Good treasure stories?

[mick]

Hey Garimpo,

Great thread and I love the pictures. Thanks for sharing. PNG looks like wild country and living here in the states it's hard to relate to their life style. I look forward to hearing more...

mick

[garimpo]

That looks like difficult country for sure...and very unlike any gold-bearing land I've ever seen.

What is it's geology like? It looks like very new land.

Did you ever get him his pistola?

Good tale Garimpo...

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

Hey Flak, the Glock 17 did arrive in the country.

Not new land as such. First time I ever say people burn off green jungle so think it was impossible to walk or climb through it. They would burn to keep the jungle from taking over their villages and paths. Also to kill out diseases, bugs and other critters. As it burned they would be out in front of the flames ready to kill anything that ran out, for food.

As for the geology it's was a lot like it is here. It changes about every 100 yds or so in any direction. Also I don't know anything about geology, just what gold bearing ground looks like. Which BTW can vary drastic from one place(country) to another.

[garimpo]

Hey Garimpo,

Great thread and I love the pictures.  Thanks for sharing.  PNG looks like wild country and living here in the states it's hard to relate to their life style.  I look forward to hearing more...

mick

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

Hi mick, so right you are. Nothing here can compare to the conditions, traditions, customs and poverty as they are in PNG.

I have to hand it to the Australians that live there. To say that their hardy is an understatement. The men and the women are a tough bunch. Most of them are there on a three year fat contract, three years is a long time.

[garimpo]

Christmas 1993, Lae, Papua New Guinea. For three weeks under house arrest because of a visa issue. A woman customs agent in Port Morsby wanted $8,000.00 to re-new my vise and I refused so was placed under house arrest until my scheduled departure date of 26 Dec.

My partner who was a native that had land that bordered the town of Lae, separated by a river. Garrett was educated for 12 years in Australia so he not only spoke English better than me but understood how foreign white folks thought. He was to be a great asset to my gold operation there, me paying all expenses, paying him 10% of the gross for three years and then the entire operation and equipment was his and I would depart.

So being city bound I rented a house from Garrett's mother who was held in high regard by her tribal leaders. Just behind the house was the river that separated the town and the village. At that point about 100 yd. wide and knee deep to waist deep.

On the morning of Dec. 20 while I was in town the house was broken into and everything stolen. All windows and doors had burglar bars but unknown to me a sliding patio door had been covered over with shingles in the garage and the "rascals" just came right through the "wall" so to speak.

I called the police which was a big mistake but they took a list of things stolen which included my flight uniform, flight bad and general baggage, all my clothes. Just that morning I had put all of my documents and money in the trunk of the car that I had rented.

So one of the many questions that the police asked was where did I hid my money. A real dumb ass me showed them where in the slide out section of the dinning room table.

Finally everyone departs and I go to Garrett's house and tell him what had happened. It had started to rain two days earlier with no let up, night or day.

Garrett said he would send some of his men over at night for security, for me to just wait for them. So I did, on the sofa lights out and went to sleep with the steady drizzle on the metal roof.

Around two AM I heard a soft strange noise that just didn't sound like it should have been there. On the way to the bath room to look out the window at the back of the house I picked up the claw hammer, the only thing that could even be considered a weapon and had a look out back.

The noise I had heard was when the "rascal" had forced the bars open after removing the bolts from three sides.

Where I ever learned a Comanche war whoop I'll never know, even though my mother was 25% Comanche. Out the bathroom, through the dinning room into the kitchen just as the "rascal" was half in half out the window. I actually expected to see the kitchen full of people but I was lucky, just this one with his hands on the counter top. The last I saw of him was when his left eye was laying over the top of his nose as he was falling back wards. Hard to tell who was screaming the loudest, me or him. He jumps up and holding his bloody eye socket runs to the back of the property where he and his buddy had cut out a section of the razor wire.

Score:rascal-0, claw hammer-1

Couldn't turn on any lights because of the possibility of a spear or arrow coming through the windows. I could see the red light on the dash of the car was on indicating that the doors had been forced open. Phone line was dead also. First thought was there goes the documents and money. Again I lucked out, they didn't know about the remote trunk lock located between the seats. Money and papers were there.

