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ROCKS, MINERALS and FOSSILS

Rockhounds information pages with subjects related to geology and mineral ID
 


Rock and Mineral Forum Guidelines

There are just a few rules here and yup I do enforce them and keep an eye on things as best I can. Here are a few guidelines I'd like you to follow if you will be participating here. This forum is not moderated as heavily as the other sections so please do not enter or open a topic if you think you will be offended. If you are at least respond like an adult or we will remove your post as soon as brought to our attention.

Vulgar and abusive language is not welcome here! Heck a cuss word to get a point across is not so bad, but I think you know what I mean.

I will not host public arguments and pissing matches between individuals here so please just don't do it. When it happens the post most times will simply vanish into cyber space.

Political or Religious posts belong in "Off Topic" but surly you can find other forums that host those discussions if it is your thing, I don't think anyone cares if you are Conservative or Liberal when we are out hunting gold nuggets.

You may not use this forum to advertise any other dealer, store, or product without written permission by owner at any time. Used items are allowed in the classified section.

This forum is not responsible for anything said by it's members at any time. This is a public forum and will remain so and although I can and will occasionally zap "bad content" I don't do it often and so far have never permanently banned a person. Also opinions expressed here do not always represent the opinion of the forum's owner!

Guests are welcome to browse the forum and use the information provided by registered members, but you can not post yourself until you are a registered member.

That is pretty much it my fellow Nugget Shooters so enjoy the forum, keep it clean and play nice.

