Golden Grams of Goodness: Nugget Hunting Tales

[Jim_Alaska]

Hey Lanny, you finally got your avatar image up on the forum. Nice to "see" you.

I don't know what happened to the image in your post, it is not showing for me.

[Lanny]

Thanks Jim,

Looks like I figured something out and got the picture to post Jim.

All the best,

Lanny

[Lanny]

In one of the last stories on my thread, while my son and I have been chasing the gold this summer, this picture is from the first day's detecting (both of us combined), with the largest chunk weighing 6-grams (it looks kind of like a Christmas tree angel?).

All the best,

Lanny

[Lanny]

This is some of the sassy gold my son detected the second day (he collected half an ounce) while he was learning how to chase the gold with his X-Terra 705.

All the best,

Lanny

[Lanny]

This gold belonged to the placer miners, but my son waved his hand over it before we started detecting, and it seemed to bring him good luck.

All the best,

Lanny

[Jim_Alaska]

Wonderful pictures and narrative Lanny. Just looking at your pictures I am impressed. Very nice work on the part of your son; he is carrying on the tradition of his father.

[Lanny]

(Annual Christmas Poetry)

Santa’s Fate

One winter’s day, in ’82,
Well, things were lookin’ mighty blue,
Cause Santa’s sleigh was runnin’ late,
And this produced an awful state.

The kids was feelin’ mighty down.
‘Cause Santa might not get to town!
An avalanche had closed the way
To block their local Christmas sleigh.

Now Santa’s name was Honest John,
A muleskinner off and on,
He cussed and chewed, he liked his booze
And in a brawl, he was bad news.

So, not your average Santa, no.
But Christmas set John’s heart aglow
That he could freight the gifts and toys
To all those little girls and boys.

His mules he’d garb in greens and reds,
With antlers mounted on their heads,
Then off they’d scoot to meet the train
Down far below, out on the plain.

So once again they did the same,
But Fate had run a crooked game
And choked the pass with tons of snow.
So, Honest John was stuck below.

A telegram he quickly sent,
And this is how the message went:
“Just meet me at the closest spot
Where all that snow just ain’t quite got.”

The folks was stumped just how to go
Through all the piled up winter snow.
Why, snowshoes might just do the trick
To meet their hometown Old Saint Nick!

The Sheriff rounded up a crew
Of miners, ranchers, gamblers too
With packs and bags they quickly went.
This telegram to John they sent:

“We’ll get to you just at that spot
Where all that snow just ain’t quite got.”
This news was something mighty big!
So John, he danced a merry jig

To know the good he done each year
To fill that town with Christmas cheer
Would once again get carried out,
On Christmas Eve, without a doubt.

Well, Honest John, he met that crew
And filled their bags and packs up too.
He turned his mules out far below
Then snowshoed off across the snow.

*******************************

On Christmas morn, the kids they found,
With wondrous feelings quite profound,
Their toys and goodies 'round the tree
Just like the way things used to be.

But Honest John was fast asleep.
His promises that he did keep
Had left him tuckered, plumb worn thin.
Yet on his face, a peaceful grin.


All the best, and a Merry Christmas to all,

Lanny

[Jim_Alaska]

Wonderful poetry Lanny, is it your own? If it is, you have outdone yourself with this one. I never could get the knack for poetry, rhyming just escapes me.

[Lanny]

Hi Jim, and yes, the poem is mine. It's become a tradition for me to write some Christmas poetry about the Old West and mining for quite some time now.

So glad you enjoyed it.

All the best,

Lanny

[chickenminer]

Great poem Lanny! Really enjoyed that.

In the photos above, is that gold all as flat as it looks!?