Of all the noise and screaming not one person showed up or even turned on any lights so about 0600 I started calling for the guy next door and he answered right away. So I punched the switch that opened the electric gate and in came about 15-20 "neighbors" all armed and ready for a fight with machetes.

All of this happened within a 24 hr. period. Probably if one was paranoid you would think that maybe all the neighbors knew in advance what was going to happen.

I check into the Lae hotel where I had stayed for several months before and waited for my departure date. The second night there Garrett's father came for a surprise visit and told me the whole story. He was very apologetic for his son. It seems that Garrett didn't want to wait for three years for owner ship of the company, the equipment and gold contracts.

His plan that night was for his two men to kill me, steal my money and documents and then they would have everything. Since he had helped me negotiate the contracts with two different tribes on opposite ends of the island he knew all the details.

Sad to say I departed PNG on 26 December 1993 and don't plan on going back.

BTW, I returned the mountain of gold to Kim of the Chimbo tribe, the mountain you see above. He was sorry to see me leave and promised that certain "things" would be in his words, "put right".

So this Christmas I'm very thankful to have a wonderful wife and grandson here in Brazil and a bunch of good folks on this forum that put up with my BS.

Merry Christmas all.

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If it beeps--dig it!! Garimpo

2 User(s) are reading this topic (0

[FlakMagnet]

Yeah, I like just being able to jump in my aging Explorer, drive for a hundred and fifty miles, jump out and hunt.

I might not get anything but nails and lead, true, but I don't have to carry a claw hammer and worry about partners having me killed...a bonus.

Really interesting and evocative story Garimpo

Makes one realize how easy we have it here in the States.

Have a safe, rain-free, thankful, serene and healthy Christmas Garimpo,

we all depend on it.

regards,

[garimpo]

Yeah, I like just being able to jump in my aging Explorer, drive for a hundred and fifty miles, jump out and hunt.

I might not get anything but nails and lead, true, but I don't have to carry a claw hammer and worry about partners having me killed...a bonus.

Really interesting and evocative story Garimpo

Makes one realize how easy we have it here in the States.

Have a safe, rain-free, thankful, serene and healthy Christmas Garimpo,

we all depend on it.

regards,

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

Thanks Flak, it's good to be in civilization. Have a Merry Christmas.

[garimpo]

Since many of you may be flying this holiday season here's what an approach to an airport(?) looks like from the front seat of the airplane.

First pic is Lake Kutubu Papua New Guinea, second pic is a inlet or bay, third is the same bay but with the village at the bottom of the pic. This is about 1,000 feet above the terrain.

In about another 3 seconds I'll be making a 90° left turn for the final approach, just over the village. Nearest road is about 200 miles.

Attached Image

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If it beeps--dig it!! Garimpo

[garimpo]

Second set of pics, left turn to final complete. Alignment looks good, 1,000 ft. above ground, small reduction of power on all four engines, 130 kph here, descend at 500 feet per minute,one mile out.

Bottom pic, 500 feet above ground, altitude alert just turned red, rate of descent now 300 feet per minute, 121 kph, flaps 100%, gear down, three green, 1/4 mile final, on the ground in seconds.

Mains on, lower nose, power off, power levers up and back in full reverse, apply braking, stop in 2,000 feet easy, 1,000 feet extra not needed.

I didn't mention the half a dozen check list that both pilots go through to do this while flying the plane.

1.5 hrs. back to Lae and a cold beer.

Attached Image

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If it beeps--dig it!! Garimpo

[COLORADO BOB]

Great pictures Garimpo, however I do like to see my runways just a little longer and a touch wider and I would really like to see black or grey down there. To you and yours, have a golden one. Bob T.

[garimpo]

Great pictures Garimpo, however I do like to see my runways just a little longer and a touch wider and I would really like to see black or grey down there. To you and yours, have a golden one. Bob T.

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

If the AC was anything other than a C130 Herc I would agree with you. With 15,000 feet of concrete 4' thick just makes life dull.

Hope Santa visited you last night.

