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An old mine by Zincton
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Images
- Hits: 599
Another one I'd driven by a hundred times and never noticed, you're eyes have to be just right, so once spotted I made a plan to go back and explore. Nothing too interesting, other than the calcite flowing and growing into stalactites from the ceiling.
Prospecting: Black Tourmaline's, Beryl's.... Etc
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Images
- Hits: 575
Basically a bunch of images of places I was prospecting above Creston. Some nice black tourmaline - massive and in crystals, most pieces shattered when trying to get it out of the host rock, some tiny green beryl crystals, gemmy, but too small, and following the vein of pegmatite couldn't find the source, and other photos taken in the field...
Beautiful exposure of pegmatite, quartz, black tourmaline, fine mica,
Massive black tourmaline (in boulder next to log)
Finer tourmaline crystals, garnet
Small pale green beryl in shadow at center of pic.
Pegmatite.
Gemmy beryls on far right...
Gneiss...
Big chunk of iron stained garnet, black tourmaline, smokey quartz
Vugs of quartz crystals, fluorites, copper & calcites - above 6 mile/sasquatch lake...
The road less traveled...
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Places
- Hits: 1151
Returning from Calgary, the whirlwind visit, a few short blog posts, visit with daughter, then back to work. And I'm taking the shortcut, Gray Greek Pass, I've done it a few times, I hit it about 6:00 PM, more or less, and if I'm quick I can catch the second to last ferry and be home, rest - all the rest I can, before work tomorrow.
There's been a windstorm...trees down everywhere, and somehow I miss my sign, I've a feeling that I'm on the wrong road, a vague intuition, it's better than I remembered, but I'm sidetracked, down a few logging roads that end in downed trees and branches, backing out, then trying the other fork, onward, onward, these days off, they're devouring me, my time, these obligations to Calgary, to here, and already I can't wait for the summer to be over.
The road, it's gone from being vaguely unrecognizable to completely unrecognizable, ruts filled deep with water, I don't care, if I've made a mistake I'm committed, and I console myself with how easy it is to get lost on logging roads, dirt, gravel, trees, mountains, there's no familiar landmarks, and finally, finally, I arrive.
At the Purcell Wilderness Conservatory. 50 KM up the wrong logging road, a dead end, I'm nowhere and all I can do is backtrack. And I'm pissed, there's no cell service, no google mapping this, it's just turn around and retrace your steps...
....Back, back, back, this has been a clusterfuck of shortcuts, I've already missed my second to last ferry, need to find the right road and fast or I'll miss them all, be condemned to a night in the car, there's no way I want to drive around, a 3 hour detour, and I'm glad I had the foresight to gas up in Kimberley, otherwise I'd be fucked....
50 KM back and I find the sign that I missed, a downed tree hid the arrow pointing the turnoff, and I'm off again, only now I'm late...
Leadfoot on a road who's speed limit is 50 KM an hour.
That's for pussies though, you can drive it faster, a lot faster, ruts, mud, bumps, there's no other traffic on this road, on the whole pass the most I've ever passed is a single car, and this trip I haven't seen a single one. It's part of the beauty of it.
Only now - now - time is of the essence, and I'm watching the clock, the last ferry is at 10:20 and I've no idea how far I've left to go....
The top of the pass, past the lake, the rest area, now down the mountain, it's 10:00 PM, the last ferry leaves in 20 minutes, from Gray Creek it's about 10 minutes to the Ferry (!!!!), and I'm late, I'm late, I'm not going to spend the night in my car, fuck this, pedal down, pedal down, and I start to see the KM markings down the road, I'm 13 KM up the pass...
And I'm not going to be late...
Switchback, switchback, loose gravel over washboard and I'm done. The Rav-4, slipping, sliding, over the cliff or into the cliff? Into the cliff...
It's not the worst impact, a boom, over the ditch, into the cliff, the airbags didn't even go off but while the engine's still running the car isn't moving, the wheels aren't engaging, I've done some damage for sure. Get out, it's dark, look at what's up, try and figure it out, the radiator's hanging over the right tire and leaking fluid which is not looking so good, not so good at all, and I'm spending the night on the east shore. Fucking fucking fucking fuck this was the worst shortcut in the world.
And I knew it, knew it all along, that I was going too fast, pushing it, that I should have slowed down, should have driven the long way around...
I check my phone. There's no cell service up here. And so I gather the shit I can carry from the car and set off down the mountain. 8 miles, walking, down a dark logging road in the middle of the night, strange noises, brayings, howls from the woods, weird groans, I go back and get a flashlight and my bear-bangers. And start again.
3 AM and I'm settled on a bridge near the highway, 7:00 AM and I'm hitchhiking my way to the ferry. I get a ride from a clearly coked-over flame-artist who talks about his craft in the most animated terms, his sniffles and enthusiasm betray his vices, and eventually I make it to the ferry and "home".
Home - to me, btw, is wherever the hammock is. Home should have been where the Rav-4 was, but the Rav-4, it wasn't my thing, not my car, not my 4X4, it was too shiny, too new, too....
Well, not a jeep.
I arrange the towing - Hey - I've got AMA - only I'm off the main road so I'm due a 225$ towing charge. And the car, well, it's ... it should be fine, only it's a write-off.
Look around at all the Rav-4's on the road, count the ones you see with damage. Because they can't fucking take it. They're fucking pussies. Hit a chipmunk, chipmunk needs a cast, you need a new car. They're fucking garbage. The jeep, crushed by a logging truck, still drove me home. This - a minor bump, hit a cliff, didn't even set off the airbag and it's a write-off. People complain about single use plastic bags yet where's the lobby against single use fucking plastic cars?
Now - early August and I'm a pedestrian - my fault - fuck, that stings the most, and even worse is the minor damage done, I could live with something grand, a rollover, explosion, anything, but this should be fixable, this should not be a write-off, yet it is, and I'm done with prospecting for the summer.
Fucking bloody hell.
Of Nuclear Annihilation
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
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My dreams, the past 6 weeks, anxiety laden, not a single good one. Just shit dreams. And so this one - yesterday, no surprise, no deviation, surprising in it's content but it wasn't really, I'd subconsciously absorbed Kurzgesagt's "What if we Nuke a City" video from my recommendations on YouTube, I hadn't even watched it, I knew it wouldn't end well, but it still ended up being the malign subject for my dream.
Which was as follows:
That I've somehow survived a Nuclear Attack upon my city, only I'm burned, deeply, I can feel the irradiation in my skin, and I know that I haven't got long left, a couple of days, max, but I move underground into this labyrinth of underground cities with others, also burned, and we find a new city...
...that ends up being nuked as well, and always we're finding new cities, and I can feel the radiation burning through my clothes, through my skin, and I know that soon it'll be peeling off me, peeling off everyone, we're all doomed to die and soon ...
That was it. Most of my nuclear war dreams end hopeful, this one did not, merely a succession of cities getting nuked and myself being increasingly irradiated.
And I didn't even watch the fucking video. All my dreams, these past 6 weeks, none worth writing down, all permeated with a vague, unsettling disquiet...
I need to go on a dopamine fast and quick. Monday. Monday expect no posts from me, I'll be fasting...
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