GhostMiner

September 3 2002 Part One Big Clay Ekins and Old Bulldog I got into town early and started hitting up the likely spots where someone might know of a truck for sale or rent. I found one dump truck for sale but the price was way too high. There wasn’t anything around the area for rent either. Around noon I was ready to head back to camp to tell the crew we’d have to widen our search. I decided to stop at the tavern for a beer before I left. There were only a couple of cars and trucks in the parking lot but one of them stood out. It was an old green colored Mack dump. I walked over to take a look at it. It looked older than the hills and pretty beat up. I walked into the bar. There were two guys sitting at a corner table eating sandwiches and a rough looking guy who looked to be in his mid 50’s sitting at the bar drinking a beer. I walked over to him and asked if he happened to own the Mack truck. Well, he said he was the owner and his name was Clay Ekins. Everyone called him Big Clay and I could see why. I guessed he was about 6 foot 4 inches in height and probably a good 250 or more pounds in weight. He was dressed in worn out bibbed overalls and steel toe work boots that had the leather worn of the steel toes. I asked him about his truck. Big Clay told me it had been his father’s truck way back and when his father passed away he took it over. It was a 1937 Mack AC. I asked him how much gravel it could haul and he said around seven or eight tons easy. When I asked him about renting it he shook his head no. He said that truck was his baby and no one drove it but him. We had a couple of beers and I asked him if he would be interested in helping us out at the mine. Would he be interested in joining the crew for the remainder of the season? Big Clay perked up when I told him about our gold mine and he was all in. He wanted a small weekly paycheck, a small gold percentage, and all his fuel paid for. I agreed. I gave him directions to the mine and he said he could be out there with Old Bulldog that evening. I told him we’d get him set up with a place to stay in a camper. We shook hands and I headed back to camp to tell Jacob and Conor the good news. TO BE CONTINUED ...............

September 2 2002 Part Three We found a single picker and a small amount of fine gold from the entire sample bucket. This was discouraging. We moved another twenty feet to the west and repeated the entire process with no better results. By now it was getting on towards dusk and we went back to camp feeling defeated. I was wondering if our season was coming to an end because of the poor gravel at the lower area of the mountain. After a good supper of hash and beans Jacob brought out a bottle of whisky and filled our cups. We sat back looking at the campfire light dance across the campsite as darkness took over the mountain. The air was getting chilly now when the sun went down and overnight freezing was not too far off. Then Jacob broke the silence. He had an idea. He said we knew the upper dig site we had abandoned due to lack of water was good ground. He figured we could buy an old dump truck or rock truck and start digging up there again. Then we could haul pay gravel down to our processing area down here and stockpile the material until we got the trommel back. We were told it might be a week or possibly longer to get the trommel repaired. We should be able to haul at least a thousand yards of gravel down to the processing area. Maybe more depending on the truck used. We could keep hauling while one man processed. There would be a person to dig with the excavator, a person to haul pay with the truck, and a person feeding the trommel with the skid steer. The road coming down the mountain would just need a little work to accommodate a truck. We might be able to buy a truck or rent one from town. So tomorrow, I will go into town on a mission to bring back a truck while Jacob and Conor spruce up the old mine road. We might have a chance to end the season with a big payday after all. TO BE CONTINUED ..............

ptember 2 2002 Part Two We started taking samples along the bottom area of the mountain and a bit west of our current digsite. It was early afternoon and we were trying to find what seemed like the impossible - good pay gravel worth running through the tom. I took the excavator over to an area Jacob recommended and started to cut a deep trench. I started where the base of the mountain hit the floodplain. Bedrock was struck at twelve feet in depth. Conor and Jacob panned samples of the material and other than a few fine specs the ground was devoid of gold. Jacob told me to drive the trench deeper into the mountain and try to stay on bedrock. I was able to get into the base of the mountain about twenty feet. Now we had a very deep cut. Again samples were taken and the results were not good. There was a little more fine gold in the sample pan but not enough for what we needed. I made one last effort and advanced the trench another eight feet. If I went any further the overburden would likely collapse the trench. Conor scurried into the cut and got out quickly with a nearly full five gallon bucket of material. At this point I shut down the excavator and the three of us started panning. TO BE CONTINUED ................

