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Author Topic: Chasing the gold with Lanny  (Read 3558 times)

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Offline Lanny

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Re: Chasing the gold with Lanny
« Reply #30 on: March 27, 2019, 09:55:42 AM »
As far as Google Ads go, I have no idea why they would be attached. Maybe the moderator could have a look?

I certainly don't see any on my posts.

All the best,

Lanny

Offline Lanny

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Re: Chasing the gold with Lanny
« Reply #31 on: March 27, 2019, 09:56:50 AM »
Flashback Series: Tales From The Flat, Part 3

Confronting the terror.

During this paralytic horror, my only comfort was the assailants were on the same side of the tent as my dozing partner. However, my shameless security in using my partner as a human shield vanished when one of the snorting monsters shifted itself to the back of the tent (right where our heads were) as it began to tear at the grass! I was no longer safe. A two-pronged attack is always harder to defend against. Imagine my heightened distress when another one started ripping up grass at the front of the tent! These attackers were definitely not browsing deer. The weight of these assassins caused the ground to shudder as they moved. Whatever they were, they were huge.

Having nothing to lose now, I reached over and shook my partner. He came awake with a slurping gurgle, and he asked me if heíd been snoring again. I shook my head, but at the sound of his voice, the snorting, snuffling, and tearing of grass immediately halted. The night was deathly still. Using agitated hand signs, I relayed my concerns.

From under my pillow, I flicked on a tiny penlight, then made my way to the front of the tent where I kept a large, halogen flashlight. As I picked it up, the snorting, snuffling and tearing started again. Turning around to check on my partnerís progress, my light lit his panicked, bulging eyes. His hair stood on end! (It didnít matter it always looked that way; it was perfect for the mood at that moment.) Rushing past me, he flew to the foot of the bed and yanked his 30-30 from its scabbard. The new noises he made caused the outside noises to stop once more.

Gathering all of my courage, then nodding to each other to be ready, I unzipped the front of the tent, and we stepped outside.

I quickly panned my bright halogen beam left and right. Multiple, malevolent eyes were instantly lit in the darkness. I was thunderstruck by their number. We were besieged by an invasion force; evil eyes blazed hotly in the boreal darkness. And then, those demonic eyes, in those huge heads, jerked up from the ground. Massive blasts of exhaled, steamy breath, fogged, and then filled the air.

Regardless of the horror, and somehow finding a reserve of inner strength, I continued moving the light and fully illuminated that host of bodies. I watched in transformed terror as the nocturnal beastsí claws turned to hooves, their imagined humps to manes, until as one, with a great blowing and snorting, off they all ran.

I have never been so terrified by a herd of wild horses.

We found out the next day that throughout the summer there was a herd that worked its way up and down the connected series of canyons above and below where we were camped.

Of course we both had a good laugh (a hysterical, counterfeit kind of a laugh for sure), and we both uttered macho statements about how silly it was to get all worked up about bears, when in reality it was only horses after all. Clearly, it was the kind of jittery conversation that accompanies the complete and utter loss of every shred of manly dignity.

Oh, the everlasting shame . . .

All the best,

Lanny

(P.S. In the last instalment of this ďTales From The FlatsĒ series, I will relate another disturbing black and midnight event that plagued our seemingly cursed sleep.)

Offline sunshine

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Re: Chasing the gold with Lanny
« Reply #32 on: March 27, 2019, 12:47:53 PM »
I have had deer, bear, moose and flying squirrels visit my camp in the night.  By far the most spooky was the squirrels.  The darn things would climb a nearby tree and sail down onto the tent and slide to the ground and then repeat.   It was difficult to figure out what was going on and the mind plays terrible tricks.  Never had a bear use me as a pillow like McBain.  Never seen any wild horses, which would have been very cool.  Heard plenty of buddies snoring and have been told that I sometimes "saw wood" too (I don't believe it).   Great story Lanny!
See my YouTube channel for fun amateur video:
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Offline JOE S (INDY)

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Re: Chasing the gold with Lanny
« Reply #33 on: March 27, 2019, 02:25:54 PM »
YIKES!

