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Lanny in AB

What you can't see just might be . . .

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T'was the summer of '05. The day was cloudy. The gold had been elusive. The chance to use a new 3500 was appealing.

 

My buddy had just purchased a new 3500. As most of you know, I’m still a die-hard 2100 man—love that machine. It’s found a lot of gold nuggets for me, and it still does, but; after all, I would never have tried a 2100 for that fact either, because the old VLF’s had found a lot of gold too. However, I did try the 2100, and it blew the boots right off of my VLF detecting experiences—blew them completely off, but that’s because the ground I hunt it very often openly hostile and red hot electronically—far too hot for VLF’s. Thus, my love affair with the mellower SD’s, and the results have been splendid, and satisfying.

 

Well, we make summer-camp up in the Boreal Forests of British Columbia—Canada’s most western province. Its mountains dive steeply into the Pacific Ocean, thus ending BC’s dominance over the land. And, it is a magnificent province (we have provinces instead of states)—all kinds of mountains, rivers, lakes and breath-taking forests that seem to go on forever. All kinds of genuine wilderness as well, and I’ve seen lots of it in the United States and in Alberta too (British Columbia’s Eastern neighbor—Alberta has the world’s largest oil reserve to boot—mostly tied up in the Athabasca Tar Sands).

 

But, enough of that—on to the story. So, here was this nice, new 3500, and my friend kept begging me to try it out. After all, he’d been a true-blue 2100 user, then switched to the 3000, only to roll happily on to fully embrace the 3500. In fact, in all fairness, I’d turned his machine on a time or two, just to listen to that unique threshold, and it was somewhat pleasantly different, if not intriguing.

 

So, I scoured my mind for a place to try the gadget out. On reflecting, I remembered a place that had always intrigued me, one that I’d hammered with the 2100, only to be rewarded with bits of blade from Cat tracks and blades, old bullet leads from the 1800’s, square nails from the same period, and other assorted bits of metallic odds and ends. It was not what could be termed an easy spot to hunt, as it bore many past dig marks from skilled hunters, and the bedrock base there underlay an old hydraulic operation—some parts had been worked right down to the bedrock in modern times, while others still cradled crevices filled with rock-hard gumbo clay and rock. Not the friendliest place to hunt indeed.

 

But, the present day placer miners had been moving things about a bit—digging some test holes here and there, and they’d uncovered some interesting formations—ones where the gumbo clay was still tight on the bedrock in the crevices--this is a good sign, and often produces promising sites for detecting. So, I fired up the 3500. The first thing I noticed was how quiet it was, and how soothing the sound of that new threshold was. In those hydraulic workings, I’d always had my 2100 chirp like a bird gone mad, and I’d spend considerable time trying to quiet down that somewhat baffling electronic interference, with mixed results, yet never what I would classify as “quiet” results. But that 3500 just acted like the pit was a minor annoyance, one to be quieted quickly, and it had an attitude like, “let’s get on with this”. So, I did.

 

I worked the exposed bedrock and found lots of bits of steel, and more leads from the 1800’s, and modern buckshot, old squares, etc. You get the picture. I went and worked the crevices exposed by the test holes and found more of the same, and even found a door hinge tight on the bedrock under 15 feet of boulder clay! How it got there? It must have been driven in by the argonauts and then buried by the hydraulicing operation. So, I detected lower and got into some very interesting beddrock formations, but no gold. I even hammered the ground where my buddy had found a nice nugget in a rising crevice, just above the bedrock in the clay—no luck.

 

Hours had passed. You know how sweaty you get in the summer, and the sun was out now, beating a tattoo on my head and shoulders. I was getting somewhat jaded, nice threshold or not! I looked at some broken bedrock where they’d raked down an up-welling reef with the teeth of the excavator bucket. I hit it and was rewarded with the usual suspects, and hordes of them to boot. I reached up above the scrape-down to well-above the bedrock where the over-wash from the hydraulicing merged with the bedrock, and I got a signal. It sounded like the pointed tip of another square nail (for those of you that don’t know, those little tips of square nails sound awful sweet—like nuggets do), and because it was high up, and I was really stretching out my arm to reach the target, I almost didn’t dig it.

 

Now I'm a prospector that realizes that that kind of thinking is the height of gold-nugget detecting blasphemy, but it happens! You just get zoned-in to the thinking that you’ve been digging trash all day and so it logically has to be more trash, so why bother. Right? Deadly thinking, but prevalent nonetheless. Well, I caved. I dug the target. It moved down the hill, and it was powerful tough digging it, what with me hanging onto the hillside with my toenails and all. But, the target moved, so I reached up with my supermagnet and pushed the dirt around, fully expecting to see the tip of a square smiling back at me from the face of the magnet. No smile—no nail.

