The story of a Boy who just Disappeared one day …
Everett Ruess was not the first human being to vanish in the grim desert wilderness—nor is it likely he will be the last. But because of the unusual character of this young man and the strange circumstances of his disappearance, there still remains after four years of fruitless search a widespread interest in this desert mystery.
According to the Mojave Desert Dictionary:
The Sam Houston No. 1 Mine: A silver mine in the Calico Mountains that was discovered by Hugh Stevens and sold to a Mr. Johnson, who then sold it to two Frenchmen for $40,000. They changed the name to Blackfoot Consolidated No.1 Mine.
Then, oddly enough:
The Sam Houston No. 2 Mine: A silver mine in the Calico Mountains that was discovered by Hugh Stevens and sold to a Mr. Johnson, who then sold it to two Frenchmen for $40,000. They changed the name to Blackfoot Consolidated No.2 Mine.
And to further complicate matters …
The Sam Houston No. 3 Mine: A silver mine in the Calico Mountains that was discovered by Hugh Stevens and sold to a Mr. Johnson, who then sold it to two Frenchmen for $40,000. They changed the name to Blackfoot Consolidated No.3 Mine.
Mysterious, or what?
Burrowing into the sandhills of Southern Nevada, archeologists have uncovered the homes and utensils of a thriving Indian civilization which existed 300 or 400 years before Columbus discovered America. Now the rising waters of Lake Mead are about to submerge the Lost City and remove it permanently from the field of research. But in the meantime the men of science have uncovered a wealth of interesting facts about these ancient tribesmen. The highlights of their discoveries are presented in this story by Johns Harrington, son of the archeologist in charge of the excavations.
Buffalo Bull, sends in this Red Mountain Story.
A stranger tied his horse at the rail near the window of Slim Riffle’s Owl Cafe, and left to look over the crop of tomatoes. The horse put his head through the window and asked for a martini with a dash of horseradish. The bartender mixed it and handed it to him. The horse drank it smacking his lips.
“I suppose it strange,” said the horse, “that I should ask for a martini with horseradish in it.”
“Hell, no, said the bartender, “I like it that way myself.”
Harry Oliver’s Desert Rat Scrapbook
Thomas Wilson Dibblee, Jr. (1911-2004)
Tom Dibblee was born in 1911 in Santa Barbara, California. He first became interested in geology in 1929, when his father hired a geologist to investigate the oil potential on the family property. After Tom graduated from Stanford University, he spent 16 years working for oil companies and then 25 years working for the U.S. Geological Survey. Much of this time was spent alone in the field making geologic maps of California. Tom retired in 1977 and became a Research Associate with the University of California Santa Barbara, and, at the request of the U.S. Forest Service, he began mapping the 1.2 million acres of the Los Padres National Forest. During his career, he mapped over 40,000 square miles of California (about a quarter of the state), a feat that probably will never be equaled. Tom was the first man to map the entire San Andreas Fault. In fact, his early work on the fault indicated that it had moved more than 300 miles, and this became a critical piece to understanding plate tectonics.
The nonprofit Thomas Wilson Dibblee Jr. Geological Foundation was created to publish and distribute his maps.
Tom received the U.S. Geological Survey Distinguished Service Award in 1967, the American Association of Petroleum Geologists’ Human Needs Award in 1981, and the Presidential Volunteer Action Award from President Reagan in 1983.
Tom passed away on November 24, 2004.
source – USGS
Ask Mr. Know it All !!!
Q. Where do I find gold in the desert?
A. Gold is where you find it! Good luck with that. One tip I do have for you is you should look for a “promising outcropping.” Many of the stories I read have somewhere in there where it say the prospector came upon a “promising outcropping.” Cut to the chase and look for these first before anywhere else.
Q. Have you ever done any prospecting?
A. Hell no.
–
*** GOLD MINES ***
If you’ve ever wondered what a young cottontop cactus sitting in the shade of a hedgehog cactus at the last second or so of direct light during sunset, what that looks like- This is a picture of that.
Cactus of the Mojave Desert
A common resident of Colorado and Mojave Desert regions of southeastern California. Preferred habitats include desert riparian, and a wide variety of other desert types, especially near streams, springs, and water holes.