[garimpo]

A few post back I mentioned that I had two contracts to dredge gold in Papua New Guinea (PNG). The two areas were about 200 miles apart. The reason for this was when the rains start in one area I could move to the other area and keep working.

The first and the largest tribe was the Chimbo's, they were about 150 miles West of Lae.

The second group was South of Lae, near the previously mentioned town of Wau. The main village was just a few miles out of town and the name was Boang, possible the name of the tribe.

The Chief of this mob was Moses. Here in this pic he looks a lot better than he did in person. Moses is the one kneeling in front with the white (?) shirt. The guy second from the right without a shirt is my x-partner Garrett.

In this pic you can see part of a house, there were about 5 or 6 houses here and this is where Moses and his wives lived, about 3,000 feet higher than the town.

heybeerman would have loved the drive up to this village. The road had been cut into the side of the mountain 20 years earlier by a logging company and had not been maintained. Long stretches of the "road" had water seeping out from under it and then it was straight down 1,000-2,000 feet. At one point water had eroded the road bed away and I had to do a little log and rock repair to get across the opening.

In the main village below one of the villagers had riffle trap built into the stream bed. The riffles were made from tree limbs and the sides were stacked mud that had partially hardened. To get down to the stream just behind the village it was necessary to descend a vertical wall for about 50 feet, that's about 5 stories high. The prospector had cut hand and toe holes in the wall, bad place for a "charlie horse". I had with me a top of the line detector and the minerals were so bad it wouldn't ground balance.

At that time the entire country was virgin to detectors. With good security,a Minelab PI, and two or three wives a guy could make a fortune.

Attached Image

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If it beeps--dig it!! Garimpo

[garimpo]

Hi Flak, everything ok? You going to let us in on what you got for Christmas?

Maybe this will put a smile on your face. Is 62.7 grams worth a grin?

[Looking4AU]

Howdy Fellas,

If you like to read treasure tales or hunt some of the lost treasure, I stumbled across an interesting site on the web. Here is the link if you want to check it out:

http://legendsofamerica.com/LA-Treasures.html

Sandy

[FlakMagnet]

Hey looking4au

cool site, thanks...

do you know whats4supper?

you guys seem to have something in common...

Garimpo,

I have two kids, a boy 11 and a girl 8 - going on 28.

The Christmas' that I have had since marrying my wife and having kids,

have all been off the chart.

This year was no exception.

I know you know...

yes I ka-thunked at your nugget pic...

I'm gonna be away for a few days,

have a great New Year (everyone).

[garimpo]

All of this reminds me of how the people would party in PNG. Every Saturday night the Melanesian Hotel had a dance for any body that had $10.00 buck to enter the back room. Just remember that a lot of folks there eat for a month on $10.00 but the "rascals" (thieves, crooks, outlaws) always had money so they would pay the "door fee" for the women to come in. Beer please!

One rule was, I think it was the only rule they had, that the women had to have on dresses and shoes. That only applied from the front door to the back room where anything was game. The only problem with this rule was these women were natives from the local villages, which some were enemies. In the normal lives of these women few if any every went to school past the third or fourth grade, not book smart but very survival smart. In their villages they never wear tops or blouses, just skin. Dresses either, just ass-grass. Beer please!

When they would show up for the dance each Saturday night they had to have the dresses and shoes on from the front door, through the large lobby with tables and chairs for guest to sit at and while winding their way through this maze they would always "fall off" of their high heels. When it came to the "mix and match" of their wardrobe all they really accomplished was the "mix" part. Couple more over here!

Another pilot by the name of "Bubba" Page and I would sit at the back of the lobby and watch this parade of colors and struggles for about an hour which we used for getting ourselves primed to enter the dance also. The "primer" was $5.00 a can. Hit us again!

Me and Bubba had some really good moments watching what we called the "Clinger" parade. How many of you remember Clinger that dressed like a woman to try to get out of the Army on the TV show "MASH"? Exact replicas! Two more!

Now once inside the door of the "dance hall" and just past where you had to pay the $10.00 was a pile of shoes and just above that on a half partition was a stack of skirts. Get the picture?

No one ever introduced these girls to deodorant but I think they owned a quart jar of perfume which they shared. Keep'em comin!

