radio Towers area, which is a few miles to the South of this cave, where they stopped
and found every conceivable stash of loot that has driven more than one treasure mad with envy.
At this place there was supposedly an old, perfectly preserved stage coach filled with bags of
smelted gold and silver bullion. From what I have gathered over the years, this group of people
retrieved quite a haul and have never been heard of again. A word of warning, as I’m led to believe
there are large suspended boulders in the roof that are ready to fall upon anyone who first enters the
main chamber. Some people say that Charles Taggart found Indian paintings and carvings on one
of these huge rocks, which he blasted down, and lies inside the main entrance.
To show how dangerous this cave actually is for the unwary or unlucky, in January 1994 I heard
that a man was killed by a falling boulder. And, in May of 1994 the BLM in their infinite wisdom
closed entry to this cave. Now, according to newspaper accounts no one will be allowed to search
for the hidden passages without acquiring a permit from our wonderful friends at the BLM. Are the
wise BLM bureaucrats really interested in human safety or is this just another one of their sneak
attacks to grab land while bolstering their own credibility? What would life be worth if we had to
ask someone at the BLM if we could risk our lives in order to have a little adventure on our public
lands? I don’t know how you feel about it, but for myself and all the people I know we are sick and
tired of the tactics of Uncle Sam and Aunt Nannie.
CHAPTER 17
Noah’s Ark
To the South of Burbank rests Noahs Ark, although it is sometimes called Hat Rock. The myths
surrounding this prominent and jutting structure nestled between two narrow canyons are rampant.
Most likely the abundant fables started with Willie Doughit and Buster Ward removing Gold Bars
from deep within its bowels. Of all the people I’ve met that know of more tales and internal secrets
than anyone else about this place, it would have to be Wells Hovereid, and Rex West.
Willie and Buster supposedly would hoist gold bars up from inside Noah’s Ark by using baling
wire. If my memory is correct, which is always suspect - Wells found a coiled wire lying concealed
in brush right next to one of the many holes. Wells and his wife (Florence) spent many months
excavating a cavern tunnel they felt would lead them to the fulfillment of their dreams.
They often toiled in total darkness as they hoisted bucket after bucket of muck, only to find a tin
can and chicken bones at a solid bottom. Even though this was disappointing Wells now had proof
that Buster (or someone) had been there. It seems that Buster would always take a whole cooked
chicken into the mountains, as he and Willie made their secret rendezvous. But, I have to ask - why
all the work of filling up this tunnel that went no-where? Could there have been a rock filling an
entrance that Wells overlooked?
One time Rex went deep inside Noah’s Ark and could hear Jack running his geophysical
instruments on the outside. It sounded to Rex, as though he could reach out in the blackness and
touch Jack as though he standing right next to him. Yet, at least a few feet of solid rock were
separating these two prospectors.
Those who have spent time in these mountains know that sound plays strange tricks. For instance,
while way up in Cable Canyon, and the wind blowing I can sometimes hear fishermen on the lake 3
miles away just a jabbering, yet, often couldn’t hear Jack a hundred feet away.
On top of Noah’s Ark are numerous small voids and small passage ways. One of which is
rumored to be an entrance into the main cavernous structure. One beautiful late 1980’s afternoon
Rex on another of his Noah’s Ark excursions, always by a different route, was nearing the top. This
time someone was watching him through a rifle scope. Oblivious to the threat Rex kept plodding
on-ward and up-ward. The guy with the gun was none other than Cayo, who rightly or wrongly
believed that he and his friends were about to get into the illusive opening. Fortuitously for Rex, he
decided that he had gone far enough for the day, and went back down the mountain. After a few
days, the story was out all over town that Cayo would have shot Rex if he had come any closer.
Cayo, is said to have bragged all over TorC about killing priests in Old Mexico for maps showing
the secret locations to the mine entrances. This Cayo character finally got himself killed, in what
some say was under pretty mysterious circumstances. The people I’ve talked to say he spun out of
control and crashed on the 35 mile an hour bend in front of the Carrie Tingley hospital. There is
also a lot of local conjecture that he was killed by some powerful people connected to the Feds.
I don’t know if the following is true, but, Cayo was supposedly associated with Colonel Jarvis
and Dave McCravey. These two men in 1982 after leaving the S-Bar-X, heading home, were killed
in their car as it went out of control on a bend in the highway. Numerous people have told me that
Mr. McCravey owned the arrowhead placer claims near the old ghost town of Gold Dust. And that
he was using this gold placer claim as a front to launder gold bars that both he and the Colonel had
discovered by using a certain cryptic map.
In the middle 1980’s David Fingado, while heading home, after work was killed when his front
tire blew out, causing his vehicle to roll several times as the car went out of control on an I-25
curve. Again, people who were intimate with David have said it was no accident.
According to those that should know - say the front tire had a bullet hole in it, yet when the car
was held in storage the front tire came up mysteriously missing. To compound the scenario David
also knew about the Map and was connected with Cayo, the Colonel and Dave McCravey.
To add a bit more mystification to these already odd circumstantial events young Fingado was
also working for Dyna Pak as an assayer, the same property that Ron Hammond had staked-out on
the Ladder Ranch. I’ve not broadcasted it loudly, but as far as I was concerned Ron’s old placer
claims didn’t have near enough placer gold to warrant all the promotions that took place. This
secretive Dyna Pak mining operation was hinted at as being a sham by many local folks. However,
and regardless of my suspicions, I really wanted this new owner to actually make money mining.
Mining has received such a bad rap that I always hoped that no matter who it is that they would at
least be a little successful.
I happened to be in Tyler, Texas at the time, when on CNN News (Aug. 21, 1986) there’s David
talking about a scam going on where he was working. And a few days later he get’s dead. Then the
Feds are after Mr. Barberra for a 15 million dollar stock swindle. To my knowledge, Mr. Barberra
has managed to elude the authorities. Yet, the epic doesn’t end here. There’s the Hunter’s (father
and son), that also knew about this map and they both managed to take a ride off a steep cliff into
Elephant Butte Lake and drown. I’d heard that their brakes had failed, and their pick-up was in
terrible need of major repair. Could all of these people’s untimely deaths be simple coincidence?
Or, are these accidents part of a heinous plot to eliminate or shut-up those who know too much
about the treasure?
You’d think that these strange accumulating events would have ended, not so. There’s young
Chad Mimms who worked on top of the mountain, who had a claim stretching over part of Noah’s
Ark. And as I’m led to understand was also a close friend of Cayo. Apparently Chad and Cayo built
a small hut on top of Noah’s Ark, and they both lived and worked there periodically. Now its
Chad’s turn to manage to get himself killed (1993), by the police after threatening to shoot a cop in
a bar. And, just a couple of days prior to getting shot Chad told Mr. Remington that he had found
the entrance. Maybe this is all mere coincidence, then again, maybe not.
On a brisk spring day in the middle 1980’s, while on one of the numerous rock collecting visits to
Cable # 1 I noticed a man near the northern rim of Cable Canyon. Normally, I don’t pay a lot of
attention to people in the mountains. But this time was unquestionably different, because he was
just standing there with a rifle. I continued collecting rocks for several hours, and this guy also
stayed there watching me. Naturally, I tried to keep an eye on him, because he had a rifle and I only
had a 22 pistol. Obviously, nothing happened and I doubt that he could have shot me on the first
shot because he was a thousand feet higher and about 2000 feet away from me. Nevertheless, the
situation was spooky, and I have always suspected that this was Cayo. Then again it could have
been anyone. The question remains why did this person stay there all day just watching?
The small canyon on the South side of Noah’s Ark is referred to as Dark Canyon, probably
because the sun seldom shines in it due to its configuration. On a brisk day, not much different than
any other a bunch of us were in this canyon. I was running a small track loader helping Wells
excavate an area he felt would lead to an opening. We all had worked our butts off, and there
remained just one stubborn obstinate boulder. I dug and dug, tugged, pushed and swore a lot, but it
would not budge. No matter what I did it simply wouldn’t give an inch. So Wells said that he’d pop
it with a stick of dynamite. I took the tractor around a corner to avoid flying debris, and Wells
heads up to the rock with live dynamite in one hand, and matches in the other. When all of a
sudden, the rock that would not budge, turned loose, rolled down the steep road-way and hit Wells,
sending him high in the sky. The dynamite going one way and Wells landing with a sickening
‘splat’ flat on his back. Wells, was taken to the hospital for a possible broken back, and after a few
days was able to walk again. The question that plagues us all is why did the rock do that? The
common conjecture is that the spirits were warning him to stop. I am still baffled by this
unbelievable happen-chance event. Furthermore, up to this time I had managed to not dent my
pick-up in these rugged mountains, but that day Dark Canyon gave it the first nasty scar. In
retrospect, it could have been worse, Wells could have been ruined for life and the dynamite could
have detonated, sending some of us to god knows where.
CHAPTER 18
Assays & Geophysics
By May 1985 Jack had sent me hundreds of books, some that were very old or rare to modern
chemical methodologies utilized to examine and exploit the various metals.
Although these books emphasized primarily the PGMs I devoured them with haste. Most of the
time I was in another State, being housed and fed by the adorable Ms. Conner. No matter where I
was residing I constantly wrote and called mining companies that might be interested in the Cable
Claims. Not a single mining company ever said no up front. They always said send the data you’ve
accumulated, so that determinations can be made about the potential. Untold thousands of dollars
was spent in just writing and sending data. Almost always the answers came back, when you get
more information let us know, which I continued to do. I always thought I had sufficient
information that would make mining companies come a running, which of course never happened.
This left me with only one option, which was, gather more reliable information.
The books that were accumulating provided me with a great deal understanding as to the
complexities that I had unwittingly entered into. Mining was supposed to be simple, or so I thought.
No one had more abundance of naivete than myself. I thought all I had to do was just go make a
discovery and sell it. Needless to say the early years of this adventure were only a frustrating
learning curve. Jack and I knew we had a discovery of fantastic potential, but proving it to mining
companies is something else again.
By the late 1980’s Jack had accumulated well over a thousand books, all of which I read,
although much of the information was way over my ability to comprehend. Still, as time wore on a
lot of what I had previously read began to make sense. Plus, they proved to be invaluable in being
able to spot the silver tongued rogues posing as halloed good guys. There’s and old saying, that is
practiced in the mining game by charlatans: “if you can’t dazzle them with brilliance, baffle them
with bull shit”.
As the years dragged on and with a lot more of the fundamentals under my belt I could see the
pseudo-scientific, razzel-dazzle, motor-mouth cheats and promoters coming a mile away. Perhaps
it’s appropriate here to say that a promoter is not necessarily a crook. Actually, this word in mining
means a person who tries to sell mining claims. Unfortunately, this word has for well over a
hundred years been subjected to every distasteful adjective imaginable, due to the scoundrels that
set out to mine the miner.
I would say that without the books that took Jack years to round-up I could not have proven in the
labs to my complete satisfaction that our mineralized claims were of substantial merit, in spite of
the disappointing results from commercial labs. While all the books were and are immensely
valuable I found one especially intriguing. This book, written in the late 1700’s explained in
reasonable detail how to make silver look exactly like gold. Never have I ever read anything so
scientifically bizarre. There was no fancy chemistry, in fact it was only one acid and pure silver.
Once the silver was dissolved in the acid it was slowly brought to a thick paste and then let dry at
ambient temperature. As soon as it became dry, always out of any rays of light it was massaged into
a thick goo which became the exact color of gold. The only problem was that it had to be kept in a
semi-vacuum, then it could be exposed to the light of the Sun. While in and of itself, is no big deal,
because it’s still not gold, however, because it looks exactly like gold it could be used for special
mirrors, at least that’s what the article alluded to. Today, however, it could be used for coating the
hermetically sealed glass windows on high rise buildings, instead of expensive gold. The other
fascinating item was how simple pure potash (potassium carbonate), pure sulphur and water could
dissolved fine gold. I haven’t tried either of these two experiments, but the potential ramifications
are astounding.
Laboratory events were beginning to culminate into constructive data. For instance - I finally
received Kurt Gaenzel’s Masters Thesis on the galena from Cable Claims. Kurt had developed a
method of being able to prove to anyone who would follow his formulations using Amborne resins
in an acidic medium that impressive amounts of gold, rhodium, iridium and platinum could be
extracted. When I finished reading this data I was again convinced that it wouldn’t be long before I
could relax on my new yacht while sailing the seven seas. As usual, no one would acknowledge
this data. And my yacht became marooned somewhere off the coast of never-never land, but at least
it wasn’t dashed against the rocks or sank. Occasionally, I communicated with Rohm and Haas
who was marketing these 345 amborene resin beads. I asked one of the engineers why mining
companies were not paying attention to my results using their expensive resins. He said that they
were getting ready to pull out of the world wide marketing of this product because mining
companies were not ready for this technology. Naturally, this did nothing to inspire me. Here I was
trying to use the latest scientific methodologies to prove something important to man and mining,
as Rohm & Haas was, but the attic lights weren’t on.
While Mr. Gaenzel was conducting his lab procedures I was usually in Silver City, at ASAT.
Even though I was paying out the nose running varied types of assays, including the laboriously
long Shoelar Powell fire assays, which were followed meticulously from A.R. Powell’s rare book. I
was however gaining knowledge I could get no other way.
Mr. Powell was the chief chemist for Johnson Matthey the world’s leader in Platinum metallurgy
and sales. Just one of these assays would take as long as 40 hours of lab time, and as I participated
my confidence grew proportionately. Over time I became darn good at assaying the galena from
Cable Claims. Did I produce goodies all the time, heavens no, but often enough to keep my hopes
nourished.
Commercial Labs were still giving me troubling results, which was like a sore that wouldn’t heal.
However I wasn’t the only one having this trouble. For instance, the guys that owned the Carlin
gold deposit in Nevada had been saying for years that they had gobs of gold, yet no one would
believe them. They made wild claims that their land held riches beyond imagination, yet the
traditional “trials by fire” assays produced next to nothing. To make their multiple years of misery
short they finally were able to demonstrate that they did indeed have profound quantities of
gleaming yellow metal. Because it defied traditional wisdom, due to be being micro-fine particles,
a multi-million dollar electrostatic precipitator was employed. Now this is the richest gold belt in
America.
Most people don’t realize that if one ounce of pure gold was ground up and homogeneously
mixed with one ton of pulverized rock that the particles of gold would be microscopic to
submicroscopic in size. Therefore, even though the ton of rock was rich nary a particle could or
would be seen. Likewise, did you know that over fifty percent of the gold mined in the world
cannot be seen with the naked eye?
I’m constantly saying to myself, if the creeks don’t rise, the Lord willing, Lady Luck a smiling
and with Mother Nature’s approval I’m going to turn the garbage pile upside down and get on top
where there’s fresh air because it stinks down here.
Every-time Jack made it back to TorC from California, he’d head to the mountains and conduct a
barrage of time consuming radar investigations. He spent hundreds of hours with his Ground
Penetrating and Profiling Radar units, trying to locate voids, fissures, faults, and metallic
subsurface veins.
Over the years he produced hundreds of sheets of paper visualizing the data of his inch by inch
and foot by foot efforts. Several times he found sub-surface metallic veins and later proved their
existence by excavating. And, over the years he produced a detailed VLF EM-16 grid of the Cable
Claims.
Conducting the geophysical survey was truly a remarkable feat, especially when one considers
the amount of walking on 30 to 60 degree slopes, as well as climbing near vertical cliffs with the
instrument in one hand and pencil and paper in the other. Plus, when the wind blows, and walking
along a cliffs edge, if your not real careful, a person could take a crash course in flying.
The major EM-16 Grid produced readings that showed a HUGE Anomaly running about one mile
in essentially a North-South direction, not far under the surface and maybe 50 to 100 feet wide.
Later when more grids were completed Jack determined that this anomaly must be of a high
metallic content, and certainly not a simple Lead sulfide deposit.
Based upon my geological studies and historical reconnaissance, I’ve concluded that it could very
well be a Silver Chloride deposit, but much bigger than the Bridal Chamber. The EM-16 produced
readings in excess of a gestimated OFF-SCALE readings of +200%. Even more spectacular was the
fact that the In-phase to Quadrature ratios are as high as 15 to 1, suggesting almost pure metal.
Finally, I was truly loaded with conclusive data, that no one could deny or refute. I proceeded to
let as many mining companies know about this as possible, but it was like shouting into the wind,
because no-one seemed to be listening. It was like they were saying indirectly, go away kid you
bother me. Or, you’re just a rank amateur, what could you possibly know that we don’t already
know? Besides, everyone knows there’s nothing in those mountains or it would have been found
eons ago.
Even as I write this, the problem is still plaguing me. The big boys won’t pay us serious attention.
Yet, I have no recourse except to continue gathering information. Sometimes, I feel like I’m that
falling tree in the forest, and there’s no-one there to hear the suspense. I guess that I shouldn’t be
surprised with corporate management mentality, because, I’ve been told over and over that the
cartel won’t let little guys into the PGMs market. And I’m just about convinced that whoever the
cartels are they have shut all the doors to potential competitors.
When Jack and I first started running the grid lines, the lines were only 50 feet apart and with a
reading taken every 50 foot along the particular line. Jack being the meticulous person he is made
sure that they were conducted at exact right angles to each of the Federal Sending Stations (Seattle,
WA., Annapolis, MD,, & Cuttler, MA.).
It was becoming quite evident that these lines were going to take forever to complete, and I didn’t
know if I could physically hold-up to the grueling physical stress that my bum knees would require.
On one blistering hot summer day and similar to many previous weeks, while conducting a set of
lines, Jack would use the instrument in front of me. Then he’d stop and yell out the numbers
generated at each spot. My job was to keep behind him about 200 feet, so as to be able to keep him
on the right heading, with the Brunton Compass. But this time we didn’t end up at the right place. I
was off about 300 feet. I became confused, then angry and sat down mumbling obscenities, while
Jack just laughed at me. He knew I was often short tempered when my knees were bothering me,
and the thoughts of re-running this line was downright frustrating, mainly because I didn’t know if
I would do it right and be faced with the same dilemma again. To make a long aggravating story
short, we eventually concluded that we had encountered a significant magnetic anomaly that was
distorting the compass. We finished making several more lines over several days, without another
incident except my usual grumbling. Years later this particular aggravating area is where Jack
started sinking the exploratory shaft.
Jack deserves the credit for these geophysical lines, because many of them I didn’t complete. He
always reminded me of Godzilla because he could do anything physical on the mountains, without
ever complaining. Once he set his sights on something he’d just kept chugging till it got done. He
not only put me to shame, but he’s put everyone I know to physical disgrace whilein the Caballo’s.
Absolutely no one could keep up with his pace. His pace wasn’t so terribly fast, but it was
relentless, kind’a like an old steam engine that as long as it had water and wood nothing could
stopped it.
The only thing I could do physically faster, was coming down the mountain. From where we
would park in the mouth of the Cable Canyon and start to walk to the Fusselman and Percha
contact formations would take us about 60 minutes. He however wouldn’t stop to rest like I would.
Now coming back down, that’s a different story for it would only take me about 15 minutes, which
gave me time to have a couple of cigarettes before Jack got to the pick-up.
I’m sure that there are many idiosyncrasies that I have that Jack doesn’t particularly cotton-to, but
my smoking he absolutely despised. When puffing on these cancer sticks I’d have to be a long
ways away and down wind so as not to ruffle his feathers. However, he paid me back many fold
with his horrendous garlic breath, that I could smell ten miles away. Somehow, he reasoned that
garlic breath was OK, because it was supposedly good for the body.
In the early days of this quest I killed every rattlesnake I saw. There was one, however, that
always hid-out on the old mule trail that we were forced to take while climbing. I’d be making a
fairly fast clip, when I’d instinctively jump backwards, because this small rattler would strike at me
on practically every trip. I always tried to kill it, but after striking it headed into the rocks, as if it
knew it had only one chance to get me. I sometimes suspected that it was merely warning me to be
careful, and pay attention to what I was doing. It seemed reasonable to me that if the snake had
really wanted to get me it would have, because the opportunity was certainly there.
I finally quit killing the rattlers and decided to make a contract with them. I’d leave them alone if
they would stop bothering me. This may sound like I was one card short of having a full deck, but I
never had any more trouble with them.
There were several instances that I could have been bit without any effort on the snakes part, such
as having my face within inches of fangs or stepping next to one of these coiled springs. On another
day, while searching for mineralized zones, I discovered a fascinating area. As I sat down and
started digging with my hand pick, out of a hole about two feet away came a fat green rattler about
3 foot long. It never coiled, instead it just laid there watching me as I worked. I merely said Hi, not
to worry, I’m not going to hurt you. And when I eventually finished digging, the snake went back
into the same hole. Although I’ve been back to the same spot, the snake never showed itself again.
As crazy as it sounds, I’ve often speculated that these snakes may be embodied spirits and/or the
real guardians of the mountains.
Sometimes, I’d tease’m by grabbing their rattlers as they would slither through the rocks, and I’d
ask people to not shoot them if possible when on the Cable Claims. It wasn’t that I was a snake fan,
but that, if I knew where they were I could avoid that particular place. That arrangement for the
most part seems to have worked out well for me and snake. Jack and most of my friends, don’t
share my philosophy, and kill everyone they see, no-matter what, often saying “the only good
rattler is a dead one”.
Although I made this pact, I’ve had some doubts. Especially one time when coming down from
the crest and wading in tall dry grass. While in the mountains I usually made it a habit of always
stopping every few feet and looking around to make sure that I wasn’t overlooking something, or
stumble over a hidden rock. Generally, when in the mountains it is wise to keep a constant eye on
the ground to be sure your not going to step on a century plant who’s needles will penetrate the
thickest soled boots. This time after stopping I heard what sounded like dozens of rattlers all around
me. I stood there frozen for what seemed like an eternity, not knowing which way to turn. I sure
didn’t want to step on one, for that’s an open invitation to getting bit. The rattling noise would stop,
and I’d take a few steps and the noise would start again. So after the noise began to die down I
made several large jumps, after surveying the expected landing sites. I don’t know if I was in a bed
of rattlers or it was just a bunch of cicadas. Whatever it was, the noise sure captivated my attention
for a few anxious moments.
The chilly winds of late October found Jack and I using a gasoline hammer-drill and collecting the drill cuttings
all along the crest. Most people make the common mistake, while prospecting, of saying, there ain’t nothing in
those rocks. A serious prospector will at least look, because the goodies are often found where not expected. Plus,
it’s wise to conduct geo-chemical grids, just to see if any goodies might be contained within what looks like barren
limestone. As an example: cerussite (Lead Carbonate) looks exactly like normal limestone, and certain types of
barite mimics limestone, but both weigh considerably more. After carefully logging each drill hole and packaging
the rock chips from each drill hole, they were then submitted to ASAT for analysis on the Research Grade
Spectrograph. None of the samples gave any indications of goodies, except one, which was unbeknownst to ASAT
that it was intimate with the Fault in Cable Canyon and quite close to the mysterious Rock Face.
This instrument indicated that over four ounces to the ton of Osmium was present. A truly remarkable discovery,
and if this drilling grid had not been done we’d have never known about the Osmium. As rare as osmium is, it was
a credible discovery, because the fault would be a natural pathway for ascending Osmium vapors. Naturally, this
served to continue fortifying all of our past efforts. But at one hundred dollars or more per pop to
spectrographically assay it gets terribly expensive. Even regular fire assays, for only gold or silver, that are
properly conducted will run at least fifty to one hundred dollars each.
I’ve talked to many people who think that they can get commercial Labs to conduct standard
fusions for around twenty five dollars. I often ask these same people do they know what is involved
in conducting a so-called fire assay? Naturally, they don’t. And because a few assayers advertise
assays at $15-$25 each -- most prospectors make the erroneous assumption that “quality” is also
part of the price. The real expensive assays are those that require acid digestions and selective
precipitation’s. These can easily run two to five thousand dollars and take a week each of lab time.
Most people don’t realize the amount of systematic work that goes into a reliable assay. The
standard methods are: 1) the systematic and logged collection from a particular site, including a
mark on a topo map where the sample originated; 2) the grinding or pulverizing of the rock(s); 3)
the blending and splitting to create homogeneous samples; 4) then and only then have the samples
reached the stage for what-ever type of assay desired.
What are the various types of standard assays? If the prospector doesn’t know he had better get
smart real fast, or be prepared for the consequences. There is the normal or most commonly
employed “Fire” assay technique. Which is merely the charging of a #30 or #40 crucible with a
properly prepared sample weighing one assay ton (29.16 grams), which is the equivalent of one ton
of the same rock. Naturally, one ton of rock would be frightfully prohibitive for preliminary tests,
so the old timers devised a scheme that was and is quite convenient, as well as practical. This 1 A/T
sample is then blended with various fluxes, and placed into a furnace (reducing atmosphere) to
obtain a lead button that is hopefully contaminated with one or more of the precious metals.
Then if all went according to plan there’s a resultant lead button, weighing somewhere between
25 and 35 grams. This button is then cleaned and should be carefully examined microscopically to
determine as much about the physical characteristics as possible for future reference. The button is
then placed into a bone ash cupel that is then placed in a cupellation (electric) oven. Usually after
about an hour all the lead is oxidized leaving behind only a precious metal prill. This prill can be
and usually is contaminated to some extent with one or more base and precious metals. This prill,
after being carefully cleaned and weighed is or can be subjected to a battery of further tests to
determine the contents, such as spectrographic analysis or chemical digestions. I’ve made it sound
simple and easy. Nothing could be further from the truth. There are many intermediate steps I’ve
failed to deal with, because a book could be written on this subject alone.
I have a fondness for fire assays because of the quick results. In contrast, if I am willing to spend
the bucks then the following procedure is my preference: A properly pulverized and screened
sample to at least -100 mesh, and preferably to -200 mesh is then rolled and blended. This sample
should be at least 1000 grams and is split homogeneously into 5-10 equal portions and subjected to:
1) fire assay(s); 2) chemical digestion(s); 3) micro-chem tests; 4) petrographic study; 5)
instrumentation analysis (Atomic Absorption and/or Emission, Direct Current Plasma, Induction
Coupled Plasma, X-ray Diffraction, and Spectrographic). The results (generated data) are then
combined to give a reasonable conclusion as to what I’m dealing with. Then and only then will I be
able to better determine the probable course of action that could or should be initiated.
It should be noted and stressed that a fire assay cannot intelligently be initiated before the
contents of the rock are known. For instance - what is the amount of silica, probable metals and
type of chemical combination or what the matrix make-up is. Furthermore, it is imperative that
anyone who is going to have assays conducted to be at least a little bit informed on the subject of
assaying and carefully check-out the Labs to be used. Better yet, do the work yourself. Plus, assays
should only be a guide for the prospector as he seeks his fame and fortune in any one of the
numerous holes he’ll dig. Likewise, please keep in mind that what I just outlined about assaying is
extremely generalized. And, considerable tedious effort goes into each phase and stage of every
step before an assay is ready to be preformed.
The mountain weather has extremes that for the most part are well suited to my appetite. I’ve
been on the mountain on first of January and able to peel off my clothes and take a quick sun bath.
Yet, frigid winds will reign on the next day. Generally, the summers are hot, and the winters are
mild, and what snow does fall doesn’t stay long. That’s probably why the area sees the migrating
“snow birds” who are northern tourists settling in for the winter months.
Because the snow only lasts a few days on the Caballo’s year around working conditions are
practical. This is not true for the Black Range, where the blizzards make driving treacherous and
quite hazardous to one’s health.
A possible side benefit for astute treasure hunters is to get on the Caballo’s right after a snow to
try and find the melted spots on solid rock. Why? Well, where the snow melts first could provide
clues to the warmer, near surface caverns, or hidden Spanish mines.
Most prospectors take the summer months to prospect, especially the people who like digging
placer gold. But, the summer produces the most rain and it makes dry washing for placer gold all
but impossible. There are very few live creeks and because the area is desert, water is a rare
commodity, making wet washers cost prohibitive. I would suggest that the serious vacation or
weekend placer prospector get themselves equipped with the best metal detectors they can find.
And when an area is discovered that spot should be logged onto a topo and samples taken, which
will be examined later where water is available.
It is my opinion that systematic searches will provide the wise prospector with the best possible
rewards, and save a great deal of time, trial and error. I make this last statement because I think I’m
qualified to do so. Why? Because I have made just about all the dumb or foolish mistakes a wannabe prospector can and still be alive.
CHAPTER 19
Mistakes
1986 was a essentially a repeat of the past, except I seemed to be more adept at screwing-up. I
occasionally met with a few mining companies, but it always seemed to turn out the same. Sort’a
like the song “she got the gold and I got the shaft”, because they always wanted all the goodies and
would give me nothing, except the problems.
Due to the wind always blowing dust and having a severe lack of financial resources I was always
mixing chemicals and digested the pulverized rocks indoors. Naturally, trying to handle chemicals
with no ventilation is insane, however, my choices were either do nothing or try.
Not only were the corrosive chemicals causing me problems, but our ore seems to be quite toxic
when mixed with certain acids that form metallic salts that can become contact poisons. As far as
I’m concerned our Galena carries significant amounts of Thallium, which is noted for it’s toxicity.
Just 3 mg of the metal in the human body creates all the classic signs of a heart attack, as well as,
sometimes actually killing its victim by lining the heart with the reduced metal.
A few times while working with the various acids I would become extremely ill, and a couple of
times I just knew, as Red Fox often said, that the big one was paying me a visit. The knocking on
my chest would get so loud I was worried that I’d upset the neighbors.
Agatha Cristy’s first novels were based upon wives or mistresses giving their men thallium
chloride in their dinner or drink. The tell-tale signs of slow poisoning are loss of stamina, loss of
breath, loss of hair, gastric annoyances, ending in a heart attack. And I had all the classic
symptoms. It’s entirely likely that some would say, why would anyone want a mine that contained
such a toxic metal. All I can say is that if the ore is handled properly, the dangers are not of any
consequence. Besides this element is used more and more in new industries. For example, some of
you hunters might be aware of night vision scopes, well the glass is fused with thallium making
night vision possible.
Conforming to my ongoing demented behavior, I didn’t stop playing mad scientist. I knew that
the more I learned the better the chances of winning this game were going to be -- someday. Not
only is thallium great for croaking people off, it used to be this Nation’s best known rat killer, till it
was pulled from the stores during the late 1960’s.
A few times the acid fumes would be so bad, that I had to open a bottle of Ammonium Hydroxide
to neutralize the vapors that were actually condensing and dripping from the ceiling. As crazy as
my experiments were I often did witness strange chemical behavior with our ores. For instance –
I’d be digesting a concentrate of galena from the main vein using Nitric Acid. Then, when this
chemical dismantling stage was done I’d use Aqua Regia (concentrated Hydrochloric and Nitric
acids) to further digest the remaining insolubles. Often, as I continued to drive the hydrochloric off
the solution would become so concentrated that I’d get beautiful crystals precipitating. Some of
which resembled the magnificent rainbow of colors iridium displays.
One of the more interesting and duplicable chemical reactions was when I would dissolve the
pulverized rocks in concentrated hydrochloric acid, which was then filtered and the pregnant
solution subjected to the addition of water. Then when the solution became apparently sufficiently
diluted with triple distilled water it instantly turned to a black coloration. Next the black coloration
turned to a milky white then back to clear, leaving no trace of the peculiar events. Obviously, some
kind of catalyzation and precipitation (redox) was taking place simultaneously. Even though this is
a repeatable event I’ve not yet learned why, or what elements are causing these strange
occurrences. I am convinced that antimony is a major player in the milky white coloration. But, as
yet I have not been able to completely isolate the black particles because they go back into solution
before I can make a clean separation. However, it is something I every once in a while continue to
work on.