959 topics in this forum

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  1. $6 Million Diamond

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  2. 2 new rocks

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  3. 2.89 Carat Diamond

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  4. 2011 WNC Rubies

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  5. A cool piece

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  6. A couple neat finds

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  7. A few from AZ

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  • Posts

    • gnats flies and mosiqutoes are like the BLM, they leave me alone. me native who only drinks water, with raw cider vinegar, molasses and some drops peppermint oil. been drinking 1-2 gallons per day for pass six years. in Minnesota last July slept in me tahoe, no problem. native has a cure everything, she provide's the best education entertainment and support income. natives seeking to do no harm require no government.
    • I skimmed over this stuff on the first set of heads I made, and I wish I hadn't. This log has been useful a couple of times, when I forget what I did to some part I made. This is technical to an extent...so just change the channel if you like. I decided to get my combustion chambers in order next. Chamber volume is a critical measurement for any engine...a custom engine doubly so. I started by performing an initial volume measurement = 59cc Target = 66cc How did I arrive at 66cc? With the handy CB Performance calculator! http://cbperformance.com/v/enginecalc.html I removed all the hardware from the heads at that point and began assessing where I want to remove 7cc of aluminum from my combustion chambers. I installed my copper head gasket and marked it out with a sharpie. I can take out anything up to that line. You will see in another pic the red is where you remove material, the blue area you really try and leave alone, as that is the quench deck. It is generally accepted that a deck height of 40-60 thousandths of an inch is a good target zone for reaping the benefits of piston quench. This engine has a .055 thou deck. I could get it down to .040 by spending more cash, but at some point you have to draw a line. As of now, I am roughing out the area with the die grinder and an aluminum bit. Every so often you have to reinstall the valves and spark plug to measure volume again and again and again and again...
    • Bugs, Blood and Gold: Tales from the North. (This is prospecting humour, with mild fiction, but sadly, based in reality.)I have to talk about a perplexing, maddening phenomenon that occurs ever year in the summertime: hundreds of prospectors line up to donate blood! On the surface, this appears to be quite humanitarian. However, this is no lineup at a medical facility to give blood, but a gathering that happens only in northern forests, far from the soft, cultured masses of pampered urban dwellers. This annual, rather insane event must serve as a ritual cleansing, one rooted in superstition and myth, for it is part of the pilgrimage that gold-seekers make during the warmer months. The cost of the trek is not tallied in cash however, but it is paid in blood, donated so to speak to the winged vampires of the north.In contrast to this savage blood-letting, try to imagine an area of consummate beauty, a peaceful, tranquil region where pine, cedar, tamarack, fir, birch, aspen and balsam trees flourish. Imagine as well a forest floor lush with the softness of mosses and undergrowth. In the mountain meadows try to see hummingbirds and butterflies flitting from flower to flower, try to hear a choir of songbirds singing their age-old symphonies. In addition, visualize a place where crystal streams run free and unhindered, where lakes teem with trout, grayling, and arctic char. Moreover, by gazing into the distance, try to comprehend the endless rolling carpet of mountain greenness that undulates until it blends with a perfect blue horizon. Against this dreamy backdrop however, a dark, dizzying cloud forms the minute anyone exits their rugged 4x4’s. This previously pristine setting is marred by an evil cloud that hides the Great Northern Horde. (Gengis Kahn’s horde, by comparison, was a puny force.)When I was a rookie, I often wondered about bugs. How bad could they be? Well, any northern prospector worth his salt has tangled with the “threshold vampire” (so named because it sounds like the buzz of your detector’s threshold), aka, the mosquito. And what prospector has never had an encounter with a galloping horse fly, or a prancing deer fly? Or, how about getting bit by the teeth that fly? (No-see-ums, nothing but flying teeth) Yes, bugs indeed . . . Well, I stepped forth into just such a cloud of bugs, but luckily my survival instinct overrode my dim brain. Without thinking, my arms began a furious wind-milling action as I carelessly launched my detector through the air, the astronomical price I’d paid, an insignificant, annoying memory. As I ran back to open the truck door to escape the winged-bullies, I was horrified to find my partner had locked the vehicle! Moreover, he had the only can of bug spray outside of the truck. (Later, he swore up and down that he never used the stuff, didn’t even need it that day he said. Then he carried on with some nonsense about how a real man would never fear such tiny creatures, some back-handed comment to me about insect repellent being a wussy cop-out, something not worthy of the northern prospector’s stripe.)So there I was, stranded, and somewhat bug-eyed (no pun intended). Frantically, I pressed my sweaty face against the glass, hoping perhaps the other door was unlocked, but defeated, I then saw what I’d left on the seat, my first line of defense, my ultimate weapon: the potent, DEET-laced concoction known as Bug Dope! Impotent rage filled me as I ineffectively swatted and slashed at my attackers.Then, relentless panic filled every cell of my entire organism, accompanied by merciless, shredding terror. The panic’s sheer volume widened into a chasm of unspeakable horror. Sensing disaster, while icy fingers of doom clawed the back of my neck, I turned to face my agonizing fate, a living cloud forming a rising black wall of the famished, northern horde.Instantly, I was engulfed by a buzzing, hissing mass of wings and slashing teeth, ones perfectly adapted for blood-letting. (Vampires, by comparison, are thousands of years behind on the evolutionary scale.) Next, I conquered some of my tormentors by cleverly breathing in an entire squadron. (Or, was that simply a reflexive gasp of stricken terror?) Nevertheless, by reducing their numbers, I’d dealt the beggars a costly blow. (I wish!) Next, some of the stealthier bug ascended my pant legs, on the inside where their malicious intent was hidden. This, assault was led by the black demons from some cursed other-world. They were indeed the dreaded blackfly, casually referred to in Webster’s dictionary as “any of various small dark-colored insects; esp.: any of a family of bloodsucking dipteran flies”. Dipteran?! (What a gentle misnomer for such incarnate evil.)Updating their tactics of savagery, some blackflies even practice camouflage now, by dressing in orange, yellow and red. Moreover, they’re getting bigger now. For example, I saw a cloud the other day packing intravenous poles for easier blood transfusion as they assaulted and overwhelmed some wretch trying to bathe in the river!! Am I using hyperbole, a form of extreme exaggeration? Well, in all honesty, I am exaggerating as the person had only gone to the river for a drink, and when he saw the horde, he dove head-first into the river. So, yes, guilty of exaggeration as he was never there for a bath at all. So, what happened to me, the dope caught without his bug dope? (Which reminds me, I’ve often pondered on that puzzling name given for that powerful spray, but the answer came to me with lightning clarity as the name refers to the idiot that leaves his locked in the truck! [Any resemblance to the story’s protagonist, or to myself, is purely coincidental.]) (To digress a bit, the blackflies’ march up my pant-legs would not be discovered that day, for they carry anesthetic in their toothy kit of devilry. I discovered the bites later that night, while trying to sleep, but, sleep never came, as the bites itched longer than it took the dinosaurs to go extinct. Moreover, scratching the bites was much like taking a sharp knife to my throat, because after I’d scratched them, I wished I’d had a sharp knife to take to my throat for being such a jack-wagon to scratch them in the first place!)To return to my tale of being bitten by the horde, my ears started to itch, but not on the outside, no, deep down on the eardrum. Some of the little beggars do not follow the rules of war (The Marquess of Queensberry rules of engagement for war? Why, they only revere him as a possible blood donor!). Moreover, the flying sadists have the power to attack in unmentionable places, enough said!To digress a bit more, I referred to horseflies earlier, and on that trip I went after some of them with a rope, but not to try to drive them off. I wanted to try my hand at lassoing them as some of the resident sourdoughs had bragged to me of saddling the smaller ones, then using them in their bizarre northern rodeos. These rodeos consist of letting the mosquitoes out of a cattle shoot, hazing them with the horsefly, then hog-tying them to try for the fastest time. (On a different note, not related to rodeo at all, some of those blowhards tried to trick me into believing I could shoot the mosquitoes up there with a shotgun. This is absolute nonsense! A shotgun will absolutely not bring them down. However, a lucky burst from a 20mm cannon has been known to blow off a wing, or part of a leg now and again.) Regardless of my digression, in my mad dash from the bugs, I finally saw my friend. He was leisurely swinging his detector over a patch of exposed graphite-schist. However, my friend’s head suddenly snapped up when he heard a low moan, followed by a screeching sound, followed by yet another low moan. Perhaps he thought I was hunting with an external speaker and had stumbled on a good target? However, imagine his shock when he realized the sound was coming from me, his partner, squealing and moaning as I burst forth from the swarming wall of insatiable northern vampires. With the flies in deadly pursuit, I raced toward my partner, but slowing before I reached him, the cloud-like wall outstripped me. (On a side note, that was one thick wall of bugs. How thick? Well, I took out my Bowie knife and cut a square hole right through those bugs to be able to see my partner.) After my Bowie knife tactic, and with a wild, glazed look in my eye, I dove through the hole, knife outstretched. By way of reflection, I think my partner thought I’d lunged straight for his throat with my knife. However, I only wanted to shred the pocket of his jacket, to quickly get at the Bug Dope. Then, I disappeared into the trees.Now, this whole tale may seem farfetched, perhaps light-hearted, and somewhat unbelievable. Indeed, I confess to having invented more than a few details. However, I assure you, it was quite a serious matter, most stressing in fact. But, what happened to the protagonist of this tale after he fled the scene with the can of bug spray? Why, it’s rumored he’s still holed up somewhere deep in an abandoned placer mine, a location that is dark and cold. A place far too cold for bugs, but not too cold for dopes.All the best,Lanny
    • West bound and down. I’ll be late this evening have to stop at the grocery store   my camper lol
    • I will be in late this evening. 
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