Our Man in Antigua

The current news, as the rains arrive early this year.

 Mr Big(see below)faded after the 50 bags of sand didn’t produce as promised or predicted…is there time for one last shot or attempt to dig up a few more sacks of dirt or do they have to grovel in the gravel?  

Some of the latest: another  investor  came on board and put up $$ for immediate action(good)…supposedly a casa on the river was, the dredge waits for another season and a new larger(giant)riffle/shaker apparatus has been purchased…wrong. The owner didn’t quite like the shares of stock and a lick and a promise on the back end.

 The only problem is that its so big that a five-ton truck is needed to bring it to the river from Rio Dulce. ..what a visual. If Marina, my Georgian ‘Che Quevara’ was still talking to me, I’d have her out there with a whip, flogging those few mules they did find previously…she’d probably do well.

One thing I haven’t heard discussed(not that I’m privy to all )is the schedule/timetable…the new partner, Fred, has a ton of hardrock equipment and years of Guatemalan mining experience. This addition to the mix may be very good or very disrupting. The numbers I’ve heard tossed around about the probable amount of paydirt in the river are staggering…what was a small back-pocket operation may morph into a much larger concern. The licenses are on hold, still lost in the bureaucratic mazes of G City and for how much longer, who knows? More whiskey and fresh horses for the men!  or is it more whiskey for the horses?

The earlier stuff, written in October/November, has gone through a few permutations and continues to change daily: this is an ongoing story, a never-ending tale of twists,turns and tangles. The equipment, the licenses, the lawyers and the players provide a weekly, if not daily soap opera/saga of gold mining in all its devious forms…tis bad enough or hard enough to find it, much less get it out of the sand, gravel or water…that may well be the easy part because after that the human element comes into play. Gold seems to have the power over men that surpasses that of cocaine, women or power: the very sight of it or the dream of holding it spins off fantasies and desires. To be immune to this is to be almost impossible. Crack-monkeys and smack freaks will relate to this. Any kind of recovering addict knows exactly what I’m talking about.

For more details, go to http://www.riosuerte.com

Several months ago, after two and a half hours later of high speed chuck-hole(huecos)dodging in the Mitsubishi Crew Cab, five of us crammed in, rock music blaring, we were finally at the river. Time for a much-needed pit stop and a few rounds of 9mm practice…one round was a dud but the others found their target,more or less. Edwin practiced shooting out of the driver’s side window. He later explained that the reason he drove full speed was to avoid any potential road-blocks by bandits in the area. Their M.O, he explained, was to notice any possible hold-up worthy passage, call ahead and arrange for a road block. Since the Mitsubishi is new and has been seen in the area frequently, he was concerned that we were targets….damn, and all I had was a BIC in my bag…I suppose I could’ve returned fire with my Canon.We arrived at the present site and took a hike down the hill, following the cow path. The river was still running high but it’s fallen several meters since.

The idea of day was to bag up a few pounds of sand to sluice later. I took a hammer and pounded on rocks, looking for jade. I do believe I found a few boulders but I need to do some more research/pounding/looking here before I make that pronouncement. It got a bit sweaty down there but Roberto’s local guy gave him some nice flakes he’d placered out before the river washed away his sluice box…

We’re packin’ here!

The flop that didn't pop

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