OFF-ROAD OCTOBER 1992 THE WANDERERS # 45
Carl and Emma live the good life. Carl, a retired Navy Chief Petty Officer, drives a huge 4WD Suburban all over the country to explore off-roading areas. The Suburban, nick-named The Whale, is loaded to the max with every goody known to man. Emma, a very patient lady, tries to keep the short-fused Carl out of as much trouble as possible.
***
What's been happening? It's almost too bizarre to relate, but we'll try. Carl and Emma agreed to help Sheriff Hooter arrest the man who had been running a stolen-parts scheme in Winnemucca, Nevada.
This got Carl and Emma out of a sticky situation. In fact, Sheriff Hooter was very pleased with the whole deal, and noted: "Well, thanks to you folks ... and especially Emma ... we broke the stolen car and truck ring. Say, do you folks want to hang around here with me and my Missus for a few days and do some good, old-fashioned off-road gold prospecting?"
***
Sheriff Hooter introduced Emma to his wife, Bambi and they hit it off just fine. Both of them were members of the Polka Dancers Society of North America, and Bambi was a certified instructor. This was sort of amazing, as Bambi hit the scales at close to 300 pounds, soaking wet, which was the way she was most of the time. You see, Bambi sweat a lot. When you're only five foot two inches tall and weigh the same as an NFL center, your body is working hard just to stay on the bones.
She was quite a contrast to Sheriff Hooter, who at six-seven and 175 pounds, looked like Ichabod Crane with a badge and a pair of pistols strapped to his hips. Big mirrored cop-sunglasses perched atop a hawk-like nose. Sheriff Hooter certainly looked the part!
The four stopped off at the Dew Drop Inn for a bite, and to make some prospecting plans. Emma ordered a cheese melt and a glass of wine. Carl and Sheriff Hooter got the Double-Drop Burger and split a pitcher of beer, while Bambi got a double order of spaghetti, a heaping basket of fries, three pastrami sandwiches, a plate full of pickled eggs, a half-dozen Slim Jim sausages, three bags of Beer Nuts and a huge dill pickle.
Carl looked at the huge pile of food and stared. "Uhh, ain't you gonna get something to drink, Bambi? I mean, you gotta wash food down to digest it properly."
Bambi smiled until she had three chins. "Oh, I'll have a Diet Dr. Pepper later on. I'm trying to watch my weight."
After the food had been polished off, Sheriff Hooter spread some maps out on the table, while the women shot some pool and punched up some Willy Nelson songs on the old-style juke box.
Hooter pushed his sunglasses up on his nose and pointed at the map. "Way I figure it is we head up Highway 95, then hang a right on 290. Then we drive a few miles until I find a dirt road turn-off that'll take us over to the Little Humboldt River. This goes past the Hot Springs Park. The elevation is about 6500 feet and there ain't many good trails and there's no markings. But if we find this one neat trail, it'll take us back to the old Getchell Mine area. And I hear rumors there's still gold to be found around there."
Carl swilled down some beer. "Sounds good. But what are you gonna use for a off-road rig? I mean, that crook stripped your Suburban and tossed the chassis off a cliff. You wanna just double up in my rig?"
Hooter pushed up the mirrored sunglasses for the umpteenth time. "Nope. It's best to go back in there with at least two vehicles, just in case one has problems. You just never can tell. Anyway, we got a nice little Jeep CJ-5 back at the house, and we like to hook a trailer on the back and take a couple of trail bikes with us. Me and Bambi like to trail ride, and I noticed you folks have some trail bikes on the bumper racks. So, are you up for a trail ride?"
Carl beamed. "Hellsfire yes! It's been a while since I fired those bikes up. I ride a 540 KTM with all the enduro stuff on and Emma has a Hodaka Ace 100 that's it pretty good shape, considering it's over 20 years old. Still has the original tires on it."
Sheriff Hooter drained the last of his beer. "Well, then. We'll pick you up at your motel in the morning. Five o'clock too early?"