 

This is always when things get interesting, but I don't allow myself to get too much so, as I’d previously dug a lot of lead that day as well. So, somewhat pumped, but somewhat sobered, I reached up with my plastic gardening shovel and tried a capture manoeuvre—of course I missed, then skidded down the broken bedrock, barking one of my already too tender shins. There’s still a tapestry of curses woven somewhere in that vast blue bowl of wilderness sky. . . .

 

Regardless, I went back up again, and this time snagged the clutch of rock and dirt with the signal quite intact. I worked my way down to a level spot and started the sifting-detecting-casting out, resifting-detecting-casting out technique, and at last had a couple of tablespoons of material in the scoop. The scoop held the signal. I gently started sifting material onto the head of the coil and “WHAP”, that fat sound that no detectorist can ever forget, wonderfully assaulted my ears.

 

Now, we all know that lead makes the same sound, but something in the dim recesses of my brain told me this was not lead. I poked my finger onto the coil and moved the bits and pieces around until something howled in response to the agitation of that primal, nugget-shooter's gold-getting movement.

 

I picked it up--the weight was sure right. But, it was covered in tenacious clay. I used nature’s ever-present supply of instant water-like cleanser, a shot of saliva, to remove the disguising clay—it was a nugget. Long it was, the sole-of-a-shoe shape in fact, quite flattened, but massing in at about two grams. Not the biggest nugget I’ve found, no way. But one that brought a contented smile as I realized what a fine machine the 3500 was, as this ground had been hit many times by many others, myself included.

 

All the best, and the other nugget find will have to wait for another day,

 

Lanny

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Great writing Lanny,

Lots of fun to read and think about,

Thanks for taking the time to share

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Lanny in AB, what is the weight of smallest gold that you have found with your GP-3000?  Ruff&Tuff

 

R&T,

 

Pretty small actually--I use the little Joey coil with my 2100 and it's very sensitive. I'd only be guessing, as I don't usually weigh the small stuff under a gram, but probably a quarter to an eighth of a gram anyway. Hope this helps,

 

Lanny

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Lanny--When's the next chapter and when's the book coming out that you ought to write.  Pondmn

 

Wow,

 

Thanks for the compliment--no book as yet--too busy trying to find the gold!

 

Lanny

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hello Lanny.great stories and writing as usual,very nice gold.Do you ever sample the quartz stringers that cross the creeks,by crushing up and panning.  dave

 

Dave,

 

I have sampled some, and found some gold, but most often I've been skunked. Maybe I need to be more persistent. However, I have to admit I think I'm hooked on picking up pieces of gold that have already been liberated.

 

Lanny

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Great writing Lanny,

Lots of fun to read and think about,

Thanks for taking the time to share

 

No problem--glad to do it.

 

Thanks for taking the time to comment--much appreciated.

 

Lanny

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Well, here’s the story of the other nugget—close in residence, but a far different challenge.

 

After I’d worked myself into a gritty sweat finding the two gram nugget, I decided that the day wasn’t quite as long and wasted as I’d started to believe, so I made a decision to head down onto the level ground and detect the abandoned placer pit.

 

For those of you that have detected abandoned placer pits, well, it’s a mine all right—a mine of fine pieces of blade and track bits (the blade of the cat, and the tracks of the cat and the hoe)—hundreds and hundreds of them, and everyone of those pesky pukes willing to sound off in the ol’ headphones.

 

For those of you that don’t know what a placer pit is, it’s a large excavation made where placer gold is supposed to reside. Now, finding the residence of gold is something people have been trying to discover for millennia, and today, it’s no different. Anyway, a placer pit is started, in my neck of the woods, most usually by digging through anywhere from ten to eighty feet of boulder clay. For the uniformed, you generic, run of the mill boulder clay is the lovely obstinate jumble of mess and discard that the glaciers got tired of packing around during the last ice age.

 

They simply hadn’t the time or the energy, or perhaps the will, to carry all of that gumbo and goo, and weighty rock-infested trash around anymore, so they dumped it. Often, no I think every single time, it was dumped haphazardly in a most slovenly manner, and often part of that haphazard nonsense involved covering up absolutely fine and wonderful gold bearing streams! You must remember that some of those glaciers were miles high and many miles long and wide, and so when they dumped, well, there was a huge dumping problem. (Makes some of today’s environmental dumping seem like tiny, infetisimal potatoes, not the cliched “small potatoes” we hear about all the time!)

