Coming Into Arizona

Cold or not, we crawled outta bed early and cranked the old air compressor to bring the tires up to a safe pressure from their somewhat reduced pressure of the cold night air before the first rays of the sun could mess with my readings. It's not a fun task especially on a cross country run, but it's gotta be done in order to be safe! We were rewarded with the glory of the desert being caressed by the early morning light as we came down off the plateau from New Mexico and into the Arizona flats. It is always breathtaking and once you have seen it, you hold it in your mind's eye the whole trip...and are never disappointed by the first acquaintance glimpse of it.

We made a stop at perhaps our favorite roadside rest stop in America at Texas Canyon. It's in Arizona, not Texas- maybe just to add some interest- not that it needs more than it has. The photos from the stop are inadequate to show what you are about to behold as you enter the canyon which follows... enormous boulders perched delicately and seemingly unsafely atop each other high atop the cliffs on either side of the canyon. You will wonder how they got there; but you will wonder much harder at how they stay there year after year, century after century. If you pass this way, keep your camera at the ready as the scenery just gets better and better. There are small pull-offs a few places, not suitable for us when we are on a mission: tomorrow is Happy Tuesday!

We pulled into Casa Grande for the last night on the road. Tomorrow, without unforeseen problems, we shall be delivered to Brenda and Desert Gold RV - our home for the winter where we share the time with dear friends, from all over the country, but many if not most of whom share our love for not only the desert but also Alaska. So it may not be home, but it always feels like home with their company.

I wanted to go back, if I may, to the trek through Texas. I neglected to say that we had seen wolves on this trip. Not dogs. Not coyotes. Wolves. Three of them. All dead. One grey. One typically mottled, and one pure white. All three were enormous, and the white one was reminiscent to me of the white buffalo I saw in South Dakota. Sorry they were dead by the side of the road, all in proximity to the other so no doubt it was a pack that got careless and stayed by the road too long for their own good. It was not a place where pulling over to take a picture was an option...and sorry I am about that, but thought I should go back at least to mention the occasion.

Casa Grande is crawling with quail and jack rabbits like below. These are small in comparison to the sizes they can reach, and in fact we had seen one of those large ones (muy grande) dead on the road as well. That one was so big I was checking for antlers as though it were a deer until we realized what it was.


Without jinxing myself (he knocked on wood), I can tell you it has been a marvelous crossing to date, and if that luck holds up, we'll be in camp by mid-day tomorrow- two days ahead of schedule!!!

When Bad Gets Worse....

If you read the last post, you saw we had a pretty rough day. But we survived it, and expected things to get better. But bad turned to worse and a long two day delay to get things fixed ensued. All of the problems that seemed to work themselves out came back...and then some. Long story short, we found an auto dealer for the van and a diesel engine repair facility in the tiny town of Las Vegas- that's New Mexico, not Nevada, for the coach. The Santa Fe Trail. Somewhere between places we could have had problems and taken care of them easier....maybe. It took heating the van's exhaust system up to 1100 degrees to burn out the carbon in the exhaust system that wanted to make that engine not run. And it took an overnight replacement for a coolant sensor to get the engine on the coach up and running again. Small town friendly made a bad situation tolerable. Good service from small companies "on the spot" made it possible to get going faster than one might have thought. And the good folks at Spartan Chassis in Michigan shipped our part out late afternoon one day and it was here and installed before noon the next. Gotta love that....

So this is a report and not a story - true. But stress and fatigue from pushing as push requires to get back on the road made one too tired to be telling stories tonight. Last night the canyons echoed with the screams of the frustrated, but tomorrow morning, he said with his fingers crossed, the sounds will be the joyous sounds of a big diesel rolling down the highway. Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm................

What's The "Sensor" Of It?

Tonight finds us in New Mexico headed East. There was lots of beautiful scenery that we couldn't really take the time to properly appreciate today, and we rekindled lots of nice memories as we rolled past places we have visited before: Painted Desert, Meteor Crater, Petrified Forest, and Las Vegas just to name a few. But in these first two days of travel, problems have plagued us big-time. It almost seems like a shake down cruise, but it's far from that....more like a shake up cruise!