Gambel’s quail
Callipepla gambelii
Check out how I made this into a story relevant to the desert:
My Chevy — camouflage white. I can blend in alongside a big pile of salt or in a desert snowstorm.
My desert wife went to the desert store today, then comes back to our desert home and tells me she finds $25 in cash on the floor of the desert store. Wo0T-w0ot-WOot!!! My thoughts start racing and I begin calculating all the numbers involved. How cool–I could use her money to buy me gas to drive about 150 miles out into the desert! Then she tells me that she gave it to the clerk at the store. Now I can’t use her money that she found to drive about 150 miles out into the desert. Then she tells me the clerk told her that if the money isn’t claimed by the end of the day, the store would call her and they would give it to her. I have hope. If it is unclaimed and they give it back her and I could drive out into the desert about 150 miles with gas I bought with her money. Then we get a phone call from a little girl who lost the money that my wife found thanking her for finding the money she lost. Now for sure I can’t use my wife’s money to buy the gas to drive about 150 miles into the desert.
I suppose they way everything went is for the better. $25 can be a lot to lose, especially for a kid. Reluctantly, I admit, my wife, who by the way, is always right, did the right thing. Thinking about it, if I would have used the money to buy enough gas to drive 150 miles out into the desert, well, how would I have been able to buy the gas to drive back?
Atlatl: An atlatl is a throwing stick that essentially extends arm length to assist in throwing a dart harder and farther than one normally would in hunting and warfare with a spear. This tool was used for thousands of years prior to the bow and arrow which was in use for only the last 900 years or so. I’ve had the opportunity to try using one 3 or 4 times in target practice–sort of I say “sort of” because the very first time I used one I went after live game.
I was on an archaeology field trip and we broke for lunch. Food was provided and substantial consisting of bologna sandwiches, chips, a piece of fruit and some soda pop. The site archaeologist was running a little late, so our guide decided to let us try throwing with the atlatl he had made. One after another the members of our group took turns. I watched carefully and when it came to be my turn I was ready. All of a sudden, a pickup drove up and the archaeologist started to get out. He was about 50 yards away. He started to get out of the truck and as the door opened I hurled the dart hard and smoothly. I was aiming for the meaty part of the archaeologist’s thigh.
All I’ve heard about hunting man was true. It was exhilarating and exciting. He was considerably larger than me and bagging him would have been a rush. Unfortunately, a kill would not be the case on that day. The dart landed short of him and went point first into the ground then fell over flat. Now the predator had turned into the prey. For me it was either fight or flight. My back was against a rock wall. As I mentioned, he was larger than I, so I tried the only defensive move I could think of. I yelled, “Oops!”
A substantial and satisfying lunch break
I’ve never heard a professional laugh so hard. I didn’t know they could. Usually I’ve found them to be quite stolid and impassive to my attempts at humor. Apparently he did not feel threatened. Good thing he didn’t realize my intention. I could have killed him, or at least bruised his foot.
It all turned out well considering the circumstances. Rather than be banned or shunned from the group he paid special attention to me the rest of the day making sure all of my questions were properly answered. He kept watching my hands though. He turned out to be a pretty nice guy. Very sorry I tried to kill him.
The Whole Mojave A-Z
The Mojave High Desert is one desert rather than a series of separate entities- That we are the same through the diversity that binds us. By becoming aware of our combined identity, we may be able to appreciate, and better understand issues affecting our Mojave Desert on a holistic level. In this presentation we meander back and forth across the Mojave Desert in photographs to illustrate this concept.
By MARY BEAL
Nearly every desert visitor knows Evening Primrose—but not all of them know that the white-ribbed “baskets” so often found rooted in the sand are the dried stalks of this lovely white flower which blossoms at night and takes a siesta when the sun comes out….Continued Here
Hard Rock Shorty of Death Valley
“This place must be a great deal like the Sahara desert,” remarked one of the tourists who had stopped at the Inferno store to ask about the location of Death Valley Scotty’s mine.
“Do you ever see any ostriches or camels wandering around over these barren sand dunes?”