Just as summer was approaching, I had contracted with a core driller, to sink a few holes in an
attempt to contact the huge geophysical anomaly. I checked these people out to see if there were
any complaints about their work, and everyone I met had only praise for them. Upon being
reasonably convinced they could do the job I took them to the area, so they could examine for
themselves what they were up against. They assured me that it was going to be a piece of cake.
Thus, after they hauled all the equipment up the mountain, on their backs, drilling started soon
afterwards. From that moment on it was chaos. They were lucky to make five feet the first few
days, and it steadily just kept getting worse. Finally, after a month and only 23 feet deep, they said
that they’d had enough, and were packing it in. I couldn’t blame them, but that left me high, dry
and dirt poor.
Occasionally, I would hire a plane and pilot so that I could take video and 35 mm shots of the
whole mountain range. Someday these video’s may well be worth their weight in gold for my
memory. Not only will I have history recorded, but will have the ground covered in such a way as
to be able to look back and see what differences may have occurred through the years. I even tried
black & white infra-red, which became a nightmare and not worth the effort.
In the Fall of the year I met with Mr. Park of Brain Bank Ltd., of England, at the Dallas airport.
We spent the afternoon hours discussing the Cable Claims, and before, we parted company, he
agreed to become involved with the Claims. But, the catch was, only if I would tie the Cable
Claims in with a Australian Diamond deal he was putting together. I had heard of a possible
diamond prospect there, but I also new that DeBeer’s controlled the diamond market and that
DeBeer’s was having trouble marketing diamonds. Also, DeBeer’s had considerable debt and 5
billion dollars worth of unsold diamonds in their vaults, which at the time could have meant
wholesale dumping on the world market. Under all the circumstances that I could see, this lent me
to suspect, that this British Company was a good fraud suspect. As a good friend and associate had
previously told me after the first couple of deals fell through, “it’s easier to sell a scam than the
truth”. However, Mr. Park didn’t portray or have any of the familiar signs of a scam artist, but I still
said no to the deal.
It’s too bad that 20/20 hindsight can’t be applied to foresight, because Mr. Park’s Diamond Mine
became a success, and I’m still scratching around in the dirt. I guess this time it was me playing the
part of Bogart in the 1930’s movie “Treasure of the Sierra Madre”. If you will remember “Bogey”
was the bumbling prospector who couldn’t see gold if he was standing on it. Likewise, there I was
standing upon success and I was too stupid to see it.
CHAPTER 20
Revisiting Disbelief
I had heard that old aerial photos were available from the Government. And, finally, after
tracking down the right agency, I ordered the entire Caballo mountain range, and spent many a hour
scrutinizing them. Some of these photo’s were taken in the 1930’s that produced a wealth of
information, such as fault zones that can’t be seen in any other manner. I also ordered and received
a high altitude color infra-red USDA photo, and it is just priceless.
In early 1992 I was shown several satellite photos that I’d sure like to have, but my wish list is so
long now, that these photos will just have to wait. One of these photos showed evidence of what
looked like a huge meteor impact crater on the East side of Cable Canyon. Needless to say I walked
the entire area, but found no evidence of such. The trouble with being on the ground is that
signatures are almost impossible to spot, and yet, no photo takes the place of ground
reconnaissance. Yet and on other the other hand, this photo I was privileged to see proved at least
to my satisfaction that what I previously found and photographed from a plane could very well be
real. As of now, I am not going to say more on this subject cause it would alert too many people to
what I prefer to keep quite for awhile.
Wanting to know how much these special satellite photos would cost I contacted NASA in Texas,
and was told that each one is in the neighborhood of eight hundred dollars and up, up, up and away.
Plus, several thousands of dollars is generally spent trying to determine what the images indicate.
So, these too will just have to be added to an already endless wish book.
When not trying to communicate with brokers and mining companies, or conduct assays and
microscopic examinations, I was making VHS Videos. The aim was to better promote the claims.
No matter how I tried to format the tapes they were crude by the worst of standards. I found that it
is really difficult to show on tape with good resolution for presentation without proper equipment.
But, at least I tried and learned a lot in the process.
From out of left field, on a cold February 1987 day came the nastiest shock I had received to date.
I was helping Brack Callahan dig a tailings pit near his home on Animas Creek, when I received a
telephone call from Jack in California. He was at his book dealer’s friends’ business establishment,
and he put Mr. Jack Garvin on the telephone. He proceeded to tell me a terrible story that really
shook me to my toes.
Mr. Garvin was attending a mining symposium where high level mining executives gathered. We
had given Mr. Garvin a collection of our Mining Claims data and he was going to present the
information to these executives. As he was about to present this information a person from the
Bureau of Mines in Socorro, NM told Mr. Garvin that I was under investigation by the FBI.
Naturally, this made Mr. Garvin look like a fool, thus effectively stopping any further discussions
about the Cable Claims.
I apologized to Mr. Garvin for his ordeal, and would start looking into the matter immediately.
No time was wasted. I started by contacting the local police department and asked them if they
knew anything about whether or not I was being investigated for anything. The TorC chief of
police told me they he didn’t know anything, but suggested that I get in touch with the State’s
Attorney General, or better yet contact the FBI. This made sense, so I called the FBI, and asked if I
was under any kind of investigation. The agent I spoke to said to put my request in writing and be
sure to indicate the Freedom of Information Act. After a couple of days, I completed the drafting of
a letter of all events, places and names, and sent the request to the Albuquerque FBI Regional
Office.
A few weeks later I received a reply from the FBI stating that I was not under any kind of
Investigation in New Mexico and that they didn’t know anything about the references I had made.
So, now the logical question arises, why would the Bureau of Mines personnel make such
outlandish statements? Why hasn’t this Bureau that is charged with Public Trust come to me and
ask questions, or asked to visit the Cable Claims. Or, act credibly by asking to collect samples, and
run tests before casting dark clouds upon my integrity, or the credibility of the Cable Claims?
In an attempt to be as fair as possible, I can understand why some people working for the State,
may seem to be wary of those who claim to have goodies; if for no other reason than the abundant
amount of charlatans associated with mining. However, if this Bureau was really interested in
promoting the State’s mineral resources it would seem prudent to conduct a reasonable amount of
testing to legitimize their statements/opinions, regardless of who’s mineral properties are in
question.
Rascals, Charlatans, Scam Artists, or just plain Con-men have without doubt caused a great deal
of passion and wrath regarding mining. But this is nothing new, for predators have always been in
any profession that reeks of unknowns and the Arts. They seem to be just waiting for some ripe
morsel to come stumbling along the path of ignorance to be devoured.
With maturity has come a little wisdom. And, I’m totally convinced that 50% of all people are on
one side or the other of the imaginary line that separates the so-called bad from the so-called good.
The real question is and apparently always has been, which side is the Right side? From my
perspective I think I’m on the right side. Yet, the beasts think they are on the right side. So who’s
right? Is the battle just destined to be waged in an all consuming chaotic rage?
To rely upon the State or laws for protection is like asking the fox to guard the chickens. After all,
who are the real predators or parasites? Who’s dressed up as little Red Riding-Hood as your last
dollar is picked from your pocket?
From my perspective the scoundrel, thug or hoodlum is the least of our worries, the entity to keep
a wary eye upon is the State, or the people in the agencies that are charged with the public trust.
When was the last time you witnessed any State or Federal agency doing anything good for the
people without first stealing from someone?
For some unexplainable reason, Americans have managed to fool themselves into believing that
the Govt is someone or something other than themselves. I’ve talked to hundreds of people that are
normally rational individuals, yet they are convinced that rules and laws will somehow stop the
ugly aspects of life. If these people would just look back into history they’d see that crime is an
intimate and proportional function of law. The more rules and laws, the more crime, thus the more
people in jail. If laws worked so well we would not have to keep building jails. Hopefully, and
soon, the American public will awaken and see that the only people that gain from Laws and Rules
are the Politicians, Lawyers, Judges and Policing agencies.
Why people can’t see that every-time a law or rule is enacted that a corresponding Right just
disappeared down a rat hole is beyond me. It would seem clear that Congress cannot legislate
morality. Christ, we’ve been making laws for thousands of years and what has it got us? I wonder
when people are going to stop wanting to be victims, and stop pointing their fingers? America used
to be called the land of the Free, now it is called a land of Law.
Anyone in Govt is quick to point out that Anarchy is terrible and not to be tolerated. I suggest just
the opposite, that anarchy is correct and Govt is the ultimate horror. How can I justify this position?
It is relatively simple, and because it is so simple it is invisible. What does the dictionary say
anarchy is: “a state of society without Govt or law” or “a theory which regards the union of order
with the absence of all direct or coercive Govt as the political ideal.” In my opinion when people
are really free their actions represent moral and ethical responsibilities, which is in reality Anarchy or self-rule. But when the people want or allow someone else to manage their
responsibilities they get Law and Govt that eventually stifles freedom and always produces slavery.
No Govt throughout history has been the friend of the people. In fact, just the opposite, it has
always been the tool of the elite ruling class. Ask yourself these questions: Who is the ruling class?
Who is granted special privileges that are denied the people? And who is supposed to be the
servants, but are in reality the rulers? Therefore, I contend, that when greedy, power hungry
legislators and regulating (socialistic) agencies do the bidding of multi-national corporations it is in
reality only the ugly form of lawful anarchy. Would it not seem prudent to become what we once
were - freedom loving individuals minding our own business?
Why do you suppose the Govt always use the word “anarchist’s or right winger’s” to destroy or
discredit upstarts or grassroots organizations? As you quite likely know, all pointed and accusing
fingers, simply try to get attention diverted from what’s really going on. I submit that we in 1995
are living under an immoral form of legal anarchy that claims to be a representative Govt of liberty
and justice. I propose that there is no justice in America today unless you have deep pockets.
Therefore there is no real liberty. Consequently, the Bill of Rights and the U.S. Constitution is no
longer valid, because no elected representative practices their oath of office.
The United States Govt was set-up to be by and for the people. In contrast, it has become
subverted, as all forms of Govt eventually do. Ask yourself: Who’s constantly changing the rules of
the game as they see fit, and to who’s benefit?
I can think of no rule that all mankind can live by and understand better than “treat others as I
would have them treat me.” Unfortunately, those that say or subscribe to the need of Govt and its
myriad of acts, codes, laws, rules and regulations do so because they do not believe in treating
others the same as themselves. Why? Because any law other than the golden rule has to first take,
actually steal before it can be given. So those un-elected, non-accountable BureauRats who practice
their art of control, without responsibility are in my opinion the very same humanoids pointing
crooked fingers to avert attention from the ugly realities of their camouflaged rules. To clarify or
illustrate the foregoing: When I wrote to those GangGreens who were drafting the rules for the
horrid HB 556 I asked for accountability, and protection from a possible and probable dictatorial
commission that was going to enforce their own rules. What kind of reply did I receive from my
numerous cries, absolutely nothing. In other words, these Elitists were going to do what they
wanted no matter what kind of dissent or contradictory practical logic was hurled their way.
Consequently, is this not anarchy being practiced in its most revolting style? Oh, I know, it’s
always said that if anarchy was to rein, eventually some power hungry monster would rule. Well,
what I’m yelling as loud as I can is that America has been divided into regional turfs just like any
gang does. And these gangs are “special interest groups” who are on a feeding frenzy, devouring
the free, while protected and preserved by their own laws.
What’s the first thing an infant hears after all the gaga’s, ou’s and ah’s are completed? A barrage
of life long set of abundant No’s. From childhood all the way through life all people hear is No,
you can’t do that, stop that, quit, no, no no. Yet, the very one’s who say those No’s are doing what
is being denied. It starts in the family and is transferred to the highest levels of government.
It’s constantly heard, that those who are saying the No’s are doing so to protect the young or the
innocent and ignorant. That’s pure horse pucky. Why do parents tell their children one lie after
another, such as: the Fairy God Mother, the Tooth Fairy, Santa Clause, and the most absurd of all,
that Mr. Bunny and Mrs. Bunny lay Easter Eggs? Parents say that it’s all in fun, but these
fundamental concepts teach the young that adults are liars, and it’s OK to say one thing, yet do
another. Take for example, ex-President Bush said—to use political pressure on Hussein by
invoking sanctions, but when the pen didn’t create the desired circumstances fast enough our wise
leader resorted to the gun.
Our Nation’s jails are brimming with people who act out the mythologies taught by our so-called
leaders. Therefore, those in jail are merely the reflection of who we as a Nation really are. Another
example which seems to happen all too frequently as of late is about the cop who beats up a citizen,
and gets sent home on involuntary leave of absence as punishment for a week or month, with pay.
In other words the cop is rewarded with a paid vacation for the misbehavior(s). What kind of
message does this send to society or the young?
Jails are nothing more than warehouses to house the unemployed. Every time we declare war on
some kind of supposed criminal (politically incorrect) activity, such as drugs we spend ourselves
into debt and poverty. Look at California’s penal system that is a multi-billion dollar industry. To
add insult to injury California pays jail guards more than teachers. All States are now spending
more on jails than educating the young. I’d be willing to bet that our entire criminal justice system
costs the taxpayer far more than the criminals take.
We know that the police cannot protect the citizen, and never has. So what is being gained by
perpetrating and perpetuating a system that hasn’t worked since put in place? A better question
would be: who’s really gaining? As with any crime, ask who has a motive, and generally the
question is answered. The answer should be obvious - all the various forms of regulators.
To those of us living in 1995, what do we see that should remind us of what life was 10,000 years
ago? The ecologists, environmentalists are turning the landscape back over to the animals and our
cities into zoos of savage Neanderthals.
I wonder how this Country survived the first hundred and fifty years without all the laws and
regulations? One fact should stand out pretty clear, which is, if we don’t stop making laws, and
start repealing most of which are on the books, the sheer weight of these terrors to freedom will
bankrupt us all, as well as put big brother in all of our bedrooms.
Most people who break the law have more to gain than they have to lose. So it would seem
prudent to have Americans working, and being proud of what they have to be thankful for.
Obviously, when a little research is done it will be quickly noticed that most of those in our jails
have lost hope to be recognized as important members of society. Similarly, I personally believe
that the socialist monsters want the chaos to continue in order to accomplish their divide and
conquer plans of a One World Govt (dictatorship).
If there is such a thing as evil I am forced to suspect that its earthly manifestation is sustained
ignorance.
CHAPTER 21
Goofing Around
Whenever, the chance arose that someone was willing and able to show me where caves or placer
gold have been found I was ready. A couple of times, due to financial constraints I was forced to
stay at the Travel Lodge motel owned by Mr. Deal. After getting to know him, he said let’s go
examine some ground near the Shandon, where he had found gold many years prior. Jim, has
always been a prospector, and because he grew up in the TorC area, and has consistently chased the
elusive yellow substance in Alaska I felt that I was indeed privileged.
As we made our way into a few of the obscure arroyos he showed me many sites that I did not
know existed. Someday, these areas should be investigated to see if commercial operations are
feasible. In the same general area, Bill Gray showed me where he had hauled the best paydirt to a
concentrating plant on the Shandon, several years earlier. To my surprise some of the best gold
resided in the white volcanic ash laying in patches at the East end of the Shandon, as well as the
tops of the arroyos in the reddish hard clay.
Many people have tried to speculate as to where and why the gold shows up in the Shandon. The
most probable scenario I can logically arrive at is that when the Caballo’s were being up-lifted and
the area broke apart small to large ore bodies were exposed and the gold content being the heaviest
stayed the furthest behind (closest to the current mountain structure) and atop the arroyos. The gold
that lies in the arroyo bottoms has evidently washed in, and I suspect that if a person were to scrape
the arroyos to bed rock that glory holes would be the order of the day. To my knowledge, real
bedrock excavation has not been done due to the probable extreme depths of the gravel.
Mr. Deal also showed Rex, Jack and myself a cave near Rincon, but in-order to get there we had
to use his boat to cross the Rio Grande. While investigating the landscape we found old abandoned
hard rock and placer mining operations. There is no-doubt in my mind that these mountain sides
warrant additional exploration. Still, getting to that side of the Rio Grande could pose a real
problem that I’m not sure could be overcome. In addition the infinitely wise BLM has made this
area off limits. I wonder why?
Jack and I often went to the mountains by ourselves, and many people would frequently say that
we should tell someone of where we were going and when we’d be back. Regardless of the
potential risks, Jack and I treasure our independence, and I suspect that freedom is a major form of
risk, nor would I have it any other way. Besides, I could spend the rest of my life in Cable Canyon
alone and still not really know about all the secrets that are there. So, again and without telling
anyone I take off to the fusselman ledge to snoop around, as well as enjoy the peace and quite of
being alone with the mountain. A truly delicious occasion, and until you have experienced it no
amount of words would ever suffice to explain.
While making the exhausting climb I notice a couple of constantly squawking crows. At first I
didn’t pay them much attention, although found them interesting, because they were forever
circling me and giving me the eyeball.
Normally the indigenous birds look us over and go on about their business. But this time as I
started back down the mountain these two birds followed me closely and squawked more and more.
I got the feeling that they were trying to tell me something. Not understanding crow language I
remained amused by their nutty antics. By the time I had reached the truck one of the birds
continued flying due West till out of sight, and the other one kept squawking and circling me.
Naturally, I suspected something was up, but dense me, I didn’t know what to do about the
situation. Then the crow flew over to small opening in the upper part of the Sierrite Limestone cliff.
While perched in the opening it looked at me and squawked several times, then went inside the 2
or 3 foot diameter hole and squawked several times. Then, amazingly, it came out and flew due
West without so much as a peep. What was the bird doing and saying? Was it trying to tell me to
look in this hole? I would have looked, but it is about 20 feet below the top edge of the overhanging
cliff and is about 60 feet straight up from where I stood. There’s no way that I’m going to break
my neck climbing to this spot. Still, maybe one day, I’ll get some climbing gear and take a peek.
A few years after the crow incident and while snooping around the area with Norman Chatfield I
asked him if he’d examine the crow hole. Reluctantly he agreed to do so. And after getting up there
and tying himself off so as not kill himself if he slipped he examined the hole. Well, needless to
say, he discovered nothing of interest. I guess I will never know what the birds were squawking
about. Still, I can’t shake the feeling that I was being told something really important.
Another bizarre situation is when you’re on the mountain, usually up high, everything calm and
still, there comes a strange wind. When it happens it makes me feel as though something has just
passed me by, but I can’t see it. The hair on the back of my neck stands up, although it’s not
frightening, it is certainly eerie and bone chilling.
On a different slant- at certain times of the year Cable Canyon plays host to 100’s of humming
birds, of all sizes and color that are prospecting for the golden necter contained within the moring
glory flowers. As they congregate they are a lot more noisy than you would expect. They seem to
do a lot of fussing with one another over which flower each thinks is his. Then when the flowers
wilt they vanish. How they know when the blooms will occur, is another of those mountain
mysteries. But they do remind me of us humans who also squabble over pieces of territory or the
yellow stuff of dreams.
Occasionally, fox can be seen playing or hunting for rodents and grubs in the cactus patches.
How they can dig and root around in a patch of prickly pear without getting stuck is beyond me. I
have approached to within 30 feet of them, and I guess they know that I’m only curious and not out
to harm or molest them, so they tolerate my presence.
During the summer there’s a couple of critters I give a wide berth to, one being the huge red
winged wasps that attack the native tarantulas. These two creatures are locked into a millennia old
struggle of life and death. Then there’s the centipede, this nasty varmint gets quite large and is not
only aggressive, but darn right malevolent. If it gets on you, and manages to find bare skin you can
end up with some really nasty bites. Next in line are the scorpions and vinegaroons. I haven’t had
a problem with the scorpions, but I know that some of them are lethal. The vinegaroons, look like
scorpions, but don’t have the traditional stinging tail. Instead it’s a long and thin like a hair, that
emits a vinegar smell that does something to its prey. Some people say these critters are poisonous,
but I’ve picked them up by the tail without any ill effects, although I generally leave’m be.
When in the mountains and taking a lunch break I normally share pieces of bread with the
squirrels and ants. It’s amazing how fast the ants find the food and gather around to cart it off. For
some reason I enjoy teasing these tiny beasts. But, by feeding them I make up for my misbehavior.
Although I’m convinced that all critters of the mountains have just as much right to be there as I
do, I do not believe they have more rights, as many a rabid animal or radical environmental rights
advocates would have us believe.
CHAPTER 22
More Lessons
On an August evening, while reading a chemistry book in North Georgia, Jimmy Smith called to
advise me that he darn near had a shoot-out with several people who were randomly blasting on the
Cable Claims.
Jimmy’s mining claims butt up against the Cable’s and we have always tried to look out for one
another’s interests. After several phone calls back and forth, getting the Sheriff, and the BLM
Ranger involved, the people eventually sent me an apology for incorrectly staking over the Cable
Claims.
When dealing with the Federal Govt, be prepared for bureaucratic nightmares. Year after year I
have to be in contact with the BLM (Bureau of Land Management) recordation office in Santa Fe.
It seems that I am forced to call to their attention their mistakes, and the lack of adequate responses.
They want us claim owners to get our paper-work in on time, but do they care about getting it back
in a reasonable amount of time? Not hardly! Most often they are saying they are over-worked and
understaffed. But all I have ever seen is more and more people and bigger newer buildings.
You ought to try and imagine how much of your taxes they spend each year. While visiting one of
their web pages www.blm.gov/nhp/news/legislative/pages/2000/te000316NH.htm they say they
need $1,358,955,000 for fiscal year 2001.
1988 was a less stressful year, but neither did we get funding to develop the claims. Jack spent a
lot of time in California buying books for his personal library regarding anything about the metals.
Of course these books continued to be like gifts from heaven, especially when I couldn’t afford to
do very much else, except read.
I did meet a lot of interesting people this year, like the Texas catalytic converter scrap man. This
gentleman, over time informed me about the lock big business has over the industry. And that the
Nation was essentially divided into four parts, and all converter scrap is handled by these four, no
matter what. Oh, little guys tried from time to time to muscle in, but were forced-out due to the big
four’s buying strategies. As I’m told they would price the contents of the converters so high that the
competitors simply could not afford to buy them, then when the independents were gone down
came the price. Speaking of Cartels, there is without any doubt Platinum Group Metal Cartels
controlling the Worlds flow of ore, scrap and metal, including the metallic salts. I was even warned
a couple of times that if I kept on saying that the Cable Claims had the PGMs I would get into deep
manure. A couple years previously, there were two events that I paid close attention two. The first
was of a chemist who was working on the PGMs in Albuquerque was shot in the head while
driving down the interstate, at least that is what I was told. The second was that a Professor
discovered a good show of the PGMs near the Organ Mountains, but was told if he wanted to keep
his job to drop the matter. By the way I have this Professor’s name for future reference.
The year also taught me many valuable lessons about negotiating with potential promoters,
brokers and investment bankers. I met with Japanese personalities, and found that words are not the
main method of communicating, and smiles don’t necessarily mean pleasure. I had spent
considerable time with a Los Angeles Broker who ran a “Boiler Room” Sales organization. We
eventually cut a deal to raise 7 million dollars. However, before it was concluded the man died of
phenomena. Like many deals in the past I would get right next to success, only to watch it vanish
before my eyes, without knowing why. In-addition to this individual’s untimely death, there were
others, like the Canadian who was wrapping up his mining venture and was going to get involved
with us when he managed to get himself dead in a mine cave-in. Jack and I also met a geologist
who took interest in what we presented and quite possibly could have finished making the right
connections, when he managed to kill himself in a snow avalanche.
While in Longbeach, and visiting my Uncle I met with a young chemist Alan Aeichleman. Over
the course of many hours we discussed the potential ramifications of what Jack and I were trying to
accomplish. He expressed a lot of interest in assisting us in the chemistry side of the dismantling
and extracting the goodies. After several days I became convinced that Alan was indeed brilliant,
and would be a great asset. The only problem was, I didn’t have the money to hire him, even
though we desperately needed his expertise.
Over time I became convinced that in order to not make similar mistakes that I’ve seen other’s
make, I needed an in-house lab to stop relying on commercial houses. You can send the exact same
sample, split homogeneously into 10 equal parts, to 10 different Labs and you’ll get 10 different
results back. A miner should keep in mind that assayers are in the business of making money, and
often the only way to make a profit is to not take the necessary time of doing a thorough
quantitative and qualitative analysis. The trouble with this form of expedience is that haste makes
waste. Also, there are many assayers that as far as I’m concerned are wolves in sheep’s clothing. It
is not uncommon to receive an assay report, with a disclaimer on the bottom, which essentially
nullifies the report. When dealing with these people just remember the adage “buyer beware”.
Regardless of what kind of numbers the assays generate, there is only one form of proof that is
really satisfying. That is—metal in hand. And the only way I know how to generate a small bar is
to build a mini-pilot plant that will get beyond assaying and into the next stage of pre-development
which will consistently give metal in hand. However, keep in mind that this phase is only to justify
further work and expense, or stop.
A few tools that should be a part of any serious prospectors repertoire is a microscope, small spectroscope, small
furnaces, and chemically pure (reagent grade) standards. Without such, you will not be able to cross reference and
check the results of any lab work. Furthermore, even though this is time consuming and hideously expensive you’ll
save handsomely by not wasting time/money, being fooled by unverifiable reports.
This potentially hostile environment of assaying is not limited to rocks. For I’ve read numerous
accounts of untrustworthy blood analysis: such as—where 10 identical hair samples were submitted
to 10 different leading laboratories across this Nation and there were 10 different and conflicting
results obtained.
In Arizona the assayers are so-called “certified” and can put that State certification Seal on an
assay report. The trouble is, do the State inspectors know anything about assaying? To my
knowledge, being certified by the State sure doesn’t preclude unscrupulous activities. Furthermore,
assay numbers on a sheet of paper, don’t really mean a whole lot. For instance, the methodology(s)
utilized to generate the assay numbers are seldom, if ever known, and are therefore non
reproducible in another lab, or by another assayer. Therefore, if you can’t prove up the work it is of
no practical value to anyone.
I’ve learned that if I’m going to pay several hundreds to thousands of dollars for assays, that all
methodologies are known prior to analysis. And, that those exact methodologies are also written
into the report. Additionally, I send no rock sample to be analyzed without first keeping a
representative split, so that I can verify what ever the results may be.
Most prospectors prefer the summer months to seek their fortunes, however, right after the
summer rains the gnats come out, which are, to say the least, quite obnoxious wee-beasties. To me,
these gnats are like Texas chiggers, or miniature desert dwelling Great White Sharks.
Consequently, I stay out of the mountains for a few days after a good rain, because of the terrible
itching whelps these savages produce. The worst one is the “no see-um” a tiny black gnat that
creates bumps you won’t believe. I’ve heard it said that the no-see-um’s deposit their eggs under
the skin and that’s why these particular fiends are so hideous. When they attack they do so by the
thousands, and insect repellent is like frosting to these horrid creatures. I’ve been bitten so bad that
my ears bleed, and their toxic bites leave me going crazy for days.
I’ve heard many people new to the area, especially women, say: “how can anyone stand all this,
desolate drab brown desert”? My only comment, recognizing that these types of people prefer lush
green lawns etc., is that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I’ve traveled to practically every
locality in the United States, and I have found no place lovelier than Sierra County, New Mexico.
The only thing this area is lacking in is the Pacific Ocean, but it is enough for me to know that the
ocean was here and I’m now privileged to see the Creator’s past handiwork.
A lot of people seem to turn up their noses at treasure hunting. But there is nothing immoral or
wrong with prospecting for treasure, even though it seems to carry a stigma of illegitimacy.
Because of this blemish I try not to get any of that smell on me, so as to not cast doubt on my
sincere efforts of mineral prospecting and wanna-be mining. Oh, don’t get me wrong - I would and
do listen to stories concerning any-kind of treasure. When I become worn-out or tired of the work
on the Cable Claims I would roam the mountains, keeping my eyes open for a possible exposed
entrance into the mountain caverns. And if, by chance, I found a pot of gold bars just begging to be
picked up, you can bet that I’d call the friendly archaeologists for assistance before proceeding
further.
Finding treasure is of course romantic, but just as romantic to me is finding an entrance into the
caverns that could well rival Carlsbad. The exploration of such would be a thrilling adventure, and
quite likely worth all the gold I could ever find. Plus, historical evidence strongly indicates that
caverns sometimes contain vast mineral wealth.
CHAPTER 23
The Adit and Shaft
Jack on one of his ceremonial excursions to the Cable Claims, decides for some reason to take the
EM-16 into the partially timbered adit in the Percha Shale on Cable #3. To his astonishment, the
readings are not only OFF-SCALE suggesting something close and HUGE, but the instrument goes
parallel or flat. In other words it’s like being right in-front of the Seattle Federal Sending Station.
The gestimate of +500%, is not only incredibly bizarre it resembles taking a afternoon stroll on the
moon.
Due to his tremendous efforts and exciting results, he makes the decision that a shaft needs to be
sank to locate the tip-top portion of the Huge Anomaly. So, 1989 sets the stage for the beginning of
yet another grueling physical quest.
I try and talk Jack out of the whole idea, saying that we’d be better off letting someone else do
this kind of back breaking work. Besides, it is far too dangerous to do any blasting in the adit
without adequately timbering the side walls and ceiling. Jack, being who he is, is not deterred by
my objections. I’ve come to the conclusion long ago, once an idea has taken root in Jack’s mind it’s
best to forget about trying to talk him out of it.
Jack locates a bunch of used railroad timbers, and enlists Mr. Remmington (a man I got to know
and like) to help haul them up the mountain on his stake bed truck. We finally get them loaded onto
all of our trucks and drive up the mountain from the East side. And, because Ms. Conner had come
to visit, she luckily gets caught up in this, potentially frightful ordeal.
We get to the top of the mountain and just before the Taggart’s Claims, Mr. Remington’s truck
breaks down, which was making my nightmares come true. We unload the timbers and Jack and I
make multiple trips in my pick-up back and forth hauling the timbers to the drop off point. No big
deal, the timbers only have to be taken another 1000 feet along the crest before having to go down
the mountain side another 1000 feet. Of course I’m being flippant, because it was going to be a
monstrous job.
The immediate chore was to get Mr. Remington’s truck out of the mountain before it got dark.
We chain his truck to mine and away we go, with me grumbling under my breath about this fool
hardy cockamamie idea of Jack’s. All the time worrying that I’m going to break my truck pulling
the broken truck out of the Mountains. Everyone who’s been to area knows that just getting back
and forth is an extremely jolting, and a treacherous journey for the best of vehicles, but to be
pulling someone is just asking for multiple dilemmas. I could just see my worst fears about to
happen; stranded on the mountain, just about in financial ruin, and saddled with a broken truck that
I desperately needed to make another get-a-way in. But, Lady Luck was smiling because we made
it without mishap, much to my surprise and silent pleasure.
A few days later Diane and I head back to Texas, leaving Jack to somehow get the RR Timbers
down the mountain. As much as I hated the prospect of the work involved to get these timbers to
the adit, I would have done it. Only I was broke again, and had no choice but to head back to
Houston or starve in TorC.
While in Houston, I received the first ever written assay report, from an unsolicited source,
confirming that the Cable Claims had appreciable amounts of Gold and Platinum. Naturally, to say
the least, I was exhilarated. At last, I had the next best thing to proof other than metal in-hand.
