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Showing content with the highest reputation on 03/15/2019 in all areas

  1. 3 points
    I personally save my bullets to put meat on the table or persuade people from going where the should not be. However this is a sight I have seen way to often I suppose some people just should not be allowed to have weapons
  2. 3 points
    Nice work.... I don't know where you are located but you might be interested in this..... http://www.geologyin.com/2017/08/california-rainbow-obsidian-is-natural.html
  3. 2 points
    Dad and I met up with Dave yesterday for a day in the hills detecting. We wound up kind of exploring the first half of the day so we didnt get much detecting in. Went to the Big Reef Mill to look around and then visited some cool mines. Was good to get out and exercise both me and the 4x4 Can anyone guess what all the little lights are? No gold but we did clean up the desert in some washes that have not been hit in a LONG time. Real old 22 short shells with a half moon firing pin indent. Tom H.
  4. 2 points
    Ooooooohhhhh,sorry about that...
  5. 2 points
    Hi Dave, Been going through this blog since I found it and thought I'd ask a question if you don't mind (& given your mechanical skills) - and the question is this; Why does everyone cut the VW engine to make a boxer twin? i.e. Why not just remove the cylinder heads from one side, block up the holes, re-balance & fire it up as an inline twin? . . Something to do with the angle of the dangle on the crankshaft? Also I noticed you've widened the top of the air-frame where the wings attach (which looks Much betterer :-) but haven't added any diagonal bracing to the rectangle/squares formed in the mod. I know there are a few designs that don't but have also noticed a lot of designs that Do - And given that your wings attach there, there may be some twisting forces (yaw) from potential wind gusts to account for??? It may seem odd that I can't get my head around the first question yet can still make the second observation but the firing order in my head is a bit orf from months of study on other topics. BTW I'm not a mechanical engineer, just an old phart with a lifelong interest in aircraft - I'm more of an electronics/IT/computing bod . . . Would love to build one of these if I can set aside the time & money but am rather less sure of my building skills & Oz is chock full of regulations compared to the US. At any rate thanks for posting this series - I've learned a lot from reading through it and I wish you all the best with getting it done . . . Oh and P.S. - I may have some ideas for Homefire around the Arduino stuff if he is interested?? Kind Regds Ross Sydney/Oz
  6. 2 points
    I'm not the one who bought the AR...
  7. 2 points
    Mike , I keep mine all in one place...the range , unless I am hunting.
  8. 2 points
    That was a great story, Lanny. Also, I always enjoy hearing tips from other prospectors. Some tips I may already know, while others might just be explained a little differently to make more sense than before. Thank you for letting us share in your adventure. Andy
  9. 2 points
    Time. That pan was 90 minutes worth. I planned to go back today and spend close to a week but truck got towed to the garage yesterday. I'm sitting here packed and pacing waiting for the mechanic to call.. On a side note, I ran into old Saul last week. He's doing good, real good in fact. I urged him to get back on this forum, we all miss his commentary.
  10. 1 point
    I wasn't in the market for a car but when I saw this come up on a local Facebook page I couldn't resist. $1500 and she runs like a champ. Needs interior and a few other items but should be on the road this weekend. Fun times.
  11. 1 point
    Now, for something different, Flashback Friday Entry:(This is a true story, although I have taken some liberties in enhancing some details, but I have not exaggerated any of the facts about the gold.)Before I start this story, I’ll need to provide a bit of background. I was chasing the gold in the mid 1990-s one summer, in a wilderness area far to the north of where I currently live. While there, I worked with some large-scale placer miners, helping out whenever and wherever I could. In return, as the miners were a wealth of knowledge about the new-to-me area, they gave me valuable tips on where to look for gold in that heavily glaciated region. They also let me tag along as they excavated to bedrock so I could see firsthand the local variables of gold deposition. However, as any of you that chase the gold well know, even with tips from the locals, it’s still possible to find trouble while looking for gold, and that trip was no exception.Story Title: Gettin’ High On Placer Diggin’sSorry in advance to those of you into illegal or licensed substances, or those of you hardy enough to have actually smoked gold, or had it ground finely enough to inject or snort, because this tale does not deal with banned chemicals, licensed stimulants, or hallucinogenic substances. (Except I do think I have hallucinated while dreaming about gold in the past, especially during our long winters.) This story deals with the mind-altering effects of a metal. However, this prospecting tale itself is nonetheless mind-altering and reading it is not without risk.One summer, when the snows had melted and the swollen rivers had dropped enough to allow travel, I headed up North to the gold-fields. Up north means a sixteen-hour drive from my home. But, why drive sixteen hours when there are other gold fields much closer? Well, there’s far less people that’s why, and there’s coarser gold. As for population, there are less than thirty souls. As for the gold, it’s chunky and knobby. On a related note, some of the local boys dig test-pits right in their front yards, then shovel the dirt into a small high-banker onsite, and they get good gold.But, I digress again, and as you'll see, I'm pretty good at digressing. So, to summarize, less