September 2 2002 Part One Old School Long Tom We talked everything over last night and decided to haul the trommel into town to have it repaired. Seeing as it may be there for quite a while we will be using the long tom once again. As Jacob says, it has no moving parts and is always reliable. We can set a small grizzly over the hopper and feed it with the excavator. The drawback is production is going to be severely cut. We are going to spend the remainder of today digging sample trenches with the excavator in the hopes of finding better paying gravel. I am keeping my fingers crossed and hopefully things will work out. TO BE CONTINUED .............

At least we didn't end up like these guys LOL.

September 1 2002 Sometimes It Ain’t Worth The Fight We went out to the dig site bound and determined to get lots of gold today. Right off the bat things turned ugly. For some unknown reason the water pump refused to start. After about an hour of tinkering it finally fired up. However, it wouldn’t push water to the trommel. I purged the line by releasing the screw cap on top of the pump. When the cap released it was under pressure and shot hot water into my face and knocked me on my tail. Luckily I was not scalded but the cap had shot out of my hand and disappeared into some bushes. We didn’t have another one so the three of us spent the next 45 minutes looking for it. Conor finally spotted it and we were back in business. Now the pump was working and Jacob turned on the trommel. It made several rotations and then we heard a loud bang and everything stopped. Upon inspection we saw that one of the mounts for the barrel had broken off and as the trommel slid sideways a bit it took out the chain which in turn sheared part of the sprocket. Now I have heard many swear words but never as many and for as long as what came out of Jacob’s mouth. We were finished before we started. Conor gave the base of the trommel a good kick and broke his toe. I took a seat on a nearby log and just watched Jacob unload his temper on the inanimate machine. He had picked up a long, stout stick and was beating all heck out of the barrel. It was sad but I also wanted to laugh. And that’s just what the three of us finally did. Jacob rolled a smoke and Conor looked over at me as if to ask what we should do. I just shrugged my shoulders. Now we had some serious work ahead of us. By now it was mid morning and I was done with this day. I told Jacob that we ought to do a cleanup on the previous day's run so that’s what we ended up doing. That cleanup turned out to be a complete loser with only 1.9 ounces out of the 250 yards of processed gravel. I was starting to wonder if it was even worth the trouble to get the trommel going again for the remainder of the season. TO BE CONTINUED ...................

This was one of Jacob's favorite Irish songs. Thinking of him today.

August 31 2002 We got an early start this morning and were running the trommel as the sun was coming up over the trees. The days have cooled some and the nights are getting colder. The season is slipping away now day by day. The mornings are my favorite time. There’s always the promise of a big gold strike with every bucket of gravel dug out with the excavator. I suppose we are all dreamers to an extent. We all have the fever and that’s what keeps us here every day facing all kinds of adversity. The day went by quickly and without event. We washed 250 yards of gravel. The test pans are showing fine gold but nothing special. Our trench has extended deep into the base of the mountain. Jacob says it is looking mostly like tailings. If we get some good rain during September and the pond gets replenished on the good ground higher up where we were working earlier we have a chance to end the season with a big finish. As of now our gold count stands at 694.3 ounces. This includes Jacob’s contribution from earlier in the season. Tonight we celebrated Jacob’s freedom with his hot water cornbread and Hoover Stew. This was his brother Jed’s favorite meal. After supper we opened up a bottle of Bushmills and sat around a small campfire as the darkness set in. We had wasted a lot of mining time out here because of all the distractions and we wanted a lot more gold before we went home. The night air was chilly and the only sound that broke the silence was a lone bobcat screech somewhere far off in the distance. Somehow, against all odds, I still have a crew and we are still mining gold. At this point, that's all I can ask for. Jacob is still intent on staying the Winter. TO BE CONTINUED ................

Jacob is free.