It all started yesterday as we were all hooked up and ready to pull out of Desert Gold in Brenda. We never ever pull out without a final check of all the lights. And on this occasion the right turn signal on the tow car would not operate. I disconnected and reconnected the tether wire several times ...and nothing. It may not sound like a big deal, but lane changes in traffic, like say in Albuquerque, can be disastrous if others don't know where I am headed. It's a big rig and despite lots of mirrors there are blind spots- so I really needed to get this blinker working. On past occasions, some dirt has gotten in one end or the other of the plug and kept it from working. Cleaning usually helps, but not this time. Moisture maybe? I licked my thumb and wiped the end of the contacts, and tried again. Still nothing. It was hot and very windy and my thumb had pretty much dried before I wiped the contacts. Maybe if I licked the plug real quick and sanitary like? Oh, the other end was still connected to the coach. Any idea what 12 volts feels like applied directly to the tongue? Remember the old hit: Good Good Good Vibrations? My tongue vibrated that tune for the next 300 miles.....oh, yes it WAS a bit dumb. BUT: it worked, the blinker came back and off we went. That is the extent of my mechanical skills, but what works....works.

Today should have been better. But while breaking camp this morning one of the slides refused to pull in. Running down the road with an open slide? Not possible. So today started about the same as yesterday. But a few pokes and prods, a couple jiggles, and maybe a kick or two with the back of the heel and that too began working again. Ready to go? Lets check the tire pressure. Oh oh, one tire monitor not working; we had a spare, took the time to reprogram that on the front right tire of the rig. Now ready to go? Here we go.....

But as we got ready to pull out of our campsite, the "STOP ENGINE" light came on the dash. I did. The jacks had not fully retracted. Tried it again. Came on again. The third time this happened though I let it run through its cycle and eventually the warning light went out. Let's try this again.

A couple of mildly nervous travelers cruised down the road. Feeling any more at ease? Maybe. Until we tried to pass a couple other big rigs and while doing so, another tire monitor was set off. It showed the back left tire on the tow vehicle was losing air rapidly. That's what they are for- to let you know you are running too soft before the tire heats up and blows. We completed the pass and pulled over quickly on a tight stretch of highway in heavy traffic. With little room to work I ran back to check the tire. Yep. Problem. But the sensor that alerted us to the problem was also actually causing the problem as a seal on the sensor had popped loose and was leaking. Again, we had a spare (part of the Gundy redundancy program) and reprogrammed it and set it in place. But the tire was still too low on air. I carry a 50 foot compressed air hose which hooks up to an on board compressor in the front of the coach. But that doesn't reach the back tire of a car in tow. I carry a portable compressor too. But these new sensors require a lithium cream lubricant to keep the brass and steel stems from "freezing" and this stuff is sooooooo slippery. How slippery is it? Slippery enough to keep the nozzle of the compressor from locking on to the tire stem, so the minute I hit 70 pounds of air it popped off. I needed 80 pounds. Not good. After all else failed, we limped down the road until we came upon a travel stop owned by the Hopi Indians. They had fuel; I didn't need any. They had a free air compressor- but it didn't work. Drat! They told us where there was tire shop nearby. Two bucks and two minutes later and we were back on the road. My insides were all torn up... something or other had been going "south" all day while we were traveling north and east. The nerves were shot. It felt like there would be more. There was....

A fifth wheel we had passed a short while back now passed us pointing wildly down at the bottom of the coach. Other campers often wave or give a thumbs up, but this was different. Were they telling us something was wrong. That's a roger! One of the locked basement doors had somehow bounced off its hold and was flapping in the breeze- a 70 mile an hour down the highway breeze that is. Again we pulled over and took the time to repair the lock. We didn't loose any cargo, the door was not damaged. Onward!