The music was loud, coming from a DJ over in the corner that was playing records of American music and local drum music . It was a very interesting mix to say the least, the women loved it. Bring us four more!

There would be at least 100 or so people in this room all dancing to this music. Just try to picture the women with square feet from not ever wearing shoes, except in the lobby, very scantly clad muscular torso's, a lot of perfume and it was crowded, shoulder to shoulder.

The men who were mostly natives except me and Bubba probably had a bath sometime in the past week. most had the large round wooden ear pieces in their ear lobes that over years had been enlarged to the diameter of a beer can. Since the DJ was sort of a celebrity he also in addition to the ear jewelry had a large chicken (?) bone through his nose. Ohhhh yeaaaa!

To do the dance wasn't all that difficult, just raise your arms with your hands above your head or anywhere else you wanted to put them and with you hips just do the hunch with a little body movement.

Think about this, after about an hour of really rigorous music and dancing, lots of suds flowing, everybody's arms above their heads, buckets of sweat without the benefit of deodorant a generous use of perfume when all of a sudden one native bumps into another one from another tribe. Yep, free for all. Grab the beers!

If you've never been fortunate enough to see a room full of half naked drunk barefooted native women slug it out with fist against the men in many cases then you've really lived a sheltered life. Understand that I'm not saying a sheltered life is bad either.

One of the "rascals" that never missed a dance had only one leg. Years earlier he lost one leg to a shotgun blast from the police. This man was always the first to get the drunkest, the loudest and was known to pick fights, I think he just liked the attention. He was a good dancer even on crutches but a better fighter using those same crutches. He could clear a circle around him with the crutches but then someone would always rush him and take him to the floor and then it was "dog pile" time.

One night me and Bubba entered a dance contest, I didn't think that music would ever stop. Two cold ones ere! Bubba being the youngest, me the best looking, he won the dance contest. The prize: a huge bottle of champaign, sure didn't need that and the town Doctors daughter. Being the daughter of a doctor gave her royalty status and she really was a beauty. Educated in Australia and spoiled rotten. Everybody helped kill the magnum of champaign then we left before more fights broke out.

Update: lost track of Bubba for over 14 years and then just last week found out he's now working for Airborne Express and this month goes up for upgrade to Captain on the DC-8.

Everybody party and be safe. Happy New Year.

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If it beeps--dig it!! Garimpo

[garimpo]

My wife's birthday is in Feb. and I was thinking of buying her some really nice perfume but after writing that last post-------------------

Think I'll buy her some deodorant!!

How lucky can I get----she doesn't read English!!

[garimpo]

A couple of areas that are not covered here much is the beach hunter and the under water hunter.

In many ways they have it over us desert hunters. To name just a few are; very few desolate areas and most are in telephone service areas, for the most part good roads, even less rattle snakes, maybe some two legged ones, usually close to civilization and help if needed and I hate to admit it but they also get more gold than us in many cases and it's hard to sweat under water.

If some of you ever want to take a detecting trip to a country that has fantastic beaches you should try New Zealand. In my opinion the most beautiful country in the world.

Actually NZ is made up of two very large islands so that give the beach and under water beeper 100's of miles of beaches to work.

Just think of virgin beaches that have been used for years and no detecting. Be sure to take a detector that can handle a lot of salt and mineralization.

[FlakMagnet]

Garimpo,

I'm going to email you a pic of my wife who had just helped me dig up

a Spanish rapier still in the scabbard encrusted in coral...it's an old pic but

you'll get it...

I just can't post pic's on the forum, too bad, but can't seem to fix it...

regards,

[garimpo]

Garimpo,

I'm going to email you a pic of my wife who had just helped me dig up

a Spanish rapier still in the scabbard encrusted in coral...it's an old pic but

you'll get it...

I just can't post pic's on the forum, too bad, but can't seem to fix it...

regards,

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

FRANTICALLY CHECKING MY EMAILS!

Beach and underwater coin and jewelry hunting are my favorites.