August 30 2002 Part Two Jacob came out of the chambers after just over an hour. He had a smile on his face and said we should get the hell out of here. I looked over at one of the deputies who was coming out and he nodded his head and said Jacob was free to leave. When we got outside I asked him what had happened. Jacob said the person that he had injured had passed away eleven years ago and there were no material witnesses left to testify at the hearing. In other words, the charges were dismissed. I asked him why it took over an hour and he said the judge went through the case with the prosecutor and they were asking him questions. They said he could delay the hearing and find a lawyer but Jacob just wanted to get it over with. He said they asked about the fight and what had caused it. Jacob had told the judge that it was self defense and he never went into the tavern looking for trouble. After he recounted his side of the argument and there were no other people to call the judge and prosecutor went into another back office for about twenty minutes and when they came out they told him he was free and the charges were dismissed. Conor and I were beyond happy and now we could get back to mining. When we got back to camp Jacob wanted to get right to work so we had a quick lunch and fired up the trommel. We worked until dusk and processed 170 yards of gravel. I am not too sure about the ground we are on but it feels good to be back to digging. Hopefully this is the start of a good stretch of gold mining. We will see. TO BE CONTINUED ................

I did make a few more hikes up to Dreamwind Canyon but will leave those stories for another time. I never did figure out what those lights and sounds (voices?) were. I have some theories. My wife Lindy says I'd have to be out of my mind to spend another night in that canyon. She's probably right. Now back to the journal.

MORE ON DREAMWIND CANYON : Part Two : We decided to cut off the lights on our lanterns. When we did this the light coming towards us went out and the sound of the heavy footsteps stopped. There was complete silence again. After about a minute or so we heard voices. They seemed to be all around us as if in a circle. As hard as I tried, I couldn't make out any words. Then, suddenly, the light we had seen further up the canyon came back on. At first it was stationary but once again it began to slowly move towards us. We were sitting in complete darkness near some boulders. Vern whispered to me that he was going up the canyon to try to get a look at whatever was moving towards us. I tried to tell him he would be better off staying where he was but before I could finish he was gone. I could hear him moving away from our little camp and then all was quiet. The light had once again cut out and I didn't hear any more voices. I tried to see through the dark but it was useless. It was beyond dangerous moving around in the canyon at night. Besides mountain lions and bears the terrain was extremely dangerous. There were drop offs and old mining pits scattered around. Then, one by one, the glow of lantern lights began popping up in a circle all around me. I counted eight of them. Then the light coming towards me came on making nine lights. I wanted to holler out to see who was out there but didn't. Then, to my horror, I heard something cry out. It was actually more of a wail than a cry. Then the sounds came from all around me. Before I could try to comprehend what was happening I heard the blast from Vern's 12 gauge. The lights vanished - every one of them, then it was quiet. Before long I heard Vern holler that he was coming into camp and not to shoot. He asked me if I had seen all the lantern lights. I told him I had. He said he had gotten close to the light up in the canyon but couldn't make out any person. There appeared to be only the light. Then he fired off the shotgun in the air and all the lights went out. We sat outside the tents until nearly 2:00 AM and there was no more activity. When morning came we packed up and headed back to our claims. I was glad to be out of that cursed canyon and I think Vern was as well. I did end up going back out there again but I will save that for another entry on Dreamwind Canyon.

MORE ON DREAMWIND CANYON : Part One : As stated previously, I wanted to post more about this special place. I talk about this area because it is so close to the claims being written about in the journals. You won't find it on any map that I know of and I don't know how it got it's name exactly. An old time prospector told me the name so I use it. The last time I wrote about it here I told of the gunfight back in the 1800's between the rich town doctor & his thugs who shot it out with a group of prospectors who had found some rich ground there. The day after the gunfight there were nine men with bullet holes in them. Some of them died. It is remote and dangerous there & the canyon does not forgive mistakes. Back in 2013 I talked my partner Vern into camping there. Yes, this was the actual Vern from the 2002 journal. It was early August when we hiked in early in the morning. By afternoon it was an oven. The temperature at 3:00 PM was 120 degrees of dry, oven like heat. We found a good spot sheltered by some scraggly white pine and pitched our tents. I noticed that the sap was actually bubbling out of the bark. We did a little prospecting by classifying and dry panning some gravels. Vern has a nose for gold. He says he can smell it. I have been on prospects for days & found nothing and Vern will show up and walk into an area and find gold immediately. I have had seasoned miners tell me to hang on to him as a partner because he has a rare gift for finding shiny yellow gold. As usual, Vern lived up to his reputation and we were soon finding color. Nothing big but we were on some promising areas. No one has claimed that ground since the 1930's for various reasons. Too remote, no water, horribly difficult & deadly terrain, rattlesnakes, and possibly cursed. Around 7:00 PM we were worn out from the intense heat. We didn't dare build a fire or even use propane because the place was a tinderbox. As dusk rolled in we set up several battery powered lanterns and sat on some small camp chairs we had lugged in with the tents. We had brought plenty of water along with a nights supply of beer & whisky. For supper we opened two cans of beans and had some bread with them. We opened up a bottle of Jack Daniels Honey Whisky and pored out some generous cups. We had chasers of warm beer and pretty soon we settled in for the night. Vern was telling me stories about old gold prospecting adventures and I was talking about the various mining expeditions I'd been on in the Sierra Nevada. Neither one of us had a care in the world that night. Sitting out in the middle of a remote canyon where nobody could ever find you. Along about 11:00 PM or so the air temperature had dropped off to about 70 degrees and the sky was crystal clear and full of stars I'd never seen before. It was what I call a mystical night almost like we were on another planet. The silence was pristine. That is, until we saw some kind of light bouncing in the distance and coming towards our campsite. Vern exclaimed that he couldn't believe there would be another person out here. As the light got closer we could hear the heavy sound of footsteps breaking sticks and branches. Vern grabbed his 12 gauge while I pulled my 9MM out of the holster. Who the hell was this coming down the canyon at 11:00 PM? TO BE CONTINUED ...........