Several months earlier I sent data and samples to this Canadian Company who had expressed a
mild interest. This company had said they were interested in PGM ores, but their chief business was
scraping and reclaiming automobile converters. However, the report wasn’t 100% wonderful, for
they couldn’t find any PGMs in the Galena, but they did find silver and a trace of gold. They had
found the goodies in the Gabbroic Dike samples, which I have long said, and had semi-proved, that
this dike had mineable precious metals. The bad news was that they were not interested in Galena,
due to the hostile political climate of this type of ore. But, as far as I was concerned, and to this day
that was a glowing report, regardless of the drawbacks it contained. They wanted me to provide
them with a lot more development data, but that request was not able to be complied with. Later, if
this company is still in business I’ll contact them if and when we have completed our main
objective.
As time passed I looked into the Gabbroic Dike matter a bit more and have concluded that a
multi-year mining operation could well be made on these intrusive dikes. But, how many years,
cannot be stated until a concerted core drilling program can be initiated. I’ve traced these dikes for
thousands of feet, and it appears quite evident that their roots extend deep into the Earth’s
basement.
These dikes in Cable and Indian Canyons are greenish in the limestone formations, but when
traced into the precambrian they are greenish to dark reddish brown. It is my contention that these
dikes are the probable carriers of the precious metals and were the instruments of PGM distribution.
Furthermore, I suspect that these dikes carry pockets of gold and as they erode the gold is washed
eventually down into the lower canyons. It is also quite likely that these dikes are part of the the
source of the Shandon’s placer gold deposits.
By September Jack had cross-timbered the Adit, and the only real help he had was in the getting
the RR timbers down the mountain. Now it was time to determine exactly where he should start a
shaft. Before and after getting the timbers in place he had cleaned the floor of all the rubble,
boulders and dirt down to the hard jasperoid fusselman bed rock. Several times he used his ground
profiling and penetrating radar instruments in 6 inch increments of left to right and front to back all
through the 70 some feet of this old adit to give him as many clues as possible to determine exactly
where to begin.
His instruments clearly indicated that it appeared that at about the 60 to 70 foot level there was a
large void. Plus, it appeared that someone had already dug a shaft but it was back-filled. So, and
based upon his diligent physical research he started sinking the shaft where there seemed to be
evidence of a prior shaft. Being the gorilla he is and of the lack of funds he decided to start single
jacking. Over many months he had dug, by hand in this solid rock which seemed to be cemented
together with dirt to a depth of 6 to 10 feet. Obviously, this process was taking way too long and he
would die an old man before he got to the place he was seeking. So, in 1990 he borrowed or rented
a gasoline powered drill instead of continuing the laborious single-jacking. It did not take him long
to realize this portable 100 pound hammer drill made digging a lot easier, but that the gas fumes
would kill him before he made any depth.
Occasionally, Jack would call and tell me how much progress he was making, but I thought he
had lost his mind when he told what he had to endure. His modus operandi while drilling was to try
to breath fresh air through a 1 _” diameter black plastic pipe 100 feet long, that would be in his
mouth, and exhaling through his nose. He said that the air got so bad that he couldn’t see and the
drill would often stop working due to lack of oxygen. He even tried hooking a 4” flexible steel pipe
to the engines exhaust to vent the fumes. However, he couldn’t keep the engine from dying due to
the back pressure.
I really couldn’t criticize Jack for what I considered to be a bit tetched, due my continuing mad
scientist escapades. This only goes to show who ever may be reading this the extent we’d go to
capture the prize. Sure we were foolish and in many respect stupid. But, when the resources are
unavailable we all will use alternatives to complete any task deemed important or necessary.
Before winter was over Jack was down 20 feet with the hole being about 6 feet square. However,
the cost was about 20 pounds of his flesh doing this hellish work. Every now’n then he’d call
saying that he just couldn’t do much more, it was too physically demanding. Heavens, just getting
to the adit is a major job for most people. I never thought I’d hear Jack say that physical work was
more than he could endure. The truth is Jack was going to where no man had been before. And, he
simply could not help himself, for like me he was being pushed by unseen and unknown forces to
see what he might discover.
To make matters worse, once Jack got down past 6 feet, he’d have to load the bucket and climb
up the ladder, hoist the bucket, climb back down the ladder and load another bucket. This sequence
of events had to be done over and over and over. That job would have drove me completely
bonkers long before I ever got 20 feet deep.
Before Jack got to the 20 foot level he had given-up on the gas drill hammer and started “single
jacking” again. Just try to imagine pounding with a 5 or 10 pound sledge hammer on a piece of
steel, that had to be kept sharp, into solid rock all day long! Worse yet, how did he manage to keep
his fingers intact? For without doubt he’d once in a while miss the steel and mashed his hand. If
I’ve said it once I’ve said it thousands of times; Jack is not only Godzilla, and Hercules Unchained,
but Sampson all rolled up into one. Of course he always countered by saying that he’s only
“Simpsom not Sampson”.
While Jack slaved away I continued to correspond with as many people as I could. Always
hoping that I’d finally make the right connection.
CHAPTER 24
Now Which Way?
By the end of 1991 Jack had reached a depth of about 30 feet, and I was beginning to get a
business plan more presentable. I started this Plan a couple years earlier, and never having made
one before it looked like an insurmountable task. So, I started by looking at all the sales brochures
and prospectuses to establish a basic criteria. Then I went to libraries and read as many books as
could be found as to what constituted a good business plan. No matter what I read, the plans
presented were as different as to who was writing them. It became clear that I had to develop one
that realistically matched my goals. The problems soon became apparent, because my first
completed draft was over 500 pages, which was simply too much detail. But -- what to scrap and
what to keep, and in what kind of order? Above all, how to say everything in professional and
interesting manner without compromising my sincerity and integrity?
I had heard that a Business Plan is like a road map. Although, even this simplicity presented
insurmountable hurdles. There are lots of ways to get to a desired spot on a map. I had to figure the
best and most logical way to accomplish the goal, and not necessarily the shortest route. However,
taking the long way around meant unbearable waiting, so compromises were forever cropping-up.
I had to somehow, manage to slim it down to 150 pages, and even that was still too lengthy.
Different types of investors required differing formats that fit their ideologies and/or
philosophies. Brokers want one thing, investment capitalists and singular investors, want another.
Above all, the plan required something that pleases everyone and yet managed to let me gauge
whether or not I’m on the right course, as well as having reasonable flexibility.
Another daunting problem with a plan resembling a road map is how one and all can see all the
different roads leading to a desired spot, especially if there are no current or visible roads to the
site? Consequently, I’m constantly re-defining the parameters of the Plan, as well as the over all
format. I’ve about come to the conclusion that I will have to have different formats for different
people. Trouble is, there’s a rub with this type thinking, because it smacks of inconsistency, or
smells of possible lack of forethought, or worse, a scam. So, at best, a business plan is an
exceedingly difficult task to begin, little alone finish.
A major problem of the Business Plan is trying to accurately, honestly and intelligently tell the
reader about the problems seemingly connected to the exploitation of the sought minerals (Pb, Ag,
Au & the PGMs). There is no-doubt, in my mind, that the PGMs are indeed present in various
mineralized structures in the Caballo Mts. The question is how to discuss the Platinum Group
Metals relating to the Cartel(s)? Trying to sell the idea of exploiting the PGMs becomes very
difficult in a business plan, yet, the subject must be broached if honor is to remain in any such plan.
There are articles written that indicate the West has lots of places where the PGMs are located. The
history books, describe many past mines that had rich deposits of these metals. Although today’s
so-called experts will pooh-pooh any attempt to rationally discuss the probable merits of such
deposits. There are reports that in the late 1800’s the Carson City Mint re-smelted silver dollars
because they contained sometimes up to half their weight in Platinum. Due to my examination of
what the Cartel(s) seem to do I’ve been forced to say and admit that I doubt any PGM mining
company will wish me well in bringing to market more PGMs.
It would seem from the public’s perspective, that an abundance of PGMs on the available market
would allow more utilization of these metals for the benefit of mankind. Yet, the present producers
would also see their profits plummet by more mines producing these so-called rare metals. Any
eighth grade student can read in a common chemistry book that Platinum and Palladium are more
plentiful in the Earth’s crust than is Gold. So why all the disgusting hush hush secrecy and outright
propaganda? In my opinion it’s the same ideology as diamonds.
Women have been sold on the idea that diamonds are her best friend and valuable to boot. One
day she’s likely to get the boot alright when it becomes common knowledge that a gem quality one
carat stone isn’t really worth more than a dozen roses. I wonder how many women realize that her
best friend is really a lump of pretty coal that burns quite brilliantly.
While reading an April 91 newspaper I noticed a serious threat that continues to this day.
Arkansas’s Democratic Senator Dale Bumpers started a crusade by introducing Federal legislation
to shut down mining in this Country. So, I started contacting as many people as I could. As well as,
drafted an opposing petition with as many signatures as possible and sent it to many federal
legislator’s. Now, how in the world to put this political wrinkle in a business plan, and not scare off
any investor savvy people? Furthermore, to not make allocations for such future nightmares, would
also be inexcusable. While on this particular subject, in my non-expert opinion Elected
Representatives like Bumpers are parasitic predators masquerading as humans. We “The People”
have been led astray because why should a Arkansas representative be allowed to legislate what we
“The People” do in New Mexico? Previous to Bumpers and others like Rahall I never took the time
to ponder the realities of what we “The People” are really harnessed with. For instance - how many
of you have ever considered the true impact of what a legislator that you did not have the
opportunity to vote for nor elect will affect your personal life? I would call what is going on in
Washington a gross fraud on we “The People”. If I or you have no say as to what an elected
representative in a neighboring state does to me or you in our state then we really do not have
honest representation. Thus, we are taxed and regulated without representation which flies in the
face of what we have all been fooled into believing about our National Constitution.
By summer Jack was still hammering away with his steel and sledge, approaching 33 feet and
finding very thin seams of galena. However, Jack was developing a constant cough, and I could tell
that his health was deteriorating. I tried tactfully to warned him to protect himself by wearing a face
mask. If he didn’t avoid inhaling the dust it could cause him to contract silicosis of the lungs, which
killed many a miner in the 1800’s. I’ve read of several accounts that the life expectancy of a hard
rock miner without adequate ventilation was sometimes only 6 months before they would start
coughing up blood and either die soon afterwards or become invalids.
Near late summer Grande River Mines of TorC, was expressing interest in acquiring our J&J
mining claims in Longbottom Canyon. Apparently, they needed an inexpensive natural flux for
smelting their ore. At Jack’s request I started preliminary negotiations with them. These discussions
continued well into next year, but like always, became mute due to their future financial dilemma.
By early Fall I had started buying expensive reagent grade metals, metallic salts and liquid
standards. I never had the money to do so before. But, now that I had been employed for awhile and
accumulated a few extra sheckels I could see the cost ratio benefits; and as a direct result I learned
enough to really appreciate what I was seeing in the microscope.
Late in the year I accidentally met with Mr. George Chedsey, and elderly mining engineer, and
was invited to spend the day at his Houston home. I briefly told him what I was trying to get
accomplished and he told me about his past and present adventures.
While Mr. Chedsey’s mining adventures were interesting, there were two items that captivated
my complete attention. The first was that he had been commissioned to look into the prospects of
developing an old mine that was on top of Turtle Back (Caballo Mts.). He said that when he got to
the spot in the 1950’s the timbered shaft had caved and was too dangerous to investigate. Plus, it
was infested with rattlesnakes, so he declined to work on the project. For years, there have been
rumors that bars of copper and lead were taken from a mine tunnel near the top of Turtleback. I’ve
never been on top of Turtleback, but I intend to, some day, when Cable is completed.
Due to Mr. Chedsey’s age, I suspected that he may have confused Turtleback with Mud Mountain
just a little North and East of TorC. During the 1940’s a rich pocket of silver chloride was
discovered and mined on Mud Mountain. The pocket according to historical accounts was worth
$40,000 at roughly a dollar an ounce. The second attention getting item was that he was currently
promoting a mine in Old Mexico that was worked off and on by the Spanish Conquistadores. He
showed me a detailed map of the 500 year old underground workings, that he said is now in the
family hands of Congressman Henry Gonzales. What really captivated my attention was when he
told me that the old Spaniards always looked for Mantos (Silicified Limestone, or Jasperoids),
because in these Mantos, also sometimes known as Iron Hats (the top or cap of mineral deposits)
would be caverns, which they could search for minerals without having to excavate, and plenty of
fresh air to breath. This same scenario is exactly what I believe the Cable Claims offer.
It is an historical fact that the Spaniards and early American miners would find metallic goodies
via caves. Thus saving the terrible labor costs of exploration, as well as, they could mine and smelt
underground, which provided year-round working conditions including security.
I’ve always said, that if treasure really existed in the Caballo’s it was due primarily to
underground mining. Many people look for Spanish tailing piles, but I doubt that many, if any, will
ever be found. History clearly indicates the Spanish worked the ore underground and they had a
natural depository for the waste without having to haul the ore to the surface. I have noticed two
possible small tailings at the extreme South end of the Caballo’s. I’ve looked them over, from a
distance, and it appears that over the years the entrances have caved or then again what looks like
tailings is the initial debris caused when a tunnel is just begun. These places should be investigated,
but time is a luxury and lots of work will be required.
Many modern day underground mines try, as much as possible to put or leave the wastes in the
abandoned portions of tunnels and exploratory shafts. By doing so, considerable cost savings, as
well as reduced surface reclamation is realized. However, back in the days of the Spanish they were
not looking at the reclamation, but only the most expedient way to mine and remain out of sight.
There are a few interesting stories I’ve heard once in a while about the Spaniards making fires
and sending smoke signals to the miners in the Black Range Mountains from the Caballo’s.
Apparently these smoke signals told when the miners could send their ores to the Caballo’s for
smelting. Being 30 to 40 miles away this was indeed an efficient way of communicating. If this
story is true then it lends further credence to the myth of the Caballo Mountains underground
smelting.
CHAPTER 25
Hope
The Spring of 1992 ushered in a new wave of hope, although also sprinkled with a dab of terror.
Oh, how exhilarating it felt to be back home (NM), practically 10 years to the date after starting
this quest. Even though I had previously said I wouldn’t return till I had enough money to complete
the job, maybe this time, if Lady Luck was still at my side I might just be able to pull-off the
impossible.
My job in Houston had petered out, and Jack called saying he could use my help. Having saved
most of what I had made during the year, I said what the heck, maybe I could do something
constructive. Still and all, I really wasn’t looking forward to the agonizing physical labor I knew
was patiently and silently waiting.
Since starting this adventure, I’ve learned many lessons, yet two cliches stand head and shoulder
above the rest: Never say Never, because sooner or later, once having uttered this statement it is
bound to come back and bite me on the butt. The other is: be careful of what I ask for, because I
might just get it.
The first order of business was to get-up to the adit/shaft and see first-hand what Jack had
accomplished.
As usual the climb was difficult, although delightfully inspiring. Arriving at the adit I marveled at
what Jack had done. The entrance was excavated neatly. And the door constructed in such a manner
that no one was going to break-in without a great deal of effort. Upon unlocking and opening the
door I was astonished by his cross timbering, it was a work of art given the circumstances Jack
faced. He saved and used the old original Pinon timbers, in such a manner as to retain some of the
history. But the Shaft, truly a sight of well engineered construction. He used part of the RR
timbered ceiling as a boom for the hoist, and collard the shaft as expertly as anyone could have
done. Needless to say, the shaft was not only safe, but made me proud.
As I climbed down the sectional steel ladder, I noticed that the Fusselman formation was indeed
vuggy. Holes of various sizes dominated the formation, no wonder a core drilling program would
be difficult to accomplish.
It soon became apparent as to why Jack complained about being red when he would finish singlejacking each day. This reddish powder is almost pure Iron oxide, which not only stained his skin,
but permanently dyed his clothes.
The Fusselman, was not only a re-silicified dolomite, and jasperoidial, but was a LEACHED
IRON HAT that was commonly looked-for by the old-timers. So, when I coupled this extremely
important data, with all the mineral surface signatures, the favorability of the formations to host a
mineral deposit, the similarities to past profitable mining operations in the same formations in other
parts of the County and State, the hundreds of paid assays, the hundreds of personally conducted
assays, the thousands of microscopic studies, and the spectacular geophysics, then there simply can
be no reasonable doubt that Jack and I are extremely close to discovering a BONANZA
unparalleled in American History.
Even though I have always believed that the Cable Claims is exceptionally favorable for hosting a
new and much bigger Bridal Chamber, getting mining companies to recognize what we see as
obvious is darn right difficult. I sometimes think these big boys have tunnel vision, because they
certainly are not entrepreneurial or inquisitive.
As I continued the decent, the vugs and jasperoid marked a well defined horizontal zone between
the Fusselman and the Cutter dolomite. At the bottom there was nothing spectacular, just more of
the same, making me very conscience that there was plenty of work ahead.
Our next chore was getting more supplies monotonously muled on our backs up the mountain.
While reading this - it’s probably impossible for the reader to comprehend the enormity with which
we forced ourselves to accomplish. Try carting the needed daily supplies, as well as another 50 to
100 pounds on your back each and every day up the mountain. Normally, it takes about an hour,
but with this kind of load the norm became two plus hours. And, after dumping the burden it would
take me another hour to physically recuperate.
Fortunately, just before I arrived Jack had purchased a small generator to power an electric drill
hammer, which turned out to be a godsend. It really worked astonishingly well, because we could
drill a 1 inch diameter hole 18 inches deep in about 20 minutes, versus all day long for Jack to
single-jack a single hole. Normally, we’d drill about 6 to 20 such holes, then when we had any
explosives we’d load each of these holes. Usually we did not have any dynamite and we had to
resort to prying, chipping and breaking rock by hand. When we had dynamite the process was to
tear apart the dynamite sticks and pour the powder down each hole. Normally, the dynamite fits the
diameter of the drilled holes. But, our drill was small and so we couldn’t load the holes fast. Of
course handling the raw dynamite gave me a tremendous headache.
After the hole was partially filled with dynamite we’d then have to place a dynamite cap attached
to a fuse in each hole then continue filling and tamping each hole with dynamite. The next event
would be to tie all the fuses together in the order we wanted the blasts to occur with a very fast
burning thermalite fuse. Of course, before this was done we’d have to hoist everything back to the
surface, and only one of us would stay to start the fuses. After making sure each fuse lit properly a
hasty climb back to the surface began even though we always gave ourselves plenty of time to get
out of the hole. Then we’d go outside and wait for the charges to detonate, making sure we heard
each round go off.
Occasionally, we’d have a mis-fire, which was usually the result of the adjacent blasted rock
tearing loose the fuse from an adjoining round. I always hated this to happen because it meant the
next day one of us would have to carefully remove the muck (blasted rock), that held a live cap
within undetonated dynamite, which could be accidentally set off. Dynamite can be very
unforgiving, and mistakes are not normally tolerated, so we always made safety our #1 priority.
The ritual is endless, climb the mountain, muck in the morning, drill and blast in the afternoon,
trek downhill to the vehicles, being careful not to slip on small roller bearing rocks that litter the
mule trail. Then drive back to town that takes about an hour, clean-up, eat, and sleep. Due to the
exhaustive nature of the work we would only work every other day, and allow time for the adit to
have cleared-out the noxious dynamite fumes that gave me roaring headaches.
Normally we would go outside and sit down as we waited for the dynamite rounds to go off. But,
because it was sometimes difficult to clearly differentiate between the blasts I chose one day to
stand at the adit entrance. When the first blast went, the cigarette in my mouth simply took wings
and flew away and the force darn near knocked me down. Needless to say, I’ve never done that
again.
While having a nightly conversation with a few guys, and me telling them about this stupid
gesture of standing in the door way, John Vance told me of one of his daring episodes. Apparently,
if my memory is correct, he and Don Fingado were excavating a long tunnel somewhere in the
Black Range. As they were getting ready to blast they made the fuses short because they were
running low on stock. Consequently, due to the short escape time they decided to stay just around a
bend inside the tunnel. As John told the story I could not help from busting a gut, because he said
that the blast literally picked them up and hurled them against the opposite wall. I can only imagine
what that experience was like, and I’m glad John was telling the story instead of me.
We’d take turns as to who worked in the shaft and who hoisted. During one of my turns to hoist
the buckets I kept hearing what sounded like a Rattler. But dismissed this because they just didn’t
come into the adit. So, I kept hoisting and wheelbarrowing, but the noise seemed so close that I just
had to find out where this rascal was. The noise sounded like it was somewhere in the wall timbers
and way too close for comfort. Look as I would, I just couldn’t spot it, and I was beginning to go
nuts. The noise would come and go every time I bent over to inspect the timbers. Eventually, I
walked outside to get away from what I couldn’t find and have a smoke. When I pulled my lighter
out of pants pocket I found the dubious snake, for my previously full lighter was now empty. I
know it sounds stupid, to think that a bic lighter could sound like a rattler, but when you’re in an
adit that’s full of noise, and you think there’s a rattler around, something has to give.
After I’d been in the area awhile, we’d stop work at the site because it was simply too
demanding -- the Sanders Brothers (Grubstake Mining Company) invited me to see their new
mining operation, located near Granite Peak. These brothers had accomplished an impressive feat
for the Caballo’s. They apparently found marketable precious metal ore and had built a milling
operation to recover the goodies. I wanted to be the first to start such a venture, however I was
proud that they had found a way to do what I’d only been dreaming of. Besides, when they became
successful and rolling in the dough, maybe, there might be a few crumbs left over for me.
While visiting the Brother’s operation, I met one of the men who worked there, Ron Blevins, who
drove the road grader. He was constantly blading the main dirt road from Caballo Dam to their
operation on Bob Grantham’s patented property. Anyway, Mr. Blevins told me this incredible tale,
to which I listened intently, because like all the other stories, they are fascinating. He said that one
night he got up out of bed to alleviate himself of excess water, and noticed that there was a light
shining from under the bed. By the way, Ron and his wife were living in a travel trailer next to the
Milling site. He thought that this was odd because he knew his flash light wasn’t working, because
he had removed the bulb. As he looks under the bed, sure enough the flash light was burning
brightly, he grabs it, looks at curiously, then shuts it off thinking that his wife must have replaced
the bulb and went back to bed. The next morning he gets the flash light -- to his surprise there’s no
bulb. Thinking his wife was playing a joke on him he asks her about the flash light and she says
that she hasn’t touched it. There is no explanation except that it is just another one of the
confounding dilemmas people experience if they spend much time in the Caballo’s.
There’s another similar and little known myth, which can be found being mentioned in historical
accounts. The Spaniards during the winter solstice would stay up at night, and wait to see a blue
green light, similar to flickering flames dancing atop the ground. This event is supposed to signal
that metallic gold was directly underneath, and was one of the methods the Spaniards had in
locating the prized metal. I realize that this sounds a bit odd, but who knows for sure? Likewise,
and just as odd sounding I started trying to train a shepherd pup to find via his keen smelling
apparatus one ounce .9999 Maple Leaf gold coins. Although I did not finish this training cause
there were too many other pressing items to finish I strongly believe that this is a real possibility
that someone should do who’s sincerely looking for one of the metals.
While on the subject of unusual occurrences, I heard that Gary Sanders had one of these close
encounters while staying in his travel trailer next to the Milling operation. Apparently, he and his
wife were sleeping when their trailer was subjected to a tornadic shaking and banging. Obviously,
this would get anyone’s attention, so when the ruckus stopped Gary get’s his gun and goes outside
to investigate, but could find nothing or anyone. What would you do? Would you go outside to find
the culprit or go back to bed as though nothing had happened?
The Brother’s mentioned to me a couple times that, while they used their equipment for
excavation, and seemingly on level ground the tractors had a habit of tipping over. Having been a
tractor operator I’m sure that I would become quite concerned for my safety. Furthermore, I’d be
constantly wondering when I was going to get squashed? I don’t pretend to understand how this
physically could take place, but I do know that these brothers can all operate dozers and loaders.
Plus and besides being hardworking great guys they are not known to be prone to wildly
exaggerate. In fact they are very quiet professional men whom I don’t always agree with but do
command my genuine respect.
Somewhere in the Granite Peak area where there’s the famed and mythical entrance(s) to the
treasures is supposed to the body of the Reynolds boy that Mrs. Peron nursed back to health after
wondering into town from god knows where. After he recovered from pneumonia Mrs. Peron
decided that she liked the boy and either told or showed him where an entrance was. He then was to
get as much gold as he needed, and to bring her back what she had requested. Apparently, this
young spindly man finds plenty of the gold bars and brings several back to her. The tales go on to
say that she had gold stashed everywhere around her home in TorC.
Mrs. Peron, was many things, but, being a benevolent mid-wife is what most people say she was
known for. Several parables circulate about how she would go to the mountains and duck out of
sight, and always have abundant cash for the things she needed. Many people who are alive that
knew her also say that Doc Noss and her were good friends. The epic extends by indicating that the
Renoyld’s boy was killed and dumped in a tunnel by Willie Doughit after being caught going into
Willies private hole. Conjecturally this is one of the reasons why Willie doesn’t want anyone to
find the tunnel entrance, because he then could be prosecuted for the murder. Personally I find this
part of the story a bit ludicrous, because who in the world could prove that Willie killed anyone 60
or 70 years ago?
Presumably, during the early 1980’s Mr. Gunning was invited to show a few people where the
Spanish mine entrance, into the base of Granite Peak was that he discovered back in the 1930’s. As
is usually the case, this 80 plus year old gentleman just couldn’t find it after making the trip from
Texas. What gives this situation credibility, in my way of thinking, is that Mr. Gunning asked for
nothing, and all he got for his efforts was silent ridicule. Forgetfulness is a problem we all share to
some degree, and this certainly includes me.
I’ve looked several times, without success for two graves I found back in the early 1980’s that are
just off the dirt road in the vicinity of Granite Peak, that some people believe are the graves of two
old Spanish Nuns. Hence, if Mr. Gunnison really did at one time find a mine entrance I can
appreciate his predicament of knowing what he saw, but unable to re-locate it again.
Years earlier, in the reefer rocks, South of Granite Peak, Jimmy Smith said that Willie Strom’s
initials were scratched on the back wall of a narrow horizontal slit. Naturally, to check out the
statement I crawled into the narrow crack, but weighing 200 pounds I just couldn’t get all the way
to the back. Nonetheless, it did look like there were the initials WS, and I was later told that the
initials are really there. Strom, was supposedly about 4 feet tall, skinny as a bean pole, and could
snake into places no normal person could get to. And, from all accounts this was his entrance to the
subterranean Spanish tunnel system. Since this time many people have visited this place and have
excavated it extensively. Naturally, without any verifiable results that could possibly take anyone
anywhere except down more unknown roads.
On Bee’s place, just over the hill from the Sander’s I was shown a row of backward 7’s made of
small rocks laying just barely out of the dirt. In the early 1980’s Rex showed me a carved backward
7 on a big rock on the side of Granite Peak. I even found one of these backward 7’s carved in a
large flat rock while walking around in the flats West of Cable Canyon, but I’ve never been able to
find it again. Rumor has it that these types of symbols are supposed to mean gold or a mine close
by. I’ve often wondered if these present curiosities were not originally put there to drive future
hunters of treasure into corners where others could enjoy the ridiculous paths they were on.
Back in 1982, a local prospector/miner (B. Harding) was supposed to have found and shown
people a glass snake, from his mine shaft at wooded hill, a stones throw from Granite Peak.. The
description I was given is that it was so clear all the bones in its body could be seen, including its
fangs. At another time this same person, was reported to have been working on extracting dissolved
Palladium from a beaker filled with an acidic solution that had just dissolved a rock sample. When
all of a sudden a red worm-like thing materialized from the solution and crawled up the side of
beaker and disappeared on the ground. The only part of this story that I know has merit is that
Palladium chloride is reddish, so at least part of the story could be true. Furthermore, the person
who told me the story, although human and subject to all the frailties of being such has never lied to
me that I know of.
I remember, during the early days while prospecting near Granite Peak and the old rock house, of
finding a tong with my metal detector. Supposedly, Willie would use a “tong” to pry up the rock
that covered the entrance hole to what everyone has looked for in this immediate area. Was this
Willies old iron tong or just an old abandoned ice hook?
The area around Granite Peak is considered by many geologists to very unusual because of the
multiple mineralized structures that are usually only found in single occurrences. I’ve even seen
and know where there is a huge piece of limestone, completely surrounded by pre-Cambrian
Granite. How did this happen? Some say these rare occurrences are limestone plugs, but to me
that’s a bit simplistic. I suspect that when the mountain was being uplifted and in movement huge
pieces of the mountain broke apart. As the pieces of the mountain tumbled to the low places under
the ocean, they filled in huge semi-molten or plastic precambrian granite holes. And as time passed
these limestone and granite places eroded making them look as those the limestone was pushed up
through the precambrian. Such an occurrence is readily visible in Longbottom Canyon where there
is significant copper mineralization.
Not far from Granite Peak John Vance said during one of our many conversations, that during the
1970’s he stopped his car along side the dirt road, got out and just started walking up and down
arroyo after arroyo. When at the top of one these small narrow canyons he stumbled, and while
grabbing onto branches to slow his fall he saw a mine opening with a wooden portal. At the time he
wasn’t interested in old mines, but in 1993 he felt he might be able to show some friends where this
place was. Unfortunately, and as seems to be most often the case he wasn’t able to find it. It is
undoubtedly a rude shock to one’s mental stability to have to admit that the past is also a place
where, like the future we don’t seem to belong. The distinct advantage to the future is that we know
it’s coming. The past however, is something hellishly taboo, even though we know we were there,
we really can’t seem to prove it.
Many people believe that the now is in a constant sea of flux. In other words change is inevitable.
If destiny is a reality then change is meaningless, because it’s just a simple process of experiencing
or remembering the future moment. I also think that there is no such thing as change, by the very
definition of change. To change means to alter and how can change be altered? It’s sort’a like a
double negative, it simply cannot happen. This logic can obviously be countered by saying that
today is not the same as yesterday. True, but that still does not mean that change occurred, it could
also mean that we entered the moment now that is forever static and unyielding. That’s why the
socialists and like minded environmentalists will ultimately fail, because, they just don’t understand
that they cannot change events. What they can do is make us experience torment and allow those
that come into contact with them a view of what Hell looks like. So, with this revealing thought
process all I have to do is wait for the inevitable to occur. The trouble is, when and how many
lifetimes will it take? So, in my ignorance, and haste I plod on and on, hoping that destiny will
arrive soon.
A couple other odd occurrences that I should state so that they won’t be forgotten are: 1) while
Richard Carter was still alive he and a few friends were excavation deep in a small cavern near Bat
Cave. They had to crawl on their bellies and transfer the muck in a very awkward and terribly
narrow hole. I wouldn’t go down this place due to the rotten rock that I thought could cave in at a
moments notice. But that didn’t stop these adventurous guys. Richard told me that while he was
deep in black he heard a roar beside him and could smell the breath of some kind of creature.
Needless to say the crew came out and didn’t go back. What they found as odd was that there was
no place for an animal to be, yet they all heard it and Richard smelled it. 2) Near this same place,
the Northern mouth of Cable Canyon, another crew was excavating several small holes to see if
they led anywhere, when all of a sudden the guys stood in awe as a creature that looked like Pan,
complete with cloven feet, ran from sight. They all saw this mythical God of the fields, forests and
animals, but were loath to discuss it, I guess because to do so would make them sound like fools.