***
Carl and Emma were waiting with the engine of The Whale warming up when Sheriff Hooter pulled up in his CJ-5. A trailer was hooked to the back, and two dirt bikes were snugged neatly down on the Holsclaw three-railer. One was a very clean-looking Yamaha IT-175 enduro and the other was a full-sized 650 Triumph with modern forks and shocks, as well as gnarly knobby tires.
Carl walked around the Triumph in awe. "Wow! I haven't seen one of these old non-unit engines for a long time. What year is it?"
Hooter looked pleased. "It's a '59 with a Rickman chassis from 1972. I got Suzuki RM forks up front - shortened, of course - and Works Performance shocks at the back. I got rid of that old crummy carb and put a Mikuni on it. Took the better part of a year to get it all together and dialed in."
***
The ride up the highway was pleasant, with the early morning dew glistening on the high desert plants bordering the pavement.
Soon they pulled off the highway and hit a nice smooth two track dirt road. Carl let the Jeep dictate the pace, but it seemed that Sheriff Hooter and Bambi had done this stuff before. The bikes were firmly secured with four Ancra tie-downs per bike, as well as having the wheels lashed down.
They drove for about two hours, enjoying the scenery and Emma kept note of markers should they ever want to repeat the route. The dirt road got rougher and tougher, and the pace slowed accordingly. A short time later, Hooter stopped the Jeep under some trees next to a shallow creek.
All the bikes were unloaded and the foursome put on their riding gear. Carl's eyes nearly bugged out as he watched Bambi stuff her 300 pounds of bulk into a set of pink riding pants, and then get all red in the face as she bent over to buckle her bright blue boots.
But what really caught Carl's attention was when Bambi slung a chubby leg over the Triumph and Sheriff Hooter got on the small Yamaha. Bambi gave one big kick and the Triumph fired right up and settled down to the rumpety-rump idle characteristic of a British twin.
Bambi blipped the throttle a few times, then did a big wheelie alongside the bank of the creek. Carl was stunned, and Sheriff Hooter felt obliged to explain: "You see, Carl, Bambi used to be a real good racer when she was a young girl. She did some flat tracking, ran some motocross and even did pretty good in the desert. Then she packed on a couple of extra pounds and sort of retired. But she can still make that old Triumph work pretty good."
Carl's jaw hung slack, as he watched Bambi pitch the big Triumph sideways, kicking up a rooster tail like a speedboat. She flicked the Triumph to the other side, popped up into another wheelie and then slid to a stop right next to Carl and the Sheriff. "Gosh Honey, you got this thing tuned right on the button! It ain't run this good since the hillclimbing championships up in Utah!"
For the first time in a very long time, Carl was virtually speechless. Emma just smiled and said: "Carl? Will you get me one of those bikes like Bambi is riding? I think I'm ready to move up from this Hodaka."
Sheriff Hooter pulled his helmet on: "Let's go find some gold!"
He put his blue Yamaha into gear and wobbled off down the trail, knees and elbows pointed out. Bambi popped another wheelie and took the lead. Carl let Emma ride in front of him on the Hodaka. Amazingly, Emma appeared to be at least twice the rider that Sheriff Hooter was.
The quartet settled down to a nice comfortable trail riding pace, which was sort of necessary because the terrain got downright nasty. At times, the trail turned into a narrow path, barely a handlebar wide. Carl was amazed at how good Emma was doing on the shiny little Hodaka.
They stopped in a box canyon and Sheriff Hooter unloaded the equipment in his back-pack. He then explained about gold, and how to find it, showing them basic panning techniques and how to identify gold from the other debris in the water.. the Sheriff was really into it: "Gold is amazing stuff. You can find it laying on the ground, you can pick it out of rocks, you can sift it out of the water like we're going to do. Heck, you can even extract gold as a by-product in the electrolytic refining of copper. Ya see, gold is a truly wondrous substance. The metal won't corrode; it's unreactive, being unaffected by oxygen and most common acids. You can find gold leaf on statues in China that's thousands of years old, and it's still perfect. Gold is neat. I like gold."