Despite all the delays and setbacks, we completed the 350 miles we had set for a goal for today. This is a mountainous trail we are traveling and the uphill sections are slowwwwwwwww. If there was good news in the day, the snow showers were no harm no foul at the higher elevations. We made it to our campground, and a nice guy jumped in a golf cart and guided us to our site. He parked and talked for a few minutes, then jumped back in his cart and....... nothing. His battery was dead as a doornail....

It was just one of those days! Tomorrow is another day, and I hope a better day. But ya never know! Do ya? I'm a bit nervous.

Single Finger Salutation

You're driving down the road in New Mexico. Any road. Or you're taking your daily walk along the side of the road in New Mexico. Any road. And you notice that every driver that sports New Mexico plates is passing you, almost without exception, and raising a single finger, an index finger (important to the story), as though in some sort of "point" skyward. Two hands on the wheel; one finger waves "howdy." It's a New Mexico thing...and it's much more universal than you might think. No one takes the hand off the wheel and waves. No one tips a hat. No flash of the headlights. Just that single finger salutation.

If that makes New Mexico sound like a pretty gosh darn friendly place, well then so be it. But, then, that's a surface thing. I mean, I never did meet any of those individuals expressing their greeting with that single finger gesture. They might be very nice. They might not. I just assume they are because, after all, they took the time to raise their finger as they drove by. It's a nice thing to do, regardless of whatever may be behind the idea. In Honduras, when we lived there, if someone gestured to you while passing each other on a winding road, they called it "hailing" you. Same thing, different gesture, different place and time.

We had an excellent Christmas and New Year's eve with our friends in New Mexico while staying at Arrey RV Park and taking in the sights and sounds of the area. Best end-of-year holiday I've had in some time. Good friends. Good food. Good prospecting. Good campfires. Lots of laughter. Camaraderie. Everything you think will make for a good time anywhere, any time.

So when we got up early the morning of the 2nd of the new year, fought off the near zero temps to get ready to roll we felt pretty darn good. About our time in New Mexico. About the prospects for the new year. About life in general. We headed down the highway slowly so as to let the ice cold tire air warm slowly and safely. The early morning light on the mountains was beautiful. I took a sip of my coffee. Ahhhhhhh.

Back when we had first pulled into camp and Marilyn went in to get us registered and make any necessary arrangements, the older woman who owns the camp was working the desk, sucking cigarette smoke from the butt hanging out of her mouth and sucking oxygen from the plastic tubes shoved up her nostrils. Seemed like a poor combination, but to each his own. For whatever reason, and you can draw your own conclusions as you deem appropriate, the owner was literally unable to figure out the cost of a 10 day stay at her own camp. Repeatedly she asked Marilyn for what Marilyn knew was too little. Repeatedly Marilyn tried to help her reach an appropriate amount. Finally in frustration, the owner ventured that "just give me a hundred bucks and we won't have to charge you for the electricity- otherwise someone has to go out and read the meter...." In light of what others were paying (125 a month plus electricity) that seemed fair for a big rig so we wrote the check and that was that. We set up camp. The 30 amp service worked; the 110 did not. Oh, well. All right........

Or was it? Now nearly 10 miles down the road, cruising along with sunshine and smiles on our faces, two guys in a pickup truck are making like they are robbing a stagecoach and trying to push us, force us over to the side of the road. They were making a few gestures of their own. Haven't seen those gestures from the good folks of New Mexico!

Having few good options we pulled to the side when we were able. We steadfastly refused to open the door (had no idea who they were), instead telling the two hombres to come to the driver's window and talk to me...which they then did:

"You didn't pay your bill!" said a young man who we subsequently learned was the grandson of the huffing and puffing owner and had himself, if the story was true, just been released from jail for Christmas. What a nice gesture.

"What the heck are you talking about? We paid the bill when we arrived, before we even set up camp."

"Not the electric. You owe us for electric, and you're just trying to skip out early without paying."

Now since you already heard the beginning of this conversation in prose form, I'll skip ahead here. But we knew we had paid; the owner should have known we paid. So what was all this about anyway?