[garimpo]

It was Saturday night again and the "Clinger parade" was just beginning. As usual me and Bubba were sitting in our favorite spot, a small low table across the lobby from the front doors of the Polynesian Hotel in Lae, Papua New Guinea (PNG).

To call PNG a third world country would be stretching the imagination. Out front in the parking lot as usual but especially on Saturday night was the crowd of 15-20 "rascals" giving the girls a bad time as they arrived for the Saturday night dance. The leader of this group was feared by the police because he had so many followers and it was easy to tell who he was because he always had a double barrel 12 ga. shotgun.

In the day time we operated two C130 Herc's for the entire day and the maintenance was done at night by some great mechanics from England.

Just as the pilots had shifts so did the mechanics. Their afternoon group would return to the hotel around 8:00 PM.

On this particular night as the small bus that shuttled crews back and forth to and from the airport 25 miles away, the rascals were having a good time bad mouthing everybody out front and as the mechanics were leaving the bus and heading for the front doors of the hotel, one of the mechanics gave the rascals the one finger salute. For some reason that is known the world over.

The Polynesian Hotel being the most popular of the two in town had some really swank heavy glass doors. Even what would normally be door jams were also heavy glass. Actually the entire front entrance was totally out of place in such a setting as PNG.

Remember the double barrel 12 ga. shotgun? Heavy glass doors no problem for a 12 ga. as the three mechanics quickly found out. Luckily no one was hit as the mechanics made an immediate right turn inside the doors and went into a small four stool bar. They jumped over the bar and ran into the hotel kitchen that was behind the bar.

About half of the rascals also knew how to jump over a bar and the other half knew where the front door of the restaurant was just as the mechs. came through the doors leading into the lobby.

To say that the fight was on would be an understatement!! The rascals singled out the one mech. that had the middle digit problem.

While the broken beer bottles, knives and the butt of the shotgun were being used successfully and making a very bloody mess on the floor, me and Bubba didn't move a muscle. Half were doing the "carving" while the other half was watching us to see if we were stupid enough to interfere.

Finally the night cook for the restaurant talked the rascals into leaving. I went and got the Chief mech. and he smuggled the one mech. that was cut up really bad out to a ranch close to the airport. The next day being Sunday and no commercial flights that day one of our Herc's took the mechs. over to Port Morsby for medical treatment and hopefully safety and then a quick departure for England.

My normal rotation out was the next Wednesday and when I got to Port Morsby there was the three mechs., bandages, stitches and bloody scabs still trying to get a flight out. They were not pretty to look at.

The national excuse there when something happens is: "this is PNG".

[garimpo]

So here you are, out in the desert in the middle of nowhere. You've been beeping for 5 hours and so far only 1- .45 slug, 2- .50 cal. black powder slugs, three .22 casings, 2- old boot tacks and one aluminum chewing gum wrapper.

The sweat is dripping off the bill of your favorite beepin ball cap, running through your eye brows and into your eyes and your now thinking about that 1/2 mile walk back to the P/U. Every muscle hurts so now is it going to be a detecting trip back or one where the beeper is a balance beam on your shoulder?

You walk around this giant cactus very careful so as not to get any thorns in your legs and then -beep. You finally get the feet to stop just before you step on your damn coil. Back track a couple of steps and swing again-beep-beep.

Weak, very weak but different. You think how many times on Bill's forum have you read post where people say that it's the "different" sounds your looking for.

Unlimber the new Hermit that still has paint on the cutting edge. Clear off an area about 16" in diameter and chop down about 4" and your thinking wow what a pick, caliche hard as concrete but just took a few chops and your already down that deep. Grab the beeper and check the hole, yep the sound increased a little and it ain't a wimpy sound. Detector back over to the side, way over, don't want to step on the cord again, you figure it's time to use the "pick" end and loosen up some of this concrete, after several good whacks, reverse the pick and now out flies the loose gravel, a lot of gravel, you figure your down now about a foot. Check the hold again, no use digging more than necessary and after all this deep it's not a bullet this time. Coil goes over the hole, wow, what a sweet sound, can't quite get the coil down in the hole so now have to make it bigger. Several more good swings of the pick and now the hole is 20" in dia., in goes the coil and the detector goes into over load.