Emma pursed her lips. "That's real nice, Sheriff Hooter, but I guess all the gold is sort of gone. I mean, didn't they get it all out of the ground during the gold rush?"
Hooter drew himself up to his full height and got a stern look on his face. "No way, little lady. There's plenty of gold still out here to be had. All you got to do is work some, and have a little luck. In fact, I always take some gold back home every time I go out."
Carl perked up. "Really? How much on an average day?"
Hooter raised one eyebrow and thought for a few moments. "Oh, if I just go out for a day, I might pick up a few hundred dollars worth of dust. On a good weekend, I might take home between 700 and a grand. But every once in a while, you have a real good day. About two years ago, I hit a pocket of good stuff and took home about $25,000 worth of dust. That's how I was able to buy that Suburban the crook stole. Those things ain't cheap!"
Carl got nose-to-nose with Sheriff Hooter. "Let me get this straight. You mean I can really find some gold out here? We're not just playing some Disneyland kind of games?"
Hooter pushed his sunglasses up his nose for the zillionth time that day. "Carl, If you hit a pocket, you can turn right around, head back to Vegas and buy half the town. Things can happen. Of course, you can draw blanks. You never know. That's half the magic of this game. Now let's get busy and find some glitter!"
They all headed down to the stream and started panning. Carl got down and scooped some sand and gravel up, swirled it around in the water. Nothing.
He walked way downstream, away from the group. Carl saw a little pool of water and settled down with the pan. He scooped up some bottom, rotated the pan, and ran some water over the edge. A huge pile of glistening gold metal appeared in the pan. Carl washed the debris out and deposited the gold-colored metal into a plastic bowl.
Carl frantically worked the area, and after an hour, had a wad of gold-colored metal in the bowl that must have weighed seven or eight pounds. Carl did some quick calculations. $345 per ounce...and 16 ounces to a pound. Wow! Over five grand!!! Times how many pounds? Holy Smokes! Thirty five, maybe forty thousand bucks in one hour! How much could he extract from the stream bed in a day? Or even in one solid weekend? His mind reeled!
***
Has Carl finally hit it big? Has the Mother lode of all time been found? We'll find out next month.
What's been happening? It's almost too bizarre to relate, but we'll try. Carl and Emma agreed to help Sheriff Hooter arrest the man who had been running a stolen-parts scheme in Winnemucca, Nevada.
This got Carl and Emma out of a sticky situation. In fact, Sheriff Hooter was very pleased with the whole deal, and noted: "Well, thanks to you folks ... and especially Emma ... we broke the stolen car and truck ring. Say, do you folks want to hang around here with me and my Missus for a few days and do some good, old-fashioned off-road gold prospecting?"
***
Sheriff Hooter introduced Emma to his wife, Bambi and they hit it off just fine. Both of them were members of the Polka Dancers Society of North America, and Bambi was a certified instructor. This was sort of amazing, as Bambi hit the scales at close to 300 pounds, soaking wet, which was the way she was most of the time. You see, Bambi sweat a lot. When you're only five foot two inches tall and weigh the same as an NFL center, your body is working hard just to stay on the bones.
She was quite a contrast to Sheriff Hooter, who at six-seven and 175 pounds, looked like Ichabod Crane with a badge and a pair of pistols strapped to his hips. Big mirrored cop-sunglasses perched atop a hawk-like nose. Sheriff Hooter certainly looked the part!
The four stopped off at the Dew Drop Inn for a bite, and to make some prospecting plans. Emma ordered a cheese melt and a glass of wine. Carl and Sheriff Hooter got the Double-Drop Burger and split a pitcher of beer, while Bambi got a double order of spaghetti, a heaping basket of fries, three pastrami sandwiches, a plate full of pickled eggs, a half-dozen Slim Jim sausages, three bags of Beer Nuts and a huge dill pickle.
Carl looked at the huge pile of food and stared. "Uhh, ain't you gonna get something to drink, Bambi? I mean, you gotta wash food down to digest it properly."