 

At any rate, those inconsiderate glaciers dumped multiple, and most annoying tons of clay, boulders, broken bedrock, etc., on some very pristinely prime gold locations. So, today, you’ve got to get through that awful stuff to get to the old channels, and sometimes you get all the way down through that obstinate stuff only to find that a prior glacier, pre-dumper so to speak, scraped all the way down to bedrock and took everything—gold, stream material, all! But, on those rare occasions when you find intact river-run, then the fun begins: scraping and digging up the stream wash to see if there’s any gold in it. Sometimes there is, sometimes . . . well, you get the picture.

 

(As a side note, boulder clay made great stuff for tunnelling, as far as holding up—supporting itself—that is, awful stuff to pick and shovel through for those poor placer miners chasing the yellow metal by drifting: finding a shelf of bedrock, or estimating where the bedrock most likely was and then drifting along horizontally on the bedrock to get the gold. I could tell you quite the stories of some of those drift mines I’ve seen exposed by modern mining methods, but that’s a tale for another day.)

 

However, this particular pit, whose formation I’ve been rambling on about had been gold-bearing, at least the one corner I was detecting had been productive, and so it had been worked hard, most resolutely, with the resultant pesky metallic state of the aforementioned bedrock—all liberally salted with buzzing bits of hot steel. A detecting nightmare you understand, but sometimes it helps to be positive: not only positive that you will go crazy dealing will all those little bits, but positive that if there’s lots of targets left, the place can’t be worked out, yet. So you soldier on, making the ol’ supermagnet look like a hedgehog on steroids—all that lovely iron hair going out in a dozen different creative directions, with the hairdo only getting larger and more elaborate as more detecting and magnet work is done.

 

Regardless, I finally got to a place in the pit where there reposed a pile of clay. Those of you that have worked with clay know that it just seems to have a lasting value, and it always keeps turning up, no matter how much of it you get rid of. In fact, in old placer pits, or hydraulic pits, it keeps creeping and oozing its way back down into the pit—taking it back over again actually. It’s relentless stuff. Tenacious to a fault.

 

But, I decided to swing the coil over the clay, and it was amazingly quiet. Actually, my ears enjoyed the break! So I decided to stick with it, and went around and around the area—it was about the size of maybe two yards of material. All at once I got a screamer—a real screamer, and so my brain said, “Square nail, dummy.” And you know what? It was a square nail—in great condition for a hundred and thirty year old survivor. But just the same, nothing but an old nail.

 

The clay got quiet again and then a hit. It was rather harsh sounding, and it proved to be the head of an old square—nasty little imposter it was, nothing more. I kept working the lumpy clay and then I got a disturbance in the threshold. Not really a target—just a disturbance. I almost left it alone as the electromagnetic influences around the pit are notorious for generating false signals, but I decided to dig off several inches of clay and swing again. Just a sweet little signal now—very soft, yet distinct.

 

For those of you that hunt gold with the SD’s, or with the 3500’s, know that those soft, sweet sounds are almost always only generated by the upper-class metals: copper, brass, silver, lead, gold—not the nasty false chirpings of the iron and steel trashy counterfeit metals. Anyway, the signal was distinct and soft and sweet. So, I didn’t think it was another false trail leading only to the aforementioned counterfeit metals.

 

I scraped off a couple more inches and the signal was getting louder—but not harsher—still nice and sweet. This is a definite blood-pumper: when the signal stays soft and sweet as you get closer. I dug around the signal carefully and popped out a chunk of clay. I checked the hole, and there was still a signal. I detected the chunk, and there was a signal in it. I was thinking, “What the . . .!?” So, I placed the chunk aside and kept digging—the sound got louder and harsher, and there was a rusty, bent old saucy-looking, gum-boot ugly square nail sitting tight on the bedrock. Rotten thing.

 

However, I still had the clump of clay to detect, so I picked it back up just to verify with my brain that there really was a signal in it, and that it just hadn’t been the nail farther down that had somehow tricked me. Well, the clump still had a signal, nice and soft. So, I started breaking off pieces and passed them under the coil until I got a chunk that had a signal—the remainder was quiet. I took the clay and started to break it up in my scoop. Then I sifted it out onto the coil, and “Whap!” that solid sound cuffed my ears for the second time that day.

