IN GOLD COUNTRY

#40 - The Road Out, and In

chap.#1 - On the Dorado

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- The Road Out, And In -                              

I thought of The Bear, and my eyes and ears focused. There is mountain lion here, too. They get you from behind. I started whistling, and making more noise, to alert anything to my presence. Maybe wearing a bell would do. I should have brought my dog, Roscoe. I felt uneasy. And it would be darker on my return to camp, with the sun below the canyon wall. It was time I wore a sidearm. Perhaps my 30-30 would do. I'd feel better, but I'd heard that bear pepper spray was more effective. I better get some. 

Then, it occurred to me, it is just as likely protection from people is the real reason for firearms. It would be easy pickings for someone so inclined to come up on miners and rob them. Gold is easily sold or bartered. 

There are homeless and itinerants out here in the woods. Encampments are regularly discovered, with the inhabitants moved along to somewhere else. One must protect himself and not be lulled into thinking all is well. Not much different than in the city. 

A bigger danger though is from marijuana growers. Big plots are found and cartel involvement is suspected. The recent Rim Fire is rumored to be the result of their crops being destroyed.

 I quickened my step and made the gate in twenty minutes. Only a couple of cars remained in the cul de sac. The turnaround provided parking for hunters, hikers, and miners. The trail I had taken this morning to my claim was on the far side of the parking lot. Distance saved through the Gold Luk, maybe three-quarters of a mile, or more. 

Dorado Creek was off to the right, steep banked and rocky. The power company owned the stretch at the bottom of the Gold Luk Mine, down about half a mile to the one lane bridge over the Miwok and past the confluence where the Dorado joined it. No prospecting was allowed. The campground was another four miles downriver.  

As I reached my truck a line of pickups and SUVs cued up to the gate, a fellow in the lead truck loaded with equipment, got out, opened the gate. The line passed through. He closed up and ran up to the front, hopped in, and they were off. 

I opened up my truck and pulled out my gear. I locked up, shouldered my pack, picked up my bucket of tools, and was on my way back the way I came. The dust was still settling from the convoy.  

The canyon was in shadow, but the sky still held light. I could feel the coolness setting in now that the sun was gone. And the air was still, it could get chilly tonight. 

 I divided my attention between keeping an eye on my surroundings, and thinking how, in a short time, things had changed. I was checking out a gold claim. Funny the way things happen. I was only prospecting for a short time, I bet most of the others have years under their belts. Maybe making money, and not a hobby. Probably moved around, able to chase the gold and tolerable weather. 

I was noising my way back to the camp, when I heard a “Hello” whistle off to my right. Longino, and his dog, named “Otis,” emerged from the brush, exiting a cut leading up a narrow canyon. He was holding a couple of squirrels. He got them with his bow and arrow. I was staring at the squirrels, taking in the fact that he was good enough to actually hit them when he said, "I got dinner. - Ever tasted squirrel?" 

"A very long time ago," I said, still staring at the squirrels, and thinking how long it had been since I was a kid hunting with my uncle in the Mississippi hardwoods. 

He was standing there in camo pants, an old motorcycle jacket, belt and all, and wearing a wide brim cowboy hat, like you see in Montana or Wyoming. He looked like he would be at home on a Harley, or on a horse.   

"Nice shots! You are pretty good with that bow. Did you make it?" His bow didn't look store bought. 

I've been shootin' a long time. These blunts don't tear them up," he added. “Yeah, I made it. It pulls about forty-five, maybe fifty pounds. They are easy to make once you get the hang of it. Gettin' the limbs balanced without snapping 'em is key. This one's made of Osage Orange. I'll save you a leg. There will be a lot of food. Come over after you get settled in." 

"I'll do that." I paused a moment. "Tell me about ‘The Bear,’ it’s got me thinking." 

We started walking toward camp. 

"Yeah, we’ve seen him a few times. Doesn't seem aggressive, but he’s hangin' ‘round. Seems content to keep his distance. There are lots of berries up the slope. We rarely cook meat here, getting that smell in the air, but when I have a group in, steak and barbeque is part of it. We pay attention and get all our food up in the tree when not eating.  

