IN GOLD COUNTRY

#37 - On the Dorado

James is checking out a gold claim he has the option of getting having won it in a poker game. He meets other miners and prospectors and spends the weekend with them at their outing. 

This is Chapter 1, of my serialized story - 

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IN GOLD COUNTRY

- On the Dorado -

I was checking out a claim I was thinking about getting. It was the Red Bar claim, on Dorado Creek, above the Gold Luk Mine. I liked the idea of being next to a mine. The area pulled good gold out of the ground in the past. 

Dorado Creek runs year-round and joins the Miwok River just below the Gold Luk property.  

A hiking trail, leading up into the High Sierra, and giving me access, was at the mine’s southern boundary. It headed out northeast, up steep terrain around the Gold Luk.

 A half mile up, a trail branched left, down to my claim. I wanted to canvass the claim on Saturday, mainly seeing what the place looked like. Maybe work a few samples but saving the creek for a more thorough look on Sunday.  

I came onto the claim from the upper canyon. I had to watch my step as I negotiated the slopes, up and down from the creek. Though steep, there were a couple of wide benches. Cobble stone and boulders were abundant. A good sign. Old riverbed. A waterfall at the north end property line, of maybe ten feet dropped the narrowed creek into a shallow pool.  

Soon, this canyon would roar with runoff. Even more so in a good rain year. 

It was still ten feet wide in places as it carved its way downstream. I knew all of this area had been worked before, but it looked like there was still some virgin ground to check out. I liked what I saw and caught myself thinking ahead.  

It was getting late, I saw a few good spots for camping, but thought that I would head downriver a ways to the public campground. 

I was running over the pluses and minuses of the claim.  

There was one area up at the top of my claim that had seen hydraulics. Varying layers of gravel, silt, and rock were visible. But it wasn't an extensive wash. Maybe a test area. The overburden at the bottom was ten to twelve feet thick. I wondered how they got the equipment in, it wasn't easy access. I saw no remnants or work way, but it could have been grown over. At any rate, I wanted to get up there on the slope for a look. I'd check it out when I had more time. 

I got down to the creek near the bottom end of the claim, when rounding a bend, I picked up the sound of a motor. It sounded like a dredge. They are illegal, a heated matter going through the courts.   

At the next bend I saw a private property sign. Miners were spread out up and down the creek with their dredges and sluices. I counted eleven of them. Two gals. They were busy at work.  

I reached the property line, thinking about a talk with them, when suddenly, a dog was howling at me, and one of the fellows caught sight of me, waved, and motioned to me to come over.  

He and his buddy were further upstream than the rest, set up with their sluice, working bedrock and bank at creek level.  

I closed the twenty-five or so yards to him, over a drop off waterfall, and boulders, realizing I’d seen this fellow before at the Sonora Gold Show. I stuck out my hand. 

“Hello!” he said, shaking my hand, “I’m Longino, this is my place. At first, I thought you were ‘The Bear.’ You checking out old Jones’ claim?” 

“Hello, I’m James. Yes, I am. Anything you can tell me about it?” I was a bit startled about “The Bear.”  

“It’s good,” he said. 

His partner reached out for a handshake.  

“Hi, I’m Alex!” I recognized him. He played guitar and sang. I heard him last summer at a camp-over up at Italian Bar. Part of the evening's entertainment. He wore his guitar low. I caught the end of his set. I thought he was pretty good. He was wearing the same yellow baseball cap. 

“Yeah, it’s a good claim. Jones hasn’t been up here in a long time. Heard he wasn’t up to it anymore.”  

“His knees are bad, he’s using a cane,” I said. 

“What do you think of Red Bar?” 

“I like what I see. I was just looking it over today. Tomorrow, I’ll work a couple of spots on the creek. I’m going back downriver to the campground for the night.” 

“You can camp here, if you like,” pointing up above, “Plenty of room up there on the flat.” 

I figured he was checking me out. It seemed a good idea, a chance to get to know potential neighbors. I thought Longino was about fifty years old, and Alex, maybe forty. They seemed pretty easy-going. I accepted his offer. "I'll get my gear. Thanks!"  

“Head up to the flat, through the camp to the access, and follow it to the gate at the road end. It is closer than having to go back up and around. It's getting late. See you at the fire.” They returned their attention to their work. 

I moved down the creek, working my way up to the flat. A few hellos went out to those on the way. I had seen a couple of these fellows before, also at the Gold Show. Old timers, I thought. I heard a fellow there call the white bearded one “Jim.” I didn't know the other's names. I rounded a bend, and saw another group spread out on the creek. 

The dog escorted me along. He was a hound, the way he bayed when he saw me. He had different colored eyes.  

I angled up to the flat, thirty feet or so above the creek, and entered a flat through which ran an access road. This had to be how the hydraulic equipment got up to my claim.  

The flat was maybe sixty feet wide in parts and three hundred feet long. RVs, pickup trucks, some with shells, and SUVs with tents set up alongside were laid out at the bottom end of the cut near what turned out to be the road out. Some of the trucks were set up for sleeping inside. A couple more dogs sounded my presence.  

Back in the trees against the slope was a nice, raised concrete and wood outhouse. An outhouse out here is a real luxury, I thought.  

I supposed the extra couple of feet rise provided a little more protection against a really high spring flood. It looked to me that the runoff was at least ten feet below the flat. The last couple of years had seen less snow up in the high country.  

The first site in, back along a rock wall, was a really nice open face canvas tent set up, with a chair, bunk and table set up against the back. Leaning against the head of the bed was an unstrung bow, with a quiver of arrows. A fire pit, with a tripod set up for cooking, was just in front. It looked like a base camp. Backed in next to it was a Dodge pickup 4x4 with a shell. I took it for Longino's. 

A clear-cut area angled away from the campsites toward the creek. It ran about thirty, thirty-five yards. Where the flat began its decline to the creek was a fire ring. Off to the side, was a wood stack, a blue fifty-five-gallon water barrel, buckets, and a couple of shovels and an axe.  

A tall pine tree leaned toward the creek and hanging high from a branch were bear proof canisters and a couple packs.  

Where the flat narrowed to the road, a sign read, “BEAR COUNTRY - Store Snacks & Scented Items AWAY FROM YOU In Vehicle Or Up a Tree - Camp Stoves & Add Water Foods ONLY”. I moved on down the worn and rutted access, the dog watching me go. 

End Chapter 1 

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