 

“Well, either gold or lead” I thought, as no previous passes with the magnet had produced any attractive effect. So, I pushed the stuff around on the coil till one object growled back— great little beauty of a sound it made. I cleaned it off, with my previously revealed secret technique, and there smiling back at me was a sassy little 1.5 grammer—almost square in shape, and sporting quite the attitude. (It most likely had something to do with the fact that I’d disrupted its clay-castle residence—who knows.) At any rate, I had the little chunker, and I rattled it around in the bottle with the two grammer, just to hear that lovely, rumbly, golden noise—a noise I’ll never tire of. As far as the noise from all those other targets detected that day, well, you can flat-out have all of that racket—I’ll gladly keep the golden rumblers.

 

Good hunting,

 

Lanny

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Lanny,

Great stories.Looks like I'm not the only one here that dredges like a mad dog!

BIGFOOT

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Bigfoot,

 

Ain't dredgin' great fun! I can't wait to get back in the water.

 

Thanks for your kind comments,

 

Lanny

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Kamikaze,

 

Thanks a bunch--I'll pop some more info on this thread for you,

 

Lanny

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Did some reflecting today while I was responding to another post, and most of you probably can relate:

 

I'm not a geologist, and I probably should hang out with one for a few days just to learn the names of the rock formations that cause so much trouble--I'm just always too busy trying to sniff out the nuggets, but it's probably worth the time to learn the names and how to ID the rocks.

 

I'm probably like every other nugget shooter--every place I've ever been, I'm always thinking back on places I should have checked while I was there, or I'll learn stuff after I leave an area and realize all the nuggets I walked over/left behind because I just didn't know enough to get the gold while I was there.

 

Boy, there's some places I'll have to get back to as I know some prime places where the gold's just lying there waiting to be snared, and there's slim chance anyone else has been there since. That's the beauty of remote areas, but also the great challenge--getting back there again, that is.

 

One area in particular still haunts me: it was a large area of mined bedrock, and when you'd dig in the bedrock, it came off in chunks like soft cheese. You'd crush it up and pan in and it always had pickers in it. At that time I was using a VLF that couldn't run at all in that stuff, and I hadn't invested in a PI yet, but there was lots of ground there and all the nice pickers I was getting panning were in eighth to quarter gram range--the little Joey coil would have sniffed all of them out.

 

The intriguing factor was that the gold was in lenses in that soft bedrock--the pieces of gold were in with clay and small river stones. When you'd cut down to dig out a piece for panning, the cross section looked liked a layered sandwich of sorts: black, soft, decomposed bedrock, and orange to yellow clay with rounded river stones and sand--almost never any black sand! The problem was it was pure hit and miss with the shovel, lots of ground, but flooding fast in the storms, yet the Minelab would have been an awful sweet thing to have had before the rains set in.

 

It just blows my mind to think how a detector would just go crazy in there trying to track all of those signals. The knowledge of the location of that ground is very safe as I'm the only one that knows its location now, but it's a bear to get in there these days too as there's been lots of slippage and shifting due to some severe storms--the trails are in horrible shape, if they still exist at all since the last time I was in.

 

So, I'd have to hoof it in for quite a ways, and I'd really rather enjoy getting places on my quad--makes it easier to elude the grizzlies too--and the place is crawling with them, and some big healthy cougars too.

 

 

All the best,

 

 

Lanny

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Just a quick note to say hello to everyone. I'm actually off to do some prospecting this week. Got out about three weeks ago and found some nice gold, and my partner found a nugget with the detector--the GP3500--nice machine. Saw some bear and Elk and deer--got the wall tent with the woodburning stove set up, so the camp is ready to go. Dredge season starts soon, and we've got some decent prospects for the wash plant as well.

 

We even found an old cabin in the bottom of a gulch--one we've missed finding somehow for all these years. It's well hidden, obviously on purpose. It was an old drift-mining location and the cabin had squares from the 1800's and rounds from the 30's and 50's it looks like. Might be worth some further investigation.

 

All the best to all of you this summer,

 

Lanny

 

Man--I've been gone from the forums for a long, long time. Been busy mining, dredging, and some nugget hunting to boot! Just wanted to drop in again from time to time.

 

All the best,

 

Lanny

 

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One area in particular still haunts me: it was a large area of mined bedrock, and when you'd dig in the bedrock, it came off in chunks like soft cheese. You'd crush it up and pan in and it always had pickers in it. At that time I was using a VLF that couldn't run at all in that stuff, and I hadn't invested in a PI yet, but there was lots of ground there and all the nice pickers I was getting panning were in eighth to quarter gram range--the little Joey coil would have sniffed all of them out.

