When we began searching for crystals in Washington State, it felt like nothing short of a real hunt for treasure. To prepare, I spent countless hours reading everything I could find about where to hunt and how to get there. I'm pleased that the answers weren't so easily spelled out. No single set of directions was sufficient to guide us to the promised land. Instead, each blog article, blurb, comment, map, and satellite photo became a piece of the puzzle that allowed us to draw up a new map, with our location triangulated. All we needed to do at that point was hit the trail and explore.
One thing I really enjoy doing is looking at Google Maps. I will literally spend hours toggling back and forth between satellite view and topographic view, zooming in and out, trying to memorize every incline and bend in the road so that when I'm on it, I can say, "Ah hah! This is what that dark green streak on the map looks like from the ground!"
In addition to learning large landmarks (which can be oh-so helpful for navigating), I've been gaining a pretty strong interest in the geography and geology of the landscapes we explore.
We got a hearty lesson in the geology of crystal-producing veins, around the fire one evening in South Carolina. With the sun down, we could no longer hunt for crystals, so we relaxed by the fire, wrapping our finds in newspaper for the long journey home.
There was a Geologist with us that evening who was happy to share his knowledge and answer our questions. In the case of Diamond Hill, which is situated in the ancient mountain range of the Appalachians, the tectonic activity drove plates together, raising the mountains and creating breaks and fissures in the crust. The heat and gasses crystallized within these cracks and crystal "veins" were formed. Then, through the process of erosion, over hundreds of millions of years, the mountains wore down. The veins become exposed and today, we can dig to them and find the beautiful crystals that formed there so very long ago. There's nothing quite like pulling out plates of crystals that have existed longer than we can conceptualize, knowing they have never before seen the light of day.
Washington State's geological history is a little different and I'm only now beginning to understand how it all works. Granted, I'm no geologist, so I'm just going to share what I've gathered from reading and talking with others. From what I understand, Washington's mountains are created by a combination of tectonic and glacial activity. It was plate tectonics that raised us up, out of the ocean. Evidence of this uplift can be seen in the weathered fossil cliffs of Chuckanut Drive, near Bellingham. Recently, I read that it was glacial activity that carved out our mountain passes, digging the deep gorges that grant us access from the high desert of the East, to the temperate rainforest of the West.
It is well known that Washington State is host to a wide variety of minerals, but I wanted to know more about why and how they've come to be discovered by us. Unlike the Appalachians, the Cascades have not endured hundreds of millions of years of erosion. On a planetary time-scale, our mountains are fairly young, so it takes other means beside natural weather-erosion to expose the mineralization.
Most of Washington's quartz crystals come from a granitic intrusion called the Snoqualmie Batholith. Faulting and tectonic activity allowed molten rock to push up toward the surface. When it cooled, it became granite, which is composed of quartz, among other minerals. World-class Quartz and Pyrite crystals have been recovered from mineral claims that are part of this Batholith structure. In addition to veins of crystallization, similar to those in the Appalachians, the Batholith features "vughs", or pockets, wherein gasses were trapped and crystals formed. Sometimes explosives are used to tear away the rock and expose these pockets. For the rest of us, hunting for crystals is just a lot of digging in the dirt.
Yesterday, as I was perched on the precarious hillside of our favorite crystal-hunting spot, I got to wondering, "Why?". Why do I find crystals here and not over there? Why do we come back to the same time-worn hillside that's been sifted by human hands for decades? Why don't we try 100 yards over, next to the tall trees, where there's no evidence of the area having been searched before? I realized my knowledge of the area is much too micro. In order to understand why, I would need to learn more about the macro.
As if someone had overheard my thoughts, an odd forest creature appeared uphill from me, ready to answer my questions. He was unlike any rock-hounder I had ever met - wearing toe-shoes and a midriff-exposing vest. He had on a few handmade necklaces - one with lovely, intricate beadwork, and another that was a wire-wrapped stone. He explained he was on his way from California to Canada and had decided to stop off and grab a handful of crystals to bring home. He was certainly the cleanest person I've ever met up on the mountain, and had an astounding knowledge of the geologic history of the area - using an angle I'd never considered before - the trees.