August 30 2002 Part One Jacob Faces The Judge When I got up this morning it was still dark but Jacob was seated at the camp table having breakfast. I joined him and finally brought up what was on my mind. Conor was also up and came over to take a seat. I wanted to know what Jacob’s decision was. To my relief he said he would go to town and get the hearing over with. But he told Conor that if they took him back to jail and he bailed out he would not be going back there - ever. He said they’d have to kill him. Conor and I calmed him down and told him we figured everything would turn out ok. Jacob just gave a grunt and we finished our breakfast in silence. I was thinking about the mining season with all of the ups and downs. I never thought things would be like this. We seemed to go from one problem to another. But - we were still here and finding gold. When the time came we headed into town. None of us said much and we just wanted to get this over with. We sat in a small waiting room outside the judges chambers with two deputies watching over Jacob. Promptly at 9:00 AM Jacob was called into the back room where the judge was located. I asked the deputies if Conor and I might be able to go in with Jacob but they said no. So Jacob went in along with the deputies while Conor and I waited. I was hoping this would go quickly TO BE CONTINUED ............

August 29 2002 The three of us did the gold weigh. It took us most of the day to get it done & we ended up with a measly 5.1 ounces. None of us were happy about it but gold is gold and we will stay with it until the season ends. After the weigh was done we had supper and talked about tomorrow morning's hearing with the judge and prosecutor. Jacob was pretty nervous about it and started talking about heading out of here tonight and not going into town tomorrow. He said he could hide out up on the mountain and they’d never find him. I told him that was a bad idea and it would be best for him to just get all of this over with. Conor agreed but said that if Jacob wanted to hide out he would go with him. It was anyone’s guess what they intended to do and it was out of my hands. Jacob said he would never go to jail and they’d have to take him by force. This concerned me a great deal because I knew Jacob and knew he meant what he said. I spent the next hour talking with him and trying to calm him down. I am hoping he decides to go to the hearing in the morning. TO BE CONTINUED .............

According to Jacob this would have been a normal night at the town tavern.

August 28 2002 Part Two We went down to the jail and they had Jacob locked in a cell. Bail was set at $500 and we got him out. We were told there would be a hearing or meeting in the judge's chambers on Friday the 30th at 9:00 AM. That will give us a chance to do the gold weigh tomorrow. Jacob asked if he needed a lawyer and all they said was it was his choice. I told him to wait until Friday and see what is going to happen. Then we headed back to camp. It was close to dusk and the day was nearly over. I told Jacob we had a bunch of concentrates to clean up tomorrow and that put him in a better mood. I cooked up some canned hash and some hot dogs and we had ourselves a feast. After supper we cracked open a few beers and talked about the day. I asked Jacob what the warrant was all about. He said he figured it to be over one of the fights in the tavern that took place back in 1937. Evidently he and his crew had been in an altercation with some loggers who were shooting their mouths off about gold miners. He said there was always bad blood between these two groups and when they met the trouble would start. Jacob told us he had beaten one of the big mouths up pretty bad and he’d heard the logger ended up in the hospital. Jacob went on to say that he was surprised there was only one warrant on the books. My way of thinking was that the judge was having this hearing quickly in order to dispose of the case. Unless they surprised us with a witness or the injured party. That, of course, could lead to an indictment and court trial. We won’t know anything for sure until Friday morning. TO BE CONTINUED ................

