8/11/03


It was a week before the meeting and the clubs? second annual ?get together?. I say get together because there was quite a stir before about how a meeting on the river turned into a full blown outing. We are the ?Green Mountain Prospectors of Vermont?. Vermont?s first official chapter of GPAA formed last December, with 101 members and growing. Three weeks ago, at the last meeting we decided to go back to Twin River Campground in Bath, New Hampshire. Now you say ? a Vermont club, going to NH???" There?s gold in Vermont, and lots of it, good gold too, but the main reason being is that we could run our power equipment there, dredges / high-bankers . (Vermont banned recreational suction dredging in 1998 for all the wrong reasons, and that in itself is a novel, so I?ll stick to one story at a time) Twin River Campground is at the junction of rte 302 and 112 in Bath, and borders The Amonoosic and The Wild Amonoosic Rivers . Tel # 603-747-3640
It?s a huge drainage basin from the top of the Kancamangus Highway, rte 112. If you have ever traveled that road, it is spectacular with views, and ascent.

The Wild A has some nice gold in it from dust to nuggets. My wife Karen and I have found some pretty impressive pieces, including one nice nugget the size of my little fingers tip that I lost along with 15 or so ?pickers? in a glass vial on the Swank Farm in Ohio. (yup, another story) Club members Paul and Candy Mansfield, (the VP and Raffle Coordinator respectively) and relative newcomers to dredging and gold in general have found several jewelry size nuggets as well. Candy keeps a close eye on ?em, so it?s hard telling just HOW many they have acquired in their first year dredging the Wild A., but you can tell, excitement is usually pretty high when we head for New Hampshire.

We checked in with owners Sandy and Dennis Solinsky. They?re always happy (I hope) to see us, and headed to set up the tent on H-5, Karen's? favorite place in the world for the weekend with our Husky / Akita mix Sara. We had left our dredge (a 4" Pro-Mack) in the river since the previous weekend along with partners in crime Larry Conley and Ed Davila's 4? Keene triple sluice. Well secured, and covered, (That?s one of the best things in prospecting around here; Respect.) No one touches your equipment so no need to rush to put the dredge in, it was already there, in what I thought was the absolute best spot, at the tail end of a large gravel bar on a right hand curve. Our rigs were almost side by side, about 10 feet apart. Both holes from the previous weekend revealed three feet of loose overburden to virgin hardpack 18-24 inches thick just above a clay layer, down to about 4 1/2 feet, and boulders, lots and lots of boulders. Big boulders, small ones, more big ones, and even more small ones in a swell mix of fines and pickers in just about every test pan. It looked real promising for the weekend, especially with the pickers. We met at the campground?s river sites, shot the breeze, said hellos and talked about grand-children, jobs, and of course where everyone wanted to be in the morning to have at it. Burgers and dogs over the fire, a nice relaxing evening before the real work was to begin.

Paul and Candy were camped beside us on H-6 and were up and gone early. Karen and I had breakfast, bacon & eggs (Karen) some burnt english muffins (me) and some really tasty coffee. (me again) Sara was all excited too, she knew we were going to some water, and she?s like a duck. We pulled into the second turnoff up the river and you?d a swore the place was downtown Northfield with all the Vermont cars and trucks. Everyone was pretty much set up already, putting the finals on equipment, and anticipating the first plunge into cold White Mountain National Forest run-off. It was overcast, and the forecast was 70% rain. When the sun?s not out early to warm the rocks, that river is cold first thing in the morning, suit or no suit! When I jump in, my T-80 has a hard time keeping up if you know what I mean. I gassed up, strapped on some weight, and dove in, and right back out to scream and suck some warm air. WOW! Larry showed up alone with no partner, and that was my excuse to ?warm up? again helping him get set up beside me on his rig. Guess Eddy's back was on the fritz, so we tailed each other's rig whenever, and Karen ran the camera, visited a lot with the gang and tailed when we didn't. Sara, being the only pup on the beach, kinda just ran around and supervised everyone between runs for the stick and dips in the water to see what ?ol dad? was doing under there. Our President, Tim Davis showed, so we all pitched in to launch his 4?Keene down the bank, across the bar and in the river; An 80 yard dash through brush and boulders. Then Phil Beaudry showed up with his home made 4?. From a snow machine chassis turned upside down. Nice. By that time, the cold water felt great, and the dig was on!!!