CHAPTER 26
Sheep Cheat
Late May 1992, I was in Grande River Mines talking to Mr. B.J. Gardner about the J&J Lead ore
his company was interested in. Before long he proceeded to tell me about the BLM and the New
Mexico Department of Game & Fish (NMDG&F) meeting with local Ranchers. He went on to say
that these agencies were talking about putting State endangered desert bighorn sheep on the
Caballo’s.
Smelling trouble brewing, I asked BJ to excuse me while I went and called the BLM about this
matter. After calling them I became infuriated with the potential threat. The wildlife biologist I
talked to said that they were going to have sheep on the mountain by this coming October, as
though it was a done deal. I came back to BJ’s office and Bob Grantham was there and he told me
more of the story of how the BLM contacted them and what the BLM & NMDG&F were
proposing to do.
These two agencies were going to limit the ranchers and miners access, shut down all roads
leading to the Caballo’s, and deny the public access. A year earlier Jack noticed a note on his
windshield after coming down from the mountain. This note from Bill Dunn a Bighorn Sheep
biologist for NMDG&F said that he was in the mountains surveying the area for possible sheep
introduction and to see how many people were using the mountain. Jack apparently just blew it off
thinking no more about it. However, as it turned out we should have done something right then.
However, and In contrast, if we had made the Game & Fish officials aware of our concerns at that
moment maybe the NMDG&F would have been able to stave-off our subsequent attacks.
Right after leaving BJ’s office I started contacting everyone I could to advise them of the impending doom. After
letting as many people as possible in Sierra County know about the circumstances - the NMDG&F and BLM
representatives recognizing that the jig was up, held a meeting for us concerned miners in the offices of Grande
River Mines. Needless to say, tempers were at the boiling point, and I began getting my first real illustration of
what the bureau-rats think of common ordinary folk.
From my viewpoint these bureaucrats looked upon us as so much vermin, who were causing them
discomfort. These agents tried to convince us that they were doing us a favor, and that TorC would
benefit by tourists coming into the area to see these wonderful sheep. I didn’t think people gave a
crap about these sheep and the only benefit would be for the BLM and NMDG&F.
During this meeting a NM Department of Game & Fish employee said that these sheep were very
valuable. That they expected sometime in the future rich foreigners would pay as much as $60,000
for the privilege of shooting one of the Rams. Obviously, what was on the wildlife officials mind
was how they were going to make money if they could just get rid of us. What they didn’t say was
while the rich were hunting on their new found exclusive playground we miners, ranchers and the
public were in the departments plan for extermination.
I kept hearing State officials saying that they want tourist dollars. But I’ve always suspected that
tourists indicate a breed of archaeologists that come only to pick-over the few remaining bones of
ghost towns. Ask yourself as to what makes towns die. Almost always it is because of the loss of
meaningful employment. Then I began to see how these bureaucrats were fixing to exterminate
mining and ranching as the area’s chief means of revenue. After the meeting ended, a few of us
miners decided to fight this Govt ploy of trying to steal the mountains. We started by getting
petitions signed and the public informed.
I asked myself, what do I do next? Logically the only way to create a fire under the people was to
get the news media involved. So, I started by working with Mr. Bill Johnson the editor of the Sierra
County Sentinel, who proved to be a real friend of the Sierra County people.
By the end of May, with the help of many local people petitions were signed and full page art ads
were run in all three weekly papers. The ads were a cartoon drawn by a local artist, Mr. James
Pearson, that graphically denounced the proposal of destroying peoples Rights by putting sheep on
the mountain.
In the first part of June we were creating a local organization of Miners, Ranchers, Residents, and
Merchants, which became known as PCM, Inc. (Preservation of Caballo Mountains). I became the
first president, not by virtue of being smarter, wiser, a better talker, or had more money, because
none of these qualities applied to me. In contrast, I simply had the most available time, even though
I still had to pursue the shaft excavation.
Rex West had come back to TorC, and helped Jack and I fabricate and carry a 1” bar grating deck
up to the mine site to cover the shaft entrance for added safety. Even though Jack and I essentially
worked alone, and didn’t hire help, we still felt it best to provide safety in the event we were visited
by anyone, whether friend or foe.
One day in June I had to go to BLM in Las Cruces regarding what I called and dubbed “The
Sheep Cheat”. This was my synonym of the sneaky way the Govt was trying to steal the Caballo’s.
I knew that I needed credible assistance, so I managed to persuade Bill Johnson to accompany me.
Lucky that I had him along, for a couple of the BLM personnel really showed their butts, and of
course Bill not only made notes, but printed some of it. I was a bit different because I did not have
excellent recall nor could I do shorthand note making, so I discreetly used a pocket tape recorder
which I had running each and every time I visited the BLM.
There were several informal meetings with personnel from both Govt agencies. The result was
that these agencies had never been confronted by angry citizens before. I was told by Amey Fisher
of the NMDG&F that she was threatened. I can certainly understand why, and I’d heard of other
reports of a similar nature. I wonder why people would consider violence towards of public
servants? Could it be that they didn’t like being raped or robbed?
During the first town meeting hosted by Ms. Linda Rundell, the top person at the local BLM
office - she started her song and dance of justifying these sheep by describing her encounters with a
possum in Washington DC. Needless to say her yarn of sympathy for these critters made her in
most people’s eyes look like a damn fool. But worse, she must have actually felt we’d fall for this
line of bull.
While the meetings were being prepared for, the Caballo’s started seeing the weirdest folks.
Occasionally, we’d stop and ask these obvious Govt bureaucrats what they were doing. One time a
couple BOR agents said they were looking for evidence that the area was poisoned by mercury
from the numerous small old mines. Look as they could they apparently never found anything in
which to justify their tyrannical methods of wanting us out and their sheep in. I was amazed at how
all the public servants from all over the state and universities banned together to drive us out.
There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that the majority of government officials are not friends of
the people. In fact, I strongly believe just the opposite – BureauRats are the enemies of The People.
Some miner friends were constantly visited (harassed) by Govt officials at their mine sites under
the pretense of inspection. These same friends just happened to ask the officials if they were aware
of the endangered “stick lizard” that was known to be in the whereabouts. The officials said sure
they knew it was here. My friends go on to say that they’ve actually seen one of these reptiles live
up to its name by carrying sticks to its burrow. Naturally, the feds concurred that this was the way
of the stick lizard. Of course, my friends never told these characters that no such critter exists. I
wonder what kind of conclusions would you draw from stick lizards?
When we started looking into the past performance of the NM department of Fish and Game, we
discovered that they were going to old Mexico, catching these sheep, and bringing them into the
USA to be placed all over the western mountain ranges with the BLM actively assisting in the plot.
Furthermore, we discovered that the Sheep that were planted into the San Andreas and the Organs’s
were infested with scabies mites. When we asked these officials about the risks of contaminating
the Caballo’s with mites they said that these tiny beasts posed no danger to man or livestock. Well,
I didn’t take their word for that bit of nonsense, so I started looking into what scabies actually is. It
turns out, and contrary to what the NMDG&F said, and to make a long story short, scabies or
mange are caused by these monstrous little mites and will infest any warm blooded creature.
Similarly, these wise Fish and Game officials said they didn’t know how the scabies infected the
sheep, suggesting that these hooligans don’t know their ass from a hole in the ground.
One of the sheep biologists said that they were doing everything they could to eradicate the
terrible blight caused by these mites, which are also known as “the seven year itch”. I responded by
saying, so you’re going to cause another endangered species huh? This wise biologist just looked
dumb-founded at me without making any further comments.
When I attended the final Town Hall meeting in Las Cruces, I met a couple of people that said
they lived in the Caballo’s. Although, for the life of me I don’t know where. However, these
mountains contain a lot of secrets, and no doubt people could live their entire lives there without
ever being noticed. These same people told me that if the Feds or the Fish & Game poked around
too much they might come up missing, and it didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out what they
were driving at.
With the Sheep Cheat in full swing Mike McCoy pays me a welcome visit. Even though I didn’t
have the precious time, up we go to the adit and shaft. I was amazed at how good Mike was able to
get around, because his back had been broken and his legs were numb, and to top it off he had a
metal brace imbedded in his back.
Soon after Mike left, Ms. Conner visits for a week. Unfortunately, I was going in ten different
directions at once and couldn’t find the time for us both to really enjoy these mountains as she
would have liked. Due to our friendship and her patient assistance I stole the time to go to the adit
and shaft. It took awhile, because she wasn’t used to the altitude, plus, she just wanted to enjoy the
climb and scenery. Just like any trooper, down the shaft she went without a hitch, which was
amazing. Most people have a serious mind set against climbing down into a deep dark hole. But not
her. I guess I should have expected her nimbleness and interest due to her ability to spend months
on the open sea with just hard decks, ladders and men, all made of steel. When reaching the bottom
she looked around, and with not a lot to see except solid rock and a bunch of boulders she was
ready to get up the ladder. On the way up she had to rest a couple times, but she made it without a
catch. One day I hope that she gets a chance to roam around the mountains as I have, because when
it’s just you and the mountain all other problems seem to vanish.
During one of the County Commissioners meetings and right after the BLM & NMDG&F
agencies decided it would be best to cancel all plans of putting sheep on the Caballo’s, the
Commissioners appointed me to chair the Custom & Culture Committee with Mr. Rick Carr. Rick,
a local Rancher and merchant and a heck of swell guy. I was also on the mining committee with Pat
Freeman who was the Geologist and general manager of St. Cloud Mining Company.
Consequently, my time schedule was becoming exhausting. Trying to work in the shaft, conduct
PCM meetings, write newspaper articles, write articles for PCM monthly news letter, help organize
the Custom and Culture committee, write a definitive mining report, call legislator’s about
impending federal legislative actions, as well as continue meeting with friends and associates was
straining my abilities.
Because PCM had won the Sheep Cheat battle with the Govt agencies, Mrs. Brenda Thompson
called and asked that I help her fight a battle she and her friends were waging near Silver City. I
didn’t have the time, but there was just no-way that I could refuse her. She had come to our aid
without being asked, and actually worked harder than most of us in PCM to win our local sheep
battle. Her battle with Senator Jeff Bingaman who was sponsoring Federal legislation to put in a
archaeological center was threatening local Private Property Rights. All she basically wanted from
me was to be a representative of PCM to talk a little bit, because it would help solidify the peoples
resolve. Her theory was if PCM could win a battle against the Govt then so could they. Eventually,
they did win, but only after a great deal of effort and personal financial sacrifice.
The first part of August, while Jack and I were having dinner, we had our first real tiff. Both of
our emotions were at the ragged limits due to the mounting pressures. Jack hadn’t been away from
the mine for what must have seemed like an eternity, and his health was beginning to wane due to
his perseverance in the shaft. So, without much ado he left for LA for a few weeks of much needed
R&R, and away from all these troubles. I was glad, because I knew Jack was reaching the end of
his rope. Christ, who wouldn’t have frayed nerves by doing what he had?
Sometimes, while at the adit, which is about half way up the mountain I could see the mud trails
in the Rio Grande River, that were only noticeable after a summer rain. To me, these suggested
water was being dumped into the river that originated from the hidden mountain caverns. Of course
there are several stories of cave entrances being found near the river bank when the Rio Grande is
not flowing. It is often said that the Spaniards would bring their gold ore from the mountain via
these cave tunnels to the river to separate the gold from the gangue. Supposedly, before the Caballo
Dam was constructed there could be seen ancient smelters along the river, giving a degree of truth
to the myth of Spanish mining.
Recently, there’s been the drum beat by the military wanting to expand their missile range clear
to the Rio Grande River. Evidently they want all this area for their Star Wars program or the
proposed 21st century Space Port, or more likely - just being pigs. Obviously, I consider the
military to be a very real threat to future mining in the Caballo’s, based upon their actions when
they took the land from the Ranchers they now occupy. Plus, and by reading pamphlets put out by
the NMDG&F, it says that White Sands may at times suspend hunting activities in their area which
stops at the Rio Grande River. Therefore, whether I or anyone likes it, the White Sands Military
Base seems to have limited authority over the Caballo’s. There are many reports of prospectors
being buzzed by jet pilots. I myself have witnessed this tactic of a pilot having fun, while on-top the
mountain. In addition I’ve seen these jets swoop down from out of no-where as though they were
practicing bombing runs on the Caballo Dam site.
The Sanders Brothers and a few others have said that strange, solid black helicopters with no
visible markings have buzzed their operations. And, one even hovered a few hundred feet off the
ground, just outside the property line for about half an hour. When this data is coupled with what
the BLM and NMDG&F tried to do, it does give me pause for concern. Several people
intermittently send me various reports of what the different Govt agencies are constantly up to. One
of these documents indicated that these black helicopters belong to the army’s supposedly ultra
secret military organization.
While talking to a person that works for the forestry department, he said that there are motion
detectors that activate video cameras in various areas of the Black Range. Supposedly these
detectors are to monitor the activity of marihuana growing or Indian pot hunters. From what I can
gather, when the TV cameras are triggered, the signal is beamed up to a spy in the sky, then sent to
Albuquerque. The Feds then move in supposedly with a great deal of violence. And now, a year
after the sheep cheat the NMDG&F wants to put the damn sheep on the Fra Cristobals, and I hear
that the BLM wants motion detectors on the Caballo’s.
This Armendaris Spanish Land Grant (Fra Cristobals Mts.), owned by the bankrupt
Oppenheimer’s, connects to the Caballo’s. As a result of the recent Game & Fish shenanigans I just
have to wonder what the State and Federal Govt agencies are up to. Do they want the area for some
Nobel cause, or do they know that the area contains mineral wealth and are trying by whatever
devious means they can to drive the people out? With the spy in the sky technology, can the bigwigs see what this area really contains?
Are these bureaucrats our friends, or are they hooligans dressed up as benefactor’s? I’ve long
heard it said “give a bureaucrat a badge, gun and uniform and he’ll do any despicable act.” Sound
unrealistic? Well, ask yourself - what happened in Germany when the Nazi’s were in control? I
often wonder why the NM State police dressed in their uniforms look so much like the SS? Could
this be intentional intimidation by the State?
Due to the amount of driving I find myself doing, I’m constantly going through the Texas and
New Mexico Border Patrol check points. On one such occasion I watched as these goons
rummaged through a family’s vehicle and then let their damn dog get in car and sniff around. If this
isn’t intimidation then I don’t know the meaning of the word.
Just as egregious are the random highway stops conducted by the NM State police. Why do we
let them make us feel like criminals in order to catch a few drunks or druggies? Who’s really
breaking the law by invading our personal privacy? Now, a few years later, what started in the
welfare police state of New Mexico has spread like the plague all over America. Road blocks are
not only common, but seemingly acceptable to the motoring public in order to monitor drinking and
driving, seat belts, and proper identification papers. God help us, because we don’t seem capable of
helping ourselves. It’s as though we want “Big Brother” to shoulder our personal morality and
responsibilities.
I think that we started relinquishing our rights when we allowed the State to tax our private
property. Think about it. How can there be private property when it’s taxed? Everyone knows darn
good and well that if the taxes aren’t paid the State takes the land. I even heard Gov. Bush, who’s
running for president say (6-19-2000) that he’s proposing, if elected to give a property tax break if
the private property owners will set aside x amount of their land for conservation efforts. What
fools “We The People” are to have ever let the govt start dictating to us.
The next set of circumstances of demolishing American Rights occurred when the people allowed
the police to enter a home with or without a search warrant. Sure people will say, what if the little
wife or the kids are being abused by the big mean man of the house? Shouldn’t the police be
allowed to protect the innocent by entering the house? The simple, straight forward answer is a flat
out – NO! Yes, some people need protection from the bad guys. However, once the right of privacy
has been invaded there is no more right of privacy for anyone, anywhere or anytime. Remember,
once the camel is in the tent there is simply no room for anyone else, someone has to go. Finally,
on this particular subject – we so-called Free Citizens of America are no-longer Free if there is no
place where we can place our feet, this includes our home or castle that is free from any Govt
intrusion.
Back in 1963 I bought my first corvette, and like any proud young guy I showed it off. Naturally,
one of the first events I was destined to experience was meeting up with the police. This time I got
a taste of what the future might have in store, for the gestapo agent, a Long Beach traffic cop who
pulled me over said, why could a punk kid have such a car, and he couldn’t? Since that time and
other events I’ve concluded that most police, but not all, are legal thugs with the mentality of
ferocious knats.
No one alive can remember when the Govt sanctioned the mass slaughter of the buffalo to force
the hostile Redmen to leave their hunting grounds and settle upon reservations. Now the Govt is
once again using the same type tactics to drive us off our lands into welfare zones called cities. As
in the past the people in power want what the land holds, namely the Rights of the Individual and
the natural resources it contains.
There’s many a rumor that the environmental community wants to turn a multiple hundred mile
wide swath from Texas to Montana into where the Buffalo roam. I know it sounds far fetched, but
why does Ted Turner have buffalo in Montana, and now here (Sierra County) on the ladder ranch?
To give this scenario just a tad of credibility, there is a book published called Buffalo Commons,
which suggests that our wise bureaucrats are actively engaged in such a pursuit.
Ask yourself -- Why is the Govt turning so much of Public Land into Wilderness? What’s the real
story behind the Spotted owl land grab? Did you know that the Fish and Game Departments of
most western States and the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) have been acting in unison by
planting Desert and Rocky Mountain Big Horn Sheep all over the West in so-called wilderness
habitats? To me it smells like a gigantic plot of herding and driving people into corrals called cities
and letting their pets roam what we once called our land. When I started looking into what the
various State and Federal agencies are doing it is darn right scary that we have given our servants
the power to tell us what to do.
I have asked myself many times, who are these people called bureaucrats, and why are they
behaving in such a treasonous manner? The only conclusion that I’ve been able to arrive at it is that
these elitist academician’s who have been graduating from the ivory tower universities believe that
they know what’s best for us commoner’s. Their behavior sure looks amazingly similar to the
religious crusades, and we all know what happened then. Even my flea-bitten brain can recognize
the old adage “oh what webs we weave when we seek to deceive” that I believe our friendly Govt
is and has been orchestrating.
Why do we let murderers, rapists and thieves out of jail after serving a mere pittance of
incarceration? Why do we let Wall Street burglars off scott-free, or if they were especially stupid
send them to cushy camps? Why are white collar crimes easier to tolerate than common thieves?
Why do we let the politicians, judges, lawyers and bureaucrats off the hook or pardon them when
they commit crimes against the people they swore to protect? Why do we let treasonous acts by our
elected officials go unpublicized, and unpunished? The only answer to these injustices that I can
fathom is that we are letting them do it to us because most of us are too scared to speak up or stand
up.
As you know one fox in the chicken house (Capital buildings) would be discovered and caught, if
for no other reason than the other greedy predators won’t allow just one to have all the fun. So,
what has happened? The fox opened the doors for all desperado’s to come in and eat till their
stomach’s content. So who’s watching the store? You guessed it, all the ugly green malignant
creeping things imaginable.
Let’s look at a few facts, regarding the Caballo’s: 1) placer gold in Polomas, Longbottom, and
Apache Canyons, as well as the Shandon; 2) mysterious tales of hidden hoards of gold; 3) peculiar
military activities; 4) odd behavior by the NM Bureau of Mines; 5) a new State law and rules
being constructed that are detrimental to the little guy’s chances of ever mining again; 6)
endangered species taking precedence over people; 7) proposed motion detectors by the BLM; 8)
history of base metal/mineral mining; 9) known caverns and hints of a huge subterranean complex
of interconnecting passageways; 10) geologically capable of supporting vast accumulations of
minerals; 11) bizarre geophysics; 12) Volcanic and hot spring activity; 13) indications that there
could well be PGM wealth, and PGM producing Countries are unstable that supply approximately
95% of America’s needs; 14) State and Federal agencies on a feeding frenzy. What do you think is
going on? Could it all be just innocent coincidence?
Does the Cable Claims host the Worlds next major base and precious metal discovery? Are the
strategic PGMs present in commercial quantities? Obviously, I have a strong belief that such a
scenario is probable, or I would have quit years ago, in spite of the fact that the closer I seem to get
to the prize the tighter the rope around my neck is sized.
Add up all the atrocities done to American Rights during the past thirty plus years, as well as the
carefully placed coffin nails, and what’s left? Just the doom, gloom and thump of the hammer.
What’s going to happen when the miner is extinct? Death, if you’re lucky or starvation and slavery
if you survive.
You say it can’t happen here in the good ole USA. Let me let you in on a little secret. The mere
fact that we’ve become a Nation of Laws instead of staying – “The Land of the Free” has made us a
police state whether we like it or not. To see how an empire implodes read up on the Roman
Empire.
Early into this adventure, I made the terribly foolish statement that I’d not die for the Claims.
Even though at the time I meant that I didn’t want to wait forever to get the rewards for the
discovery. Every day now it looks as though the last laugh is going to be on me. Everyday I’m
confronted with - What can just one little would-miner do? Every now and then, life seems to call
upon one and all to stand tall or forever hold their peace. I choose to stand. The trouble is, the
tallest nail get’s pounded first.
CHAPTER 27
The Anomaly & Objectives
My basic perspective on life has never allowed me to dilly dally around too long in any one
endeavor. Generally five years at any one thing was all I could tolerate, before the urge to move on
became overpowering. In my wildest nightmares I never imagined staying on this quest for 12
years. However, I do believe that I have paid the dues and earned the right to classify myself as a
legitimate prospector and wanna-be miner.
Over the years I’ve tried to visualize the geological sequence of events to better grasp why and
what could be hosted within the Cable Claims terrain. Fortunately, by reading the latest geological
books and watching a variety of TV science series I began to achieve a much better perception of
the cataclysmic events that shaped these enchanting Caballo Mountains. In addition, I’ve come to
the simple conclusion that what-ever this bending, weaving, bobbing Anomaly is, it can only be
one of three things, which are: 1) a mile long cavern filled or lined with high-grade metallic salts,
or 2) a bedded deposit that has replaced parts of the Cutter, Aleman and maybe the Fusselman
dolomites, or 3) a phenomenon that is worthless economically, but certainly of geophysical and
scientific curiosity.
Whether I like it or not this last possible rationalization (#3) is fortified by the maker of the EM16. Late in 1994 I wrote the manufacturer asking them why the big boys in the mining arena paid
scant attention to the EM-16 data. They wrote back saying that this interesting property and
anomalies are probably was due to the Percha Shale contact with the Fusselman and associated
Fault. I cannot quarrel with this logic, except that I have seen no similar data supporting this
hypothesis. I recognize that downward percolating waters through the Percha are carrying large
amounts of metallic ions. And that the first foot of the Fusselman has decayed. Thus, with high
moisture and abundant metallic ions unusually high EM numbers could be generated. But, this
logic does not explain the In-Phase to Quadrature ratios. Nor does it explain why other areas on the
Cable Claims, and associated areas where the Percha is in contact with the Fusselman that only
insignificant numbers are generated.
Naturally, like any other prospector I do not like hearing anything negative about the prospects of
the Cable Claims being anything other than a massive precious or base metal discovery. However, I
have spent hundreds of hours trying to dismantle my desirous concepts, and I’ve come to the
conclusion that I’m not in some kind of denial state of mind. Besides, why don’t the big boys want
to find out more about the Cable Claims potential, assuming of course that they are interested in
USA mining opportunities? Could it be that they already know that something is there and are
simply waiting for me to give-up? Oddly, about this same period of time I received a report from
PD indicating that they too know the area I’m referring to has an unusual EM anomaly, which can
be found by aerial reconnaissance. Then later when I resubmitted practically the same info to PD I
was told coincidentally that the EM signature must be due to some kind of interaction between the
Perhcha Shale and the Fusselman dolomite. Obviously I find PD’s last communiqué to be odd at
best to something else not worth trying to describe herein.
The Cable Claims lie in an area that was once below the sea millions of years ago. As eons of
time passed, stratified layers of sediment formed upon the sea floor (foundation rock) which is
normally referred to as precambrian granite.
As sedimentation continued, the present day Caballo Mountains grew in height, and were much
higher than at present. No-doubt, these formations, while under the sea, were somewhat plastic due
to intense pressure and heat, thus able to move with relative ease, which they have obviously done
several times.
It is well recognized today that there are currently deep under-water oceanic RIFTS (divisions of
continental shelves/plates), which are very active to the extent that molten magma (volcanos), and
steam vents (hot springs) are enriching the sea floor with sulfidic minerals. Some of these Rift
related deposits below the sea are being considered for exploitation. However, and until technology
improves most of these underwater treasures will most likely continue waiting for man to harvest.
This same type event, RIO GRANDE RIFT, is intimately associated with the uplifted Caballo
Mountains. Furthermore, it is still quite active, and may be introducing minerals into the area via a
vapor state.
This Rift related seismic activity produced the major and minor Fault blocks, including the Shear
Zones in/on the Cable Claims. Deep seated sulfide metals/minerals obviously made their way up
these fault paths and spread out through the fractures and shear zones. As this mineralization pulsed
upwards it appears that the minerals were stopped by the Percha Shale formation. This Shale is not
hard and brittle like the surrounding formations, instead it is considered ‘incompetent’ or semiplastic and will absorb seismic shocks that normally break apart hard rock. So for all intent and
explanation purposes, this shale acted like a plug, stopping the ascending mineral solutions from
reaching the then surface.
Because this shale acted like a lid on a cookie jar, and prevented the loss of sulfides to a wide,
large underwater surface area, the minerals apparently have accumulated near and below the Percha
Shale formation. Thus creating what is commonly referred to as an Ore Body. The VLF EM-16
Mineral Surveyor also supports this geological theme, as well as being of a high metallic content.
This upper enrichment, normally called “super-gene” can be considered as a natural occurring
geological event, that all prospectors dream of finding. Unfortunately, most prospectors don’t have
sophisticated instruments to aid them in their search, consequently only about one in 10,000 claim
owners ever reap any of the bounty inhabiting their dreams.
As I have said earlier, the EM-16 produced astronomical readings, that as far as I know have
never been known to occur anywhere in the world. The only time we experienced OFF-SCALE
EM-16 readings other than the Cable area, was when we came upon multiple mile steel pipe lines
or multiple mile barb wire fences, and this was ONLY when the instrument was within a few feet
of the metal conductors. In order to substantiate our findings we ran comparative studies utilizing
the EM-16 over several past/present mining sites, different and similar terrains and never produced
anomalous readings of even close to a third the magnitude as experienced upon the Cable Claims.
The geologist I hired and who issued his written report verbally stated that the area of the Cable
Claims could well host the Platinum Group Metals (PGMs), and that the area is quite similar to
some of the Nevada Gold MODEL deposits.
Obviously I cannot see into the ground and know what may be there any better than anyone else,
so the logical question is: WHAT COULD THIS ANOMALY BE? Did Hercules drive a mile long,
solid, and huge metal bar into the Mountain? Or did Mother Nature create an immense mineral
Treasure just waiting for some industrious or lucky person to Find?
Based upon accumulated data, there is no-doubt in my mind that the HUGE Geophysical
Anomaly is a World Class Discovery of at least one of the following: 1) Concentrated metallic
Silver or an Ag salt, 2) Concentrated Lead-Silver in a matrix of varying salts, or at the minimum, a
Lead Sulfide deposit with enough Precious metal contaminates to cause the EM-16 to react so
amazingly. There is one other likely probability, which is that this anomaly is a massive copper
deposit.
Naturally, over the years I’ve tried to expose the EM-16 as being a fraud, ‘black box’ or some
kind of divining rod in as many ways as I could think of, so as to not fool myself or anyone else.
However, try as I might I - to this day I find the EM-16 to be a reliable instrument that does not
mislead or fool anyone. The mere fact that something huge is making this instrument behave in an
bewildering manner should be in and of itself enough to cause serious mining companies to want to
investigate this remarkable phenomenon.
I have witnessed several times the costs of not doing adequate homework, and because I have no
wish to repeat the mistakes of past mining failures, a strong emphasis has been placed upon
research from the very beginning.
Due to the thousands of hours utilized in the field and laboratories attempting to understand the
geological chemical matrix make-up of the PbSbCaF2 (lead/antimony sulfide and calcium fluorspar
& contaminated with some copper) surface stringer veins we were able to learn that what appears to
be simple galena is in actuality Sulfo-salts with several base/precious metal contaminates.
Fortunately, through our research efforts, although fraught with surprises, frustrations and
mysteries, we were constantly fortified with the realization that the CABLE CLAIMS is a
Discovery that rarely occurs in an entire lifetime.
When conducting historical research it became clear that several base/Precious metal mining
operations in Southern New Mexico had very similar mineral depositions, and were located in the
very same formations. The major differences are: 1) The Cable Claims are immediately on the East
side of the Rio Grande Rift. 2) The Cable Claims have been up-lifted, exposing all the various
formations, not down-thrown, thereby not being prone to flooding, which caused the abandonment
of several profitable Black Range mines. 3) The Cable Claims appear to be more closely associated
with the Rift system, which may explain why the PGMs are present in the complex sulfides of the
Dolomite formations. 4) Due to the western scarp-face we can see mineralization that is normally
hidden.
The Cable Claims meet all the basic requirements for potential mining except ore exposure and
known reserves. Therefore, the objective is to make contact with the largest and closest Anomaly.
This is the main reason Jack picked the site to sink the shaft. Plus, the adit/shaft is very difficult to
be seen except by air, thus our activities are basically out of sight to all except those who can make
the climb. So far, no State or Federal agency personnel apparently has the appetite to make the
climb, and that’s just fine by me.
Those people that are ingrained with the desire to Prospect, Mine and Harvest Nature’s Metals
will most assuredly encounter a multitude of obstacles, which will seem like insurmountable
PROBLEMS. However, OPPORTUNITIES abound for those astute individuals that are innovative,
patient, dedicated and above all, Lucky.
To become successful at exploiting any of the metals, specifically, Lead, Silver, Gold and the
Platinum Group Metals (PGMs), the following should be prudently examined; 1) Locate a source
sufficient in Quantity & Quality; 2) Determine suitable technologies to accurately analyze for
any/all the metals/minerals, and 3) Create prudent techniques of retrieving.
It might be wise to keep in mind that all potential metal sources are in essentially two categories,
which are: 1) Scrap, and 2) Ores. The least likely sources to be easily located are the Minerals,
wherefore, this area is the most fertile ground for significant opportunity.
Don’t make the mistake of kidding yourself into believing that above ground metals offer
unimaginable rewards, because there are several individuals and giant companies actively engaged
in the collection and extraction of the Metals from scrap products, so these sources offer little
incentive. Similarly, the minerals are also being sought, but for the moment abundant opportunities
still await the persistent. However, the metals are NOT huddled into HUGE free nuggets just
waiting for the savvy week-end warrior to stumble over. Never the less, Mother Nature still has
plenty of surprises simply begging to be located by any serious prospector. Keep in mind, and
regardless of what the greenies constantly preach - our natural resources are infinite. No matter how
many humans populate the surface - the bowels of Nature will always offer abundance.
The Initiate setting out to discover a mineral source will most assuredly encounter seemingly
impassable obstacles as several prospectors and mining companies can attest to. For millions of
dollars have gone into many a “dry hole”. Faced with these adversities, it is certainly incumbent for
the would-be miner to garner all the available data before setting-out seeking adventure in the
Mineral Kingdom. Plus, it would appear practical for the prospector to re-examine known or
forgotten mineralized areas.