Anyone who drives past or visits Humpback Mountain will notice that there is a distinct line in the trees, at approximately 3500', wrapping around the North face of the peak. Above the line, the trees are dark green and super tall - old growth. Below the line, they are lighter in color and not nearly as tall - new growth. It is said that Humpback experienced a massive land-slide long ago, which tore open the mountain, exposing the mineralization. For the longest time, I had assumed that the variation in tree height was due to the slide - something to do with the instability of the rocks and the inability of trees to grow on top of them. But my elfin friend helped me understand that the slide occurred long before these old-growth trees even began to grow. The slide was so old, it was pre old-growth! When exploring the mineral collecting site, it's clear to see that logging was the primary reason that the roads were originally created. The very road we hike in on was created to give access to this formerly pristine wilderness. Massive stumps are all that remain of the old-growth (below 3500'). The trees that now grow on the hillside are no older than 100 or so years.
Mineral hunters frequently target the roots of the old-growth stumps, because these trees grew on top of the slide that exposed the crystals. The prevailing theory is that if one can dig beneath the soil, under the stumps, they are digging into virgin rock exposures. The best crystals and crystal clusters are thought to be found in these places. Unfortunately, undercutting huge stumps is extremely dangerous and has even been fatal in the past, leading to on-and-off closure of the hunting site, and sparking debate about whether it should be allowed remain a publicly accessible area.
Now that I know more about the geology of the area, I'm dying to return and do some more exploring. To date, our crystal collecting has been from sifting through the dirt that literally sparkles with quartz. What I learned yesterday is that this dirt is known as "tailings" - or, dirt that has already been moved by someone else's efforts. This dirt was moved by the people searching for nicer specimens in the rocks beneath the dirt.
So far, our dirt-sifting has turned up an impressive abundance of water-clear quartz points, some with fantastic inclusions, all about 1" long. We've also found quite a few small clusters and some neat pyrite formations. But I still sense that we're missing something. Tall tales filter down from veteran rockhounds who've been visiting the area for decades. "Big fish" stories indicate there could be quartz points the size of flashlights, and plates of quartz and pyrite that rival the world-class specimens found in other areas of the Batholith.
One answer to my question of "Why?" is that it's not easy to overlook the sparkling ground in favor of digging for "better" treasure. While searching through the dirt, you're constantly reminded that for every one crystal you find, you're probably overlooking five. Why would I want to take a risk and dig in an unknown spot, when I can dig in someone else's tailings and find all the crystals they overlooked?
The other answer to my question is that I've only been rockhounding for 2 years. Perhaps all it takes is time. I imagine that if the site stays open and accessible, in 10 years time I'll have created some big fish stories of my own.
When I returned home last night, my back and knees ached and my hands were bruised and bloodied. The irony never escapes me that when we see crystals on display, they're usually perfectly clean and shiny. We don't often ponder what they looked like when they came out of the ground - caked with mud and rust. We don't often think about the person who risked their life, with cracked fingers and filthy clothing, to recover them for all to enjoy. It is the efforts of a daring, gritty few, who have the motivation and drive to brave the challenging terrain in search of these natural treasures; and I couldn't love it more.
Friday, September 13, 2013
Thursday, May 30, 2013
Closing the Season
We travelled up the mountain several times over the summer. Whenever we had a weekend off or a day to spare, we would muster up the energy for the exhausting hike. We seemed to have a nice routine down, between collecting and coming home to clean the crystals. I made a pact with myself that if I was going to take them from their place in the earth, and bring them to my home to admire and share, that I would honor them by cleaning each one and finding a good home for them all. Sometimes this means keeping them in neatly organized boxes until they find their place. Sometimes it means adding them to our lovely quartz waterfall, spilling down the rocky retaining wall in our garden.
As the summer drew on, the days were getting shorter and we knew it wouldn't be long before we'd have 6+ months of no access to the high mountain site, and we'd have plenty of time for cleaning; so the focus turned to collecting. We were starting early in the day, so that we'd have plenty of time on the mountain before the air temperature cooled, and the daylight faded.