Routine stops to come up and see if my wife still loved me, check for gas, and scare the dickens outta Larry went well. The going was tough. Rocks in there are anywhere from the size of a softball to the size of 1/2 your house, literally. Fortunately for me I was in an area where they were only the size of our kitchen table, and 50 times as thick. But hey, I was having fun, we all were. The holes got bigger, the fish came and provided entertainment on occasion, and every once in a while you would see the flash of flood gold going up the tube. Down near the clay layer, I?d back off a bit. ?Go Slow? I?d tell myself, ?and look close?. Nothing like seeing a small nugget pounded into the clay, or seeing the bottom of ?a dance floor? as I like to call a few square feet of open clay or bedrock glitter with gold packed into the first 1/8 inch of it. Then it?s move this big one outta the way and see what?s? behind, and under it. I love being under water. We all do. A world all it?s own. Sometimes I?ll just take a break, and not come up. Just look around at the trout, watch what they eat. I?ve hand fed wild trout hellgrammites to within inches of my hand. Actually had one about 12 inches long swim through my fingers headed towards the cloud at the nozzle to check out the buffet. It seemed as if he wanted me to pet him, and I did. I have counted as many as 13 trout, not to mention catfish and minnows in the same hole with me, feeding, and getting to cooler water. If the enviros would only see for real for themselves, the world would be a better place. With all the bureaucracy, and the BS of ?save the world attitude?, it just makes me wanna hold ?em under water for a few seconds, to show them up front and in their face that what we do is virtually harmless to the environment. Less than 1/10 of a percent impact environmentally speaking. Wading, catch and release, ....awwww, here I go, getting all emotional again.

That day ended around 4 pm when a small cloudburst finally arrived. Tim and Phil pulled their rigs out and headed for the meeting. Paul and Candy pulled their Keene up to the height of the island bar when Candy told Paul, ?it?s just a short ways to pull it, and we?d feel better?. Larry and I tied our rigs to large boulders, with enough slack to allow for a ?rise in the river? should it rain more than everyone expected, covered them up and put the concentrator and other support equipment on the island and the side bank for the night. Joe and his wife packed out their sluice. Larry and Peggy Blow packed out their new Keene High Banker too, at Peggy?s urging. Jim A left his old Keene 3? that belonged to his Dad in ?78 in the river, secured, down by the campground?s river cabins too. If we had all listened to that advice, it would have made for a happier Sunday Morning.

Well, that little cloudburst came to an end, followed by another, and another, and another. Still, the general consensus, especially in my own mind was that ?it?s ok. It?ll come up a little, but it isn?t going anywhere. I tied it good, with 3/4 in marine nylon rope.? Larry had his tied off to two large boulders. All was ok, so we thought. It rained so hard, I was lying on my back when I felt the first cold drips wake me out of a dead sleep in our tent. The dog was almost floating, a river was running under our tent and we were up on the hill in the campground. After tossing and turning around to dodge the drips, I realized that my 250 lbs bouncing on that air mattress woke my wife Karen (shoulda been a commercial made huh?) She was a little nervous with the thunder and lightning, but I calmly assured her all was ok, as I reached for Sara?s water dish to rest atop my chest to catch the water. Karen asked about the dredges. I said, ?it would take a lot more than this to get our rigs off them rocks.? We fell asleep again listening to the rain pound on our tent. It rained hard that night from 3:30 in the afternoon Saturday, till 5 am Sunday. Then, when Larry B came up with that sad look on his face, at 6, we all knew. ?They?re gone? he said, ?Paul?s is still there but it won?t be for long?.

It was a hustle, everyone putting on clothes or wetsuits, then to the river. What a sight! That river came up over 7 feet in the night. Paul was tied off to cross what usually is a dry wash 12 feet wide, and it was really moving fast! There was massive excitement in the air, the club pulling together to save the one dredge on the island left. The one put on ?high ground?. Candy was holding onto Paul?s? lanyard along with Larry, Jim, Joe and myself as he cautiously forded the river to get to their dredge. When the time was right, we all heave to and skidded it as fast as we could that short 12 feet, but the river was quicker, and swept it downstream to the next opening on the path. Incredible force water has. We hauled it up to his truck, and talked of luck and major losses. (Standing there, Larry saw another Keene go ?bobbing? by, upside down, never to be seen again. Belonged to someone upstream, not in the club)

We had lost a lot, both financially, and emotionally. Jim?s 3? Keene was his Dad?s. A lotta history, a lotta memories. Larry and Ed?s was only 3 years old, they got a lotta gold with that 4? Keene. Our Pro-Mack, I had modified it to recover almost micron gold, Karen and I spent a lot of quality time alone on the river with it. It was always exciting to peek beneath the ?griz?. (I hate to say it but in the back of my mind I was thinking Proline, a 4? with twin 5?s and a triple sluice) Karen and I headed for coffee up in Bath; everyone else was headed to camp. The store was closed of course, 7;20 am on Sunday. As we drove by the pull off, down around the bend the crew was stopped, and Paul was getting hitched to the rope again. They had spotted Larry?s dredge, no motor, no sluice, hung up across the river, some 30 yards plus across. Fortunately it broke loose again before Paul the ?Pit Bull? Mansfield could jump in to grab it. We may have had a hard time just saving Paul, forget the dredge. After it started downstream again, we decided to get down where the river spanned out, beneath the bridge on 302 (1/2 mile from where we were), and that?s where we caught it. Linda and Terry had arrived from New York for a Sunday on the river, never expecting what was going on. Paul and Larry B hauled it out, smashed and twisted, just the frame and pontoons. Pontoons were full of water. It would not have been long before it went down for the last time.