Past and present miners being subject to human frailties have no-doubt left behind numerous
bonanzas. A few of the possible reasons why some mineralized areas, including the Cable Claims,
have not been previously exploited are: 1) The Minerals were not the prize they are today; 2)
Mineralized areas were too far from adequate roadways; 3) No smelters close by. This certainly is
true for the PGMs, and to this day there are still no commercial USA PGM ore smelters; 4)
Although the “Old Timers” weren’t stupid they just were not as equipped with the knowledge and
technology as is available today, and 5) Most Prospectors of yester-year looked for silver and gold,
sometimes copper, but seldom Lead, and rarely ever for the PGM’s. Consequently, complex
mineralization was often abandoned/discarded as being too much of a problem.
The old adage “...if you want to find Gold, go where it has been found before.” is as true today as
in the 1800’s, plus this rule applies to any metal. The PGMs are reported to have been found in
Sierra County at the turn of this century. So, the modern day prospector armed with a battery of
instruments and a reasonably sound understanding of geology should be able to locate these
mysterious and obscure deposits.
Because the terrain and Labs didn’t kill me off I’m left with no choice except to complete the
following tasks: 1) determine the extent of mineralization; 2) establish a practical way of
underground extraction, as well as, the most the efficient methods of chemical metal separation and
purification, or 3) market the various metals, or 4) sell the mining claims.
It eventually becomes apparent to the surviving wanna-be miner that most if not all the chasms,
pits, cliffs and barricades are simply designed to eliminate the un-fit or non-serious prospector. So,
in due course, in-order to realize any degree of success, the would-be miner at some point in the
adventure will have to acquire Partners, which are often referred to as investors.
The Investor, I believe, is not all that different than the prospector/miner. Careful observation
indicates that investors also are prospectors seeking adventure(s) and a place that will allow their
accumulated Capital to grow. Of course they to have be wary of the myriad of pitfalls lurking in the
inconspicuous shadows, which often beguile the hasty into believing the darkness is safe.
Investors know that capital continuously has to be active and placed strategically for appreciation
to occur. Capital left in the bank, although relatively safe and liquid is not safe from the ravages of
inflation or devaluation. Mining ventures are often considered to be risky at best; but any serious
long-term investor instinctively comprehends that all goods originate from the Earth. So, their
investment choices are naturally based upon what game or field of chance they want to play in.
The price of a ticket into the mining arena is simple even to the untrained. It is basically only a
matter of what degree of risk the player wants to participate in. The choices are: 1) Grubstaking,
seldom done anymore, 2) Provide Seed Capital for a project that has considerable amounts of
supporting evidence that unusual and massive mineral anomalies are present, 3) Place capital in a
operation that is about to produce metals in the near future, and that has reserves clearly
established. This position doesn’t have significant risk, hence a large capital out-lay is normally
required for a small percentage of profits, 4) a producing Mining Company with or without a longterm track record of performance. Obviously there is little risk except for amount of remaining
reserves. This investment vehicle usually only provides dividends, or 5) Metal in hand (Bullion)
which has zero risk, although the rate of return is subject to short and long term market conditions.
I personally believe this is a great long term form of insurance or stability, as well as, being a liquid
asset anywhere in the World. I often suggest to friends to have at least a little gold and silver
stashed away for possible terrible economic times.
Assuming that the wise Investor has located a target to channel some of his/her discretionary
funds and comprehends the playing arena, all that is required to be ascertained is: 1) Size of
Investment, 2) The rewards to risks ratio, and 3) Time involved before a suitable rate of return can
be realized.
Once the Prospector/Mineral Owner and Investor(s) have met they can negotiate a mutually
advantageous contract, that will hopefully culminate in achievement and prosperity.
In order to complete the major objectives, I have to finish a bunch of intermediate steps, with the
thought in mind that each is designed to limit all known risks and yet maximize all opportunities.
On the premise that I’ve met a qualified and sophisticated monetary angel the following is a step
by step approach aimed at completing my long awaited objective of Phase-I: 1) Verify and better
delineate the EM-16 results; 2) Be prepared to sink the current shaft an additional 100 feet to
maximize the probability of encountering at least a portion of the geophysical Anomaly. Although
it is quite likely that contact will be made within a few more feet; 3) Occasionally drive a drift or
adit in an East or West direction while sinking the shaft, if deemed necessary. I fully expect to
encounter a cavernous area as the shaft is sank, which could preclude any further need of shaft
excavation; 4) Once the Anomaly is contacted a limited underground core drilling will be
undertaken, as well as limited amounts of ore will be removed. All cores and bulk ore will be
utilized for research analysis and for the Mini-Pilot-Plant extraction process during Phase-II; 5)
After completing the above primary steps the process of securing all necessary State and Federal
permits will start. At present, permits for disturbing less than 5 acres is a relatively simple process.
However, due to the new undefined and potentially ugly HB 556 regulations careful documentation
of surface and sub-surface disturbance is warranted, as well as plans for any/all reclamation that the
wise pseudo-scientists say is required; 6) It may well be wise to start securing a political and legal
base to guard against the up-coming destructive environmental hurricane season; 7) Finally, a
decision will have to be made regarding marketing the claims to a major player or prepare for
Phase-II.
My first priority is and has been to SELL these mining claims to a foreign or domestic mining
company. The thought of selling to a foreign entity is offensive. But most large mining companies
are international, and don’t appear to be interested in preserving the traditional “America First”
proposition. I suspect that since the application of the corporate mentality, that the virtues of
American Ideals went the same way as the dinosaurs did. The Second Choice is to Joint-Venture
with a reputable mining firm that will essentially run the show, with me and Jack relaxing a little.
The third alternative is to initiate Phase-II, which will essentially be to explore the ore body, and
establish ore reserves. Phase-II will also concentrate on establishing practical methodologies of
winning and producing significant amounts of all the various metal(s).
Many junior mining companies fail during the Phase-I stage, because they will not take the time
to adequately prepare for the many pit-falls that seem to arise out of no-where. Most of the
remaining mining companies that do survive the first onslaughts also seemed doomed to fail,
because they did not learn how to efficiently extract the goodies. That’s why I’ve spent so much
time learning as much as I could about assaying and chemical extraction and not be as dependent
upon those who make their living upon the ignorant.
Once the Ore is contacted a mini-pilot-plant that can handle from 1-10 pounds of concentrated
ore will be constructed and operated. As soon as reliable results are consistently produced, then and
only then will a semi-commercial plant be built. This small batch operating plant will be capable of
handling from 100 pounds to one ton of concentrated ore on a daily basis. By following this format
terrible surprises can be avoided, thus ensuring a higher probability of financial success.
Upon completion of several successful trial runs decisions can then be intelligently made as to
how to proceed. And, if mining companies do not come a running, or try to break down our door, I
can opt to continue operating on a small scale or expand to possibly several tons a day. The ore,
whether one ton or many tons per day will be Crushed, Screened, Separated, Concentrated,
Beneficiated, Smelted, Refined, and sold. Naturally, this all sounds simple and straight forward, but
it isn’t. Therefor, a constant look-out will have to be posted to watch for Murphy that is lying coiled
and ready to strike the foolish and unprepared.
I might add, here, that the Cable Claims area, and for that matter, the southern half of the Caballo
Mountains holds either the biggest ore discovery since the 1849 gold rush or a colossal fool’s
paradise, it’s one or the other!
CHAPTER 28
Dancing with the Gods
Since I started this quest there have been several times that my back was against the wall, and
similarly I didn’t know where my next meal was coming from. So, naturally, I’ve done what any
person does in dire predicaments, I asked and continue to my Creator for help.
I’ve never questioned why I’m trying to find this metal deposit. I’ve always kind’a known that I
have little or no choice, sort’a like being driven or simply instinctive. Of course, to some people
this type of mind set could be considered as being weird or mad.
When I try to imagine what a woman’s feelings/emotions are regarding wanting to or actually
having a baby it is just beyond my comprehension. However, I am convinced that my URGE to
prospect and be a miner is no-less important, nor am I able to hold back the compelling desire. So, I
do feel justified in saying that the two passions are of the same importance and of equal stature.
However, I doubt that many women can or will ever share a similar understanding.
I’ve never considered myself anything special, nor have I ever set myself up as being better than
any other human. But, somehow, I know deep down in my bones that prospecting is a just and
Nobel cause. However, the trouble with prospecting is that it’s a precarious life. Just as in the days
of old, the modern prospector has similar battles to wage, for there seems to be those that have a
hellish rage for prospector’s trying to find the golden sage in the land of beige. Now, instead of
ducking an Indian’s arrow we would-be miners have to be on guard for the legislative green muck,
or the regulatory agencies venomous eco-pen.
Having said the above I should also further describe similar claims laid by women who go
prospecting for a suitable mate to fertilize their instinctive desires of making babies. Obviously
through out history making babies has always been fraught with making bad choices in their men.
Likewise, many women have perilous times on this endeavor including dying, before, at, or
immediately after childbirth. Yet, women continue to be driven in what I consider to be an insane
act of wanting to create a new human and usually changing their bodies to usually something less
desirable to men. So, it would seem rational that women who seem to be the biggest supporters of
the green rage at miners should use their gray matter in an attempt to understand that men have
similar instinctive desires. Therefore, if they continue to demand that men’s activities of
prospecting for and the mining of the metals must be regulated I feel the very same type of
regulations should be placed upon the women who create unneeded babies simply because they
want them. I’ve broached this subject several times to women whom I truly like and respect. But, as
I expected they could see no similarity between men’s mining activities to create abundant metals
and the all important act of creating new human life.
Regardless of the final outcome, no one told me to enter the Kingdom of Metals. So, whatever
happens, I brought it on myself. One thing for sure, I at least have an inkling of what a philosopher
might have felt when he entered his desert quest. To me, being a prospector, is similar to a prophet,
for to embrace the metals is touching God.
Over the years several people have asked me, what was I doing on the mountain? I’d always say,
trying to develop our mining Claims. Occasionally, I’d get feed-back indicating that I’m not seen
with women, and that I keep to myself. This was true, till the sheep-cheat. Then more people began
to ask me strange and leading questions, that could be construed to suggest that I might be gay.
Finally, something had to be said, even though I knew it would sound, at best, eccentric.
Several times, standing outside my motel room, I’d point to the mountains and say to these
people, there’s my Mistress, my Desire, my Jewel, and my Dream. Likewise, She like most ladies,
will not tolerate anything other than Her. A few people would say, you don’t really mean that? I’d
reply, just as calmly as I could, yes, I mean every word, with no reservations, for I truly worship
that ground I walk upon.
When the Puritans, some astronauts, immigrants and the Pope have touched our land they’ve got
down on their knees and often kissed the ground. Is it possible that they too worship the ground
they walk upon?
I have never professed to be of any organized religious persuasion, preferring instead to find my
own way to truth. Fortunately, my early formative years were not marred with parental indiscretion
of mind control by polluting this gray organ with dogma of questionable value. Oh yes, I was
forced to attend the traditional Sunday School like all “good” young Christians. But, within a short
period of time, and after I told my parents that I didn’t like what was being taught as truth they no
longer forced me to frequent these enigmatic places.
Since early childhood I’ve been suspicious of institutionalized religions. Although I don’t dispute
nor find fault with those who choose to believe in any of the ritualized or sociably acceptable faiths,
I nonetheless, cannot in good conscience follow any persuasion that has burned witches, believed
that the world was flat, point accusing fingers, imprisoned or oppressed free thinkers, or cleverly
crafted their books with versus that regulate the instinctive or natural urges of man. Yet, and in
contrast to the foregoing it seems that all religions have common threads, which bind humanities
spirit.
I do not support the thesis of religious ignorance, which is often based upon unfounded,
unquestioned faith. While faith is obviously an integral part of any religious belief I find it amazing
that all religions teach and demand total ignorance or knowledge of alternative religious concepts.
From my limited perspective I am forced to ask the question – how can any rational human
formulate a concept that only their brand of faith is correct if they have not examined the
alternatives?
After many years of trying to comprehend the variety of religious faith based concepts I do find
Christianity to be of prophetic truth. For instance: the Christian Bible says in Genesis, Chapter 1
verses 6 and 7: “And God said, let there be a firmament in the midst of the waters, and let it divide
the waters from the waters.” “And God made the firmament, and divided the waters which were
under the firmament from the waters which were above the firmament: and it was so.” Therefore
“firmament” I have come to suspect means the geo-magnetic (electromagnetic) force that controls
all living tissue.
Based upon what some Biblical scholars theorize, approximately 100 miles above the Earth, 6000
years ago, or maybe 6, 60, 600 million, or also, maybe billions of years ago there was a firmament
which held water vapor so thick that it was actually a vast sea.. Furthermore, if this theory holds
water, then the whole concept of carbon 14 testing is suspect and/or in error. Why? Well, if there
was this curtain of suspended water over the earth, prior to Noah’s Flood, held by the geo-magnetic
force (firmament) then the Sun’s ultra violet rays could not have converted carbon 12 into carbon
14, because these waters would have filtered out the UV rays. Therefore, all life including mankind
and the fossils are much younger than academia presents today as “scientific truth”. On the other
hand, the carbon 14 data we have could be 3 to 5 times older than our scientific comprehension will
allow. In 1996 a paleontologist discovered a petrified human finger intermixed with petrified
dinosaur bones. And, human footprints have been found with dinosaur footprints. Consequently, it
seems reasonable that humans and ancient reptilian animals coexisted. Heck, even the Bible
suggests that man and these beasts co-existed. Therefore, is the world as old as academia suggests?
Or is the Biblical accounts the reality we should be trying to comprehend? Furthermore, it’s
becoming a known fact that traditional carbon 14 testing is flawed. For example: recently carbon 14
tests were conducted upon Wooly Mammoth remains. And the results differed by thousands of
years between each sample taken from same animal.
Another example of academia’s possible Carbon 14 test error is regarding the Shroud of Turin
dating. The analytical experts said their tests showed that the cloth was no older than the 14 th or
the 15 th century. What they apparently failed to take into account was that that the dust particles,
human tears and particles from people touching this garment and applied to this cloth over the
centuries could well have influenced the test’s outcome. Like any and all schemes to test anything
one should search diligently before making statements of validity. Otherwise, they, including me,
make themselves vulnerable to being completely wrong sometime in the future about what they
originally stated as truth or correctness.
Over the years I’ve found it entertaining as to how religious and/or intolerant people refer to
others as infidels, heathens or pagans. Just as peculiar is how idols eventually become statues, and
how the socially unacceptable faiths become cults or mythology. So, and based upon the past
performances of so-called wise humans I’ve concluded that any faith or institution that would
regulate the Freeman, or would try to stop or control the mining of metals is as nothing more than a
simple abomination of truth. This last ideological statement can be illustrated with the intolerance
of modern Darwinianism.
The Darwinian’s reflected by Gaia’s brood of tree hugging, beast loving, two legged creatures
openingly embrace a State sponsored, State or Corporate tithed concept that makes the Crusades
pale in comparison.
After becoming acquainted with the Caballo’s I began to accept some of the Apaches beliefs
about Mother Nature. I’ve known since coming to the Caballo’s that I had truly found a mystical
sense of awe, and a fulfilling peace. In addition, I learned for the first time what the U.S.
Constitution means by the words “in pursuit of happiness.”
This part of Mother Nature (Caballo’s) is the most alluring, captivating and exciting expression of
Life that I have ever known. And, when I’m with Her I have the distinct feeling of sanctity and
security, sort of like being held in Her embrace. As a result of these gifts She demands nothing less
than sacrifice, hard work, and commitment in-order to receive Her generous pleasures. So far, even
though chasing Her promises is rough, I cannot ask of anything more fulfilling than Her company,
except, of course being with and knowing GOD the Father of all Creation.
In spite of Her abundance, I often find myself asking for more and more, which clearly makes me
Her willing servant. Not only does She pledge great wealth if I treat Her courteously, but will allow
me to dwell close to Her forever. Wherefore, what more could any mere mortal ask for?
Mother Nature seems to be allowing me to fathom what HOPE and TRUST really mean by
permitting me to touch HER essence of Life. In the physical dimension what appears to mortals as
solidified metallic veins flowing through Her Majestic Skin, is in reality the purity and sustenance
of life made manifest. Ask yourself what’s the difference between Nature’s metallic veins that have
solidified at or near Her surface and the oxidized Iron rich fluid transported throughout our bodies
that solidifies (oxidizes) when exposed to the air?
Even though this kind of analogy may seem a bit ridiculous or paganistic, what came first, metals
or man; and who really seeks who? Does Man unequivocally seek the metals to be fashioned into
useful objects (tools), or do the Metals use man, so the Metals can express Themselves through
man the tool? Of course most people’s ego will not begin to permit them to contemplate such an
outlandish thesis, but that’s their burden, not mine.
The Biblical expression “from dust to dust” can obviously be correspondingly said - we come
from dirt and we return to dirt. So, in my non-expert opinion, that makes us walking, talking and
thinking dirt. Likewise, Occultist’s believe that from “ether” have come all things, and in time so
will they return. If Truth is the unnamed, unspeakable and unseeable supreme deity, then Thought
must be the Father of all Gods. Thus, and then when “Thought” acted it became creation, or the
Father of all lessor Gods. Some might call my line of thinking/reasoning to be like a dipstick. I can
only respond by saying - yep. I could very well be mired in the oil of blasphemy or some other
misguided belief that has absolutely no basis in fact. Furthermore, my manner of thinking could
well be the yellow brick road to Hell. But, till I KNOW differently I seem destined to continue
making the same errors or hopefully getting closer to Truth. History (His Story) has long indicated
that experimental, socially or politically correct ideologies have been fraught with considerable
error. Galileo was imprisoned for criticizing the Flat Earther’s.
No one seems to dispute that man or life as we conceive it could exist in this physical dimension
without all the metals. And, just as obviously, the metals have been evolving into various states of
purity. For instance: Uranium eventually becomes other metals such as lead, yet uranium is the end
product of radioactive decay of an unknown element, probably formed at or near the moment of
creation. Another example is technetium-99 (a fission product of nuclear reactors), which has a half
life of 250,000 years, which can be trans-mutated into technetium-100 by simply adding one
neutron, that has a half life of only a few seconds. Then, this Technetium decays (evolves) into the
non-radioactive Ruthenium-100. More verifiable and natural occurring proof would be - the
element potassium, vital to human health, is constantly in a evolutionary state of transmutation to
the Nobel gas Argon. In addition, I feel compelled to say - is it possible that our current science has
not, as yet, detected the one or more elements (metals) that are required before any life can begin?
This last statement can be verified by examining the varieties of, or the evolving so-called scientific
“periodic charts/tables”.
The so-called Nobel metals are the only ones, normally, that exist in Nature as a true metal, yet
they too are the end, or near end product of decay (change/evolvement). Almost always the
remaining, including the rare and Noble elements coexist as minerals, which man seeks out and
usually attempts to use after they have been processed into various states of purity. To carry this
thought process forward a bit - what will gold be in another 15 billion years? And, for that matter,
assuming that Christ does not visit Earth anytime soon, what will humans be like in another 1000,
10,000 or million years?
To me, it is a simple truth that all the elements are none other than metals when they are in their
purest forms! This concept includes Oxygen, and Hydrogen, etc. However, I’ve never met the
person who shares this concept, but my form of common sense seems to indicate such.
The Occultists allude to and say that the elements were, are and will be life. Take for example the
commonly known metal Mercury, it is a hard solid when subjected to below zero temperatures.
Yet, it’s a liquid at room temperature, and readily evaporates to a gaseous state at elevated
temperatures. Most people say that oxygen could not possibly be a metal, but under the right
circumstances, why not? Most people don’t recognize Sodium or Potassium as being a metal, but
they are, although always combined with something else, unless man intervenes. Others will say
that Carbon cannot be a metal; I ask why not? After all, Carbon has many facets, such as the black
greasy stuff generated when burning petroleum products, or as found in Nature as coal, graphite,
and the diamond. What would the next stage in Carbon’s evolution be given the right set of
conditions?
Modern day scientists say that the universe was created with the Big Bang theory, while the Bible
says spontaneously, and the Hindu’s say that Brahma breathed out. Regardless of what the truth is,
they all share the philosophy that matter was at one moment in time so tightly compressed that a
reaction (nuclear, breath or “The Word”) took place and is continuing to do so. Similarly, carrying
this speculation forward a tiny degree, it is inferred that the lightest elements have long since
vanished from this world, just as minor amounts of Hydrogen constantly continues to do.
Another thought, scientists and governments are able to equip man with being able to take care of
all his needs and comforts, except three, which are: the need of similarities, the companionship of
Earth and the Creator.
Can it really be happen-chance that humans are merely the result of all the elements constructed
in an infinite variety of combinations made manifest? Is it not possible that the metals which evolve
on a geological (theological) scale of time, are using us to manipulate their future, the same as we
do our children? Could we be the metals creation, to tend to and too serve Them in and towards
Their final quest? One glaring fact of this hypothesis can be illustrated by – if a human becomes
deficient of any element sickness or death results. I also strongly suspect that when a child is born –
if it is not endowed with all the metals then it is at best handicapped throughout life or dies a “still
birth” or in the very early years of existence.
Even though books and scientists say there is the organic and inorganic, life and no life -- there is
no evidence of where life begins or ends. Take for example the single celled amoebae - scientist’s
say that it is alive for it moves and serves a purpose, just like the any one of the trillions single cells
in our bodies. At any given moment there are thousands or millions of human cells dying, yet we
live. Obviously, our single cells live and work for the benefit of the whole to accomplish the bigger
task. Of course the question has always alluded mortal man as to what the bigger goal is. Yet, all
we need to do to find part of the truth is to look to our collective past, and we will find that men
are, were and will always be diggers and users of the mineral landscape.
Of course, many if not most people will say only humans have souls or a hereafter life. I do not
dispute that wisdom. However, the Bible does say in Revelation: 16:3: “And the second angel
poured out his vial upon the sea; and it became as the blood of a dead man: and every living soul
died in the sea.” Therefore, I am forced to conclude that if the creatures of the sea have souls then
land dwelling animals have souls. And, because metals (dirt, dust or clay) are the physical
components that make up all life as we understand life then I also must suspect that the metals have
souls, or at an minimum our unborn/unmanifested or incomplete evolved souls.
Obviously it is quite apparent that the metals stick around a lot longer than us humans.
Correspondingly, I suspect that the Metals have a vast array of energy states that are not
recognizable to humans, such as the invisible hand of God. Could this energy be the forces of life
that permeate creation? In other words: what were the metals (elements) before they were
manifested, and what are they to become? To me, at this juncture of life, the Metals are
IMMORTAL. Is it possible that GOD (the Source) manifested from some unknown energy state all
the known elements (metals) to become immortal lords who’s future is not known to us the diggers
and planters of today’s seeds of tomorrows flowers?
Picture a Cube, or Circle in your mind - is not force and matter simply two sides of the same
substance? Does not life (reality) as humans currently understand the concept have three functional
and fundamental forms, which are the triangle, the cube and the circle, all of which emanate from
the same source, and are manifested in all the known elements?
Recently, it has been discovered while viewed through a scanning electron microscope that Gold
seems to heal itself when its flesh (surface) has been microscopically torn. Previous to this
discovery, the mere thought of such would have caused a calamitous scientific and clergy uproar.
But, how else does one explain that when a tear or hole occurs in gold, that the wound is atom by
atom filled. Likewise, the new atoms of gold that repaired itself are no longer identical in
composition as the surrounding gold. Doesn’t this sound like normal scar tissue of ‘living’ flesh?
It appears that all religions share fundamental concepts, which says that God (Allah, Brahma,
Shiva, Jehovah, Gaia, and the thousands of others not mentioned here.) created ALL things! And
since there was nothing before God simple logic suggests that all things are of God and therefore
must be alive, because God is alive, and there is nothing else. For someone to say that metals
cannot be alive, would seem to indicate that their intellect knows what God is or is not. Or, that
God can create something from something that is not God. Perhaps there is something, which is not
living, or something else besides God. From what I have read, studied and concluded all faiths
share the aforesaid statements, although not said the way I have. Therefore, when the EcoElites
drafted the nomenclature in HB 556 saying that the minerals are non-living -- the soul-less State
agencies (personnel) are in direct conflict with traditional religious (Christian/Jewish) beliefs.
According to the Christian Bible, in the book of Genesis, the Metals (life, or the All) were created
spontaneously. Therefore the Metals are the manifestation of God. Just as obvious to me, anyone
who condemns the metals or mining and prospecting is condemning God and the truth seekers.
Doesn’t it say in the Bible something like cursed be those that don’t honor thy Father and thy
Mother? To me, my Father is That which I can sense and feel His Warmth, but remains distant and
unfathomable. My Mother is That (Earth) which is known by all the physical senses, although little
understood. Who or what created the celestial bodies in the Fabric of space, which is not the void it
is thought to be is a mystery to me and is light years beyond my ability to perceive. However, I do
suspect that this black silky garment is like an Arab Ladies veil carefully concealing Creation’s
Face. For what it’s worth, outer space is not a void, nor a vacuum. Instead it is something tangible
that we with our sophisticated technology have not as yet understood what this substance is. Simple
logic indicates that Space cannot be nothing, for in our four dimensional reality (length, width,
depth and time) the concept of NOTHING is simply incomprehensible.
If there is something that resides near or outside Creation’s Fabric (Outer-Space) it is so
concealed that the human intellect has never been known to describe it in uttered or written words.
The Occult teachings seem to hint at Its essence, which seems to me to be the precursor of the
manifested metals. Modern scientists are searching for nurons or what could be considered the
“glue” that holds our sense of reality (four dimensions) together.
Scientists, operating deep underground, say that what we call gravity cannot account for the way
that everything in stellar space hangs together. Obviously, these seekers of TRUTH may have to
hunt throughout eternity, for no sooner than they get an answer -- that more questions arise.
Actually, our science indicates that many more dimensions exist beyond our barely understood four
dimensions, which seem not to be governed by our laws of physics. However, physics, as we
understand the concept does not yet explain much of the phenomena that which (metals) exists in,
on and around our land.
There are those throughout recorded history that have said Gold is evil or it should remain in the
ground hidden from man’s greedy prying eyes. These same types of people also started the
Crusades and placed gold on their alters, roof tops, candle stick holders, as well as on their hands
and heads. It’s ironic that these same people conveniently manage to forget that the Book of
Genesis says in the beginning that the land has gold and it is good. Plus, when Moses led his people
to the Promise Land, God said that all the metals, including gold, necessary for prosperity was
waiting to be mined. Furthermore, any student of history (His Story), should readily recognize that
when the elements are not mined the people languish, even though and for awhile Govt’s prosper.
A modern day example of this last sentence is none other than most of the current world. Yes,
mining is going on, but not by the little guy. He has been or is being driven out of the game, leaving
only the soul-less multi-nationals corporations to dominate. Taken together these international
mining companies are abominable monopolies, which fly in the face of the Sherman anti-trust law.
Lately, I’m forced to ask - why would a thinking person believe theories, such as
environmentalism, when alternative proof is abundantly available? Could it be that the darker (selfserving ego’s) forces don’t want people to discover truth? Have you ever heard the saying “and the
truth will set you free”? To me, the metals are the elemental manifestation of TRUTH and will set
me free. Of course this last statement will only occur if our public servants start doing what they
were hired to do.
To me, this Earth is radiantly and dynamically alive, and gave me all that I am in my knowable
universe. I recognize that there are other worlds and/or dimensions, and THAT something (GOD
thy Father) has and is making manifest the physical, but I am still the prodigy of this World (GOD
thy Mother), sort’a like being the child of human parents.
Like women, I suspect that Earth is similar to a flower, but on a vastly different scale. When I
look at life there seems to be complete cycles. The flower sprouts after germination (manifesting),
matures, blooms, wilts and dies. But, before death it sends its seeds outward for rebirth. Therefore,
I sort’a suspect that man is the instrument to carry Her fertilized seeds into what we call space,
which may be simply a huge wondrous Garden of Eden. What are these seeds and of what is the
tree or flower of life? They are the Metals, and man is the gardener as it says in the Bible. No doubt
there are those that will say such statements are blasphemous. However, does not the Bible, and all
other religions teach tolerance and not to judge? On the other hand I realize that the State does not
believe in a Christian, Hebrew, Hindu or Islamic GOD - so it is not restricted and can impose
intolerance in the form of laws and hideous rules.
Ever since man found a way to enter space -- satellite’s have been entering this strange domain.
Recently, October 1994, NASA sent the satellite Magellan into Venus’s sulfuric acid atmosphere to
gather the last bits of information before the batteries quit producing power. Is this satellite not a
metallic seed from Earth? I wonder what this action will have on the future of Venus? Another
example - what about the Mariner probe sent to the surface of Mars? When the Mars probe landed
it found no life. However, does that mean this crimson Lady is a barren old maid? I doubt it. Just
because our instruments failed to detect some recognizable life sign, that certainly does not mean
She’s barren. I have a strong suspicion that “life” is far more mysterious than our collective
imagination is currently capable of grasping.
There are the all-wise who say that gold corrupts the innocent and trust worthy. I simply say that
nothing will corrupt an honest man. For where did the expression “to thine own self be true” come
from? To me, the prospecting for and the mining of Metals, is simply becoming aware, and of
discovering the answers to the age old questions of “who and what I am and why I’m here”.
Therefor digging holes is fundamental to my existence, just as is the prospecting the mysterious
depths of womankind in order to create life. For me to get a glimpse of thy Father and Mother, I
have to try and imagine, that if EVERYTHING was condensed into a singular form, would It not
be the summation of the ALL? And is not the ALL the known energies within each and every
element? So, I prospect for truth in order to be true to myself, because I truly believe that if I don’t
seek I will not find. Therefor - any law or regulation that binds me from finding or seeking truth is
not only God awful, but is the work of darkness.
Astronomers realize that for life, as we comprehend it, to exist it takes all the universe with its
hundred billion trillion stars in order to sustain a constant catalyzing fusion of hydrogen helium,
which makes more neutrons and protons, which in turn evolve to become the heavier elements and
maintain an equilibrium.
By the summer of 2000 scientists are saying that the light metals such as lithium and boron are
the result of “spallation,” which means that cosmic rays in space split larger atomic elements into
smaller ones. Here again is scientific proof that creation comes from sources not previously
considered. Here’s another interesting concept posed by Jeff Kanipe for Space.com, which says:
“The seeds of life on Earth could have been carbon-based molecules from stars, rather than simple
inorganic molecules lacking that life-linked element…”
“Life did not have to begin with simple inorganic molecules,” said Sun Kwok, of the University
of Calgary, referring to a previously accepted theory from the 1950s that inorganic molecules of
hydrogen, methane, and ammonia in a primordial muck was energized by lightning to become the
building blocks for more complex organic molecules.” I could cite many more similar articles, but
at the moment I see no point.
Quite likely, most people don’t realize that this Earth rotates on a 24 hour cycle to maintain life.
If the Earth rotated just half or twice as fast as it does the climate would not support life for most
creatures, including man. Or, if the Earth rotated half as fast it would become unimaginably cold, as
well as intolerably hot. However, if Earth rotated twice as fast as it does the storms and earthquakes
would devastate the planet’s surface. Therefore, it seems logical that each creature of Earth has an
assigned task to be accomplished within the current, yet in a state of becoming environment. This
task is most likely preprogrammed or hardwired into all living creatures, and is what we humans
refer to as “instinct”. Take for example the spermatozoa that seeks culmination of creation. And, if
these mindless life-forms instinctively know how and what to do, then it seems reasonable to
assume that man instinctively knows what he’s to do by the orgasmic expression of prospecting,
which consummates by bringing forth life by way of mining in all it forms.
