H. Metcalf

I had given everyone terribly bad directions. Lack of preplanning on my part had the TVP’ers looking for the Barstow exit, but there wasn’t one. I was half right about the gas station… there was one but it wasn’t a Chevron as I had told everyone. We planned to depart for the claim at 8:15 am but waited ‘til 9. A lot of people had found me, actually us, as a group had assembled. As we left the station I saw Mark Weaver, getting on the freeway going in the opposite direction, at least I thought. Mark was in the passenger seat. Driving was his old friend Red, someone I had never met. I tried to call them via cell phone, but it was off in the back of the truck, reserved for emergencies.

What should I do? Would my friends get lost? I was supposed to be leading a group of prospectors to the claim. They all wanted to look for Gold, so we set out for Coolgardie Road. Mark and Red would do whatever.

After heading out north toward the diggings on Copper City Rd. I saw a truck in a cloud of dust ahead of me. It was going slow so we gained on it quickly. At the top of the grade the fellow in the truck pulled to the side, I slowed and to my amazement it was Red and Mark. Somehow in their detour the “Wrong Way” they had managed to get several minutes and many miles ahead of the caravan. “Is this the way to the claim?” Red asked. I had never met him but somehow I knew he already knew the answer. “I think so,” I replied. Red smiled and said “Well… we’ll follow you.”

After finally reaching the diggings, I stopped and attempted to lecture all present on the topic of the Claim and also an attempt to orient everyone to our location so no one would get lost. “We’re going to head down this trail over here. At the bottom of the hill you’ll see some old junkie equipment on the hillside and a big area that looks like a trash pile. That’s really my camp and if you come with me I’ll show you my Recirculation Machine.” Everyone followed. I was somewhat embarrassed over my sloppily kept camp. Kind of like a bratty kid taking you on a tour of his messy room. I noticed a couple of smirks and smiles, but at least the TVP members appreciate honesty and have a sense of humor. Once on the Claim proper, we all dispersed off to our respective digging spots. Red approached me later, gave a firm hand shake and told me, “I like you, your all right kid!” From that time on I have felt I had known him my whole life.

Last week Red died, loosing a battle for his own health. Not really though… in this world the real losers are those of us left standing. He is with his, and our, father in heaven. I am very disappointed, hurt and saddened on hearing of Red’s departure from this world. He had recently fallen ill and it was discovered that he had lung cancer. He entered into a chemo treatment and I had not seen him for a while. In a sad and ironic twist, it was not the cancer or the chemo that consumed him, but a case of Pneumonia. A lesson for all of us to keep an eye out in every direction.

I had only known Red for a few years, but his friend Mark had known Red for several decades. I am sad for him also. He has lost a dear friend, a hunting partner and a fellow prospector. He was the person who brought Red into the club and introduced him to me. Also ironical is that Red is really the lucky one in the whole scenario. His family, wife, kid’s, and all of his friends undoubtedly are suffering and will continue to also. Red’s in heaven, feeling the euphoria of the place. He is waiting for us, because we will be there also. He’s going to have to wait quite a while for me though, I have too much prospecting ahead to leave just now.