The summer of 2012 started early for someone from rainy Oregon with a fun trip
for father and son to chase after a new fall in Coloma, CA. The first trip to
the new strewn field was ten days long and only a few days after the fall.
Having the bordello room upstairs at the Sierra House hotel turned out to be a
valuable advantage. With a bar and restaurant downstairs and being the only
road house in the small, historic gold discovery town, meteorite hunters turned
up there every night to compare notes. On the weekends the crew from SETI and
NASA Ames would meet there for large group dinners always dog tired from
another day of covering ground. The Coloma/Lotus area is on a beautiful section
of the American river. It was easy to get to know local residents there. Since
the primary activity during the summer is rafting the river everyone in the
area is used to the summer growth in population. The town seems to have more
than its share of young and attractive girls who often talk about what they
know is coming each summer. They have a common saying in Coloma; you don’t lose
a boyfriend, you just lose a turn.
Except for the poison oak, the ticks, the dreaded star thistle and the heat,
this strewn field was a delightful paradise. The smell of bay trees roasting in
the hot, dry, mountain air was an olfactory delight. The sounds of
splish-splashers laughing and whooping and hollering their way down the roaring
rapids of deliciously cool, clear American river water made one feel like this
was a vacation. And the gentle breezes that cut through the dry, hot Sierra
foothill air were a welcome relief. After ten days it was really hard to return
home to rainy, old Oregon. So much so that it was just that easy to rush home,
pack up the trailer, reserve an extended stay at the Campground in Coloma and
head right back down for the summer. It made sense, the summer was already
planned for a lengthy, determined search in eastern Oregon for the fall there
some five years ago and this witnessed fall in Coloma was a bird in the hand
since pieces were being found.
Since the summer rush had not yet arrived it was easy to get a camp site just
feet from the river’s edge. A number of the camper’s live there year round so
it was much like home after the first week, getting to know the neighbors and
getting settled in. The only difference was that large bright ball of solar
heat supply overhead that comes much earlier in the season for the folks of the
Golden State. With the predictable sunshine comes other elements such as
blistering afternoon temperatures and the legendary rattlesnakes not one of
which was seen by this meteorite hunter in over three months of days out in the
bush. This was truly disappointing. The dollars spent on snake gaiters and a
go-pro camera seemed a waste. And being a serious admirer of reptiles it was
hard to hear all of the stories of sightings and not to get to see one up close
and in person. The days were filled with other sightings; king snakes, colorful
skinks of all sizes, coyotes, foxes, turkeys galore, loads of deer and one
bobcat.
The hills and mountains were surprisingly steep. Mount Murphy, Mount Clark and
Discovery Mountain were all tough going but the most difficult aspect of
covering steep terrain were the small oval dried oak leaves that covered the
hillsides in several layers and more than once proved to be more slippery than
skates on ice. Over time it became difficult to tell which was more painful;
blistered feet or a bruised backside.
Not wanting to join the foray of hunters asking permission to hunt the private
land that peppered the main body of the strewn field the decision was made to
focus efforts on what might be the area where the bigger masses might have
landed. After spending a week in Dave Moore Park and two weeks in Magnolia and
on the river trails it was time to focus on Cronin ranch and then on to
Rattlesnake Bar.
Cronin Ranch was work, to say the least. Seventeen hundred acres of hillside,
star thistle and poison oak (the enemy). As summer progressed, days flying by
like time travel, it got hotter earlier. To beat the heat meant getting up at
four a.m. and getting out to hunt at daylight. It was easy to stop by three
p.m. as that was when the water in the hydration pack ran out almost with
religious perfection. Shower at four, dinner at five, bed by eight and up again
long before the eyes were willing to crack open. It seemed like a good waste of
summer sunshine and cool sleep time but determination to find a hidden treasure
or the hope of doing so can be a massive motivator.
The days sped by like never before. The occasional hunter or ‘zombie’ could
infrequently be spotted off in the distance. After the second month in Cronin
Ranch it was not uncommon to encounter one or more of the regular walker,
runner or biker and before long get to know many of them by first name. One
fellow named Bruce would speed walk through the ornate network of trails with
his dog. The dog wore a bell which sounded there pending passing. Then one
scorching afternoon while taking a noon break under the oak trees near the
movie house a stranger appeared on a distant hillside. It was easy to see that
this person was doing the search thing by the erratic side to side movement.