Bambi smiled until she had three chins. "Oh, I'll have a Diet Dr. Pepper later on. I'm trying to watch my weight."
After the food had been polished off, Sheriff Hooter spread some maps out on the table, while the women shot some pool and punched up some Willy Nelson songs on the old-style juke box.
Hooter pushed his sunglasses up on his nose and pointed at the map. "Way I figure it is we head up Highway 95, then hang a right on 290. Then we drive a few miles until I find a dirt road turn-off that'll take us over to the Little Humboldt River. This goes past the Hot Springs Park. The elevation is about 6500 feet and there ain't many good trails and there's no markings. But if we find this one neat trail, it'll take us back to the old Getchell Mine area. And I hear rumors there's still gold to be found around there."
Carl swilled down some beer. "Sounds good. But what are you gonna use for a off-road rig? I mean, that crook stripped your Suburban and tossed the chassis off a cliff. You wanna just double up in my rig?"
Hooter pushed up the mirrored sunglasses for the umpteenth time. "Nope. It's best to go back in there with at least two vehicles, just in case one has problems. You just never can tell. Anyway, we got a nice little Jeep CJ-5 back at the house, and we like to hook a trailer on the back and take a couple of trail bikes with us. Me and Bambi like to trail ride, and I noticed you folks have some trail bikes on the bumper racks. So, are you up for a trail ride?"
Carl beamed. "Hellsfire yes! It's been a while since I fired those bikes up. I ride a 540 KTM with all the enduro stuff on and Emma has a Hodaka Ace 100 that's it pretty good shape, considering it's over 20 years old. Still has the original tires on it."
Sheriff Hooter drained the last of his beer. "Well, then. We'll pick you up at your motel in the morning. Five o'clock too early?"
***
Carl and Emma were waiting with the engine of The Whale warming up when Sheriff Hooter pulled up in his CJ-5. A trailer was hooked to the back, and two dirt bikes were snugged neatly down on the Holsclaw three-railer. One was a very clean-looking Yamaha IT-175 enduro and the other was a full-sized 650 Triumph with modern forks and shocks, as well as gnarly knobby tires.
Carl walked around the Triumph in awe. "Wow! I haven't seen one of these old non-unit engines for a long time. What year is it?"
Hooter looked pleased. "It's a '59 with a Rickman chassis from 1972. I got Suzuki RM forks up front - shortened, of course - and Works Performance shocks at the back. I got rid of that old crummy carb and put a Mikuni on it. Took the better part of a year to get it all together and dialed in."
***
The ride up the highway was pleasant, with the early morning dew glistening on the high desert plants bordering the pavement.
Soon they pulled off the highway and hit a nice smooth two track dirt road. Carl let the Jeep dictate the pace, but it seemed that Sheriff Hooter and Bambi had done this stuff before. The bikes were firmly secured with four Ancra tie-downs per bike, as well as having the wheels lashed down.
They drove for about two hours, enjoying the scenery and Emma kept note of markers should they ever want to repeat the route. The dirt road got rougher and tougher, and the pace slowed accordingly. A short time later, Hooter stopped the Jeep under some trees next to a shallow creek.
All the bikes were unloaded and the foursome put on their riding gear. Carl's eyes nearly bugged out as he watched Bambi stuff her 300 pounds of bulk into a set of pink riding pants, and then get all red in the face as she bent over to buckle her bright blue boots.
But what really caught Carl's attention was when Bambi slung a chubby leg over the Triumph and Sheriff Hooter got on the small Yamaha. Bambi gave one big kick and the Triumph fired right up and settled down to the rumpety-rump idle characteristic of a British twin.
Bambi blipped the throttle a few times, then did a big wheelie alongside the bank of the creek. Carl was stunned, and Sheriff Hooter felt obliged to explain: "You see, Carl, Bambi used to be a real good racer when she was a young girl. She did some flat tracking, ran some motocross and even did pretty good in the desert. Then she packed on a couple of extra pounds and sort of retired. But she can still make that old Triumph work pretty good."