people, that’s good, right? But bugs? Bad! There are tens of millions of nasty, blood-sucking, winged vampires! There’s no way to hide from, or to outrun them. The bears, by comparison, are less of a concern, mainly because they can’t fly. But, because the bears are huge, smelly, and can be cranky (kind of like me after too long in the bush) they do deserve some respect.In retrospect, I was in an area of low mountains with fresh, crystalline streams, surrounded by thick stands of deep-green boreal forest. In the low places, mysterious swamps nestled into the hollows and were bordered by countless mounds of glacial till, leavings from the miles-thick ancient glaciers that once bound the land in perpetual winter. The moving glaciers generated havoc, and the ancient, glacial meltwater produced numerous, titanic rivers, and some placer excavations have exposed seven or eight overlapping and intersecting stream deposits. In contrast, the frozen glaciers were dozers on insane steroids, cutting deep down or deep into the original bedrock, then pushing sections of channels helter-skelter, or orphaning sections of channel high above the present streambeds. It was one of these orphaned sections that this story is written about. One day, I was sitting near the wash-plant fixing a broken six-inch pump. Having been at it a while, I took a break. Looking across the river, I noticed something high up on the opposite slope. A line of boulders and river rock ran in a well-defined line along its side. The line indicated an ancient riverbed resting atop the underlying black slate bedrock. It was roughly sixty feet above the modern-day river, and sections of that high channel had sloughed off, exposing a bit of face. Because of this, I scanned the area with my binoculars to gather more information. Clearly, the channel rested on a bedrock rim, while the river-run itself was covered by eighty or so feet of boulder clay, which was then topped by thick forest. All at once, my pea-sized brain was hammered by a giant, golden brainwave . . . I had to cross the river to sample that channel!No argument or thought of personal safety holds me back if there's a shot at getting gold! As hot fever had fired my resolve, I had to act.I grabbed a five-gallon (20-liter) plastic pail, shovel, pry/digging bar, and a small sledge; these items all fit neatly inside the bucket. Next, I shouldered into my prospecting backpack. (I keep all of my essentials in the backpack for easy transport. Nonetheless, when fully loaded, it weighs just a tad under a fully loaded B-52 bomber.) However, rather than worry about the gear in my backpack, I should have chucked it out and made room for a back-up brain instead. As will be seen, a spare brain would have saved me a lot of trouble that day . . .Regardless, all packed up, I made my way down to the river. Now, in Canada, even in mid-summer (which it was), the rivers that far north in B.C. NEVER get warm. In fact, if you dunk your head, you get instant brain-freeze! Ignoring rational thinking, I had the clever idea to delicately pick my way across the stream in my rubber boots, and ballet-like, I flitted from rock to rock. Yet somehow, I lost control. Disaster struck! Prospector, pail, and pack plunged below the surface. (Any comments uttered after surfacing will not be printed here in order to protect the innocent.)In spite of being wet and cold, I fully enjoyed the rest of the crossing (that’s a huge lie!). I felt somewhat refreshed (another whopper) after dragging my cold, soggy carcass out of the water. On a brighter note, after dumping eighty or so pounds of ice-water from each boot, it was easier to walk.So, threading through the poplars and aspens beside the river, I then headed up the slope until I hit a new obstacle: boulder clay. This is the stuff I mentioned earlier, a nasty mixture of tan to yellowish clay liberally dosed with boulders that was abandoned whenever and wherever the lazy glaciers wished. Boulder clay sloughs or oozes down hillsides when it's wet, and later it dries into bomb-proof concrete, though not quite as soft as concrete. As well, getting a toehold on it is the devil. Regardless, I somehow cut some steps with my shovel, and through stubborn dedication, I progressed a third of the distance upslope finding a v-shaped wash filled with cobbles and larger rocks, ones birthed from the channel and boulder clay above. The v-shaped wash held a nest of ill-tempered branches, dead limbs, and exposed roots that blocked my way. However, even with my squishy, soggy socks and boots, I navigated Mother Nature’s hazards. I continued upslope and worked my way into some sheltering pines. At that elevation, the smell of the pines is a wondrous thing; it's a smell I'll always associate with the true sense of freedom only to be enjoyed in the mountain environment while out chasing the gold. At last, I reached the high placer diggin's, the coveted bedrock rim with its ancient channel. Eagerly, I went to work. (I need to provide a little description of the worksite here: Imagine how tricky it is to rest one rubber boot on a three-inch ledge of bedrock, as the other boot powers the shovel, all while trying to maintain enough balance to avoid a tumble down the mountain. Imagine as well using the pick and bar in such tight quarters, while trying to carve out an excavation, one running three feet into the face of the boulder clay in an attempt to expose the bedrock.Success arrived when I exposed the underlying black slate of the high channel. Then, pulling my sniping tools from my backpack, I cleaned every little crevice, cranny, and dip or gutter in the slate and dropped the collections into my bucket. In addition, I added indsaf some oxidized reddish-orange dirt to my bucket as well.Not relishing the long haul down to the river with a small load, and wanting a good test sample, I loaded that bucket as heavy as I could in case I only made one trip. So, with the bucket filled, I tossed my tools over the edge to a landing