"Well, for discussion sake, even though we know we already paid what was asked in full, how much do you think we owe you?"

"Eighteen dollars," said Billy The Kid.

"And how do you figure that? May I ask...."

"It's the difference between the initial meter reading" (the one they said they didn't want to have to go take) "and the end reading."

Now all this seemed like a bunch of hooey to us, but for 18 dollars who wanted to drive all the way back there and get into this matter again and again. Certainly not us. We had already learned that dealing with these challenged folks was, well, challenging. So we reached for a twenty and as I was ready to hand it to The Kid, he came back to the window, this time on a cell phone. Now it seemed the manager, the owner's son and The Kid's dad (I know- it confuses me too) is on the phone and is demanding we return immediately to camp to pay him what has now become 68 dollars for the electric. Failure to return right here right now, he says "will result in my calling the sheriff and having you arrested."

How nice! Happy New Year to you too, Ratchet Rick. Needless to say we go back. Can't chance not resolving this and there-by making it worse. All we should have to do, really, is review the original conversation with Puff the Magic Dragon. We are no longer happy, smiling, feeling the sunshine of the fresh year on our faces.

But another twist. Puff either is lying that she didn't have that first conversation with us about paying up front including electricity in the first place... or she just plain can't remember, doesn't remember, and never told anyone else. Either way, this is not good. A matter of competence or a matter of design....can't really say for sure. But it felt a lot like the latter by this point.

"So how did we get up to 68 dollars here? Billy The Kid here told us you wanted 18 dollars..."

But before I could continue, The Kid says, "That was only a suggestion, Sir!"

"A suggestion? Really? You suggest I pay an additional 18 dollars and your papa here suggests I pay an extra 68 dollars or you will have us arrested? Really? A suggestion? Sounds more like an extortion to me, but whatever....."

Did I mention we did have a receipt? No matter; receipts mean nothing at this campground.

Since I have no idea about the relationship between Puff, The Kid, The Ratchet and the Sheriff, (although I had half a notion to find out), we paid our bill....again...and headed down the road. There are battles that must be fought. There are those that should be fought, but can't be won anyhow even if they are fought. Guess this was one of those.

We won't be going back to Arrey RV. Ever. I might suggest you don't go there either, unless of course you find pure joy in paying for your stay over and over. Your call! We learned subsequent to this experience that we are certainly not the only guests to be told one thing by the gang leader only to be way-laid by her posse. So enter these here parts with caution.

The rest of the trip to the border with Arizona was uneventful. Folks along the way continued their pleasant single finger salute, and as we have now become accustomed, we returned it more often than not. No one else tried to force us off the road. No sheriff cars appeared in the rear view mirror.

And as the dotted line on the GPS map that signals the border between states met the icon of the coach traveling that route, I offered up a symbolic single finger salute of my own to the "family feud" that owns Arrey RV Park..... only this time,................. I used a different finger.

PS: Yes. There is a PS to this accounting. The strip of highway 187 where Arrey RV Park is to be found is just dotted with very small RV Parks- all of which look pretty much alike. Some of the other parks have small stores, even a fuel station. And it seems, after speaking with several of the other owners that we MAY have actually wound up in the wrong park- not the one that was recommended by someone back East who had stayed here before. No matter. Aside from this episode- good times were had by all. And a good story is just that!

Wind To Wind Up 2010

Normally we would be talking about beginning the month of March like a Lion or a Lamb, but it seems that that will be the appropriate terminology for writing up the end of the year here in New Mexico. Frigid temperatures are being ushered in by 50 mph winds accompanied by all of the dust and sand that they can possibly pick up and carry with them. It is a sandstorm! On yes it is! The tumbleweeds are blowing by the front window of the coach faster than we can count them. The Christmas tree, still atop the wheel conversion table that fits over the steering wheel when we are set up is rocking back and forth like it were outside in the wind itself. It’s not that the wind is blowing on through the coach- it’s just that the wind is hitting us on the drivers side and making the whole coach rock back and forth. We’ve already been outside to batten down the hatches, now we wait to see when…or IF, it will let up. The storm is scheduled to last through the end of the year. Yuk! I’m supposed to smoke the turkey thighs tomorrow; we’ll have to see about that. If I did that right now, the legs would not only be smoked, they would be sand blasted, which, I’m pretty sure is not a satisfactory system of meat tenderizing.