“If he gets too close, a gunshot should move him along. Hasn’t happened yet. Bangers are good if you don’t shoot past him. Might run him toward you. But it is too dry for 'em around here once the rains end. I carry bear spray. And Otis is good at alerting me.

“Must present a puzzle to the bear, all the smells, and all the people. The guys up at the upper end need to keep watch. He is usually up there.”

  “By the way, there’s a waiver sheet up in the outhouse, got to sign it. Also, it puts you in the Giveaway tonight.” 

“I’ll make sure I sign it.” I answered. 

“How long have you been prospecting?" he asked, keeping the squirrels away from Otis. 

"Just half a year now. How 'bout you?" 

"Well, regular like, I guess, twenty years. I kicked around the country doing different things, but came back to the gold. I'm lucky. My family has had this property since 'the Rush'. Didn't think much of it when I was young. Used to have all this land around here, but it was sold off piecemeal during times when the land was worth more than the effort to get the gold and timber. Wish we had that land now. But what's left is mine. It still has the good stuff. Are you full timing?" 

"No, not yet anyway. I'd have to hit it big to quit working. Maybe in a few years. I truck air, water, and soil test sampling supplies up through North and Central Cal. Sometimes Los Angeles. I usually have three-day weekends. Pays good, and it's regular, but I'm tired of it. Getting up here in the hills keeps things in perspective." 

"Yeah, I know what you mean. How do you know Jones?" 

"I met him at a poker tournament. Saw him at a few of them over the years, became table friends. I had told him of my new interest in gold prospecting. I didn’t know about his claim. Last weekend, he invited me up to a private game on a houseboat up the Delta. Just below Locke. Do you know where it is?" 

"Yeah, it’s the old Chinese town on the Sacramento River below Sacramento. Railroad laborers, miners, and farmers settled there. Surprised it hasn't burned down, yet." 

"Me, too! Well, we were drinking, and it was getting late. A big hand developed. It was crazy. I had king, nine. Ace, king, eight, on the flop. I bet, he raised. The other guys folded. I called. I picked up a third king on the turn. I bet and he raised me all in. It would have broke me, but I had picked up a tell, and he had been pressing me all evening. I thought he was trying to bluff me off the pot. I called. He had two pair on the flop, aces and eights, and didn’t improve. 

‘Nice hand,’ he said. Asked me if I would settle up by taking this claim instead of cash. I told him I'd check it out, and here I am." 

"I'll be danged," Longino said, giving me a good look. "Are you a pro?" 

"No. I could never get over the hump. Up and down, up and down. Made me nuts. I threw a lot of good time and money after bad. Too much being inside and sitting down. Too easy to drink. I just wanted to make a good score to make it all seem worthwhile. This claim would be worth it, if just to get out and break the habit." 

"It is a good claim. I'd get it myself. Way to go!"  

He paused, "You know, Red Bar was part of the Gold Luk. A group of Chinese miners worked the area way back when. Don't know if one of them was named Luk, or if it is just misspelled." 

"Ain't that something?" I was thinking how easy it was for us to talk. A lot of info passed in a short amount of time.  

"Say, is this a club outing going on this weekend?" I asked. 

"Not really. I know most of these guys. I put out an invite a couple of times a year. They bring guests. There are some people here I haven't seen before. I can put them on some shiny. I usually get some work done with the extra help. We just finished the outhouse earlier this month." 

“You must have seen the group that came in? 

“Yes, I did” I replied. 

“They spent the day at Deep Hollow, another one of my claims. Some will probably go back tomorrow. I wonder how they made out?”  

“I guess I was expecting to see a mining operation here,” I said. 

All of the river activity had moved up the bank back to camp. Except for Jim and his creek partner Robert, who had two propane grills set up down on the gravel bar. The meat was on. Tables were set up at the fire pit for the potluck.  

“Back to ‘no open fires’ already?" I asked, as we came up to the sign.  

"They are still OK, but I'm sure that will change soon. Our early season soaking lifted the ban, and water was running high. It hasn't rained since, levels are back to what they were and I can't see that they won't reinstate. I’m hoping it’s not another dry year. I've asked everyone to use their fuel stoves only. We'll have a fire in the pit this evening. 

"Smells real good. Think that will attract any critters? Well, pick your spot. See you in a while," Longino said as he turned off toward his tent. 

                            End Chapter 2 

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