“Not any more,” said Hard Rock Shorty. “Usta be some ostriches here, but Ol’ Pisgah Bill got rid of ’em. They wuz too dumb to do any work, an’ they kept eatin’ up his grub. He finally gave ’em all to the zoo down in Los Angeles.
“Bill had a good idea—only it didn’t work. It was back in the old days when the wimen wuz all wearin’ ostrich plumes on their hats. Ostrich farms wuz springin’ up everywhere. Bill read in the papers about a big ostrich ranch down in Phoenix which sold $60,000 worth of feathers in one year.
“So Bill sent to the gov’ment printin’ office an’ got all the information he could about ostriches. The more he read the more certain he was that them big birds ‘d thrive in Death Valley. ‘They eat anything,’ he explained, ‘an’ they don’t drink much water. Death Valley’s just the place fer ostriches.’
“The next winter Bill hit a purty good pocket in that gold mine o’ his over in the Panamints, an’ as soon as he got his returns from the mill he sent down to Phoenix to buy a couple o’ them ostriches.
“Bill’s idea wuz to make ’em work fer a livin’. He’d train ’em to pack out ore like a burro, an’ when pluckin’ time came he’d gather a few feathers—and that would be an extra bit o’ profit.
“Trouble wuz, them ostriches did jes what all the books said they’d do—they ate everything. Second morning after Bill got ’em into camp up in Eight Ball crick one o’ them big birds stuck his head in the window o’ Bill’s little shack an’ swallered Bill’s can o’ coffee. The other bird saw what wuz goin’ on and it reached in an’ took the coffee pot in one gulp. Bill had to keep the house locked, the windows closed, and all his tools out o’ sight, cause them birds jest gobbled up everything layin’ around.
“An’ to make it worse, the only way Pisgah could get ’em to pack rock wuz to walk ahead of them carryin’ something to eat. They wuz too dumb to learn, an’ the burros didn’t like ’em either.
“The final showdown came one mornin’ when one of them ostriches walked into the mine tunnel and swallered three sticks o’ dynamite. As it came out it passed close to one of the burros, and the animal hauled off an’ gave it a kick. The explosion killed the burro, blew down the shack, an’ the bird was sick fer a week. That wuz the last straw. Bill gave the ostriches to the zoo.”
~ from Desert Magazine – June 1958
— As I write this it’s late, but not too late, so I can still say it was this morning’s sunrise breakfast. The menu consisted of a broken pop tart, a beef stick and two or three sips of ice cold water. I had eaten my banana in the car while driving across the valley in the dark; I washed it down with half a cup of lukewarm coffee. The service, self-service, was horrific. I think/hope it was a stick that somehow mixed in with my cinnamon toaster pastry. I sat on a rock that was a little too tall and had a slightly uncomfortable lump in an odd place. The tops of my ears were cold and I couldn’t feel the end of my pointy little nose. All things considered, the view, lighting and overall ambiance was sublime. I rate this breakfast spot 3 out of four stars and will be returning in the warmer weather.
I went to throw myself into the desert sea;
to find isolation and solitude between the swells of the earth
and shifting light.
Day to night, and night, and night as it echoes beyond the evening,
the storm calmed.
At critical mass, the moon then shifted the tide . . .
and the understructure,
the secret work in preparation for the next day had begun.
The creosote bush is truly the unnoticed elephant in the room. If someone were to weigh the biomass of the desert Southwest, this species would certainly possess the highest percentage of life and we would find that a high percentage of all other life in the desert is dependent upon it, yet its importance in the desert environment goes unappreciated by both scientists and artists alike. …
New Pages to Digital-Desert.com
Updates to MojaveDesert.Net
There are quite a few more changes in progress and somewhat hidden from view. I’ll post them as soon as they are ready.
An early morning in the high pass between the Providence and New York mountain ranges is a good place to watch for fog. Not fog as how we think of fog in a normal sense, but fog as when clouds roll over this pass. Bitter and brutally cold in the winter, strafing the ground with a crust of frost the clouds lay down and pick up as fast as they leave. Of course the wind moves it all, and not a gentle wind either. This is a wind so icy it twists one’s soul as it blows through. It is all worth it though–a different kind of solitude–you were the only one to see it and feel it.