In regards to that - the police must act on warrants regardless of how old they are. They have no choice & unfortunately it was a warrant in California. If it had been another state I think that state would have waived extradition. There were rumors that brother Jed had warrants in California and Nevada but of course he was deceased. There was also another rumor that Jed Stevens was a wanted man in Mexico as well. Not sure about any of this. However, when I refer to the Stevens brothers as outlaws I think it is a correct statement. They had been pushed into this because of all that went on at and around the claims by the various thugs who couldn't care less about laws. They weren't the kind of men who run to others for help even if it was available which most of the time it wasn't. So they handled their own affairs - sometimes with violence.

Old warrants never die nor do they fade away with time.

August 28 2002 Part One Law Dogs & Warrants I was at the dig site early with Conor and we washed 50 yards of gravel and shut down. We got cleaned up and had a quick lunch and headed for the hospital. When we arrived Jacob was finishing his lunch and there were discharge papers for him to sign. They also gave him a sack of medications to take and he was told to return for a check up in five days. He was mighty glad to be getting out of there. As we headed for the parking lot I noticed three deputies coming towards us. I thought it was odd but soon realized what was happening. It seems that when Jacob was in the hospital they had somehow run his information. He had an old arrest warrant for battery dating back to 1937. None of us could believe it and we were stunned. They put poor Jacob in handcuffs and were taking him to jail. They told us the judge would set bail that afternoon and we could most likely be able to get him out. The main deputy wasn’t sure how all this would play out because the warrant was so old but he said they never expire. As they led Jacob away I told him not to worry and we would get all this straightened out. He looked as forlorn as an old man could get. TO BE CONTINUED ................