To prospect and mine is a Nobel cause, and to not do so, would be missing the mark (Sinning)
regarding my purpose on Earth. Even though this may sound preposterous, look at the bacteria
mining in our bowels. If it were not for these critters doing what they were designed to do, we
could not live. So, in order for the Metals to live, man is doing what he was designed to do. Think
on the following: A grain of sand knows, minds think and bodies act while ego’s react. Oh we
influence each other, but the aged questions remain in a stasis without form in the void embroiled
with lofty lust in peril of rust. Answers all around, just out of reach, caught in the sea of secrecy
whipped by envy bordering rage deep within the sages page.
I am not trying to win converts to this philosophy, but merely attempting to explain why it is so
important for me to be engaged in the artistic preprogrammed act of mining via prospecting.
Likewise, and just as obvious, Mother Nature will not yield Her mysterious Metals to any disciple,
until he has proven himself worthy of the bounty. I travel, like everyone else in this sea of
uncertainty. Each of us has a path to follow, which seems to be like the rays of the sun. In other
words from the source to the deep.
My simplified religious beliefs are expressed in this chapter due to the threats I face regarding the
State and Federal Government’s attempts to destroy the Right of Free Men to prospect and mine.
Whereas, my faith may not be politically correct, but the fundamentals I’ve expressed predate
man’s recorded history of worship. Furthermore, the Constitutions of New Mexico and the United
States clearly state that everyone has the Right to worship any faith.
The following is New Mexico’s Constitutional views of religion:
ARTICLE II, Section 1:
The state of New Mexico is an inseparable part of the federal union, and the constitution of the
United States is the supreme law of the land.
ARTICLE II, Section 11:
Every man shall be free to worship God according to the dictates of his own conscience, and no
person shall ever be molested or denied any civil or political right or privilege on account of his
religious opinion or mode of religious worship. No person shall be required to attend
any place of worship or support any religious sect or denomination, nor shall any preference be
given by law to any religious denomination or mode of worship.
ARTICLE XXI, Section 1:
Perfect toleration of religious sentiment shall be secured, and no inhabitant of this state shall ever
be molested in person or property on account of his or her mode of religious worship.
Wherefore, and without redress, I believe that Prospectors are the Saviors of Man. And if we are
destroyed by the EcoElites or the legislator’s pen then all mankind will sink into the dismal depths
of stagnating oblivion. Consequently, it is my contention that the outrageous HB 556, is the Miners
Coffin. And the current/subsequent #3809 regulations, including those proposed by the BLM are
the nails to make sure none of us escape from their proposed tomb.
Based upon what seems obvious, that all things evolve, it would seem reasonable to expect that
man and metal are merging. When this world was forming the Metals were combining in an infinite
variety of minerals, and gave rise to the first forms of what humans call life. Obviously, these
various life forms were made of nothing but metals via a multitude of chemical combinations.
Thus, as the Metals evolved all life forms emerged. Accordingly, it is self-evident that the metals
are the foundation of all life, at least as humans currently comprehend the enigma.
History (His Story) clearly shows that Metals are man’s best friend, for he goes nowhere without
them. So, if man is to continue being successful he seems destined to continue alloying a metallic
substrate who’s intellect will surpass the wildest imagination of any present or proposed synthetic
intelligence.
If my personal beliefs happen to be only partially correct then woe unto those that forestall the
natural progression and destiny of the Mineral Kingdom. And, perhaps, in time we will again
treasure all those who seek, locate, extract, refine, and mold that which we place so much reverence
upon by stamping the inscription of “In God We Trust” upon.
Humans are especially adept at perceiving themselves as the center of the universe. This egoistic
mind set is without doubt understandable in light of our limited life span. When I gaze upon the
heavens I sense an incomprehensible vastness, and when I peer through a microscope I’m also
struck by what seems to be limitless space. To give some semblance of what I’m alluding to, try to
imagine, if you can, that the Earth is a mere atom within a square inch of gold. Now, you can, to
some degree, appreciate the vast relative distances we call either the macro or nano universe. In our
youth we tend to think we are indestructible and will live forever. But, as the years fly by faster
than we imagined, I can appreciate the pleasurable touch of immortality the metals possess.
CHAPTER 29
A Breath of Fresh Air
Fortunately, Curt, Jack’s brother moved to TorC and provided much needed and greatly
appreciated assistance in getting the shaft to a depth of 50 feet. He also, helped me drive a new 15
foot adit at the bottom of shaft, because we wanted to be sure that we had not inadvertently missed
anything.
In addition, we felt that perhaps we ought to construct this new adit in the event that we would
decide to create another opening/portal. In other words, instead of the anomaly and cavernous
structure being only75 feet down it could be 100 to 150 feet. So, another portal would provide
easier access as well as muck removal.
Even though Jack and I wrestled with the idea as to where the probability of encountering the ore
body would be, no matter how we debated the data it always indicated 75 feet. Of course, and so as
to not mis-lead our combined thinking I constantly challenged Jack’s hypothesis - to which he
always came back with sound and reasonable explanations as to why we should make contact at the
designated depth.
By the end of August, 1992 we were back 7 feet in the new adit. As great as the electric hammer
drill was it still was difficult to drill horizontally without a Jack-leg. During September I’m drilling
and mucking and Curt’s hoisting the buckets and wheelbarrowing out the muck. When all of a
sudden as I lift a bucket I know that I have just managed to screw-up my back, bigtime. I’m barely
able to climb the ladder, get outside and sit down, while Curt puts up the equipment. It takes me
more than two hours to descend the mountain, and for a week I’m confined to the bed. Thank God,
Jack got back from California and brings me food. For about 10 days I’m on crutches, and it’s
another 10 days before I attempted to walk very far unaided.
During my convalescing, John Vance visits, and we have lengthy discussions about the
mountains. He tells me many a strange tale that he’s personally had while out in the mountains. He
said that there were many times during the 1960’s he tried to explore the Cable Canyon area, but
the treasure hunters were too threatening. One of the more interesting narratives that seems to have
verification possibilities, was when his twin brother conducted historical research on the mountains.
John’s brother discovered that when the Ft. Seldon Calvary chased the Apaches into Cable Canyon
they would always disappear and were never able to discover where they went. It is surmised that
the Apaches knew of a tunnel that could be easily opened and closed. Another story he told me
about was when he and his wife were investigating Cable Canyon they heard Indian Tom Toms.
But search as they would, they couldn’t find the source except that the sound was very close and
seemed to be emanating from the wall of a sheer cliff. Incidentally, this particular wall is the same
immediate area where the squawking crow went into the hole.
When I was able to get out and about a little without the crutches John and I decided to take his
metal detector and investigate the Clato Springs area. John knew of a couple interesting areas that
he felt deserved being searched, so off we went. John told me that someone had seen a hole
partially open and in the back was a steel riveted door with a big lock. Maybe with his fancy, state
of the art metal detector we’d get lucky and find it. I felt that the odds of finding this was a zillion
to one if the story was even true. Still and all, the main thing was that I just wanted out of the motel
room, and into the mountains.
After traipsing around for quite awhile, we went to Clato Springs and did find a spot that sent the
metal detector just a singing. We cleaned the area a little and eventually discovered a rotted rusted
top of a steel barrel. We didn’t finish digging it up, because, my back was saying ouch. And maybe,
some old rancher put the barrel there to collect water for his stock. Then again maybe Clato put it
there to collect water for his goats. It is also possible that someone hid something in the barrel, to
return one day and get the goodies. It’s also possible that someone placed it there to collect gold
placer that washes through the area. Who knows, maybe someday I’ll go back and see if I can put
to rest this puzzle, if someone doesn’t beat me to it.
Several years prior to writing this doc-u-drama --- when Rex was in the Clato Springs area he
found a rock that had a cross carved into it and had “entero 1860” written on it. Similarly, while I
was walking on the Shandon Patented Gold Placer properties in 1983 I found a rock with a cross
carved in it with 1820 also carved on it. Months after finding the rock, and snooping around in the
Sierra County Court House Tax department I stumbled upon the Shandon tax records. The papers
showed a surveyors mark of 1820, so obviously the rock I found was merely a surveyor’s rock
marker. What Rex found appears to be totally different for I know of no land needing a surveyors
mark thereabouts.
Another interesting story I was told while letting my back heal was by Robert Tapia a relative of
Juan Tapia. Many people suspected Juan of knowing where the tunnels to the piles of gold were.
Jack and I had interviewed Jaun on a couple of occasions, because we had heard that Juan knew a
great deal about the Mountains. Juan during the interviews was certainly nice and gentlemanly
enough, but I just felt that he would never tell us anything of value. Why should he? Besides, we
were Gringo’s! Anyway, while driving my pickup along with Robert, he tells me that Juan was able
to pan an ounce of free gold from a spot near Apache Gap per day during the 1930’s depression.
Apparently Juan never would divulge the gold’s whereabouts and he took that knowledge to grave.
Robert also made another comment that most people adhere to, which is, that panning for gold is
back-breaking work. And, if he’s going to work that hard he wants to be paid for it, and everyone
knows that panning for gold usually doesn’t pay much, if anything.
Naturally, these stories would not be complete without the rumors of Caves somewhere between
Burbank and Indian Canyons, which are filled with water, making extensive lakes that have fish
with no eyes. This may seem like a scatter brain lie, but such underground lakes have been found in
Tennessee and in SE New Mexico.
There is another story worth mentioning, which is supposed to be somewhere at the South end of
the Caballo’s. Seemingly, a local man who lived in the area, while walking discovered an opening,
and being curious went in. However, he couldn’t go very far due to a rushing torrent of water. On
the other side of this river, he could see stacks of old saddles, flintlock rifles, bundles of buffalo
hides and stacks of saddlebags. Naturally, if I had found such I would have managed somehow to
forge the river, and perhaps this person did just that, because I’ve never heard what happened to
this guy.
While excavating our shaft, many times we would see the blind white crickets, indicating a cave
close by. And a couple of times I’ve even seen the freakish looking daddy long-leg spiders that I’ve
only seen in big caves. These spiders are not the normal ones most people have seen. These have
white spots on their legs and they do a rhythmic dance when light is played over them.
In November, Jack, Curt and I finished the short 15 foot adit. We did find from time to time
exceedingly thin sporadic PbS mineralization, and the wall rock was becoming altered, but no sign
of the anomaly. Consequently, we decided to stop and start excavating a small 2 to 3 inch hole to
the East of the shaft that constantly emanated fresh air.
If it wasn’t for this air supply I doubt that we could have gotten as far as we have. We’d notice
from time to time that when a round of dynamite would go off that instead of the thick noxious
fumes being forced to come up the shaft and out the adit door, the fumes, smoke and dust would be
sucked back down the shaft. Obviously, the dust and fumes were being sucked through the air hole
and into a breathing cave system. From early on we wanted to excavate this hole to see where it
led, but first we had to finish the short 15 foot adit.
Fortunately, we were much faster in excavating the air hole, on account of we didn’t have to drill
any lifters, due to the small already present air hole, which allowed what few sticks of dynamite we
had to break the rock much more efficiently.
While we were starting to excavate the air hole it looked like the end was near for all involved in
the Grande River Mines project. They appeared to have fallen into the same trap that so-many other
well intentioned miners had. No matter why these terrible events take place I really dislike
witnessing these circumstances, because it promotes bad publicity for all mining.
Sure mining is risky, yet even so-called legitimate operations fail due to the lack of practical
knowledge and homework, or to unforeseen circumstances. Although, as I’ve said before, I feel
that most beginners fail because they depend upon people that appear to be knowledgeable, but are
really charlatan’s or nitwits’s that incorrectly advise the owners as to the real value of the ore.
A few people asked me to assay selected samples of Grande River Mines ore from time to time,
which I did, but was never able to find any values. Nonetheless, that should not be construed to
mean that goodies were not present. Likewise, it should be also stated that I did not conduct
exhaustive investigations into what their “ore” really contained. And, before anyone states
categorically that a sample doesn’t contain goodies, all reasonable attempts should be made to
prove such a statement. During my microscopic examinations of their pulverized rock I did notice
an abundance of crystals about 1 to 40 microns, that sure resembled the appearance of diamonds.
But, I wouldn’t want to make the statement as to what these crystals are without a lot more
examination. Whatever these tiny crystals are they do deserve further testing, by those willing to
spend the bucks, and time.
Just before we started drilling and blasting on the air hole, there was the foul odor being emitted
like something had been dead for a very long time. Seemingly, only I could smell it with clarity. I
had smelt this type of odor before, and it was in the cave with the goat skeletons. Then one day,
like it had come it vanished. Could the smell be the decomposed bodies of Spanish Miners slumped
over stacks of Gold Bars guarding them even in death? Or is it only decaying bats in an associated
cave? If I ever needed proof that we were exceedingly close to a large cave this was it. The trouble
is how far away from it are we?
By February 1993 we had finished excavating the air hole as much as possible. The hole, as
expected kept getting bigger and bigger, and eventually opened-up into a couple of small rooms
that several of us could stand in. We found large cracks in the floor suggesting that a major cavern
is close at hand. In addition, it was apparent that significant leaching had occurred, for even some
of the limestone had turned to chalk, and there was flow stone on some of the sides of the cavern
walls. Could this be the top of the cavern that people have been seeking these many years? Or does
it lead to a cavern that is lined with gold or silver, making the Bridal Chamber pale in comparison?
One thing for sure, we touched a place of Mother Nature never seen by human eyes that is coupled
with the promise of pleasure yet to come.
Jack thinks, due to the instrument readings, that we are within 25 feet of the objective. I on the
other hand am a bit more skeptical of too much optimism, and prefer to think we are well within a
hundred feet of making contact. The main reason for this pragmatic thinking is to not let myself or
others down by being wrong. Of course that could be considered as being pessimistic, but it’s really
not. Instead it’s sort’a like being cautiously optimistic. The trouble is, an inch in mining is often the
same as a mile. The real question is when will the spirits of the Caballo’s or Mother Nature permit
us to taste and touch the fruits of our labor?
Could it be that anyone who seeks the Caballo treasure, whether mineral or gold bars are destined
to futility? Are we, and more specifically, am I, here to work out or pay a bunch of Karmic dues for
my past life’s deeds? If there is such a thing as Karma, which certainly seems to have merit, was I a
murdering marauding bandit or one of the ruthless Conquistadores? God I hope not!
Just about the time we were wrapping up the shaft excavation, and on another nearby surface
mineral reconnaissance we accidentally stumbled upon what looked like a cave opening. Sure
enough, after we crawled through the opening it was part of a much larger structure. Like most
cave openings, pack rats and squirrels also inhabited this place. And as always, they have the nasty
habit of leaving cholla and prickly pear thorns lying everywhere. This opening was no exception,
and when we got out we spent more time removing the cactus thorns than exploring. These
damnable thorns have the ugly habit of breaking off in the skin, especially in the butt, where they
can fester for weeks. Anyway, there is a old newspaper article regarding a particular cave’s
location, that I had found during my historical research activities in the Albuquerque library
archives. In my opinion, because of all the written details it fits this cave’s location to a tee. I really
do believe that we have stumbled upon a major discovery, and I’ll not go into location details for
obvious reasons. I will say this though, when we investigated the crawl spaces we were
disappointed, because it didn’t go to what I wanted it to. Despite my displeasure, I cannot get-over
how the entrance was obviously blasted shut, and the amount of air gushing out of the opening was
strong enough to blow my hat off. In contrast, and once inside the opening the gushing air wasn’t
noticeable, suggesting that we were right beside the real entrance. The air didn’t blow all the time
and when it did there was no air blowing outside. Which means an obvious breathing subterranean
structure. Is this cave, and I’ve seen some mighty big ones, the entrance to all the goodies? Maybe,
and one day I’ll be back to see if this is one of Father La Rue’s mythical sealed doors.
CHAPTER 30
The Devils Brigade
By keeping our eyes and ears open we began to hear the distant rumbling of battle drums. And on
the northern horizon there was a thick boiling menacing green fog. Sure enough, the traitorous
bureaucrats and the GangGreens had amalgamated and were preparing war on all that would dare
use the land. Even though this menace was over a hundred miles away their bolts of lightening
struck terror in us all.
Why would the State be doing this, especially when there are so many existing punitive rules and
laws on the books now? There can be only one explanation, they wanted to exterminate any and all
remaining Freemen.
All during 1992 I kept hearing the slogan “Mine and Cattle free by 93”, chanted by
environmentalists. Even the U.S. Legislative bodies were ballyhooing for reforms to restrict mining
Nationally. It was becoming painfully clear that someone was out to do away with the little
prospectors and miners, as well as ranchers. This became especially true when George Bush signed
HR 5503, which will cost all people who have mining claims on public land $100.00 per claim, to
be paid directly to the BLM. According to a few written accounts I’ve seen, the Govt feels that it
needs the money worse than the ground needs holes, and now we must rent the right to claim.
When I started doing more research into recent history on local public lands, I found that mining
claims in Sierra County had decreased 50% from 1991 to 1992. And without any doubt there will
likely be at least another 50% drop in the number of claims after August 1993 due to the extortion
of 5503.
I’ve had many discussions with individuals and mining companies, and all said that they are
dropping all their marginal Claims, keeping only the best. One thing for sure, there will be fewer
discoveries and few, if any, prospectors.
The little guy simply cannot afford to absorb these new scandalous rental fees, and in the long run
all commodity prices will go sky high. The average person may doubt this, but the spotted owl
drove lumber prices through the roof.
The Federal department of Office Management and Budget (OMB) wrote in the federal register
that HR 5503 will bring in an additional 100 million dollars of revenue, and not cause any
significant damage to the mining industry. Well, people can believe what they want, but 5503 spells
death to the little guy, and eventually to the rest of the West.
Attempting to tackle the Eco-SS, Mr. Ritch (County Mgr.), Mr. Gooding (County
Commissioner), both honorable men, and myself made a jaunt to the Capital (Santa Fe) to speak
out against the state’s HB 556. Frankly speaking, we sure got a lesson as to how the ecoist’s treat
the voting Public. Basically, we were the banquet being served-up to the cannibalistic nature of the
politicians.
After getting our bearings straight in these chambers of legislative nightmares, it became
transparently clear that the radical environmentalists meant nothing short of eradication of
prospectors, small miners, and community sovereignty.
While I was having lunch on this freezing 1993 February day, and waiting for our turn to speak
against the proposed legislative craziness I noticed that the greenies had groups of school kids who
were being coaxed as to what to say. As I listened to the garbage being spoon fed to the kids
directly behind me I couldn’t resist turning around and saying, remember kids, don’t believe
everything adults tell you. And that there are always two sides to every issue, and that miners are
not the bad people some grown-ups would have you believe. Naturally, the greenie in-charge of
these couple of kids gave me a go-to-hell look.
Back in the legislative chambers (house floor) Mr. Gooding, Mr. Ritch and I waited as one after
another environmentalist was allowed to make his or her case. No opposition was yet allowed.
Then the grade school kids, one by one, were given preference to talk to the legislative body, but
not us three.
Maybe after the kids get through we can have our say. Nope, that was not to be. More
environmentalists are allowed to talk and drag the clock till late evening. Then the female ring
leader is allowed to do her song and dance. The Chairman of the house committee says to this
female creature that he’s going to close the floor at 5 PM sharp and told her to keep her remarks to
a minimum so that the opposition could be heard. Well, this female thing continues motoring her
mouth till 5 PM. Graciously, the Chairman allows 4 dissents, which lasted a total 30 minutes in
contrast to the environmentalist’s all day episode.
I just couldn’t understand how our Govt would allow such a farce to continue like they did. For
one thing, why were grade school kids allowed to talk before dissenting adults? Later I was to learn
that these kids were hi-jacked from school near Silver City, and bussed across the State without
their Parents consent or knowledge. For a few weeks there was a lot of scuttle-butt about the
kidnapping of the school kids. But, naturally the whole died into oblivion without any of the
greenies being so much as slapped on the wrists for such an unthinkable act.
There is without doubt that some people and industries do cause limited pollution to the air, water
and land. I can understand people’s concern for a desirable life style reasonably free of
contaminates that foul the fundamentals of life. However, even though a few rotten apples can spoil
the barrel, that is not justification for ruining the lives of everyone else.
On another one of my initial trips to the Roundhouse with the Sanders Brothers, Mr. Rivera and
Mrs. Brenda Thompson we were informed by our Senator John Smith that the proposed NM
mining law HB 556 was a tragedy, and Representative Robert Light said it was insane. Of course
these statements were said in private not able to be heard by the greenies nor any other
representative.
By this time my financial resources were depleted to the point of chaos, yet I dared not quit in the
middle of this fight. With help from very special people and what little money I had left I tried to
fight the new proposed mining law and the implied heinous regulations in any manner I legally
could.
Unfortunately, I was terribly naive, and didn’t know how to navigate these perilous tunnels of
laws. Consequently, I was relegated to just trying to speak out against the impending doom during
legislative committee hearings.
During one of the early hearings, the environmentalists were actually trying to have all the mines
closed. And, because the miners therefor would need employment, the radical EcoElites suggested
the miner’s be employed to fill in the mined holes. When my moment came to speak, I suggested
that the holes in the ground they wanted to cover over were often homes to bats, snakes and other
critters, so the wise greenies shut up about possibly destroying the habitats of bats.
The greenies are always saying that the tailings cause pollution, because the rain leaches out the
so-called toxic minerals. But, I find it strange that both plant and critter has made these piles into
homes. Furthermore, these piles are not killing off any of the surrounding area, in-fact, it looks as
though the leached minerals, are actually helping the soil. I have visited hundreds of old mine
tailings or muck piles, and without exception all manner of plant has taken root.
It seems to stand out adamantly clear that the multi-national corporations are feeding these green
female vipers. And, as an added bonus, they gave them permission to excavate the testicle fortitude
of the few remaining prospectors and would-be miners. One of these green female fiends had the
audacity to say that all mines should be closed, and that we have all the gold we need. What an
absurd statement. The more gold or any metal in circulation makes the prices of all commodities go
down, and ultimately raises the standard of living even for these female beasts, who I’ll bet have
some gold stashed away. By the way – all these green women looked like they just stepped out of a
jungle combat operation. Their hair looked as though rats had found a new home, while the toe
sacks they camouflaged their bodies in failed to cover their storm troopers boots. You simply
would not believe what green can do to a woman’s mental stability. Of course, I have my doubts
that these creatures are really women, cause Dante’s Inferno would not even want these beastly
looking feminist’s.
When I was allowed to speak, which was seldom, I was extremely self-conscience, afraid that I’d
make a fool of myself and concerned that I’d say the wrong thing. There were so many issues to
speak about and try to refute that it was simply overwhelming. Often, I felt intimidated and so
furious my legs would tremble and my voice would crack. And I came to realize what a squealing
pig must feel like when its just been stuck.
Ever since childhood I’ve heard the phrase “tongue tied”, well I finally became privy to exactly
what that adage meant. While attempting to plead my case to the representatives with an injured
back, and from moment to moment wondering if I was going to fall down, my tongue actually froze
to my gums, and I had to pry it off the inside bottom of my mouth to continue speaking. Talk about
an embarrassing minute, my self-esteem just went through the floor.
Even though I had previously attended several of these hearings, this time I had the distinct
feeling that I was on trial for my life. I often heard my self quitely asking myself why were these
politicians acting so grossly to the very people they are suppose to serve. Didn’t they care for or
have any respect for the Constitution?
Without exception, when it came time for a vote I watched in abject horror and rage as they voted
in favor of this monstrous bill. To heap insult upon injury I never saw one of these elected servants
ever read the bill slapped down before them just prior to casting their yea votes. How could our
elected representatives justify doing this to the people they are sworn to protect? There is a saying
in the halls of congress, “while the legislature convenes no man is safe.” This statement is
apparently a truth, but has the stench of a sewer.
During one of the final committee hearings, and on another issue, I waited to hear what a BLM
representative had to say. This wise BLM bureaucrat proposed that it become a crime for people to
leave behind on public or private property the residue of burnt copper wires. This benevolent
BLM’r further wanted stiff fines to be placed upon the property owner for failure to clean-up
someone’s else’s mess. When this character got through I asked to be heard and I was granted time
to speak on this issue. I told the representatives about how the BLM had known of copper wire
being burned upon BLM managed (public) land. And that the BLM knew who had done this deed
and who was subsequently arrested. I further explained to the representatives that it was BLM’s
responsibility according to this BLM’ers own words to clean up the mess, and that the BLM had
roped off the area in question weeks earlier. I went on to say that the BLM in their infinite wisdom
covered over with dirt the contaminated area and allowed rain to wash the so-called toxic residue
away. The committee chairman said to the BLM agent that perhaps the committee should punish
the BLM, and the Agent turned red in the face. When the committee adjourned the BLM agent said
to me “why didn’t I mind my own business?” I just smiled, and said quietly to myself at least I
exposed this rat to the light of day and stalled their regulatory zest a little.
The environmental community obviously was able to somehow convince all the politicians to
vote in favor of HB 556. It seems reasonable to ask what kind of persuasion did the slimy green
thugs use? As a result of watching first hand their insidious behavior I really believe that the
politicians voted the way they did in order to get some kind of pet project funded or funds put into
their political war chests, or they did what is politically correct by compromising their souls by
going along to get along. In other words, I believe they sold-out to the radical special interest’s.
Furthermore, it is evident to me that they did not consider the devastating consequences of their
despicable and treasonous actions. Or, could it be that they didn’t care one way or the other, they
got their goodies, and to hell with everyone else?
Not one of the elected representatives wanted to, or would talk about how this mining bill was
going to effect the Constitutional Rights of the individual. Nor, how it was going to affect the
Rights of Private Property Owners. Nor, what was likely to happen to local economies. No one
wanted to discuss how this bill was preempting each County’s authority and thereby destroying not
only the living standards of the individuals, but creating a future fiscal nightmare for the local
municipalities.
By regulating through a permitting process what was once guaranteed Rights has now become a
licensed Privilege. But a far worse deed is on the socialist’s agenda. That being to set a precedence
of regulating what a person can and cannot do on privately owned property. In all Dictatorships and
Socialist Countries, the State owns the Land and only Permits the individual to toil in the soil, then
Takes most of the goods produced.
When Land, Public or Private, ceases to belong to the people, due to State control, there can be
NO legitimate Ownership of anything, and thus no sovereignty. This type of irresponsible behavior
sets the stage for the total abandonment of any and all personal Rights and the creation of
tyrannical rule.
There is no-doubt many Americans would think that this could never happen here in America. I
can only say look at what happened in Waco or to Randy Weaver’s family, and many other citizens
across this once proud Land. And, if these incidents don’t make sense, look at Russia or China.
Furthermore, after these two tragic incidents were practically forgotten the sharpshooters who
killed U.S. citizens were only verbally reprimanded, and are still employed. What does this say
about the FBI, DEA and the entire Judicial system?
The environmentalist’s are very clever. They exempted the sand, gravel, dirt, and quarry
operations from the abhorrent HB 556. The reason, as one environmentalist told me in one of the
after hours meetings in which Gary King was present and could hear what this individual ecoist
said, which was –“these sand and gravel companies had the votes, and miners didn’t.” The truth, in
my opinion, was that if the construction industries had to fall under the same rules it would stop all
building activities and the people would get wise as to what’s really happening behind the green
mask.
When I confronted Rep. Gary King, the sponsor of this treasonous 556, about the unfairness and
out-right discrimination by exempting sand, and gravel operations which are mining in any sense of
reality, my ears heard him say in front of everyone that they’d get them next year.
Rats as you know cannot stand the purifying rays of daylight. Instead they scurry around in
darkness, and thrive on secrecy, and any kind of scrutiny is a curse to them. Unfortunately for
Americans, our political system seems to be dominated and entrenched with packs of political
hacks and rats.
Probably the most troubling aspect of HB 556 is that a mining commission is to be formed to
protect the habitat of all kinds of rats. The new mining commission slated to control all lands within
the state boundaries, will be the very ones that have shown utter contempt for the people. To
enforce their will they even went to the state treasury and appropriated (stole) the money to bury us
all.
The environmentalist’s know the only way to accomplish their goals is to attack the fundamentals
from as many directions as possible. So, if they loose on one front, most of the others will win. In
other words, the divide and conquer rule really works. Isn’t it interesting that Kruschev said “we’ll
destroy you from within.” It’s also rather ironic that while we were trying to prepare a fight with
the Feds, the eco-terrorists attacked from the rear. Who would have expected so many turn-coats in
our own back yard? Obviously, a bitter pill to swallow, but a needed lesson as to what is really
going on. For me, I no longer have any doubts that our entire legislative and judicial system is
corrupt and morally bankrupt.
By making regulations so punitive and costly to conform to the radical pseudo-scientific
environmentalist’s theories they have not only managed to demolish individual initiative by
destroying the incentives, they knowningly are making this Country dependent upon foreign
mineral sources.
It does not take an astro-physicist to recognize that our politicians for decades have been
systematically reducing our collective ability to compete. And, have slaughtered the American
Standard of Living we have long enjoyed. Of course, the real tragedy is that the politicians would
not stand up against these monsters. I guess it’s possible they acted as they did out of fear; but
much more likely, they are the devils brigade and doing only what comes natural to their kind.
Probably the most outrageous thing about HB 556 is that the People were not informed as to how
the politicians were going about destroying their dreams and ideals. There can be little doubt to
anyone who has, at least, the brain of flea that the State is forming a State sanctioned and controlled
mining monopoly. How could I come to this conclusion? Several years ago there were a few books
published about the future wars between the Corporate Giants acting in collusion with the various
world wide Govt’s. Ask yourself as to what’s the difference of any public corporate entity and any
Govt? Neither has a responsible head, nor soul, and both have an abundance of face-less
bureaucrats (managers) who are constantly pointing fingers.
I still hear people say that this is still the best place to live in the whole world. This is true. But
for how much longer, and compared to what?
It seems self-evident to anyone who is not wearing blinders or ear plugs that HB 556 and similar
Acts are encouraging the de-industrialization of this great Nation. As well as, reducing the people
to sub-human existence and serfdom. Oh sure, our elected so-called leaders say that we have to
become better educated in order to compete in the New World Order. So, bone crushing, body
trashing corporate downsizing called restructuring is the new name of the game. Yet, they don’t cut
bureaucratic fat. In addition, they conveniently forget to say that if everyone was educated to work
in whatever these new fields of employment are that the sheer weight of the competition would
create low paying jobs. Furthermore, if everyone had PhD’s, they’d still have to be trained for the
job in-order to fulfill the expectations of employment. So, in other words, all the politicians are
really saying is gobbliegoop and double talk.
Look at computers, when these wonderful new picks and shovels were introduced those that
knew how make them work commanded high incomes and prestige. But look at them now, they’re
no longer viewed as special nor paid as a privileged class.
The radical special interest groups know full well that in this day and age the pen is mightier than
the sword. And when HB 556 came up for a final vote, it passed one hundred percent. No wonder
the American people are turned-off to the political system, because they know we really haven’t
had a say in politics for a very long time.
Lot’s of people say that the American people are apathetic, that’s just bullhockey, the American
people are 10 times smarter than any pseudo-intellectual says they are. American’s have known and
are learning every day that the game is rigged. Besides, we could vote the rascals out every election
and it wouldn’t solve a thing.