January started with cold temperatures making it “rain iguanas” in the Florida Keys. Now that I think about it, that pretty much set the tone for the year. And oddly enough, it was Stonewall Gene who wanted to taste iguanas back then and now here we are together in the desert tasting the sand. Back in January and the rest of the winter months, the cold killed fish and manatees and turtles and made a real mess of both the beaches in the Keys AND our winter stay there. Not special, but memorable I suppose.

We had the same crappola in the Everglades where we thought perhaps we could escape the wind and the cold. But nothing doing, and the normally lush green of the Glades was a drab olive and brown instead from the low temps. By April 1, the temps had moderated and we headed off to Orlando where we were “attacked” by the abundance of sand hill cranes who were nesting in the area and cranking out “little peckers.” That’s not a slur, they simply grow up to be tall skinny birds that peck the daylights out of anything that reflects their image- like the side of a motor coach or the bumpers of your car. And for some reason they feel the need to do this at 4 in the morning. We departed Florida and headed off to Georgia, once again to meet up with Stonewall and Jules and look for some gold in Cleveland at the LDMA Loud Mine Camp.

But that excursion was short lived and my dad took ill after we were there only a few days and passed away only a week after we made it home. You can expect such events in the course of a natural lifetime but no matter how well prepared for them you think you are- you are not! It was a tough time for all and the blog took a breather while we all tried to catch our collective breath.

It took us until the beginning of July to be ready to feel things were OK on the home front and get ready to get back on the road. That was about the time when the tornado ripped through Thousand Trails, Hershey and did a number on the camp, the rigs parked there, and the surrounding infrastructure of the area. Evacuation was ordered and we left the camp as soon as we had made other arrangements.

We set our sights on Maine to visit Dick and Sarah. We started a nice visit there, but then the wind was taken out of those sails when we realized that Abby The Wonder Dog still had heart but no legs on which to carry it and so she too slipped away from us. A double dose of downbeat makes for a depression that’s hard to climb out of.

Back to Pennsylvania to finish some financial arrangements that were in the works to adjust to our new reality- but it wasn’t long before Cosmic Uncle Vinny passed away on the Cape and we headed off once again in October in support of those who have always given us the same.

Once on the road again, we stopped by Vein Mountain in NC in November and were rewarded with a “smiley face" in our gold pan for the effort. By month’s end we had completed the east Coast cycle and were back in Florida for doctors, dentists, and friends for Thanksgiving On The Beach II. It was a special and comforting way to bring it all back home. But Florida got a bit old by the time we spent two weeks trying to get parts for the coach so as to allow us to strike out once again, and as soon as we could, we made the decision to head west…and so here we are in New Mexico at year’s end. Stonewall and Jules are here. Sand Hill Cranes are here (by the millions)- didn’t see that one coming! Cold is here. Winds are here. Even some rain at the moment as this is written. A storm made of sand- but better than a tornado. It was almost like this year had a theme that just had to play out. So be it!

It was a tough year by some standards. But it was a good year as well. Filled with good friends and family and new experiences. With ideas that can be developed for the future. With reflections on the past. With a new strength that comes from times of weakness that are overcome. With love that strengthened through adversity and tribulations. With renewed faith. Not the best of times; not the worst of times. But times none-the-less that make us who we are and show us the paths from which to choose our future….