There was a strange white thing flailing to one side which later turned out to
be just a plastic bag tied to his belt. A short time later the stranger
appeared nearby coming into the grove of oak trees and a familiar smile
revealed that it was Dr. Peter Utas a meteorite hunter from Los Angeles. It was
great fun to visit there in the field and compare thoughts. By the time
conversation subsided the day was hot and shot.
As the days grew hotter the prospects of going back up north to hunt in Oregon
for pieces of the Elgin fireball became more attractive. The weather
predictions were showing weeks of one hundred and five degree days ahead. After
three months in Coloma and not one find to show for the time and effort it was
getting tougher to go out each day. Just as rare as finding a Sutter’s Mill
meteorite was the chance of buying one from a local finder. In all of the time
identifying stones for locals and networking in the area just one 26.5 gram
stone presented the opportunity for purchase. This gorgeous individual made its
way into a well-known university collection. It is amazing that after over
forty years of hunting for meteorites it still boils down to such a simple
equation; one day at a time, cover lots of ground, keep the eyes open and
maintain high hopes.
So after May June and July in Coloma, California it was time to pack up and
head for the Blue Mountains of Northeastern Oregon. Having hunted there for
many years it was like going home. But things were a bit different, never
having been in the Blues during the huckleberry season added a new twist to old
stomping grounds. Now the worry was not snakes although they are there as well
but black bears and judging from all the piles of bear duty filled with
huckleberries it was time to carry a handgun and the heck with the snake
gaiters! So with .45 caliber strapped to the chest it was off to hike the
Blues. Turned out it was just as hot in northeastern Oregon as it was in Coloma
but once in the deep forest canopy every morning it was downright chilly. A 100
degree day in the farm fields of the valley below was only 65 degrees in the
woods. This was a gift from nature. This late in the summer the snow is gone
and the creek beds are dry. The underbrush is fairly rough going and the
hillsides of these 5000 foot mountains are a test for any hiker. Old logging
roads weren’t much use because they are grown over with dense brush and alder
trees that grow like weeds wherever the land is cleared. Game trails that skirt
the hillsides are the way to go but it can be so tough to go where the four
legged critters can go. Well five weeks of early mornings and long days of
sunlight produced no meteorites here either. This trip was planned to last
until the end of September or whenever the first snow fell but one morning,
four hours into the woods a torn tendon cut the trip short and it was time in
early September to make the drive home and have the foot looked at. All the ice
packs and wrapping with ace bandages did little good and so it was time to let
the doctors have their say. Lesson learned; it costs $200.00 to have a foot
doctor tell you that there is nothing he can do and you simply have to stay off
your feet. It’s called RICE; rest, ice, compression, elevation, exactly what
Patrick told me to do in a phone call while still in the field.
So when the news came about the new fall event in Novato, California guess who
was practicing RICE.
Within days of the event it was off to California to hunt for the newest fall.
The Battle Mountain fall was not possible because it fell right smack in the
middle of the RICE experience. But this new fall was beyond resisting. The foot
was getting better slowly as it still is. But that warm California sunshine was
pulling me away from home where the fall rains had already begun. There were a
few rainy days but right up and through the last week of November the sun
shined and the temperature was around 72 degrees almost every afternoon. It was
so different in the area around San Rafael, Fairfax and all the way over to
Sonoma. Lots of car traffic to deal with. There were the same steep hills and
lots of underbrush in some areas but so much beauty to appreciate. There were
groves of redwoods on the sides of mount Baldy, huge oak trees on the hills
around the Petaluma River, great hiking areas with networks of trails and no
shortage of runners, hikers and bikers. Once again there was abundant wildlife
and the same small grey lizards seen in all three locations maybe blue bellied
skinks. Mt. Baldly was quite the challenge that blistered the feet and tested
the legs and lungs. Sonoma and the surrounding areas were tough simply because
it was hard to find open areas of public access. There were a number of large
areas of land that are set aside as land trust but not yet open to hikers and
so the search was naturally narrowed down. Eventually after weeks of fruitless
focus and effort the winter rains came in with a vengeance and the area went
from summer sun to rivers at flood stage in just a few days. It was time to
head home and even though empty handed this time the sun will come out again
and it will be time to go back to these areas and give it another try. The real
value of this time in the woods is knowing where not to search the next time.
That and maybe this old man will live a little longer from all that fresh air
and good exercise! Many friends were made and some new places now feel like
home. It will be great fun to go back again and hopefully next time take home a
Space rock or two.
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