The problem isn’t the idiot politician’s who have come to think that their shit doesn’t stink, it’s
the appointed parasitic bureaucrats that suck on the public teat or dine at the public trough. As these
ecomobsters steal your money they have the audacity to call themselves professionals. Maybe,
these eco-gangsters consider themselves as professionals because they have found a way to legally
TAKE your gold via permits and taxes. Occasionally, I’d call their hand on the use of the word
“professional” when they are describing their jobs. So far, not one politician or bureaucrat has
challenged me when I remind them that they are only public servants, nothing more, and certainly
not professionals; for that term is exclusively reserved for business people who risk their financial
necks in the economic jungle. Other than back-stabbing I wonder what risks the ecocrats take in
their ivory towers?
I have to say categorically, and without remiss that the radical Environmental, Archaeological,
Paleontological, Ecological and Conservational communities have declared total war upon all
American Ideals. And, the very existence of what America is supposed to stand for is at stake.
The federal legislated ACTS listed in Part II of this doc-u-drama, and the other abominable
actions by elitists will eventually have dire consequences on us all. The only consolation that I can
find is that the scythe of the Grim Reaper swings eventually in both directions. And, what the
radical socialistic environmentalist’s sow they will eventually reap. The trouble is we’re all going
to get to enjoy their hell fire and brimstone for years to come. Unfortunately, we humans seem to
have the amazing ability to disregard the errors or lessons of yesterday and thus enjoy repeating
them. I wonder if we will ever learn?
I’ve contemplated many detestable actions of revenge to somehow equalize the pain these
ecoterrorists have caused me. The trouble with that kind of logic is that I will have succumbed to
the same level as the common criminal, or become just like the sleazy bureaucrats and the greenies.
Besides, I’ve never believed that two wrongs make a right. So, the only logical alternative is to
expose the ecorats, and take whatever pleasure I can watching them scurry to their hell holes.
As in anything, there are always two sides of a door. And what I found out about myself is that I
went willingly to the wall, in spite of the risks, fighting the tyrannical green goo. As a result, I
gained an inner knowledge that I at least stood up and was counted. As a result of my feeble protest
efforts I got a glimpse of what our founding Fathers must have felt when they were all alone, and
yet had to risk everything to fight for what they believed. The only difference, so-far, is that I
haven’t had to put my life on the line. But, as an attorney in Sierra County said to me, “before this
is over, a lot of you are going to die.”
When white-man first arrived in this Country they took by force what was needed from the land,
often at the expense of the American Indian. As you know the Govt would make treaties with the
Indians, yet, when it became profitable to break these lawful contracts the Govt did so with greased
ease and impunity, often under the guises of peace and friendship.
Now, the Govt is treating the White Man with the same utter contempt. Our Govt made a sacred
treaty with the people calling it the Constitution(s). But look what’s been happening: the politicians
have amended, taxed and permitted away our fundamental Freedoms and the faceless bureaucrats
are relentlessly regulating away all remaining Rights in the name of public welfare and ecological
order. So, based upon what has happened to the Indians, there seems to be truth to the old saying
“what goes around comes around.” Maybe we deserve these consequences, because we didn’t act
when we had the chance.
Finally with a mashed nose from the green blows and just barely enough money to feed my gas
guzzling stead, I loaded up what few belongings I had and headed back to Texas, where I could at
least eat in respected company.
By the end of September 1993 I had written and sent many lengthy letters to the New Mexico
Energy, Minerals & Natural Resources Department (NM EM&NR). These long letters contained
my personal feelings and comments regarding the proposed HB 556 regulations. Do I have much
hope that the State will allow the little guy to survive and be able to continue his historical heritage
of digging in the Earth? All I can say is that it doesn’t look good.
As a result of the politician’s dastardly deeds, and total lack of finances I’ve put the Cable Claims
on hold till I know to what extent the damaging regulations are going to cost in both time and
money. And of course, the question I’m always asking myself is: when is Mother Nature going to
allow the Cable Claims to bear fruit? And why is Mother Nature allowing the EcoHags to take
away all that I’ve worked for? Jack has always said that “great deeds require great effort.” Well I
know we’ve put out the effort, but it may not have been great enough. Of course, destiny may be
playing a part, and when the time is right it will happen. Therefore, and until my ship comes in I
will continue to enjoy the one thing that money can’t buy, which is - abundant poverty.
The only advantage I have in order to keep my sanity is that I know we have found something
monumental. And, that I have not compromised my belief that a person does not have to resort to
fraudulent activities in order to be successful. Nor, have I succumbed to becoming a red green
socialist. What’s the famous American saying “give me liberty or give me death”, well I personally
would rather be dead than lying in a traitorous bed.
After arriving in Houston I thought I was leaving the New Mexico storm clouds behind, but the
green slime is doing a number on Texan’s with their psychotic Wet Lands, Storm Drainage, Clean
Air and Water Acts. And, as I watch the news, read the newspapers and a variety of magazines this
Plague seems to be encircling the globe.
During the last days of October while watching Houston PBS channel, low and behold, there’s
the Texas Parks and Wildlife talking about endangered species. And what’s the focus? You guessed
it the desert bighorn sheep. What was really offensive was the new program of making the State
Parks into commercial operations with each game warden the new entrepreneur. Now, it’s clear as
to what’s in store for the rest of the West.
Late in December, 1993, I received a set of proposed rules for HB 556. The previous frightful
rules the ecologists proposed were tame in comparison to these new EM&NR (NM Energy Mining
& Mineral Resources) department regulations.
I thought this agency would have at least considered what the opposition had to say; but, no way,
for these bureaucrats have clearly designed the oven in which to burn all the opposition. I had said
almost a year earlier that I thought that the State had already drafted a set of rules, and would spring
them on us at the last minute. Judging from the contents, there’s absolutely no doubt in my mind
that the State was merely going through the formalities, and had already crafted most of the nails of
all New Mexico’s miner’s coffins.
In March of 1994 I received the latest set of revised proposed HB 556 regulations, drafted by the
NM EM&NR. They cleverly changed some of the hideous rules, but the end result is death to all
who would dare dig in Eco-rule country.
It is possible that I deserve the events coming my way, because I did not stand and fight when I
saw the same thing happening to other industries. I once heard it said that “they came and drug the
man down the street away, and I looked the other way, then they came and took my neighbor, and I
turned away, now they’ve come for me, and who’s left to help me?”
Who is and has been nourishing these environmental monsters? I can only make speculative
guesses. Nonetheless, I do suspect it was and is the international (multi-national) corporations that
have no sense of patriotism. Who else could have funded them so expertly all these years? Oh sure
the greenies have bewitched and beguiled ordinary folks with their preposterous lies, thereby
extracting donations and neatly intermingling as though they are one of the common folks. In
contrast, that doesn’t explain why they are tolerated in the halls of congress. I wonder, if the saying
“birds of a feather flock together” and “the beltway bandits” are synonymous?
Fortunately, it’s much easier to spot these disguised eco-degenerates than just a couple of years
ago. If you’ll look closely, the green women all seem to have the jaws of the female creature in the
movie “Alien”. The only difference is these imposters of human females aren’t as good looking as
the “alien” who are dressed in their sacks, boots, and kinky rats nest hair.
My first warning of impending doom, although I didn’t recognize the threat, was in 1965, while
preparing a homesite in Alabama. As I and my father-in-law were chopping trees on a hot, quiet
afternoon I noticed a single dark cloud on the horizon. I said to Troy, look at that, and we both
stood in awe as this ominous black shape silently raced towards us as fast as any jet. When it was
directly overhead I could see that it was boiling and churning, as if seething in anger, and I said to
myself I’m sure glad that I’m not on the receiving end of that evil seething brew. I asked Troy what
he thought it was, and he just looked at me for the longest time, and then picked up his axe and
started chopping again without a saying a single word. I don’t know who or what was stirring this
pot of stew as it flew from East to West, but one thing for sure, someone was in for a frightful night
of wrath of a witches might.
Looking back in time, it now seems obvious—these savage females emerged upon the American
landscape in the 1960’s by fortifying their positions under the banner of women’s lib. By blaming
men for all their tales of woe they enlisted the aid of naive women and set about infiltrating the
sanctity of Freemen’s domain. Once in position of judicial, governmental and corporate power
these haters of men created all kinds of camouflaged, guilt laced and deceptive snares to ambush
and confine the very men that had given them what they said they needed and wanted. However,
and unfortunately for the majority of real women they too are loosing their possessions to the
feminists seeking domination. Take for example, the latest craze of child abuse. First of all, socalled “abuse” has been a fact of human existence and will not be regulated nor lawed away. As a
matter of fact, governments are the biggest abuser’s of social behavior by legitimizing or
criminalizing peoples actions on a moment to moment basis, without regard to the realities of
human nature. Govt cannot exist without problems, so it behooves them to create as many fires as
possible, which are really disguised takings and thereby perpetrating more misery.
My second warning came in 1989 while trying to assist and care for a lady friend, who’s garment
was riddled with cancer. One evening while trying to catch up on a little rest a ghastly green
distorted face appeared upon the wall at the foot of the bed. I watched this amazing phenomenon
for several minutes as it appeared to be laughing at me. Finally, a huge green slimy tongue came
out of its grotesque mouth, and it amazingly and simply swallowed itself. At the time I presumed it
was my mind conjuring up the pictorial drama that was consuming my friend, but now, I’m pretty
sure it was a manifestation of green ecogoop running amuck and coming my way. If my vision has
any validity, then the EcoRats will consume themselves. Yet, I can’t help suspecting that I also will
be consumed long before this menace self-destructs.
By the way, just before leaving New Mexico for Houston I saw another sight that made my skin
crawl. About midnight I was dropping off some papers at a TorC motel for a friend. As I drove into
the parking lot, low and behold there on the other side of the street was one of those menacing
black vehicles I had heard so much about. Naturally, and previously to actually seeing one for
myself I was always a little skeptical. Nonetheless, here was a quite but creepy looking solid black
suburban. Even the windows were jet black and practically blended into the shadows. I still didn’t
think a whole lot about the vehicle till I noticed that it resembled a porcupine with all the aerials
sticking out of the roof and windows. I was tempted to walk across the street and knock on the
door; but chickened out. So now I’ll never know for sure if this was one of those “men in black”
incidents.
I next find myself asking what about the men who subscribe to the green socialist agenda? Well,
there’s just not much worth saying, except that they remind me of wimpy suck-face scum bellied
pekkerwoods, who have sold their souls to the green malignancy. While in the New Mexico Capital
one of these fraudulent men said to me, thinking I’d succumb to his ploy, that we should not
tolerate foreigners coming into New Mexico and exploiting the metals. These same hypocrites also
chant about Global economy and how we are One World. So, it appears they talk out of both sides
of their mouths at the same time.
While the EcoElites stomp on our Rights, these same ruby eyed, golden throated, silver tongued
Greens watch the genocide in urban America. I ask myself why don’t these wise ecocrats try to
clean up the polluted inner cities, instead of creating a miners holocaust. Obviously, the inner city’s
problems are the result of past wise bureau-ratic nightmares, and anyone able to peek into the
future can see the ruin of tomorrows western frontier.
It certainly appears that somehow and soon that the Cable Claims must get opened. Ask yourself
what’s anything going to be worth other than hard tangible assets when the New World Order
fulfills its quest of domination? When I look around all I see is a 1930’s spectra ravaging the once
fertile valleys of hope. With the yoke of HB 556 around our necks we’ve somehow have to find a
hand hold and hang on. I know I can’t quit my dream because the Ecoists will have won. Likewise
and most probably they will still kill me with their insidious reclamation regulations.
As I look forward into the immediate future there’s not much doubt they will make an example
out of someone, and I or another prospector/miner will do just fine. Now that I can’t dig much
without encouraging their wrath, I am resigned to bide my time. Somehow and soon I sure wish
Lady Luck would send another partner to help finish this task.
Perhaps my destiny is not to enjoy the metallic fruits of the Caballo’s, even though the fire is still
as bright as when I first started this journey. Maybe, the call of the wild was merely to hone my
pick into a pen and expose the predatory green beasts for what they are. Conceivably, it’s time to
“Remember the Alamo”. As in the movie, there’s a line being drawn in the sand, there is no place
to run and hide, you’re either on one side or the other. So stand and fight for Right, or take flight.
.
Prospectors, Miners, Rockhounders, Treasure Hunters, Sierra County Residents, your greatest
asset is in your back yard. Somehow you must take charge of the land. And, inhabitants of TorC
you better secure the Sierra Caballo Mountains because like it or not, believe it or not your future
survival lies in the mountain’s mysterious depths. Ask yourselve’s: why does the various Govt
agencies want this area so badly? And, if these agencies would go to such great and dastardly
lengths to steal these mountains then perhaps you too ought to fight to keep them.
All of Sierra County is priceless, and everyone should stand shoulder to shoulder to fight off the
hoards of masquerading EcoRats. TorC’ers, you know that your city is a wreck and definitely
becoming a landfill. It will take massive amounts of funds to revitalize your infrastructure, as well
as make you proud to say you live in exciting Truth or Consequences. How are you going to get
these funds? You know the Govt is not going rebuild for you. In fact, they are plotting to dismantle
what decay is left. The only logical answer is to - encourage the discovery of commercial minerals,
lost mines, lost hoards of treasure, and the Caballo’s underground network of tunnels. Think about
it. TorC could again be on the map as THE place to be. Adventure movies will be made, romantic
novels written, and at the very least your self-respect will ride high on the contours of the desert
Southwest.
Although this story surrounds me it’s really about you, your desires, your children and the place
you call home.
CHAPTER 31
Let There Be Light
1994 witnessed me occasionally writing herein as well in newspapers trying to express my
concerns about the future of the mineral industry. And, at the same time, driving a truck cross
country to satisfy my bodily needs.
Being a long haul truck driver was never on my wish list. But, it costs a great deal of money just
to exist, and I had to do something to keep the wolves away. Even though truck drivers are often
considered stupid and scum, at least it is an honorable profession. I am not forced to compromise
my sense of moral values, although many a trucking company will try to make the drivers drive
illegally. Just to give you an idea of what I mean, many small or fly-by-night companies say to their
drivers to be creative with their logs. What they are saying without actually becoming legally liable
is for the drivers to lie on their logs to show that they drove or worked less hours than they really
did. The reason is because D.O.T. regulations require that drivers drive not more than ten hours per
day. But, trucker’s pay is almost always based upon the amount of miles driven, so it behooves the
trucker and company to fudge. The downside to being creative with the log is that there are terrible
fines and possible loss of driver’s license. So, in my way of looking at driving for a living is to stay
in compliance and not compromise my future. Therefor, because I’ve now got over a years
experience and feeling that I could get a job with a reputable company I refused to continue putting
my neck on the chopping block.
While driving a big rig carries considerable responsibility and risk, at least I don’t have to
compete in todays sales arena. Even though I enjoy and would like to be back in sales, today it
seems that everyone is selling the same thing to only a few customers. Consequently, and due to
severe competition, most, if not all sales rely upon some kind of deceit, like bait and switch. Thus, I
simply cannot stand to knowingly lie or participate in the current game to get a sale regardless of
how bad I need the money.
By August 1995 I had managed to save a couple of dimes, but due to BLM’s annual
“Maintenance Fees” I had to pay many of these thin tokens to the Fed’s in order to stay in rental
compliance. Unfortunately, I didn’t have enough money stored away and was only able to keep 12
of our original 27 Cable Claims, and when I can afford to I’ll re-claim the area temporarily lost.
The first part of October saw me loose my cool, and I quit my driving job. I just couldn’t stand
the circumstances I found myself in. Accordingly, I decided that I would go to the Caballo’s before
I tried to get another driving job. But, before I went I spent the next 10 days getting this book as
prepared as possible for presentation to PCM and the Sierra County Commissioners. My intention
in writing this book has always been to advise Sierra County residents as to the importance of
mining, and not let the EcoElites get away scot-free with the terrible harm they are doing to
freemen.
Boy, did it feel good to be back in the Land of Enchantment. And for the next three weeks I felt
like the guy I used to be. My first climb was back to the Adit/Shaft with Jack and Kirt. This
wonderful ordeal took us about two hours. Brother, was I out of shape due to sitting on my butt
driving. Even though I had a lame excuse, I was astonished at both Jack and Kirt who made it up
the mountain in the same time it took me. Jack was still recovering from open-heart surgery, and
Kirt had just completed eye surgery, and here I was huffing and puffing like some 80 year old.
After sitting around for about an hour reminiscing as to how great it was to be back Jack and I
went down the shaft. We collected samples, looked around, and as usual Jack proceeded to break a
few rocks with his side-kick sledge hammer. Due to Jack’s excavation it became quite noticeable
that when our current shaft is extended a few more feet we will no-doubt break into the upper
reaches of some kind of extensive cavernous system. But this adventure will, as usual have to wait
till financially better times.
The next several days Norman Chatfield and I traipsed all over the associated terrain. My
objectives were to put to rest as many mysteries as I could before my funds vanished.
We went to the area where tremendous volumes of air was emanating from that fascinating hole
in the ground. This time there was no rush of air. Furthermore, after respectable prospecting I had
to conclude that as interesting as I thought this hole was, it no-longer captivated me. I now realized
that this hole would require formidable amounts of time and money, neither of which I had.
Consequently, I had to once again store this hole in the pile of things to when there’s nothing else
worth pursuing.
Again, like the many times before I climbed the mountain in search of what looked like a possible
Spanish sealed entrance that I had inadvertently discovered years earlier. Seek, I did, but to no
avail. I re-found all the associated places. But, somehow, for some unbeknownst reason I could not
locate even the hole where the rattlesnake had intently watched me. Thus, this mystery remains just
that, an enticing memory.
By now, while prospecting many of the items I always meant to examine I was in the process of
becoming a total cripple. I could barely walk, little alone climb, due to excruciating pain. My new
pigskin boots were making my toe nails turn black and blue. So, I became relegated to terrain that
was not as precipitous. Norman and I walked many a-mile atop the mountain looking for jasperoid
outcrops, to provide me with clues as to why the Caballo’s should hold a King’s treasure. We found
and examined several of these outcrops. We broke many a rock looking for metallic mineralization,
but found none.
The obvious question that any legitimate prospector should ask when discovering one of these
jasperoidial outcrops on the top of mountain is why and how did they get here. These belt like
seams, resembling veins or dikes obviously have roots extending down deep. They’re huge clues,
but as yet, I’ve not been able to decipher the speech of Mother Nature.
As the days crept by I was beginning to wonder if my feet would ever heal. As a result of my
discomfort I took a couple days off from the field and started making calls upon friends not seen in
a couple years. Rex West heard I was in town and came by. He wanted me to go into the mountains
to help him locate mineralization associated with the latest geophysical studies on a group of
mining claims. Naturally, I agreed, whether my feet could hold up to the challenging terrain or not.
Rex was my friend, and anything I could do to assist him I would. Besides, I have always enjoyed
being in the mountains with him. Plus, who knows, perhaps he/we might get lucky and discover
something new.
On our way to the mountains we stopped at the KOA campgrounds to get some drinks, and too
our amazement there across the blacktop was a grizzly old-timer unhooking his burros from his
wagon. Luckily, Rex had his camera and took a picture of this covered wagon. This old looking
man, with beard to his belly always alluded Rex’s attempts to get his picture standing next to his
earthly rather ancient, but precious possessions. This picture can be viewed by going to my web site
and clicking on the RV page.
Fortunately, the climbing Rex took me to was not those terrible steep cliffs, and we found several
rich copper structures related to the geophysical anomaly. I must say that while we found these
mineralized structures the old timers in the 1800’s had found them too. Previously, Rex had used
Jack’s EM-16 to discover an unusually high anomaly in these Caballo foothills. To verify the EM16 readings, Rex and his associates hired a professional Geophysicist who used his EM-83 to
corroborate the EM-16. Much to my delight, the EM-83, a much more sophisticated instrument has
thus, indirectly, verified our EM-16 Cable Claims results.
During this prospecting escapade, North of Longbottom, in the metamorphosed granitic foothills
Rex led me to an area of a symbol carved in a flat rock, which to my knowledge no-one knew
existed till Rex’s discovery. The story related to this windmill looking stone carving indicates
where Doc Noss used a Spanish mine entrance to collect smelted gold bars. I had to admit that
when I added up all the geological evidence, obvious mineralization, combined with the EM-16
readings coupled to the hidden carving the tale could indeed be true.
Rex asked me what I’d do if I wanted to find this illusive entrance. I said, that by using the EM
data, tracing known mineral structures and utilizing the directions indicated by the carving a group
of people walking tight grids should be able to find enough evidence to discover a logical place to
start digging. But this type of endeavor would most likely take weeks to perhaps months. I further
suggested that before a walked pattern began I would hire the Geophysicist to conduct a tight grid
to better define the anomaly. Then and only then get about 5-10 trusted associates to carefully walk
the entire area, leaving no stones unturned. The downside to this activity would be that I could see
at least $30,000 being spent before a through systematic search could begin.
Just as we were winding down our mineral search, and heading back to the pick-up Rex found a
mangled, decomposed skeleton of what looked like the remains of a baby desert big horn sheep, but
I suppose it could also have been a goat or deer. I twisted off part of the rotten smelling leg with
hoof, and put it in a plastic bag. Upon returning to TorC I showed this fur covered bone to various
people, but none could verify what it was. That same night I attended a PCM meeting where I
asked the members what they thought it was. Most didn’t know. However, one member said he was
sure it was a fawn. Interestingly, he never thoroughly examined it, but perhaps he’s an expert in
such bones. Coincidentally, this same member later said he was previously employed to manage the
Fra Cristobals, before Ted Turner and Jane Fonda bought the Mountain Range, who just allowed
with welcome wide open arms these so-called state endangered sheep to be placed upon them.
Could it be that a “ringer” is now influencing PCM members? I hope not. During the first part of
1996 I was told by people I trust that I was wrong in the foregoing statement. However, till I
personally hear different I’m going to let the last few sentences stand. However, I must add, that I
do indeed often hear things incorrectly. And, if this is indeed the case then I apologize and retract
the “ringer” insinuation.
For the next several days Norman and I walked the Cable Claims terrain gathering mineralized
samples, which I would examine when I returned to Houston. Before heading out to the mountains
I always got breakfast at the same restaurant. While there, I would meet people not seen in years.
Thus, it was inevitable that Mr. Druze and I would meet again. We had several conversations and
he continued to emphasize that I should locate Rasmensen’s hidden trap door. This time I got a
large picture from Jack, and Mr. Druze showed me about where to look. Unfortunately, I could not
get-up the courage to withstand the pain to hunt for this hidden mine entrance.
Due to all the clues I wanted to explore I forced myself to buy a new pair of boots even though I
had not budgeted for this expense. As seems to be my luck, there was only one pair of boots in
town that would fit. Although these boots were better, they weren’t wide enough and still hurt like
hell. Because I couldn’t endure the pain I didn’t tighten them. Thus, I managed to sprain my ankle
jumping from boulder to boulder, which now left me completely relegated to the lowlands.
The last week in the mountains Norman and I scoured the granitic foothills just West of Cable
Canyon looking for anomalies as to why mineral deposition occurred in/on Cable Claims. We
found several gabbroic dikes intimate with the Gordon and Caballo Faults. One of these dikes in
the red up-thrusted and altered granite hills contained the exact same appearance as the dikes in
Cable and Indian Canyons. This was an important discovery, because it proved once and for all that
gabbroic dikes did not change mineral consistency, in the different stratas of granite or limestone,
as I had thought. Plus, it further demonstrated that the dikes are not only extensive, but did not get
the iron content from the Bliss. And, far more importantly their origins appear to emanate from the
Rift itself.
In the process of prospecting and collecting samples near the mouth of Cable Canyon we
stumbled upon two important clues. The first discovery came when we were in Cleto Springs. We
went there to dig up the barrel John Vance and I had discovered in the early part of 1993. When we
arrived at the sight it became apparent that we would have to dig extensively due to huge boulders
now covering this hidden rusted barrel.
Because time was becoming a precious commodity I decided to not excavate the barrel, instead
we examined the area trying to better understand why the barrel was there to begin with. In the
process, we noticed that someone many years ago went to the trouble of building some sort of
encampment. As we scrutinized this built-up area we noted a sunken place suggesting a mine shaft.
We started to dig, but our shovel broke. So, this discovery, if it is such, will as usual, have to wait.
Our examination indicated this area was up-thrusted at about a 45 degree angle, with one side
slickened, indicating movement deformation where there now resided a three foot wide seam of
fault gouge (clay). To top it off the granite on the west side of fault was decomposing, suggesting
possible mineralization.
When granite decomposes it’s really easy to dig, and suspecting the possibility of gold we
collected dozens of samples. When we got back to Norman’s home and started panning started
immediately.
When the bulk of the gravel was washed away we could see a minute trail of yellow suggesting a
bonanza. In order to better see these tiny yellow glints we borrowed Jack’s microscope. I could
barely believe my eyes peering through the lens at these beautiful golden spheres. Not trusting my
eyes I ran a couple chemical tests, and sure enough there was no doubt, we had struck it rich.
Now everything was beginning to make sense as to why the barrel was in this spring.
Furthermore, it supported my theory that there must be a mine shaft. But, why wasn’t this
monumental gold deposit discovered in recent times? The only logical reason we could ascertain at
the moment was that this gold was actually microscopic, and being balls would never easily
concentrate. We too had found it terribly difficult to keep the balls gathered due to the fact they
rolled like ball bearings.
With my money supply approaching zero, all I had time to do was collect representative samples
for later analysis. However, I was secretly thinking to myself - here’s my chance to stay in the
mountains and not have go back to driving trucks, as well as a way of acquiring the money
necessary to fund tthe Cable Claims.
The next most important item was to secure this discovery. So, before Norman and I claimed this
area I had to make sure the area was not currently owned. Even though we scoured the area and
found no mining claim monuments I still had to go to BLM and abstract it.
I couldn’t remember how to get to BLM in Las Cruces, so I called Rex, who was temporarily
living there to take me to BLM. Plus, this was a chance to meet with him before going back to
Houston. After completing the abstracting, Rex told me that he and the Noss Family was
considering claiming this same area. Apparently, he had just been to the area a couple days prior
with one of the Noss partners, who said that when she was a little girl Doc took her to this place,
where Doc had showed her a carved stone was that pointed to a Spanish mine entrance.
Incidentally, this same stone was found years earlier and is now in Rex’s possession.
This Noss story continues, indicating that Doc used to camp where Cleto had his shack. By the
way, not much of this dug-out and shack remains today. If you will remember, I said that back in
1982 I carted off an old set of antique steel head and foot boards to California from this same place.
Anyway, the newest epic in this drama says that Doc often slept here, while getting gold bars. The
entrance is supposed to be easily seen if you know where to look. I’m told the he used a knife to
pry up a flat rock that sealed the entrance.
Needless to say Norman and I claimed this place. Then, stories about Cleto started to emerge. I
always was under the assumption that Cleto was a simple sheep herder. This was partly true, but he
had also discovered a few profitable mines near Gold Dust, and he was noted for paying for his
supplies with gold nuggets.
By now the puzzle was beginning to fit together. After visiting BLM Rex invited me to visit
others who were pursuing the Doc Noss story. I told them about the gold balls, and the next day
they saw these precious little ball bearings for themselves. In addition, Rex took a sample from the
Cleto Springs discovery to see if they could collect these tiny beauties. Unbeknownst to me, at the
time they could not find any of these tiny yellow balls, so they sent the sample off for assay.
With time and money nearly exhausted I headed back to Houston. This non-stop 15 hour trip
allowed me plenty of time to reflect and to corral my thoughts and plan how I would proceed with
testing and looking for a job.
The very first item was to figure out how, and why these gold balls were in this decomposing
granite. Then I would have to figure out a way of collecting them, but that meant locating where
these precious beads actually resided in the rock.
Out from storage came my plastic gold pan, and in went the first sample originating from the
miraculous Cleto “X” spot. It took three washings to concentrate the first ten pound bag of large
and small gravel. Then I began the tedious and careful act of washing out the light material creating
a high grade concentrate. My anxiety level was in fast forward as I dumped this concentrate into a
glass dish to view under the microscope.
Something was dreadfully wrong! I couldn’t find a single bead of gold, and for that matter
nothing remotely resembling the precious yellow metal. I knew it was difficult to separate the black
sands from the roller bearings, but I should have, at least, found one. No such luck. No matter how
many times I would re-concentrate this concentrate there were no gold balls.
For the next several days I washed at least 200 pounds of gravel, and never found a glint of
yellow. Something was definitely amiss. What could I be doing to loose these beautiful beads?
Another four days passed and still not a sign of the yellow metal. By now it had become clear that
once again I managed to deceive myself. But how? So I started back-tracking to see what could
have gone awry. I was doing nothing different than when at Norman’s. So, somehow, I must have
contaminated the original samples. But where did the contamination come from?
Before Norman and I began panning we thoroughly rinsed his large rusted gold pan. I’ve always
known that in order to have some degree of accuracy I must reproduce results at least three times.
And, before we panned samples we washed his gold pan. We even went to the extent of pouring
concentrated HCl in the pan to remove rust, and even filled the pan with larger gravel and swilled
them around the pan to somewhat scour it clean.
However, no matter how meticulous I was, there just wasn’t a bead to be found. After
considerable thought, I had to conclude that Norman’s gold pan was the source of contamination.
But how? After many hours of hypothesizing, there could only be one answer. So I called Norman,
and sure enough - at sometime in the past, Norman had been using mercury in his pan to collect
gold. And, even though he cleaned his pan after use, the rusted pits must have collected minute
particles of gold laden mercury.
As you know mercury will eventually vaporize, especially during the New Mexico summers. So,
this mercury must have volatilized leaving balls of gold trapped in the rusted pits of Norman’s pan.
Even though we cleaned this pan it was not sufficient to get rid of these microscopic balls. So, in
due course, as we panned the gravel it must have dislodged some of these balls each time we
started a new sample. Therefor, much to my chagrin, I managed to once again momentarily live in a
fool’s paradise, wasting more precious time and money.
Just about the time I was completing all the collected Cleato tests Rex calls and informs me that
the assay was back. I told Rex that none of my tests produced even a glimmer of gold, and that the
Cleato Springs mining claim was worthless. But, Rex said he was told that the assay indicated the
sample held one ounce of gold. So, again, I was perplexed. How could I have missed this amount
with my acid digestions? Naturally, this cause me to suspect that I was somehow in error, and that I
would have to re-examine all the work I just completed. However, I made the decision that this
would have to wait, because I still had about one hundred pounds of Cable rocks to examine.
I cut and polished several Cable rocks and examined them microscopically. All I can say, after
weeks of assays, I found no credible amount of gold. Naturally this was disappointing to say the
least. However, I did find what looked like minute particles of PbS from the adit/shaft jasperoids.
Obviously, there is mineralization beginning to infiltrate into the cavernous area. Plus, my microchem studies indicated that silver, bismuth and antimony was present.
Just before Christmas, and running a fire assay I got a telephone call from Rex. He was on his
way home and stuck at the Houston airport because of bad weather in the North. Naturally, I picked
him up and we spent the afternoon together discussing many topics near and dear to our hearts.
The first item he brought up was presenting me with the assay on Cleato Springs. I quickly
noticed that the amount of gold was not an ounce, but .001 oz of Au to the ton, which meant zero.
Obviously, the assay was misread. Thank goodness that I wasn’t wrong in my analysis.
Next, he started briefing me on the latest enchanting events. It appears that a still living Apache
who with Doc Noss did indeed transport gold bars from the Caballo’s to Victorio Peak where the
Noss family partnership is currently excavating. Furthermore, as the story goes - a couple Apache’s
and Doc sealed most of the known Caballo Spanish mine entrances. And to add a bit of flavor to
this incredible tale it appears that Doc’s clothes are still present on the Apache Reservation along
with numerous maps, which are being held by Doc’s offspring. But wait, the story is about to get
better.