 

Lanny

 

Welcome back to the forum, Lanny. Did you ever get back to that spot with your PI?

 

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I got quite a few days of dredging in this past summer. One particular spot grabbed my attention before I even got the dredge down to the river.

 

It was located at the junction of a tiny side-channel that entered the main channel. The little feeder stream bled off the river farther up, then teed back into the big channel downstream where I was checking it out. And what got my attention was that just upstream from the perpendicular intersection point of the two streams was a very obvious suction eddy where the river had cut back into the bank about three feet.

 

Now, not only had the river carved back into the bank, but it had exposed a large boulder that had been buried in that bank. And, the boulder was sitting on bedrock! Well, in front of the boulder was an area where the river had spun every bit of overburden off of that bedrock sheet. So, all that was left on the bedrock was black sand and fine gold. It was pretty fun stuff to pan because there was nothing but black sand and flour gold--no gravel or rocks, but there wasn't enough of it to work it for very long. Therefore, once done, I took some time and looked at the spot to try and figure out what had happened.

 

I observed that just downstream from the boulder and the bedrock was another pile of boulders. But these boulders were all jumbled together in a perpendicular line jutting out into the river where the little stream entered the main channel. They formed a sort of breakwater so that the main part of the river had to slam into it, then spin back on itself before it could return to the main channel and scoot past where the feeder stream entered the waterway proper. The place where the river cut back to was the boulder on the bedrock I mentioned earlier. So, I theorized that anything heavy that was traveling the river at flood-stage would have to drop upstream of that boulder barricade/breakwater. Because, the barricade would force the water into a brief uphill climb, and then energy and velocity would spin the water away from the bank where the boulder and the black sand on bedrock were, and then spin everything over towards the main channel, but the line of boulders would then trap it again from heading out into the channel proper--the perfect suction eddy.

 

So, I went back and got the dredge (everyone knows how much fun it is to pack a dredge down into a canyon in the mountains [*@#!%*@#*!!], but hey--that's what fun's all about, right? Especially if you're a dredger.), and I set it up just upstream of the pile of boulders. I started to punch a hole and almost instantly a feisty little trout was in there with me. (It never ceases to amaze me that whenever I start to punch a hole, the trout magically appear and keep me company the whole time I'm working. They know a good buffet deal when one comes along!) Anyway, this little scrapper was hammering every little aquatic insect as it got exposed. Because the water is crystal clear--I got to see quite a show. And, if you've never seen it in the wild, watching trout feed is fascinating stuff. They're lightning-fast, perfect little ambush, attack-and-kill artists.

 

So, the trout, he kept me company as I punched my way down. Not too far into the channel-run, I hit the top of a big, jagged, rough-textured boulder. I worked my way upstream of the boulder, where the bedrock was rising almost step-like, and went down to bedrock. I was soon uncovering nails, pieces of cast-iron pipe, lead-shot, and pieces of hammered lead. I even found a small crow bar jammed into a crevice! There were a couple of visible pickers riding on the bar at the contact zone where it jammed into that crevice. Let me tell you, there's nothing quite like seeing gold glitter in the sunlight under water! You never forget it--ever.

 

However, I kept on dredging upstream of the boulder and uncovered more heavies--including piles of pyrite. When I went topside and peeked in the sluice, there was visible flake gold on the black mat, and I could see some pickers too. But, no nuggets. I went back under and dredged back on the bank-facing side of the boulder. The bedrock was fractured and rough there. The bedrock dipped on the bank side of the boulder and dropped about ten inches below the boulder's edge. And, surprise, surprise, there was a little trough down there in the mother-rock.

 

I used my bar to drag everything I could out of the trough, and then used the flusher nozzle to clean the little crevices. But, a little farther along, there was a flat rock wedged right in the bottom of that trough--it was about the size of three palm widths, and about six inches across. I worked at it--it didn't want to come up--but when it did, you could see a layer of silt all tightly jammed with little stones and pebbles. I let the dredge work slowly on this material and just sat back and watched as it casually went up the nozzle. As it did so, more and more material came off the bedrock, and all at once I saw that elusive yellow flash--you know--the one that rapidly increases your heart rate?