You've got to have a drink of water, glug, glug from your hot water canteen. Back on the knees, chop, chop, chop. Check the hole again, don't want to ruin a good nuggets. Sweat not a bother any more, muscle have quit hurting, heart is pumping fast than a tread mill work out. Just goes to show you, if Doctors knew anything you'd be dead right now.

A foot and a half down and the detector is locking up when lowered in the hole. God is good, bless the USA and Willie Nelson. Chop, chop--klank.

When you raise the pick up you see this big gash in the blade, it looks like the tusk of a Arkansas razor back pointing backward. Slowly your eyes go down for a dreaded look in the hole, not sure what's there you take your new black GRG scoop and start slowly scooping out gravel, then there it is, the 3 oz. nugget that you just about cut in half.

Moral of this story is when working deep gravel in know gold areas don't leave the P/U without your pin-pointer.

As for me I'm sitting in the house today having fun on the computer.

--------------------

If

[FlakMagnet]

Garimpo,

You had the whole story right,

until you started talking about the 3oz nugget part...lol.

persistance and patience are good side product to this hobby...

[COLORADO BOB]

Garimpo,

No problem, get the torch and that wad of gold solder. You now have a 3 1/4oz. nugget. Bob T.

[garimpo]

This is my ring for comparison.

How many looked at your finger? 248 grams.

[smokeater]

Treasure stories, great fun

Been awhile since last post put have a tale of my own.

Many years ago I purchased my first all gold detector. The "Gold Bug" and I spend many days swing it in the El Paso range. At night I'd do my research in the Kern Co. mineral reports or anything else I could find then head out and search the areas that sounded interesting.

One area that caught my attention was a copper area but the discription said in affect "unsubstantiated report of several large nuggets found". So I set out on a mission to Substantiate the rumor for myself.

Foolish youth in those days found me crawling through any hole or cave I could find. I found many nice ones using this method but in my more mature state wouldn't recommend this method today.

The area I was going to hunt was visable from Hwy 14 and the Randsburg cutoff. I drove my old 68 Ford to a location and started checking the area. Found several shallow audits and jumped in. One was very short and narrow, had a 3/4 cable coming out of it and with that kind of junk I almost past this one up. But always checking everything out in those days I jumped in and figured I deal with the cable as best I could.

Inside the audit I noticed quickly that this wasn't going to take long. The length of this tunnel was 20 feet at most. I narrowed to about 24 inches which told me the old timers quit digging soon after the hole was started. This spooky thing about this audit was that it was only about 4 or 5 feet under the surface. Caliche in this area is tough but being by myself my mind said that after this thing collapses and buries me inside the only thing they are going to find is that 68 Ford.

Swing the sides of the tunnel and heading in it became difficult to move the loop around as my sholders were hitting the sides. I wasn't to the end yet and not getting any signals (and being scared ****less) I was about to get out but only had a foot or two to complete this tunnel then I could scratch it off my list.

Got a faint sound, I think. I had to squeeze the detector past my body to get my rock hammer out to dig. Rock hammer out detector in, each time the signal got louder and after some time I had almost convinced myself that some guy shot a round off and it lodged in the back of this cave. I was sweating and felt wisdom was telling me to get out of this hole you fool. Well being just that in those days I kept digging. 20 minutes of passing the dectector in and out and the signal getting louder each time something slid out off the bedrock. Shinning my light on it I still didn't believe it could be gold so I did what all of you would, I spit on it and yep it was gold. I had never seen anything this big in my life and the heart rate peaked and out of the hole I came. Running towards my truck I washed it off and admired that beauty for minutes until my mind told me that there's a bigger one where that came from! Hiding the nugget in my 68 ford I eagerly jumped back into the hole and started digging and swinging madly. I knew this is what that oldtimers must have experienced and more nuggets are in here.

Safety was out the window and as I dug all I could think about was my truck being ripped off and my nugget with it. This paranoia was so real I packed my things and headed home to Lancaster. At 0930 I walked into the house and the wife said "what are you doing back"?

36.09 dwt, aaah the good old days

Hey grubstake will be up your way in a week or so, any chance of hooking up?

smokeater