We head into the new year, remembering those who will not see it arrive with us:

Samuel Charles Gundy

March 28, 1918 - April 23, 2010
Child Of God; Man Of Science

Abby, The Wonder Dog
"Be Gentle, But Fear Nothing; Live Large"

Ride To Chloride

We weren't especially in the mood for a day of rock-hounding, the activity most of the rest of group decided to embark upon, and since we've been here less time than the others we decided to take the day to accomplish a few necessities and do some driving around and sight seeing. A ride to the semi-ghost town of Chloride seemed like just the thing and an itinerary was created to accomplish all the goals of the day.

First stop: Elephant Butte State Park. Everyone saw the elephant! Everyone but us, that is. "We didn't see no stinkin' elephant." A pretty mountain range, yes. A big lake created by a dam, sure. An old beat up and plum wore out volcano, ditto. But an elephant? Moving on!

Second stop: The rock shop at Hillsboro. If you were paying attention a minute ago (reading and retaining are two different things- as any former reading teacher will tell you), you heard me say we hadn't intended to go rock hounding. And that was not our intention by visiting the rock shop. The owner of the shop also manufactures some dry washing and mining equipment and we needed to pick up a few spare parts and supplies- what with all the gold we're finding! Uh-huh. Sure. The shop was closed in preparation for the boss man to go on vacation, but he saw us roll in and opened up to see we got what we needed- a nice thing to do seeing as how we initially bought the equipment from him a couple years back.

Backtracking from the rock shop, we took the New Mexico Scenic Highway to Chloride. Scenic it was. The slide show will provide evidence of just that- I am sure you will agree. The museum(s) at Chloride document the gold rush days and early settlement of the area. I somehow don't think the town has changed a whole heck of a lot since then, so there were some fascinating places and artifacts to see there. My two favorites: the dentist's chair and his "instruments" which I am sure account for the brown coloration of the seat on the otherwise white chair, if you know what I mean. And the still-operational, first ever food processor- something the likes of which I have never seen anywhere before and which pretty much made the trip worth-while all by itself.

Next stop: Truth Or Consequences. New Mexico Choan had recommended La Cocina (The Kitchen) for a good Mexican meal and so we set the GPS and drove right to the empty building where IT USED TO BE! Bummer. Didn't see it anywhere else so we settled on "fast chicken" which turned out to be "slow agony" but that's another story. Only after eating the sub-standard, quickly plucked and fast fried "pollo" did we realize, as we drove out of town that La Cocina had in fact moved out to the edge of town and yes, across from the area's one and only Walmart. It wasn't possible to follow the foul, I mean fowl, with anything additional, so that will go on the list of things to do another time... a list that seemingly grows larger for every thing that we ARE able to do.

Fueled up the Quig in T-Or-C ( locals look at you funny if you actually say "Truth Or Consequences). Fuel is wicked pricey there, but not as high as the general store down the road from camp in Arrey. I won't claim to know where the middle of the desert is...but I have reason to believe we may be somewhat near it based on local prices. Trust is also a major issue this close to the border with Mexico. Even a small fuel purchase required leaving not only the credit card with a picture on it, but also the driver's license with the clerk while I pumped. I didn't see any bogus Walmart charges on line when I got home and checked so I reckon they actually did just "hold it."

Then we wrapped up a nifty day with a stop at Bullocks (that's the grocery store, not Sandra's place). What a hoot that place is. Being the tallest guy in the store, I was the go to guy for short people who needed the tall guy to reach the guacamole and chicharones on the top shelf now and again. Happy to do it. De nada! Buena noche.

Be doubly sure to watch the slide show for the New Mexico Speed Trap! Stonewall had told me to be certain to obey the limit while passing through town! (Not sure he knows who's in the squad car :-))

"Divine" Help For Prospecting

Yesterday, out on El Grito, the claim we are working, claim owner Jimmy stopped by to see what was "shakin'" (dry washing joke). We had a nice visit, and Jimmy introduced us to "divining." Ever the skeptic for such things, I watched as he demonstrated. Sure, but are you making those things move when they are over the buckets with the gold in them? Nope. He wasn't. They do it all by themselves. Every time. Stonewall tried it (and he appears in all the photos)...and it worked. Marilyn tried it...and it worked. I tried it...and it worked. It worked over every bucket that had gold flakes in it. It refused to work over buckets that did not. It did nothing over ground that was merely overburden and gravel, but the minute you walked over a portion of the wash that did hold gold, it moved to show where the gold was. Every time. No, seriously- every time.