of sorts, lifted the bucket, and turned around. Instantly, I realized something shocking; that return slope looked a lot steeper than it had on the way up! What mind-altering substance had possessed me to get where I was anyway?Clearly, some moron had deluded himself into scrambling to a place no sane person ever would. Moreover, I get myself into such fixes by denying the existence of the laws of physics, and probability, etc. I override and defeat all laws, and any stored wisdom when I'm gold crazy. Yet, I carry on in happy oblivion until I realize far too late what I've done. Regardless of my denial of scientific laws, etc., one law never surrenders to my delusions, and that law, as we shall see, is the irrefutable law of gravity!So, there I was, faced with a problem. I had to go down, no option, because I couldn't go up a vertical wall of boulder clay regardless of how high I was on gold-fever delirium. Deciding on a better course of action, I took the first step down. (This in spite of my brain trying too late to warn me of some impending doom. Come to think of it, I often override my brain's warnings to court danger while chasing gold.)However, the first step really wasn't that bad. I just leaned into the hill and put all of my weight back on my boot heel. Miraculously, it held me in place, and the eight-thousand-pound bucket of gravel and I took another step forward. (Could it be that the bucket was so heavy because of its high gold content? Or, was I just an idiot that had severely overloaded it?)I kept at it, leaning and stepping, and soon found myself in the branches and cobbles that littered the earlier mentioned wash. I took several more steps but then a malicious root or scheming branch snagged my boot. Well, that bucket just kicked out in front of me like it was rocket-boosted. (At about twice the speed of light, Sir Isaac Newton’s law had instant and complete control.)Immediately my brain switched to its salvation-panic mode as I yanked myself back as hard as I could, the bucket jerking back toward me. However, the problem was, my feet no longer cared what I was doing, as in trying to right myself, they chose instead to betray me by heading down the mountain. The effects of gravity increased increased in intensity as I picked up speed.Now, when viewed from the other side of the canyon, it must have looked as if someone had shot and wounded a strange forest creature, some ugly beast, a raging bull-moose perhaps, or some other smelly, cantankerous critter (a classification I could easily qualify for after weeks in the bush!). It also must have looked as if that crazed creature was hurtling down the slope to a certain and speedy demise.The real truth, however, is that instead of being out of control, I was magnificently in control, in fact, most supremely so. Even with my rubber boots throwing off more smoke than an Alaskan smudge fire, the accompanying smoke was a planned effect to keep the bugs at bay. However, keeping the smoke pouring from those hot boots while simultaneously attempting to apply my brakes among the boulders proved too tricky. In addition, the fact that the three gold pans in my backpack were absorbing more shock than a crash-test-dummy at impact was only a minor annoyance. As well, bashing off the face of the boulder clay was merely a slight test of my prospecting mettle, so to speak.At last, still breathing (though hot and ragged breaths those breaths were), I came to a sudden stop. Some friendly tree branches gracefully halted my ballet-like plunge. (It's rumored a visiting Russian judge, observing from across the river, gave me a 9 out of 10!)Now, for those with a sense of the divine in nature, this was the perfect moment. The moment that finds the human at one with the mountain (and miraculously still alive). However, more remarkable than my survival was that the dirt had not spilled from my bucket! Yes, that is the wonder in this high placer tale—not a stone was lost from the bucket, not a single grain of sand! So, with pay-dirt still intact, I somehow made my joints regain function, more or less (more pain and less function!). However, with renewed confidence, I set off once again. The only obstacle remaining was the sullen boulder clay.At some point, you'd think the brain would revolt, refusing to power to the muscles required for descent, especially after a such a brush with imminent extinction, all perpetrated by some ambitious idiot bent on chasing dirt! But no, the brain can always be overridden! I've located the master switch to disarm it. I've used it many times to stop logical thought, yet I have somehow survived to tell this tale. (This is proof that life is full of mysteries, ones not easily solved by rational thought.)At any rate, about a dozen steps down, the clay, somewhat wet from a seep, remembered one of its admirable qualities, the slicker than greased Teflon quality, and off I went again. This time it was only a playful, sort of jarring bashing, with the odd bone-numbing wallop thrown in for variety. It lasted for a mere twenty or so feet, then I came to a feather-like stop on the gravel below, the contents of the bucket still intact.Although amazed at the miraculous luck required to save such a valuable cargo, I took a break and picked a pan full of golf ball-sized gravel out of my mouth. Next I pushed several teeth back into their sockets, then replaced my left eyeball. After that, I checked to see what the crooked protrusion was that seemed to be attached to my head. Finding that it was my neck, and finding that it was still attached to my shoulders, I set off to the river to pan the dirt!Three flakes, in five gallons. . . . You can't make this stuff up.I guess there's a lesson to be learned here, but far be it from me to get preachy, or to force my hard-earned wisdom on any of you. I'll let you figure out the drug-induced dangers of gettin’ high while chasing placer diggin’s.All the best,Lanny
  12. 1 point
    Hey Lanny ... When does the book come out?
