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In the late 1800's, the Exchequer mine was one
of the richest claims in Nevada history. My father, his brother, and their
father
re-staked the claim to it in the late 1940's, and so I spent many carefree
childhood days in the shadow of the great mountain, as autumn always called
for assessment work to be done, to keep the claim.
Although it has operated on a small scale from time to time, the
ruggedness of the terrain has always been a deterrent to full-scale
production. In truth, I have never thought of the Exchequer as a mining
property, or a potential source of revenue, even as my father remains
convinced that a Mother Lode vein runs through it.
Today, as I was helping (mostly watching) Dad pick up some
materials from around the main location, he gestured out across this
little field of sage, shook his head and said,
"And they say that
vegetation won't grow on an ore dump!"
This may be the last of the "gold" to come out of the Exchequer.
.... continued
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Strange, how a place most people would think of as harsh
and barren can hold so many sweet memories. Memories more of the
senses
than of thought. Scent of mahogany and sage in late summer; memories of
mint candy and lifesavers doled from my grandma's pocket
to stave off hunger aroused by the coolness and the waiting; in memory, it
was always cold and dry up there. Or hot and dry.
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Memories of hunting seasons past, when my
family spent time together here. And yes; a memory of that time when my sister and I were
supposed to be hunting, but we stopped to build miniature rock houses
instead -- and were nearly trampled by a little two-point buck as it came
crashing through the trees.
Of later years, when my nieces and nephews came with their
parents, to cut evergreens for Christmas holidays, when deep canyon snow
lent itself to sledding and tubing. I missed many of those gatherings, and
I feel the sting of my own absence.
Now, as I ponder the possibility that the famous Exchequer
Mine may soon be removed from the family legacy, I wonder at the depth of
my connection to this place, and what my life might be like, when I can no
longer think of the great canyon as a sanctuary of solace, a refuge from
an insane world.
I feel my age more deeply than usual, as I watch the
passing of history, and the world as I have known it for half a century,
fading into memory. My mother is gone, and I watch my father growing old,
letting go of his dream of the Mother Lode discovery. I pity the
generations to follow, who will not share my connection to the land, and
to family traditions that bind so firmly.
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| More
about the Exchequer Mine |
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| Posted: Monday, September 17, 2007 12:29 PM
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