Sometimes something happens that just makes you say bad things.  This was almost one of those.   <-sealed_>

When I click on Lanny's post I do not (and have not) seen any of those advertisements.  They just are not there but now that I see the screen shot from Dharma Soldat I fully understand his concern over the mysteriously appearing adverts. 

So, here and now I am fully admitting that I just don't know any of the "Whys" of all this.   ^#!

Are there any other members who see adverts in the post from Lanny?  If so, would you fire me off a quick PM to let me know? 

For a guy who does OK shoveling into a highbanker I sometimes just come up empty on some things that have to do with Cyber Magic.    <-dont~know->

Joe
Wiser Mining Through Endless Personal Mistakes

Offline Lanny

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Re: Chasing the gold with Lanny
« Reply #34 on: March 28, 2019, 06:14:06 AM »
I have had deer, bear, moose and flying squirrels visit my camp in the night.  By far the most spooky was the squirrels.  The darn things would climb a nearby tree and sail down onto the tent and slide to the ground and then repeat.   It was difficult to figure out what was going on and the mind plays terrible tricks.  Never had a bear use me as a pillow like McBain.  Never seen any wild horses, which would have been very cool.  Heard plenty of buddies snoring and have been told that I sometimes "saw wood" too (I don't believe it).   Great story Lanny!

Wow! You've sure had quite the range of strange visitors, and I loved the story about the flying squirrels; that's a different one that would really spook the brain.

Thanks for dropping in, and all the best,

Lanny

Offline Lanny

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Re: Chasing the gold with Lanny
« Reply #35 on: March 28, 2019, 06:15:26 AM »
(Alder Gulch, Virginia City Montana is where I first got bit! I wrote these lines in memory of that fateful day.)


The Alder Gulch Virus, or, Why I Chase The Gold

In days gone by, when just a lad
My sisterís spouse did somethiní bad
A ghostly town we went to see,
That lit a fire within me . . .

Virginia Cityís driving force
Was mining gold. You knew of course
That Henry Plummer ruled that town
ĎTil vigilantes brought him down.

But his demise is not my goal,
A bug bit me to take its toll.
It bred a fever inside me,
Away down south, in Montanny.

What plague is that, youíll likely say,
That sickened me that fateful day?
A golden fever, spread in me
And since that day, I ainít been free.

The bug that bit that special day,
Infected me in every way.
Just let me say, there ainít no pill,
To cure that sassy feverís ill.

Iíve tried to lick it, ainít no fun
That potent feverís always won.
Itís driven me around the bend,
Up mountain streams, to canyonís end.

Itís made me search in arctic climes
And in the desert many times.
But nothiní ever seems to kill
My golden feverís iron will.

But should I cure it? What the heck?
Thereís tougher ways to stretch oneís neck!
Thereís booze and parties, speed and weed;
Thereís lust and pride. Thereís crime and greed.

But blast it all, it seems to me
It ainít the gold thatís driviní me.
The lookiní for itís got me hooked
Thatís why my fevered brain is cooked.

All the best,

Lanny

Offline Lanny

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Re: Chasing the gold with Lanny
« Reply #36 on: March 28, 2019, 06:31:44 AM »
Flashback Series: Tales From The Flat, Finale

Well, I know itís hard to believe, but it took us a while to get back to sleep after the wild horse encounter. So, we bucked up our spirits by telling far less scary stories about real bear encounters, most-likely due to shock, and eventually we went back to sleep.

We awoke the next morning to a beautiful, clear day.

After breakfast, we went to the truck and took out our metal detectors. We connected the batteries and then walked a few steps away to conduct some tests. My machine worked flawlessly. So, I tossed me test nugget on the ground (glued to an old Golden Nugget poker chip) and got a nice low-high-low sound.

All at once I heard the most awful screeching. I figured my partner passed his coil too close to the truck, all of that metal overloading his circuits, the noise blasting from his speaker . . . However, as I turned to look, I saw a blur disappear into the tent. Nope, not the detector at all, my partner simply forgot his bug spray.