While (now that I have looked them up on line) they come in a variety of materials and styles, they work for a variety of searches: minerals, water, even, some say, ghosts. I make no claim about the ghost business, but for gold it definitely worked. Every time. Did I mention that ?

These particular rods, according to Jimmy, are stainless steel with threaded brass balls on both the handle and the pointing end of the rod. To make them work for gold, he places a small flake of gold under the brass ball on the pointing end. The pair of rods is housed in a case made of PVC pipe, into which is slipped a popsicle stick that has a small gold nugget glued to the end. This nugget "powers" the rods to be in gold search mode when used. Before each use, you rub the rods with your hands to "give them your energy." Then you rub them under your arms to pick up some static charge. With arms outstretched, the handle portion of the rod loosely in your hand, and the pointing portion of the rods aimed straight ahead, parallel, and at a slight down ward angle so as not to create unintended motion, you walk...or turn, to see what is in the ground around you. It works. Every time.

Here's a slide show to show you what I am talking about. Watch as each slide advances to see the change in the position of the rods. Stonewall is our demonstrator. In the background of the shots you will see Jimmy observing and commenting. A cameo will be made by Marilyn as she walks into and then out of the frames over the time I was shooting.

It's really neat. It works. Every time!

First Gold In New Mexico

Our first day (for this trip) in New Mexico saw us venturing into the desert- 15 miles from camp, then off road, four-wheeling in the Quig for about a mile to a claim that Stonewall Gene had been given permission for us to work on. We classified material from a small wash that fed into a larger wash, worked it down to the hard pack layer, then used our "vacs" to sweep the cracks and crevices. We lugged the buckets down the hill and into the larger wash- then ran all the material through the back-pack sized dry washer that we tote with us everywhere we go. Presto Change-o, Magicadoola, gold in the clean up! So New Mexico becomes our tenth state where we have found gold. Have to give a lot of the credit to Stonewall for the groundwork that got us on the claim and into a location that was very good. The campground also has its own claim for use by campers and we aim to rustle some dirt over there as well- with hopefully even more successful results.

So Stonewall, Harry, Marilyn and I dug in the wash today. Jules, Wayne and Carol headed out rock hounding. Nancy and John dry washed with Nancy's homemade dry-washer at the camp claim; then Nancy came home and made an awesome homemade stew that fed all of us around a campfire as darkness fell and the desert night turned cold. It was a magnificent day!

States Where We Found Gold

Bus Sniffing

Oh "BUS Sniffing"! - all these years I thought they were saying "BUTT sniffing" when it came to the way dogs greeted, checked out, and inspected each other. But yesterday, it came to my immediate attention that, in fact, the phrase may have been "BUS sniffing" all along. Twenty five miles over the border into New Mexico and about as many miles north on Rt 25 be abruptly came upon a mandatory border security inspection station. Guards were everywhere. All traffic funneled into a single line. Slowed. Stopped.

"Is everyone in the vehicle a United States citizen?"

"Yes, sir"

"OK, then, have a nice day."

The human contact was inconsequential. What was of more interest? The dogs! As each car proceeded to the actual inspection stop point, a dog approached the side of the vehicle, stuck his nose in the air and sniffed the vehicle as it slowly rolled forward. Once the length of the vehicle passed the dog, it was stopped again, and the dog ran back and forth across the back of it for one last sniff. Without objection from the dog, the vehicle was allowed to continue on. If the dog was unhappy about anything, the vehicle was pulled forward into what looked to us like an x-ray unit, but may have been some other kind of mechanical detector or "sniffer."

So when our turn came, the dog did his thing and apparently agreed with us that everything was OK. As we pulled forward and back into the travel lane of the highway, we looked at each other and said":

"Oh! Bus Sniffing!"