The Mines Bump! Leaning over to the right, I cringed as I felt my wheel run across a hole. The Groveland Mines were crowded with dirt roads, huge potholes, and deep mud puddles; perfect for four-wheel driving. The sun shone over my head as I rode around on my mud-stained four wheeler, searching for new trails to follow. Squinting up at the mines that loomed over me like giants; they had become a reminder of the stress and wonder I experienced last summer. Always have wanting to visit my friends in Randville, I decided to try last summer but I had no mode of transportation. After a night of begging my father, he finally decided I was mature enough to travel by myself on my four wheeler to Randville …show more content…
Jewels glittered from inside the rocks; the sun shining and making them appear as gemstones, but I knew the broken fragments were worthless. Pulling out my map, I peeked down at the poorly written lines; the trail still resembled the main trail to Randville. Soon enough this road broke off into several other paths that did not appear on my map. According to my map, the only trail that should have split off was at the entrance to Randville. Gulping down my fears, I tried each trail. One led to a clearing full of ore and mining equipment; another to several piles of ore. Signs scattered around the trails and fields read ‘DANGER’, ‘PRIVATE’, and ‘STAY OUT’. Searching the ground, I found signs of side-by-side tracks going through the ‘DANGER’ route so I assumed it was safe enough for my four wheeler. Deciding against my virtues, I speed straight down the path, ignoring everything that told me not to. I highly doubted the path would let out of the mines or to Randville, but I was desperate and wanted to find my …show more content…
Coming closer to the edge I spot several deep tire marks in the ground, leading straight off the cliff. Signs of some off-road vehicle trying to back up were apparent, and obviously they had not been successful trying to leave. I rode closer and carefully leaned over; large rocks lay at the bottom in a circle, and evidence of some large weighted object crashing down was visible. My heart lurched and I quickly shoved my four-wheeler in reverse and backed away from the edge. No one would have known if someone came out here and rolled off, it would be too easy for it to happen and no one would expect someone to be up in the mines. No one is expecting me to be up in the mines, my father and friends all think I am on my way to Randville. I now knew I was utterly lost, and I would not be able to retrace my trail. Making sure I was a good distance away from the cliff, I fished out my phone and called my father. Waiting in silence for him to pick up, I enjoyed the vast view of the small area of Upper Michigan. "What is it? Are you hurt?" The concerned voice of my father answered. "No, I'm just lost." Anxiety rose in my voice as I admitted the fact to my father. "I'm up at the top of some mountain and I can see the Mine
Today, burrows from the two mines still lie underneath a great part of the zone simply south and west of uptown Charlotte. Various shafts from the Rudisill Mine lie parallel to South Mint Street, with one of the central shafts situated close to the convergence of South Mint and Summit Avenue.
I drove through the red lights of the only "big" town around, Kingston. Kingston is known for their pool halls, food, and music. There was only 3 red lights in the whole town. I drove past the feed store and merged into the lane to turn to go towards, Plum Grove. It sounds like a fancy estate, but actually it is my hometown.
The chat wasn’t the only lasting result of the mining; left in this corner of Oklahoma was also 300 miles of mining tunnels (5). These tunnels were created by a method known as room-and-pillar (1). Large rooms were mined to get access to ...
. On Saturday, April 26, 2003,without telling anybody his arrangements, Ralston stuffed his trekking boots, a hydration framework, his rucksack, climbing gear, and, eminently, a pocket-sized utility instrument, put his mountain bicycle in the once again of his truck and drove just about five hours to a remote piece of Utah. Aron has striven for an exploit trek alone through the large confined Blue John Canyon, and like he has done on a number of his different treks, he has not told anybody where
This pathway that they travelled through, situated on the left side of the two trucks that covered the tunnels in front of them, appeared to have been made by simple manual labor. In other words, it appeared as if someone took all the time and effort to use a pick axe, some shaped demolition charges and other mining tools to build a nice living area for the local tribals.
He didn’t tell anyone where he was going ahead of time. The sixty four year old made an attempt to go across Utah’s Blue John Canyon, as expected, his attempt was cut short. Richards fell ten feet, he shattered his leg and dislocated his shoulder. He had two protein bars and an empty water bottle. With no way of contact, Richards began to rag himself back towards his car.
I am Moe Iba, the assistant coach and recruiter for the Texas Western Miners basketball team. This being my first job since finishing college, I've been ambitious and ready for any task thrown at me. Or so I thought. About a year and a half ago, both Head Coach Don Haskins and I joined this program at the same time, and we faced many financial problems which made it impossible to recruit anyone to our school. All the decent players wanted to play for a well known team, and Texas Western hasn't been heard of for years. I was feeling hopeless, but Coach Haskins had an idea that would change basketball forever: He wanted me to go out and recruit seven black basketball players. Recruiting black players in the middle of the 1960s? Surely this
I came across two roads that diverged in a yellow wood---I was sorry I could not travel both since I was only one traveler; I stood there looking down one path as far as I could to where it bent in the undergrowth and then I took a look down the other path which seemed just as fair, being all grassy and wanted wear, but really both paths had been worn about the same.
...ights After GPS Leads Motor Home To Oregon Back Road. Retrieved 11 29, 2013, from CBS Los Angeles: http://losangeles.cbslocal.com/2013/09/30/couple-stuck-in-mud-for-2-nights-after-gps-leads-motor-home-to-oregon-back-road/
To know someone who works on the minefield instantly grants you a free pass into the area. John’s an old friend of mine, my only friend to be exact, and so his involvement in the mine allowed me to peek in and get an inside view on the area. “Yes,” I answered simply sliding the page back his way. His eyes widened and he looked at me almost desperately. “D’you know how I can get in there?”
We wake up and gather at a local park, prepared for the long ride. We mount our bikes and head for the hills. We pull out the directions to make sure we are going the right way, and continue on. We ride through the day until we are standing before the hills that protect the abandoned mine. We stumble upon a dirt road that is supposed to lead us to the mines.
I almost fell off a cliff on the side of a mountain. I was in Pitkin, Colorado, on a camping trip during the summer of 2009. The trees were green, the air was fresh so were the lakes, rivers, and ponds were stocked with fish and wildlife was everywhere. Usually, on these camping trips, I would be accompanied by a large number of people. However, this time, it was just my parents, my three brothers, and my two sisters. I was almost 12 years old at the time and having three older brothers made me very competitive. Naturally, when my family decided to climb one of the mountain’s which were around us, I wanted to be the first one to reach its peak.