Well, we went out that day and dug all kinds of square nails (factory ones and hand-made ones too), bits of lead, pieces of tin, iron wire, copper wire, shell casings, bullet lead, but no nuggets. We came home dog-tired and ready for bed. Up north, itís possible to get in fourteen or more hours of detecting in a day if the weatherís good, and weíd put in lots of hours of swinging the coils that day.

I actually fell asleep before my partner that night, as he was updating his little spiral-bound notebook he always carries in his front pocket (a hold-over from his ranching days). Anyway, around midnight (I sleep with my watch on), something woke me. At first, all I heard was a faint scuffing noise, off in the distance, accompanied by a human voice, and then the words started to sink in.

Someone approaching from downstream was weaving a tapestry of obscenity unlike anything Iíd ever heard. He was a true master of the art. As he got closer, his cussing intensified, but then he sped past the tent. Swearing like a sailor the entire time, he faded away in the distance to be heard no more.

My partner slept through the entire event, blissfully unaware of the fine performance heíd missed. On the other hand, I was quite astounded by the profane sermon, but eventually I fell asleep.

Several hours later, I woke again to familiar sounds in the darkness.

The same scuffing noise, the same colorful language returned from the opposite direction! The volume increased until the midnight cusser sped by the tent, the words drifting off in the distance. Other than being annoyed at losing some sleep, I was ready to write it off as an odd, once-in-a-lifetime performance.

It was not!

(The next morning, I could clearly see bicycle tracks in the dust on the road. That explained the hurried arrival and departure speed of our midnight caller.)

The next night, at the same time, the northern preacher repeated his sermon in all its glory. Hearing his approach, I woke my buddy so he could witness the event. Several hours later, I woke my partner to enjoy the return soliloquy. (However, he seemed a bit cranky Iíd woke him up.)

The next night, I was sound asleep, yet my partner woke me to listen to those midnight verses. (I wonder why he did that?) Moreover, for the return performance, my partner woke me yet again. (Karma? Or, was it only revenge?)

The next morning, we followed the preacherís bicycle tracks for miles up the road until they crossed a bridge over a stream. We quit following them at that point, as it was obvious he traveled extensively at night, spreading his wilderness sermon far and wide.

That night, he returned again, with renewed energy and volume in his delivery, but I was ready to do something about it.

(Remember that halogen flashlight, the one that could turn bears into horses? Well, I devised a plan to use its blazing white light to full advantage.)

As he approached, I quietly unzipped the front of the tent, and when he was alongside the tent, I gave him the full halogen blast! He jerked on his bike as if heíd been pole-axed!! His head snapped up, his one hand clawed the air to fend off the impending blindness, but it was too late.

Losing control as he raised his hand, the gravel hooked his front tire, and off he shot at right angles to the road, launching gloriously into the crisp night air, shooting down the embankment, flying through a dense thicket of alders, to plunge into the knee deep water of the creek.

My partner wondered if the bicyclist might need some help. However, I assured him that anyone that could swear like that didnít need any help with their cussing . . .

To prove my point, we heard some strangled cries, some renewed cussing that surpassed anything weíd heard to date, followed by a great deal of splashing water, the sound of many branches breaking, and then, by the halogen beam, we spotted him emerging from the gloom. Mounting his metallic steed, and with many squishy sounds, he rode off down the road, utterly speechless, but likely thoughtful.

We crawled back under the blankets, and were not awakened by a return performance later that night, or any other night.

Somehow, Iíd found a solution to those midnight sermons.

Somehow, indeed.

All the best,

Lanny

Offline sunshine

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Re: Chasing the gold with Lanny
« Reply #37 on: March 28, 2019, 12:07:38 PM »
I wonder if the midnight rambler was simply making noise to warn bears of his approach?  I wonder where he was going and why?  I wonder what story he told about his adventure afterwards?   