We all went on the hill to break camp, cut our losses, then Jim rolls in with his 3? in the truck. Seems Joe was on his way home and spotted it another mile downstream, floating in a quiet spot, virtually unscathed. That was really great for all of us. It wasn?t too too bad then. Camp store opened, and we headed for that long awaited coffee, in comes Paul all excited, ?I just saw your dredge, it?s floating up right, and it still has the tarp on it down by the farm!!!? Off we go again in a caravan to the spot, and of course it was gone. I raced on the farmer?s road to the river down behind his field. The road was endless, a one cow-path lane and all I could think of was the Woodsville Dam a mile down river. FINALLY the road broke into a large field, the river was near, and I crashed through the underbrush to look. Nothing, maybe I?m too far down. Back in the truck, headed 200 yards upstream, crashed again through the underbrush and brambles, nothing downstream, looked up, then there it was, neatly tucked into a small island bar, just as if we had left it there.

Paul?s Dodge in the background told me the troops were coming. I stepped into the fast water, and went to my chest, grabbing for something to hold onto. Paul and Larry signaled, we met, and decided that it was too fast a current, too long a span to swim; about 50 yards to the island. We decided that it seemed the river was going down, and that it was caught up in good shape, all seemed to be fine for the moment and that we would leave it for right now. Paul had to be in Barre for work at R&L Archery. Larry had his camper in tow, so Karen and I would find the road behind the dredge, (there were guardrails visible up the bank behind it) and watch to see if it would stay or drift closer to shore down stream farther. We headed back to the support team, our wives, who were being interrogated by the NH State Police. ?This is Great? I thought as I headed towards them, no inspection on my trailer (I forgot) but Candy had the situation in control by the time we got there, and all was well. Something about too many cars parked in a row along the road being a traffic hazard. We drove 1/2 mile to Woodsville, parked in a restaurant lot, said good byes, and Karen and I headed to find that road. As we went up rte 10 in Woodsville, the dam is right there, and seeing the drop, coupled with the force of water we both knew it had to be caught before it made the dam.

The road was found, the guardrails that were visible up the bank behind the dredge were found, but no dredge. I figured we weren?t high enough, but a mile up the road there was no river, so we went back. Still no dredge, and no more island, just grass poking up in the water. The Amonoosic was still rising. About 400 yards below the island Karen spotted it, about 20 yards out, in deep fast water. I can swim, but not against that. First attempt failed. We raced ahead, second attempt failed to lasso it again, the rope in the excitement got tangled, and I nearly went under when I stepped into the river. Looking downstream, 1/4 mile before the dam, the river swept to the left kinda hard, that?s where we set up for the third time. Karen was praying aloud, the rig was coming, and I figured this was it, now or never, and it came right to me, as I was standing up to my neck in the current. I put a death grip on the frame, and Karen hauled us in. Finally, after 4 1/2 miles of free drifting on a white water river to a dam with a 100 foot drop to ledge less than 1/4 mile downstream, we had it. The last of the dredges swept away. There was much relief in the air, and many hugs. Poor Karen was shaking like a leaf. We put it about a foot outta water and tied it securely, again. In the 10 minutes it took to get the truck, and come back, the water was at the lower pontoon already.

That Pro-Mack?s wider stance and low sitting water line are what I think saved it. All the Keenes, with the exception of Jim?s old ?79 with the large square pontoons, and Paul and Candy?s Keene that was put on high ground, were smashed beyond repair. After seeing what happened to our dredge, and as far as it went, only losing the suction hose, and breaking off the cast iron fitting to the jet, (I had it welded back together at a local shop), the visions of a new Proline vanished. Like I said before, there was a lotta quality time with the rig, my wife and I, and there?s gonna be a lot more in the future.

The moral is: They named it The Wild Amonoosic for a reason. Next time, if there is a next time, when it?s gonna rain, there will be aircraft cable strung, from bank to bank, and from one solid tree to another, big one!
Oh, and the gold??? Yup, we all got some, .....pickers, flakes, and maybe a small nugget ?er two, Candy ain?t talkin? !!!
May yer pan always be full of gold !!!
See you on the river, ?face down and lovin? it !!!

Fred ?n Karen Matheson / Vermont Director GPAA, and STILL secretary for the GMPV

P.S. That underbrush I went crashin? through. Well it also contained more than it?s fair share of that shiny leaf stuff called Poison Ivy. Yeah, and the oil on your clothes from all that crashin? and floppin? around, well it?s everywhere on me now, was it all worth it you say, .....Hell yeah !!!