Carl's jaw hung slack, as he watched Bambi pitch the big Triumph sideways, kicking up a rooster tail like a speedboat. She flicked the Triumph to the other side, popped up into another wheelie and then slid to a stop right next to Carl and the Sheriff. "Gosh Honey, you got this thing tuned right on the button! It ain't run this good since the hillclimbing championships up in Utah!"
For the first time in a very long time, Carl was virtually speechless. Emma just smiled and said: "Carl? Will you get me one of those bikes like Bambi is riding? I think I'm ready to move up from this Hodaka."
Sheriff Hooter pulled his helmet on: "Let's go find some gold!"
He put his blue Yamaha into gear and wobbled off down the trail, knees and elbows pointed out. Bambi popped another wheelie and took the lead. Carl let Emma ride in front of him on the Hodaka. Amazingly, Emma appeared to be at least twice the rider that Sheriff Hooter was.
The quartet settled down to a nice comfortable trail riding pace, which was sort of necessary because the terrain got downright nasty. At times, the trail turned into a narrow path, barely a handlebar wide. Carl was amazed at how good Emma was doing on the shiny little Hodaka.
They stopped in a box canyon and Sheriff Hooter unloaded the equipment in his back-pack. He then explained about gold, and how to find it, showing them basic panning techniques and how to identify gold from the other debris in the water.. the Sheriff was really into it: "Gold is amazing stuff. You can find it laying on the ground, you can pick it out of rocks, you can sift it out of the water like we're going to do. Heck, you can even extract gold as a by-product in the electrolytic refining of copper. Ya see, gold is a truly wondrous substance. The metal won't corrode; it's unreactive, being unaffected by oxygen and most common acids. You can find gold leaf on statues in China that's thousands of years old, and it's still perfect. Gold is neat. I like gold."
Emma pursed her lips. "That's real nice, Sheriff Hooter, but I guess all the gold is sort of gone. I mean, didn't they get it all out of the ground during the gold rush?"
Hooter drew himself up to his full height and got a stern look on his face. "No way, little lady. There's plenty of gold still out here to be had. All you got to do is work some, and have a little luck. In fact, I always take some gold back home every time I go out."
Carl perked up. "Really? How much on an average day?"
Hooter raised one eyebrow and thought for a few moments. "Oh, if I just go out for a day, I might pick up a few hundred dollars worth of dust. On a good weekend, I might take home between 700 and a grand. But every once in a while, you have a real good day. About two years ago, I hit a pocket of good stuff and took home about $25,000 worth of dust. That's how I was able to buy that Suburban the crook stole. Those things ain't cheap!"
Carl got nose-to-nose with Sheriff Hooter. "Let me get this straight. You mean I can really find some gold out here? We're not just playing some Disneyland kind of games?"
Hooter pushed his sunglasses up his nose for the zillionth time that day. "Carl, If you hit a pocket, you can turn right around, head back to Vegas and buy half the town. Things can happen. Of course, you can draw blanks. You never know. That's half the magic of this game. Now let's get busy and find some glitter!"
They all headed down to the stream and started panning. Carl got down and scooped some sand and gravel up, swirled it around in the water. Nothing.
He walked way downstream, away from the group. Carl saw a little pool of water and settled down with the pan. He scooped up some bottom, rotated the pan, and ran some water over the edge. A huge pile of glistening gold metal appeared in the pan. Carl washed the debris out and deposited the gold-colored metal into a plastic bowl.
Carl frantically worked the area, and after an hour, had a wad of gold-colored metal in the bowl that must have weighed seven or eight pounds. Carl did some quick calculations. $345 per ounce...and 16 ounces to a pound. Wow! Over five grand!!! Times how many pounds? Holy Smokes! Thirty five, maybe forty thousand bucks in one hour! How much could he extract from the stream bed in a day? Or even in one solid weekend? His mind reeled!
***
Has Carl finally hit it big? Has the Mother lode of all time been found? We'll find out next month.