My imagination gets the best of me sometimes.  LOL  Here is my explanation based on some the characters that I have crossed paths in the mountains.  He had a spot to collect gold that legally belonged to someone else or wanted to keep secret.  He would get enough gold to use at the local bar and would return for more when required.  However, on his last midnight trip, he had a close encounter of the third kind.  Unexplained bright light, transported from the trail and dropped into the creek.   Instant sore butt because everyone knows aliens like to probe their captives.   
See my YouTube channel for fun amateur video:
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Offline Lanny

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Re: Chasing the gold with Lanny
« Reply #38 on: March 28, 2019, 09:55:57 PM »
I wonder if the midnight rambler was simply making noise to warn bears of his approach?  I wonder where he was going and why?  I wonder what story he told about his adventure afterwards?   

My imagination gets the best of me sometimes.  LOL  Here is my explanation based on some the characters that I have crossed paths in the mountains.  He had a spot to collect gold that legally belonged to someone else or wanted to keep secret.  He would get enough gold to use at the local bar and would return for more when required.  However, on his last midnight trip, he had a close encounter of the third kind.  Unexplained bright light, transported from the trail and dropped into the creek.   Instant sore butt because everyone knows aliens like to probe their captives.   

You really have a way of getting the imagination moving to make interesting stories. Sounds like you should write a book. {-applause-}

Thanks for giving me a laugh, needed one today.

All the best, and good to hear from you again,

Lanny

Offline sunshine

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Re: Chasing the gold with Lanny
« Reply #39 on: March 29, 2019, 12:09:39 PM »
Sorry to hijack your wonderful thread, but I thought I would explain "the rest of the story":  My little what-if is the combination of three separate incidences:

My brother was camping with a buddy under the stars in Northern Ontario.  Both snug in their sleeping bags after a nightcap and staring at the sky.   All of a sudden, their campsite filled with lights so bright that they couldn't look up. The ground was shaking along with an indescribable, unbelievably loud noise.  Then all returned to "normal" as quickly as it had started.  They didn't say  a word to each other for a long time, lost in their thoughts as to what they had just experienced.  Another nightcap or two was of course in order.  Later,they learned it was a low level US bomber exercise and not a visit from aliens. 

When I had a claim in the Cariboo on upper Antler Creek, we would camp just off the mining road above the stream.  There was a young fellow with his skinny little buddy, who were paid to babysit equipment at a placer mine above us where they lived in a 16' hardtop trailer.  Every afternoon, they would drive by  in an old Trans Am that probably only had about 3" of ground clearance.  You could hear them coming from the damaged exhaust and every rock on the trail that they hit.   They would return long after we were asleep.   Only saw them one season - the next spring was a "hundred year" flood.   I found their ravaged, crumpled camper had been moved downstream by the water.  Interesting, the same flood moved gold from marginal areas and concentrated some into the same spots that the old timers had previously cleaned out.  Anyway, what I learned later is that Trans Am (everybody gets a nickname) had found an old adit.  Skinny would crawl into it (Trans Am was too big to fit), whenever they needed bar money (everyday) with a brush and dustpan to clean up the floor of the adit and extract whatever gold they could accumulate.  Then off for another night on the town in Wells.   

On one of my solo trips into the Yukon, I wanted to find a remote creek known for nuggets.  About an hour into my walkabout, I climbed a rockslide to see if it was natural or tailings.  From the top was a beautiful view of the surrounding area.  I sat down to enjoy a few moments and up the trail heard Gaelic singing.   To me, the best sound to reverberate up a lake or thru mountains is bagpipes.  I learned this day that female Gaelic singing is a very close second.     It was two Scottish women making as much noise as possible, so not to surprise a grizzly.  They were also wearing little bear bells and bear spray on their hips.  As they walked past, I was wondering how to say hello without spooking them (so a loud growl...considered and discarded...was out of the question).  Instead, I quietly stared up with one of the only two Gaelic songs that I know - - Sgt. Mackenzie from  "We were Soldiers" movie  (the other song being Old Anzine, which did not seem appropriate).  Freaked them out anyway.  They told me that they could only hear some of the words in the wind and were both thinking "ghost". 

If you cannot immediately explain it, it must be supernatural.  LOL
See my YouTube channel for fun amateur video:
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