 

I gently moved the nozzle back a bit to lessen the suction, fanned the remaining material with my hand, and watched in amazement as the rest of the sediment moved away until the nugget was left sitting there on the bedrock (if you don't move the nozzle back, everything will go roaring up the nozzle--not that that's a bad thing, but I like to see the nuggets in their natural state, exactly where nature let them repose--if I can). Oh, it was a little beauty--a nice two gram nugget with lots of character, which is uncommon in that area, as many nuggets are hammered flat.

 

I continued to work over toward the bank away from the boulder and got into watermelon-sized rocks, with some wash-tub-sized ones as well (underneath one, jammed tightly upright in a crevice, was a quarter!!). The bedrock was sloping up toward the bank. All at once some of the material higher up slumped into the river, and a trail of river-run started to race toward the nozzle--I moved the nozzle back gently once more to slacken the suction. The material kept running, but slower now. It exposed some rough stepped-up bedrock, and sitting there on a bit of a ledge was a flirty little one gram nugget, and just above it, in the sediment, I could see a shy, little yellow beauty peeking out at me, and it had smaller friends keeping it company too. I tweezed-up the one-grammer, and then let the other pieces run up the nozzle, as the material they were sitting in had started to slide down into the hole, and the gold was quickly getting buried in the slump.

 

Well, I finished cleaning out the hole, it was not a very big area, and then went topside to see what I'd got. There were more smiling gold flakes awaiting me on the black mat, and more bold pickers basking there along with them in that warm, late afternoon sunlight.

 

I undid the locks on the front riffle bar, pulled out the blue miner's moss, the green mat, and the black mat and rinsed them all into a tub. I panned them out and had myself the two nuggets previously mentioned, plus another one that was just under a gram, seven nice pickers, some large flake gold, and a nice catch of smaller flake gold. I'll tell you, there in the pan, scattered liberally in that artificial night sky of black sand, those nuggets, pickers, and flakes were transformed into sparkling, golden constellations.

 

Specific gravity, the water trap, and the river cutting back on itself had alerted me to the potential of a nice gold-drop area, and I was lucky enough to find the gold still there.

 

Nature had built it, I'd found it, and there's nothing that feels better--nope--not by a long shot.

 

All the best,

 

Lanny

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Welcome back to the forum, Lanny. Did you ever get back to that spot with your PI?

 

You know, I haven't got back there yet. It's to heck and gone up north--it's horrible logging roads and killer logging trucks all the way in--the flies and mosquitoes are beyond plague status, and we're currently mining in a much more accessible, bug-reduced area right now--but, I'll get back there one day--just for the adventure, and the nice gold.

 

All the best,

 

Lanny

 

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Lanny,

I just spent 2 hours reading all your stories. When i'm not out there gettin gold I love to read about gettin gold. Those sure are some great short stories! I'm in California where we have a moritorium on dredging for at least the next few years. I have two small dredges but have had the pleasure of working a 5

" dredge here on the bear river, with a friend. No big gold but lots of fine flakes. I usually tend to snipe instead of dredge but I definitly agree, there's nothing like seeing gold on bedrock under the water, every flake is a treasure!

 

Tazman

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Lanny,

I just spent 2 hours reading all your stories. When i'm not out there gettin gold I love to read about gettin gold. Those sure are some great short stories! I'm in California where we have a moritorium on dredging for at least the next few years. I have two small dredges but have had the pleasure of working a 5

" dredge here on the bear river, with a friend. No big gold but lots of fine flakes. I usually tend to snipe instead of dredge but I definitly agree, there's nothing like seeing gold on bedrock under the water, every flake is a treasure!

 

Tazman

 

A kindred spirit! That's great. I use a four-inch dredge as I have to pack it around a lot in the mountains. It's too bad about your dredging moratorium--I feel your pain. And, you're sure right about seeing the gold--nothing matches that. Thanks for your comments on the stories--and, you kept at it for two hours!! That's a real compliment--it means a lot to me.

 

All the best,

 

Lanny

 

 

 

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Here's some dredge gold--coarse and fines. Both pictures are the same! I'm a bit stumped on how to remove the lower-quality picture. Any suggestions? I've tried the help menu--I've tried deleting one picture, and in the editor "preview post" mode there are no pictures that show up. But, when I submit the modified post, both pictures show up again. Maybe I won't be able to fix it, but just so you know, the high quality picture is bigger--so, I don't want you to waste your time clicking on both. My apologies.

 

All the best,

 

Lanny

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When it gets too deep for snorkel work, this is the monster that emerges from the depths!!

 

 

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