May 15th 2013
Huntindog & I drove to Maine Prairie yesterday on a spur of the moment decision. The tide would be a minus 05 conveniently at 3:00pm in the afternoon. It had been many years since I had splashed the murky waters & waded along the slough bank looking for bottles. Huntindog was ready with a moments notice.
After an hour drive, we arrived on site & slipped into some ragged levi's & tennies. We slid into the water and crawled along the bank looking up under the overhang. In the first 30 feet we found several shards of vintage glass trapped in the roots of the willows & rose brush above. Nothing was whole, but chance of a whole bottle persisted. Nearly two hours later, we were still bottle light. Not only was the bank side clean, but there was an extra four feet of silt in the channel of the river. Those thrilling days of yesteryear were barely visible. Still we slogged along the slough heading down river. Just below the first island, the slough widens a little. I half swam, mostly sludged over to the West bank to a slight overhang. This place would accommodate a flatboat waiting for grain at the old warehouse. In the past, I have found a few bottles at this location. I crawled up the muddy bank to get a better look at the undercut & bumped into something with my right knee.
I just had a total knee replacement seven months ago. Feeling is starting to come back to the inside part of the knee, but the outside is basicly numb. Still what I felt was large & hard. Couldn't be a catfish. I reached beneath my knee to feel a large rock. This is the delta valley of California ~ there are no rocks or very few at best. If this was a rock, it was probably carried here a long time ago. I rolled the rock over & felt the familiar smooth indentation. There is no forgetting the feel of an Indian mortar. The feeling is more soul felt then physical. My heart raced as I spun the stone around under water & felt to see if it was all there ~ it felt like it was whole. I cradled the stone and brought it to the surface. It was surprisingly heavy. Through the filtered light I found the mortar intact.
I must admit the mortar is pretty clunky. It is far from graceful, but it is absolutely beautiful.
Then came the walk out....Nearly a mile later, I had rested three times in the slight shade that was available. This was afternoon & mostly direct overhead sun. When I reached the locked gate, I slipped the stone bowl under & to the parked car side. A little smile came to my lips & I uttered “ Now you belong to me.â€
It had been quite sometime since I last visited Maine Prairie in person. I've written numerous stories of much earlier exploits (when I was 16 and a bit older).
It was real nice to get wet. The experience has changed very little. The mosquitoes are voracious & the wild rose bush will cut you to ribbons. Hard work & luck will prevail.
Huntindog & I drove to Maine Prairie yesterday on a spur of the moment decision. The tide would be a minus 05 conveniently at 3:00pm in the afternoon. It had been many years since I had splashed the murky waters & waded along the slough bank looking for bottles. Huntindog was ready with a moments notice.
After an hour drive, we arrived on site & slipped into some ragged levi's & tennies. We slid into the water and crawled along the bank looking up under the overhang. In the first 30 feet we found several shards of vintage glass trapped in the roots of the willows & rose brush above. Nothing was whole, but chance of a whole bottle persisted. Nearly two hours later, we were still bottle light. Not only was the bank side clean, but there was an extra four feet of silt in the channel of the river. Those thrilling days of yesteryear were barely visible. Still we slogged along the slough heading down river. Just below the first island, the slough widens a little. I half swam, mostly sludged over to the West bank to a slight overhang. This place would accommodate a flatboat waiting for grain at the old warehouse. In the past, I have found a few bottles at this location. I crawled up the muddy bank to get a better look at the undercut & bumped into something with my right knee.
I just had a total knee replacement seven months ago. Feeling is starting to come back to the inside part of the knee, but the outside is basicly numb. Still what I felt was large & hard. Couldn't be a catfish. I reached beneath my knee to feel a large rock. This is the delta valley of California ~ there are no rocks or very few at best. If this was a rock, it was probably carried here a long time ago. I rolled the rock over & felt the familiar smooth indentation. There is no forgetting the feel of an Indian mortar. The feeling is more soul felt then physical. My heart raced as I spun the stone around under water & felt to see if it was all there ~ it felt like it was whole. I cradled the stone and brought it to the surface. It was surprisingly heavy. Through the filtered light I found the mortar intact.
I must admit the mortar is pretty clunky. It is far from graceful, but it is absolutely beautiful.
Then came the walk out....Nearly a mile later, I had rested three times in the slight shade that was available. This was afternoon & mostly direct overhead sun. When I reached the locked gate, I slipped the stone bowl under & to the parked car side. A little smile came to my lips & I uttered “ Now you belong to me.â€
It had been quite sometime since I last visited Maine Prairie in person. I've written numerous stories of much earlier exploits (when I was 16 and a bit older).
It was real nice to get wet. The experience has changed very little. The mosquitoes are voracious & the wild rose bush will cut you to ribbons. Hard work & luck will prevail.
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