TAKING A LOOK BACK AT THE 1936 JOURNAL. JED & JOHN DEAL WITH SOME TRESSPASSERS. MAY 5 1936 Last night's watch was quiet. There didn't seem to be anything moving on the mountain. After breakfast I told John I wanted to divide our day. We would dig in the morning and take 30 buckets directly out of the fault as we worked it into the east. We moved rock with our bars and picked away at anything compacted. Around early afternoon we made two trips with the truck taking the buckets down to process. About supper time I had the panning finished with John's help. He was learning fast. Then came the weigh. I had pulled what I thought were very good pay gravels out of a nice pocket under some boulders. When we saw the scale I just blinked and started laughing. John asked if it was good. I said hell yes John, this is a good one. We had pulled just shy of an ounce out of 30 buckets. This must be a glory hole. We will glory hole the spot and get rich. This was beyond rich to me and we proceeded to hoot and holler and broke out the bottle. My glory days are getting closer every day. We drank into the night and never did go up to the dig site on our watch shifts. MAY 6 1936 John and me woke up late this morning as we were both deep in our cups well into the night. We decided to go up to the dig site together and bring down 20 buckets and then wash them. Neither of us is up for hard work today but the excitement of seeing gold is pushing us to dig. The morning was clear and quiet with a warm sun. As we arrived with the truck we once again had a surprise. Three men I had never seen were at the hole and looking around. I did not see side arms on them but one carried a rifle. John always wore his Colt and we both got out of the truck with rifles in hand. The three men looked to be in their thirties or forties and looked like a rag tag crew. I was in no mood to be pleasant and gruffly asked them what they were up to. The oldest man said they were looking to mine gold and were roaming the area looking for likely places. He said it looked like we had a big dig going and asked if we were on good ground. I told him the ground was all claimed up with all the filings done legal. He asked me if we needed a crew for digging and said they would work for gold. I just laughed and said we hadn't even found any gold but were stubborn in our efforts. He asked me if I knew of any good areas ready to be tested and worked. I bluntly said no, nothing around here. The three of them kind of looked at each other and said thank you and hiked up the mountain. We watched them until they were out of sight. John looked at me and asked what I thought of them. I said I didn't think much of them and they looked no good to me. He agreed and said we need to make sure to stand our watch tonight. My head was pounding from all the whiskey but I worked the bar and shovel along with John. We kept the rifles close. As we worked the heavy ground east into the heart of the fault we encountered a large boulder maybe six feet in diameter. We went to work with pick and shovel while using a bar to move smaller rock beside and underneath the big boulder. The digging was very hard but we got 20 buckets down to the tom. We worked until nearly dark as we had got off to such a late start. Then we did a weigh. We had three and one half ounces in the pan. I nearly passed out and John started to cry. MAY 7 1936 Last night we stayed out of the whiskey and slept good. I took first watch and John was up there on second shift. Then things headed south once again. We were fixing coffee, biscuits, and bacon for breakfast when the three rag tags walked into camp like they belonged there. The one with the rifle said they tested ground all over the mountain the last few days and none of it looked any good. He asked again about his crew working with us for a small percent of any gold found and coffee and beans. Once again I told him we weren't finding any gold and didn't need anyone. Then he started to argue with me and said being camped up and such a big excavation going we must be on to something good. John had stood up in front of the guy and had his rifle in hand. I was caught flat footed. The last statement by the guy made John snap. I had never seen this in the ten years I had known him. John rammed the butt end of the rifle into the guy's belly and he went down on his knees. Then John whacked him in the face with the butt end and he slumped over on his face. I jumped up off my chair ready for anything coming. One of the younger guys made a lunge at John but John caught him on the side of the head with the rifle barrel, withdrew it, and brought it up hard under his chin. He went down hard as well. The other guy stood there shaking. The second guy eventually got up and was cursing up a storm at John. John made the guy tell him where they were camped. I'm not saying how he did this. Then John told him to pick up his friend who was still passed out and git. And he made them leave the rifle. After this we followed them up to where they had a rough camp set up. The first guy had come around by now. We busted up their camp and told them to pack up and leave the area. John told them that if he saw them on our claims again it would go even rougher for them. They left but they weren't happy about it. Regardless of what anybody hears about this event this is the way it all happened. By then it was nearly noon so we decided to both go up and dig for a few hours and get back down to the creek until we felt sure they weren't coming back. We only dug 15 buckets and worked the tom. Once again we got a cracker jack return on our labor. Almost one and one half ounces. We are in something special.

August 27 2002 Conor and I were up early and got a good start to the day. Things ran smooth and we ended up processing another 200 yards of gravel. We got cleaned up and headed back to the hospital around Jacob’s dinner time. He was in a regular room and was in a very good mood. He said the doctor was going to release him just after lunch time tomorrow. I confirmed this with the head nurse. Jacob couldn’t wait to get out of there and back to the mine. I told him we were running pay gravel and I did see some nice gold and we’d be doing a cleanup soon. Seeing as he was getting out in the early afternoon I figured we would run the trommel for a few hours and call it a day. Then the day after Jacob was back we could all do the cleanup together. Things were looking up again. TO BE CONTINUED ...............

NOT IN THE JOURNAL : September 2015. My wife and I were prospecting an area 2000 ft south of the 1936 gold strike of 1936. We had hit gold several feet below the surface in an area right where an old hydraulic cut dropped off 100 feet into a ravine. The area was remote and secluded. We were actually screening and dry panning to test the area when we hit $100/yard pay. We had a 14 ft recirculating long tom set up in a secret location in the woods another 1000 ft to the southwest. I had to hand carry 6 gallon water containers from a water pipe in the mountain to a holding tank and use a 12 volt bilge pump to send it 300 ft to the tom where we started washing it. To get the pay to the tom I had to hand carry 60 pound buckets of the gravel down a 100 ft rock slide and through the ravine and then back up the other side to the tom - a 1000 ft plus distance. I did this for weeks and we got some nice gold. If I were to work that area again I would buy a drywasher and do it onsite. We were camping at the tom in the woods. One evening three guys walked up to our camp just as night was falling. We didn't have a fire going but had our lanterns lit and were sitting near our cook stove with our shotguns when they walked in. I don't like strangers walking into a camp in the middle of nowhere and I didn't exchange pleasantries. I didn't like the looks of these creeps and we told them to git and picked up the shotguns. They got the message and we never saw them again.