After a few more hours of discussion I was shown a 35 mm picture of an ancient Apache map.
Now, I’ve seen many a map, waybill and written documents describing where to go to get into the
old Spanish mines containing smelted bullion, but none like this one.
This map was completely different. It had a lot of pictorials that at first glance made no sense.
Just looking at this map one would say it’s pure crap. But I was shown on the photograph where in
the Caballo’s this mine actually exists. Anyway, what I saw was extremely important for it proved
once and for all that there is at least a little credible truth to the myriad of stories of lost mines and
treasures.
On this map there is a Heart with Horns and a U shaped notch just above the Heart with dotted lines and arrows
showing where to look and go. Although this 1646 map depicts the Caballo’s by name, no one would recognize the
hand drawn mountains without knowing the Caballo’s and being able to recognize where the Heart, Horns and
Notch actually are in the Caballo’s.
Thanks to Rex, now I too know the secret lost to White Man for hundreds of years. Furthermore,
as I have mentioned earlier - before I had met Jack Crandall, he had produced OFF-SCALE EM-16
Readings in this same area above where the Heart, Notch and Horn area is.
You who have this doc-u-drama would naturally ask: is the EM-16 Readings bigger or smaller
than what Jack and I found on the Cable Claims? The answer is: The Cable Claims is much, much
more impressive. But, off-scale reading were found in isolated areas quite near where this map
indicated one should look.
Another interesting part of this Map is that it shows a Serpent, and that the path to the goodies
from the Serpent is via Polomas Gap. Could this Serpent be a much bigger version of the creature
Rex and I saw in the Polomas Gap pond? From what I have recently heard, it has some chance of
being at least partially true.
According to a man who is currently working inside a cave near the Heart, he was told a legend
that the Indians used to feed huge white subterranean snakes, which would become their food
supply while working underground. Obviously, this account stretches the limits of credibility. But,
until we get in, who can say what’s true or not? Anyone who wants more information regarding this
Heart let me know and I’ll put you in touch with Rex.
Adding to the foregoing, recent research indicates that the rulers of Spain during the latter days of
the Spanish Inquisition were planning on constituting a “New Spain” in present day New Mexico.
Plus, the Caballo Mountains not only contained bonanzas of lead, copper, silver and gold, the
Caballo’s was also a secret depository of Spain’s wealth. Both the Church and Nobility were
contravening to leave Spain secretly thereby creating a new headquarters in which to rule the
world, and had been secretly smuggling much of the loot from the Incas, Aztecs and Spain’s
treasury into the Caballo’s. And, anyone doing a little research, it becomes apparent that New
Mexico was indeed to be New Spain.
As I am privileged to hear the story, the Caballo Mountains wealth has only been known to
Spain’s past Nobility. No records of such an adventure are known except by a few Apaches who
have passed the information down through the ages. Yet, in light of all the foregoing, I try to keep a
level head, by remembering what has been written about the historic Apaches. Many a modern
romantic succumbs to the myth that Apaches always told the truth. Well, nothing could be further
from the truth. The Apache, like White Man, when convenient found it wiser to lie or at least
stretch the truth to its elastic limits, especially when the Indian dealt with white eyes who were
invading his domain. Consequently, no matter how many marvelous things I see and hear about
Apache data, I keep in mind that these Indians will most likely tell white man whatever he feels
will serve the Indians interest. And to try and figure out what an Indian’s interest might possibly be,
is without doubt not possible, unless of course you are an Apache!
The question again surfaces - will I live long enough to enjoy some of the fruits that seem to be
ripening? Or, will the Govt take the Caballo’s before we complete the adventure? Now, I don’t
pretend to know the answers, so all I can do is continue hanging on, and proceed in the research
arena. I do know that my friends and participants in the Cable Claims quest are as anxious as I am
to see a rewarding conclusion. But, whatever the rewards may or may not be, I am growing weary
of the burden of trust that my friends and partners have extended me throughout these years.
Somehow, someway and someday, I hope that the Cable Claims will be opened, exposing once and
for all that my ideas and dreams are not based upon delusions of grandeur.
While making coffee, new years day, I noticed a trail of piss ants. Because I’m not particularly
fond of bugs I started squashing all I could find, thinking that if I got rid of these prospectors they
would not be interested in staying around. After mashing several of these scouts I began to get a
picture of what is happening in America. The green socialist bureaucrats view all mineral
prospectors as similar vermin, and are doing everything in their power to squash us as being similar
nuisances.
Apparently the cold weather forced these sugar ants to search for sustenance in hostile human
territory. After a few days it became apparent that I was not winning, so I started setting out poison
to get at the queen and stop this invasion. A couple weeks later the ants are still present, even
though thousands must have been wiped out. The ants learned to discriminate between the goodies
and death traps. Obviously, I was not going to win, so it soon became logical to give the ants what
they wanted, but outside, away from me.
Based upon the ants, and watching others, the socialists parading around as green priests will
destroy thousands of people, perhaps even me, but they won’t win the war. Why can I make such a
statement? Because, the natural instinct to prospect is in all creatures and is beyond the capacity of
even the devil to completely destroy.
Now, with not a whole lot else to do it seems appropriate to give you what I believe to be the most
fundamental clue as to why the Caballo Gold placers are where they are. First, let’s take the
multiple mile area surrounding Copper Flats, where many hard rock mines, as well as rich Gold
Placers existed, and where placer can still be panned by the most inexperienced person.
Copper Flats, the old Quintana mining operation is merely the remains of an extinct volcano,
called a caldera. Most prospectors know that the molten roots of any volcano carry the metals
suspended within the matrix of magma. Therefor, any prospector worth his salt begins his detective
work as close to a volcano as practical. He then begins to trace the fissures and faults, which are
usually representative by old diggin’s. After plotting out on a topo map where these surface
expressions head, he lays in a course of search coordinates. These search sites are the probable or
possible areas favorable for metallic deposition. Of course, this seeker has to not only have a nose
for metals, he has to comprehend what the terrain once was in order to intelligently apply his skills
in the here and now.
Based upon the aforementioned I believe the gold placer that exists in the mouth of Polomas Gap
is that which has been washed away from some undiscovered vein or rich pocket originating from
the volcano North East of the Gap which lies in the Jorando foothills. Likewise, the gold placer in
Longbottom Canyon, or sometimes refereed to as Granite Wash is intimate with the almost hidden
volcanic neck North West of the mouth of this canyon.
Now, regarding the Gold placers near the Southern end of the Sierra Caballo’s. Over the course
of several years, and seemingly endless, foot weary excursions around these particular hot spots,
there is always found the dark green to brownish magmatic dikes, fissure veins and localized faults.
These dikes are obviously associated with a volcano that I have not, yet, been able to find.
However, I suspect that this illusive volcano is under the Caballos and never broke through to the
surface. And, if this theory has validity it would explain not only the presence of the known metals,
but also the tales of underground Spanish Mines and Treasures.
By August, tired of the hum-drum act of driving a tractor trailer rig, I decide to take a week off
and head back to the Caballo’s. I know I can’t accomplish much in a week. But, the call of the wild
stirs my imagination to the point that I just have see and feel the Caballo’s.
Jack, also feeling the call agrees to take me into the mountains, even though he’s still recovering
from his By-Pass Heart surgery. I traipsed all over the Cable terrain collecting samples and reexamining forgotten mineralized places. Even though Jack can’t make the climb he too senses the
affinity with the mountains when this close.
The unimaginable happens in September. Jack dies of a heart attack. I find myself wrestling as to
why Jack would leave this world without finishing the Quest? But, more to the point - what did
Jack accomplish with all his hard work, only to die a few feet away from the prize. Is this what’s in
store for me too? Am I, like Jack, only helping to pave the way for someone else?
Chapter 32
Evolution
It’s summer 1997 and rumors say that a bunch of unkowns are claim jumping. Naturally, I
respond to the threat by taking time off from driving OTR and head to New Mexico. Almost
immediately I hike up the mountain. Fortunately, there is not the slightest bit of evidence that any
disturbance of any kind has taken place. In fact, Nature is reclaiming what I have tried to alter to fit
my needs.
For about a month Rex and I stomp all over the mountains. We are constantly looking for
something we might have missed. But, as usual what ever wanted to remain hidden did so. We did
however put to rest a few items like the barrel in Cleato Springs. As Rex, Jon Vance and I dug we
wondered if this was a gold trap when the heavy rains came? Or, was it place where some bandido
hid his stash, like the tales say, always in a spring? Well, I can safely say that whatever the reason
the barrel was put here it was not to gather or collect gold, for not a hint of color was found. As I
told Rex & Jon, we could get better color off any Houston, Texas street gravel than from this place.
I collected gravel from the Indian Canyon area, and found no color. We collected samples from
the Spar Prospect between Indian and Cable. Again no color. We examined the area in the Base of
Indian Canyon that had a 100+ reading on the EM-16 at the Bliss and Precambrian. But, found no
surface mineralization. No hint of a mine, nothing, except some white rocks perched in the black
oolitic Bliss, indicating that this area has a history and that someone knew something a long time
ago, thus marking this site.
Even though most of our efforts do not result in what we desire, we are however, almost always
granted a few more tantalizing clues which keep boot tread in the wear lane. Because of Rex’s
bulldog nature of following-up on heresay he managed to come upon many important documents.
As if by design, Granite Peak is still calling him. So, we again examine the Granite Peak area.
While I’m looking for tell-tale pieces of smelted rocks in the washes Rex discovers a very odd
stone chair.
This chair is forces the person who is comfortably seated to look West directly at Granite Peak.
Because of the ancient symbol obviously chiseled into the back of chair we conclude that this chair
must have been a Spanish Lookout or Sentry Post.
Nearby, we find a large white rock, which we conclude is a marker rock that has obviously been
hauled into this particular spot. Upon closer examination we notice that the rock is riddled with red
garnets. Now, this is of serious interest to me for it suggests high heat and obvious mineralization.
But where could it have come from. Naturally, we go looking. I had heard tales of rubies being
found in Burbank Canyon’s lowland wash. But, after making a few walk-a-thons up and down
Burbank lowland wash in 1982 I dismissed this as another tall tale. But, now, I am forced to
reconsider the distinct possibilities, especially because when I worked in Bee’s hole the white rock
was amazingly similar to the rock at the emerald mines in Ashville, North Carolina. Plus, not far
from Ashville in Cowee Valley many a Ruby has been found. Fortunately, we found a few
scattered outcrops of thin seams of this white rock with a few red garnets. Obviously, these surface
exposed outcrops is not where this big rock came from, suggesting that somewhere deeper down
somewhere near is a find worth beholding.
As is always the case, and always way too soon it’s time again to head back to Houston. Even
though I am again driving cross country in the 18 wheelers my mind rambles to towards the
Caballo’s. About every month, I was dispatched to run a sleeper team from Houston to California.
Sometimes, actually every time when I’d be driving into El Paso I’d get this home sick feeling that
tugged on me to swing by the Caballo’s 100 miles from downtown El Paso. Naturally, I never did
this because it would have thrown our schedule into chaos. Nevertheless, you just can’t imagine the
feeling I’d get when so close, yet so far from all that I truly care about.
On the 4 th of July, 1997 I decided that at least for awhile I’d had enough over the road driving.
The stress was building and it became simply too much to endure. So, even though I was driving
for who I considered to be the very best carrier in the entire industry I nevertheless felt it best to
take a needed rest.
Before beginning this mining quest I owned and operated my own rigs. After a few years of
trying to scratch out a living with trucks I discovered that all I was really doing was working for the
gas, telephone and repair companies. Even though I did most of my own mechanical repair I was
not making any progress on the money front. So, I got rid of these devilish toys that seem to have a
constant appetite for all the spare change I carried.
One of the real pains of running my own trucks was the abundance of flat tires. It seemed that I
enjoyed repairing flats each day while driving on the oil patch flint rock roads I helped to build near
Austin, Texas. Consequently, from that moment on I realized that I needed to find a way to better
conduct preventive tire maintenance. At the time, I did what all drivers seemed to know best, which
was and continues to be - from nothing to kicking. Of course this brilliant tire management strategy
always resulted in a kick to my back pockets.
Due to not wanting to drive commercially and wanting another way to fund my living expenses
and my mining venture I simply had to do something radically different if I was ever going to
accomplish both. So, and almost naturally I was struck with a moment of insight - I’d make a tire
thumper to help all drivers as well as my future.
Well, over the course of a few months and visiting Don Velzy’s machine shop in New Mexico a
new designed tire thumper emerged. Creating this thumper was not easy. Many trial models were
made and I’d go out and test them on as many trucks as I could find. Finally, after considerable
time, effort and expense Accu-Thump Was created. After I was convinced that it was truly
revolutionary I applied for A US Patent. Then I set about giving away a few hundred of these so
that I could test market it. All the results were extremely favorable regarding acceptance by
Drivers. But, and there always seems to be a but, the cost of manufacturing these thumpers makes
Accu-Thump to be the most expensive truck tire thumper ever made. However, it works and there
is absolutely nothing remotely similar to it. So, eventually, I truly believe that after a lot more
marketing Accu-Thump will provide at least part of the means to conclude the Cable Claims
adventure.
Chapter 33
Bomb Shells
On my last trip to New Mexico to pick up a load of tire thumpers from Velzy I met with Charles
Washman, George Remington and Bill Miller. It was decided that we’d all go up to the adit and
shaft cause none of them had seen what we accomplished and I was curious to see it again too.
Well, when we get there September 5th 1999 the rains had washed a huge amount of dirt all
around the door. So, we had to dig an area wide enough to barely open the door and go in. We all,
except Bill went down the steel ladder. George and Charles investigate the area where the small
cavern is. They both see and understand what I have previously described and can see the
opportunities just begging to be completed.
When we get back to town and before I leave for Houston Charles says he wants to investigate
the possibilities and I agree that he can go back and move boulders around to try and get into what
we strongly suspect is there. Well, Charles does not go up or do anything in the shaft for months.
But, one day around March 2000 Charles calls and says he’s found something. From what I can
gather he had been able to move several of the huge rocks enough to actually get part way into
what appears to be a big dark hole that his flashlight would not completely penetrate. Needless to
say I’m all fired up wishing I could be there to see for myself. Then he proceeds to tell me he found
a Galena vein that appears to be getting wider the deeper he goes.
It’s May 2000 and I get a call from Rex who’s been in exploring the Caballo’s for the last month.
He proceeds to tell me that when he and Charles arrive at the adit/shaft lo-and-behold they find the
locked door to be ajar. Someone had managed to cut through the locked high alloy chain that was
securing the adit.
As they cautiously stepped inside the adit they can smell the fumes of dynamite. They
immediately discover that someone has paid us a visit by bombing the adit and shaft. Apparently,
someone does not appreciate prospectors, nor respect the efforts of trying to fulfill the American
dream. The blast was so large that the force actually bent the 5 foot x 5 foot x 1 inch bar grating
laying over the entrance to the shaft and sent the steel ladders to the bottom of shaft.
Then, as if this was not enough he proceeds to tell me about his encounter with a Desert Big Horn
Ram in Longbottom canyon. Upon hearing all this it seemed just too coincidental. In the past, we
have always suspected that the NM dept. of Game and Fish were secretly planting their pets on the
Caballos, but could never prove it. Fortunately, this time Rex has his video camera in hand as he
walks up on one of these sheep that are not supposed to be in the mountains. Without a lot of
hesitation Rex has the presence of mind to video this trophy size Ram as it casually walks away.
This time the Game & Fish cannot deny or lie, they’ve been caught red handed.
Naturally, we discussed the ramifications and decided that it would be best to contact the County
Commissioner Mr. Leonardo Rivera & then the sheriff. Then I contact Annie McMannus who is
President of PCM as well as Bill Johnson of the Desert Journal Newspaper. Bill Johnson writes a
rather large account of what has been discovered. He finds out that that the Game & Fish personnel
say that the sheep may have wondered in from the Fra Cristobals (Ted Turners land) or from the
San Andreas. I maintain this is pure hogwash. Then, later, the Game and Fish admit that someone
saw a Ram walking across the highway into the Caballo’s a couple weeks earlier. Of course this
begs the question - why didn’t they come and retrieve it?
Here are a few other tantalizing bits of odd info. Recently, the BureauRats have been yelling that
the protected Mountain Lions are eating their sheep. They say - the Lions must be killed. In
addition they scream that their sheep cannot be exposed to domesticated sheep or goats because
these creatures of man have diseases that kill their protected sheep. Conversely, I can only wonder
what kind of infectious bacteria their Mexican Sheep harbor that will become a new plague to both
man and livestock? Of course the wise bureauRats say that their darlings can’t or won’t hurt
anything. But, how do they know what the long-term consequences will be once these sheep are
allowed to roam anywhere and everywhere? Heck, the bureauRats reluctantly admit they don’t
know why the sheep left New Mexico? So, because they don’t know they blame man’s presence as
the reason why the sheep beat a hasty retreat. Thus, with this reasoning in mind it is not too hard to
realize what the Servants have in mind for us. If you doubt this then why do the Game & Fish
biologists say in their printed booklets and on their web site www.fw.vt.edu/fishex/nmex_main/species/050681.htm - that: (1) camping & picnicking, (2) roads,
(3) livestock grazing, (4) mining, livestock fences, (6) human habitation, (7) hiking, hunting,
fishing, & sight seeing are detrimental to the mental stability of their sheep? In addition, the
biologists howl and bark that predacious Mountain Lions, Wolves, domestic dogs and Bald Eagles
kill their prized sheep. And, that their other green friends: (1) scabies, (2) bot flies, (3) tapeworms,
(4) nematodes, (5) ticks, (6) fleas, (7) Pasteurella (8) Staphylococcus, (9) Corynebacterium, (10)
bluetongue and (11) contagious ecthyma cause their sheep to succumb to all sorts of parasitic
infestations.
I find it interesting that the scabies mite will probably kill off the remaining sheep in the San
Andreas without further Game & Fish expert disease intervention. By the way they have not been
able to control these mites for the past 20 or so years, so what possible reason could anyone have to
believe they know how now? Furthermore, the San Andreas and Organ Mts are the only places
these mites are known to exist say experts. If this is the case, then, is it correct green thinking to
eradicate these poor iddy-biddy mites created by Mother Nature? Don’t the government experts
always say that only the strong should survive, and to intervene is fouling the plans of Nature? Of
course, no matter what these wildlife agencies do it will always mean more money taken from all
people’s pockets whether they wish to contribute or not.
Apparently, the Lions have fallen in grace with their Green God, seeing how mountain lions must
be killed to protect the sheep,. I wonder when the newly introduced Wolves will be shot because
they are eating or harassing their newest pets? For that matter - how long will it be before the goons
decide we are also unwanted creatures?
Most sane people now realize that the pinko jackbooted greenie stooges have driven to
destruction many western communities with their terrorist tactics. Likewise and just as obvious
they have and are applying their RED socialistic ways upon Sierra County. And in their own words
say: “An active program of habitat acquisition should be established for habitat surrounding present
populations and in potential habitat for desert bighorn reintroduction.” Naturally, any rational being
recognizes this to mean based upon the past ways of these goons to be - humans out & beasts in.
If these wise experts truly believed that Mother Nature knows best - then why do they insist on
planting all manner of beast where Mother Nature shed herself of the critters?
I don’t know what you may think about the green fanaticism raging throughout this once proud
land; but, I, after considerable effort to try and comprehend their point of view have come to a
variety of conclusions, none of which allow me to support their agenda. Fortunately, a dim light is
beginning to dawn on the silent majority who are starting to see what this radical minority are
creating. When Clinton said: “it’s the economy stupid” little did he realize at the time how it would
eventually come back to haunt the unscrupulous politicians. The summer of 2000 is witnessing
skyrocketing gas and diesel prices. Of course, politicians are pointing their crooked accusing
fingers at refiner price gouging. Yet, when the subject of how much the EPA regulations have and
are contributing to costs everyone, including the oil companies start doing some mighty fancy
footwork trying to avoid the awful truth. What has happened to Ranchers, Miners, Farmers and
Independent Owner Operators (18 wheelers) is now being felt by the general public. It may take a
few more years, but the Greens will become recognized as the Red Socialists they always were, in
spite of all their colorful camouflaging.
Currently, and in spite of all their hideous green laws I continue refusing begging them to allow
me to continue prospecting, exploring and excavating my dreams. Do we really want history to
repeat that which clearly shows that if the commoners did not lick the boots of Stalin, Mao and
Hitler – it’s off to jail or the guillotine because we The People are enemies of the State?
To me the whole thing smells to high heaven. During the early 1980’s it was common to hear
how the greenies or govt personnel bombed, burned or tore down miners places in Arizona, but
never in Sierra County. So, and because we seem to be a little closer to the prize it sure is
coincidental that the Dark Forces against gold, are seemingly staging another assault, and not just
in New Mexico, but everywhere at once. I guess the Greens are beginning to realize that they’d
better get as much as possible before the majority of us start to take these hideous beast and put
them where they belong, where they can never cause harm to Free Individuals again.
Here are some statements, comments, ideas that should provide food for thought and cause for
pause.
1. Anyone who works for any govt agency is always a public servant and never ever a professional,
unless they are mercenaries.
2. It is too our peril if we continue allowing those inhabiting the prestigious corridors of Ivory
towers to evolve into rulers and tyrants.
3. Govt power always becomes corrupted.
4. Who in government is so smart as to be a King or Queen or a would-be-God?
5. Does govt solve or create the problems?
6. When someone in govt says they are only doing their job didn’t the Gestapo, SS and the KGB
say they were only doing their jobs when they exterminated millions?
7. The “corporate State” does not believe in God - instead just the opposite - everything evolved
from the green goo. What could be more blasphemous?
8. If the greenies are right then obviously Christians are wrong.
9. We all have been deceived. The best indication of this horrid truth is to ask: Where did I get my
wages? Was it from a publicly traded State Chartered Corporation, which is considered by the state
to be an entity that can live forever? Or, did you work for some State or Federal Agency, which is
also a Corporation? If so, like it or not, your income came from a soul-less entity and not from a
human whom God created. If one really seriously considers the ramifications of what I just said - it
becomes recognizable that we all have been deceived. But, that is no reason to continue down the
same Yellow Brick Road to Hell.
10. Who is actually doing the polluting? Is it not Govt. and the big multi-national corporations who
are both giving money to the very environmentalist’s who are destroying our rights?
11. The politicians claim America is a democracy. Yet, why won’t the politicians let the people
vote on the laws or rules they and their incestuous agencies create?
12. Don’t you find it a bit curious that you have nothing to say as to how politicians give your
money to the green-wizards?
13. Since the beginning of the Great Deceit how have you benefited by all the gimmicks of the
various eco-wise legislation?
14. They said jobs would be created, more tourists would arrive, and we’d all prosper. But, what’s
the truth or consequences of the green speak? Is your life better or worse than 10 years ago?
15. Is it not a pleasant experience to watch every cherished freedom you once had being polluted or
destroyed with regs/laws?
16. Is it not a bit odd that the greens don’t tell the whole truth regarding the consequences of their
actions? And, don’t you find it curious that your good-buddy greens seldom or won’t disclose their
names? But, I guess if I were a parasitic predator I would not want my food source to know me
either.
17. Is it not a bit strange that when govt bureaucrats mess up, like starting the destructive Los
Alamos fire that none of the these so-called servants are fired, jailed or fined into Hell. But, if I or
you were to do something similar what would be our fate?
18. Is it not a bit odd that when the BLM personnel have been caught selling our so-called natural
resources like the wild Burro’s and or Mustangs to slaughter houses they are not jailed for breaking
their own mandated laws?
19. Have you not wondered what the real motives of govt agencies are when they implement Gun
laws?
Several years ago it began to dawn on me that we in America have been living in a fool’s
paradise. We are not only not free individuals, but we don’t even elect the representatives who will
legislate how we live, work, play or behave. On first glance of the previous statement many may
well disagree. Well then, perhaps I ought to explain why and how I’ve come to this conclusion.
There’s an old saying that is just as true today as it was 100 years ago, which is: “when the
legislature convenes no man is safe.”
Each of us elects a person to represent us in the House of Representatives as well as the Senate.
Therefore we assume we are being represented, and if we don’t like what the representative is
doing we can vote this person out of office. Sorry, but wrong, nothing could be further from the
truth. What’s really happening is essentially 2 things of dire consequences. First and foremost, an
elected representative of any other state can and does introduce legislation that can/will affect what
you or I do in all the other states. Therefore, like what they do or not - we have no say, way or
means to kick out a representative of another state.
As a direct result of this non-discussed political gimmick we rely upon our elected individual
state representatives to block/stop or undue legislation introduced by someone else we don’t even
know. What a farce we find ourselves in. If we truly want equal representation then each of us
should be allowed to vote for each other state’s representative that will be going to Washington
D.C. If we cannot vote for those who will be legislating us then how can we possibly claim we are
living in a representative form of govt.? Obviously we can’t and are not. This has got to change if
we “The People” are ever going to have any degree of freedom, which incidentally is non-existent
now-a-days. Not only are we not free to choose or kick-out our representatives—we have been
living under the despicable tyranny of un-elected bureaucrats who write or implement rules and
regulations that have the force of law without The People having any say.
It seems exceedingly odd to me why The People cannot see what’s been happening to them for
the past 100 years. Why do The People allow govt to dictate the terms of their existence in this
supposedly free land? Why can’t The People realize that if they don’t own the bulk of the gold that
the tyrant banks and govt will? And, why can’t The People understand that if The People don’t own
the gold and silver then freedom is only an illusion? Govt’s don’t subscribe to the Golden Rule
(“do unto others as you would have them do unto you”). Instead, all govts practice the perverted
Golden Rule (“he who owns the gold rules”).
Not only have we been deceived, but we can’t seem to recognize the elemental reality that when
God created Gold it was good. Unfortunately, we The People have allowed Gold to fall from grace.
Consequently, we no longer recognize the concept of truth, which is founded upon and represented
by/in Gold.
My concept of government was and is that it is to be of benefit and protect each sovereign
individual citizen. I, like others I know prefer to believe that our Republic is benign and not
malevolent. Therefore, I harbor the hopeful thoughts that our govt and agencies will stop the mind
set of being punitive and adversarial and return to being servants. I realize this may well be utopian
thinking, but we do all share the same common ground. If it is possible to take these steps we could
re-forge the bonds into a golden future.
Because Government and The People have always held a distrust of one another I guess the real
question will be - by what standard will the “Touch Stone” test our combined purity?
I am forced to conclude my writing by leaving you with the following thoughts to consider.
A. When America printed funny money without being backed by time honored, time tested Gold
we allowed for the creation of the current monster that threatens to devour us all.
B. When Americans allowed their coins to become bastardized and not remain 90% precious metal
we started down the road to ruin which is upon us now, whether we want to believe it or not.
C. When in the name of convenience we chose to use plastic, often called gold or platinum cards
inlieu of real money, we have not only succumbed to debt, but have unleashed the Beast.
D. When we no longer want real gold or silver as our money, preferring instead to use fools-gold
we have built the tower of Babel (inflation), whether we can see it or not.
E. Believe it or not, we have entered into a modern form of savage cave dwelling life style, where
it’s eat or be eaten. Yes, we currently have creature comforts that either did not exist or were
denied to those who lived in the past. So, what’s the difference between millennia ago and
today? Just because we have not been sent to the jungle or forest to grub out an existence, does
not mean that the beasts are not in charge.
F. In the final analysis what’s really important – a solid foundation to build upon or an illusion?
G. We are all interconnected. So, and regardless of what we do to earn a living, be it mining,
plumbing, ditch digging, carpentry, making laws, or a truck driver, without the fundamentals in
place the house of cards falls. So, if your particular method of earning a living is not doing as
well as it once did perhaps you are seeing the early signs of something much bigger coming.
The final bomb that got my attention was the knowledge that the BLM is about to change the
rules again. I hear that the BLM intends to implement these absurd reg’s sometime in September,
2000. It’s become painfully obvious that the public servants are not our servants, but, instead are
marching to the tune of their green masters. God help us all.
In conclusion I leave knowing that I am not a good writer and have only touched upon many
subjects near and dear to me. Also, I realize I have excluded a huge amount of relevant information
I have either forgotten or cannot divulge. Perhaps, later and in conjunction with Rex we will write
about the many items I felt best to leave undisclosed.
Please forgive me if I did not mention many of you who could well, and perhaps should have been
included herein. I did try to add a lot more information including several people who are very
important to me, but I had to whack a huge amount out to get to this burdensome size which might
well take a long time to load.
Hopefully my Creator will see fit to allow me to find others that will finish this quest.
It will be quite awhile, if ever, that I include herein the hundreds of pages of Part II. Those who
are interested in knowing more about what I have tried to write about, or would like to read Part II,
assuming I have it sufficiently finished and its able to be sent as an attachment just email me:
[email protected]
Below is a list of web sites, which ought to raise eyebrows.
desert bighorn sheep:
www.bighorninstitute.org/
www.fw.vt.edu/fishex/nmex_main/species/050681.htm
www.fw.vt.edu/fishex/nmex_main/species/050682.htm
www.desertusa.com/magjan98/abbighorn/jan_bighorn1.html
www.nm.blm.gov/www/lcfo/lcfo_home.html
www.publiclands.org/html/explore/frame_recsearch.asp
http://huntmexico.com/sheep.htm
www.gf.state.az.us/frames/regs/co7sheep.htm
www.sdc.org/nmwa/hatchets.html
www.oldwestcountry.com/lordsburg.html
http://raysweb.net/wildlife/pages/bighornlinks.html
http://biggame.org/news20.html
wilderness
http://funoutdoors.com/news/feesmony2.html
http://wildwilderness.org/docs/feb4.htm
www.southwest-usa.com/facts.html
www.wildernessreform.com/index.html
www.wildernessreform.com/warctest.htm
www.wildernessreform.com/communic.htm
www.wilderness.org/wild/
wildlife
www.wildlife.state.nh.us/rest.html
http://fa.r9.fws.gov/pw/partwld.html
laws
http://laws.fws.gov/
http://laws.fws.gov/track.html
private property & multiple use
www.landrights.org/
cow/people free
www.rangebiome.org/cowfree/wolfrestore.phtml
eco-org-sites
www.oingo.com/topic/52/52534.html
http://wilderness.org/
www.wildrockies.org/awr/
www.ahrinfo.org/
www.earthforce.org/
http://wilderness.org/newsroom/15most/
www.stopextinction.org/
www.efn.org/~lkuntz/
www.hrc.wmin.ac.uk/campaigns/ef/earthfirst.html
terror
http://geocities.com/RainForest/7094/
www.cafeunderground.com/Cafesite/Rooms/Ozymandia/handbook_1.html
www.cafeunderground.com/Cafesite/Rooms/Ozymandia/sabotage_index.html
money
www.lbbs.org/zmag/articles/apr97tokar.html
where some monopolized zoo money originates
www.wcs.org/action/
wolves
www.geocities.com/~wolfjustice/
www.wolfpark.org/
Govt
www.blm.gov/nhp/index.htm
www.blm.gov/nhp/text/news/index.htm
www.blm.gov/nhp/news/releases/2000.htm
www.lm0005.blm.gov/nhp/Commercial/SolidMineral/3809/811draft3809.html
www.fs.fed.us/
www.epa.gov/
GOLD
www.gata.org/