  13. 1 point
    They’re light coming through bullet holes in a metal tank
  14. 1 point
    Tell me at the outing! Oh, BTW, nice job on the road bud. Smooth ride in. Tom H.
  15. 1 point
    You guys could have gone at the same time! Great pics Tom, I haven`t been up to that mill thingy before I could have told you a secret only I know about the main road going in there.
  16. 1 point
    All I s good Fred, I still enjoy looking at the Aussie nuggets you sent me. They occupy a special spot on my jewelry bench. Hope all is well in your neck of the woods
  17. 1 point
    AZDIGGER = Rick...Mike was talking to me.
  18. 1 point
    Hey Craig: If you can make the monthly meeting tomorrow (Friday) in Downey, give me a tap on the shoulder and introduce yourself. I've been known to put a few folks over some nuggets now and then. I'd be glad to show you some spots. Martin
  19. 1 point
    Check the OP`s Post Date .... SOLD
  20. 1 point
    I tried to PM this to you.. Guess you either have a full thing or have it turned off.. That's ok though -- when I hopped back onto the forums I'd said I'd write an explanation to all about my absence.. Never did.. Well, here's the Cliff's Notes version: Yo, Haven't been logged on for a while -- since that post, actually.. Thought I'd told you about this..? Oh, it probably "got lost" when the Polymyaliga Rheumatica (sp) hit I bet; that's what I talked about in the forum.. I'd had the tinglings & minor numbness for a couple / few years prior to the Polymyaliga BS but it was sooo minor I didn't even try to find out what was going on.. That all changed a year ago November.. Within a matter of weeks I went from my big toes being numb sometimes to everything below my ankles being numb.. It was kinda a last straw for me at that time.. I could hardly walk without feeling like I was gonna fall over.. I stopped all online activities.. I stopped detecting cos I couldn't trust my balance along with the no feeling.. Got major depressed -- had a really great pity party goin' on for a while.. Thought I'd snapped out of it when I got back into the forums around December.. Started hittin' the beach again.. Thought the walking & detect was helping.. I don't think that's the case.. A couple days after I go out things get worse than they had been.. Hasn't stopped me from goin' out, yet, but the issue now is I'm getting the "creep"crap they talk about.. The numbness is moving up my legs.. It's almost to my knees.. I'm trying to ignore it, but don't know how long I can.. I think it's starting to come back in my hands too, which is where it started back when but then 'fell' into my feet -- which wasn't an issue there either until just over a year ago.. Hey man, I'm well aware of all the dumb crap I did to myself with chemicals & toxins back during my indestructable-worker days, and I did have a purt good head / back injury that could be responsible for this too.. Guess I figured I'd never live long enough to have it all catch up with me.. I sure fooled all of 'em, including myself -- HA! That's the story.. I just have a real hard time being inactive against my will is all.. That's what gets me down the most.. L8r, Al
  21. 1 point
    The nugget might only need some CLR and a light tooth brushing. The meteor looks interesting, like it was an oriented fall. Chris
  22. 1 point
    Lightening Ridge Black Opal, N2 color and 5/5 brightness. It’s got all the colors. Almost as good as it gets. 1.9 carats from the LaHoud claims
  23. 1 point
    What Rick there are not enough bullets to be found out in the desert that you need to provide a few hundred more?
  24. 1 point
    Looks like some sort of sandstone or natural concretions. Really looks like the homemade cornbread I bring to work for a snack.
  25. 1 point
    Never let the skunk win! It's been awhile with the rain and storm season that started last November-April. Again my little Joey DD coil at my old patch but this time in the drainage ditch that water runs off to the lake. On the left is 2.0gr, the other is 1.8gr. On it I experminted a little by cleaning it with vinegar Same old tooth brush on both but one I used the vinegar (right) the other just water.
  26. 1 point
    The Prospectors Club of Southern California...check their website fred
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