Once, we were having such a great day and having so much fun that by the time we packed up the equipment and started heading for the trail back to the car, it was almost too dark to see. There was no discernible trail through the trees and the ground had little traction - we were literally sliding down the mountain on our heels and butts. It was a little scary, I'll admit it. Thankfully we caught the slight clearing in the trees to the left that indicated the road back. I don't like to think about what might have happened had we missed it. Now we hike with headlamps and bright orange flag tape, to tie to trees if we're exploring off-trail. And we're also getting better at stemming our excitement and leaving at an appropriate time.
One of the trips up to the pass was during a wildfire outbreak, just on the other side of the pass. It was one of the worst wildfires in the state's history and we didn't realize just how wide-reaching it was until we got up to the trail. Hiking up to the site, the smoke was palpable in the air. The sunlight filtered down through the trees with an orange glow and visibility was nil. By the time we were hiking back to the car, the cooler air of evening had settled into the valley of Snoqualmie pass, weighing the smoke down with it. The air was much clearer now, up where we were, and we could look down into the valley at what appeared to be a wide, muddy river of fire-smoke.
On one of our last trips, we had an especially good day of hunting and the bucket I was carrying back to the car must have weighed around 40 lbs. Now, one reason is that sometimes you just don't know what you're looking at. You pick up a rock that looks promising, but it's packed with mud, so you place it in the bucket and figure you'll clean it at home. If it's nothing, you've got a lovely piece of granite for your garden. On the other hand, sometimes you've just had a really good day and you've got more crystals than you know what to do with, and you justify it by telling yourself you're about to have all winter to clean them. I'm writing this 7 months later, and, admittedly, it has taken us until last week to clean them all... so I think the lesson is in being more selective with what I bring home.
When we returned to the car that evening, we packed up and began heading down the road. We passed a couple of parked cars, one of which had the hood up. The driver was looking at the engine with a headlamp on. I recognized him immediately and we hopped out of the car only to discover that several of our friends had arrived to camp and do some hunting the next day.
I was excited to hear their adventures, so I called several days later to find out how it had gone. Unfortunately, it turned out that one of them had dug too far under a tree and had been pinned by a large rock. After a quick trip to the hospital, he was bruised and sore but thankfully had no broken bones. It was a real-life reminder of the dangers of rockhounding and the importance of playing it safe.
Finally, the days became too short and the snow level dropped and the summer was officially over. It was time to hunker down and clean the treasures we had collected, and dream about what next summer held in store.
As the summer drew on, the days were getting shorter and we knew it wouldn't be long before we'd have 6+ months of no access to the high mountain site, and we'd have plenty of time for cleaning; so the focus turned to collecting. We were starting early in the day, so that we'd have plenty of time on the mountain before the air temperature cooled, and the daylight faded.
Once, we were having such a great day and having so much fun that by the time we packed up the equipment and started heading for the trail back to the car, it was almost too dark to see. There was no discernible trail through the trees and the ground had little traction - we were literally sliding down the mountain on our heels and butts. It was a little scary, I'll admit it. Thankfully we caught the slight clearing in the trees to the left that indicated the road back. I don't like to think about what might have happened had we missed it. Now we hike with headlamps and bright orange flag tape, to tie to trees if we're exploring off-trail. And we're also getting better at stemming our excitement and leaving at an appropriate time.
One of the trips up to the pass was during a wildfire outbreak, just on the other side of the pass. It was one of the worst wildfires in the state's history and we didn't realize just how wide-reaching it was until we got up to the trail. Hiking up to the site, the smoke was palpable in the air. The sunlight filtered down through the trees with an orange glow and visibility was nil. By the time we were hiking back to the car, the cooler air of evening had settled into the valley of Snoqualmie pass, weighing the smoke down with it. The air was much clearer now, up where we were, and we could look down into the valley at what appeared to be a wide, muddy river of fire-smoke.
On one of our last trips, we had an especially good day of hunting and the bucket I was carrying back to the car must have weighed around 40 lbs. Now, one reason is that sometimes you just don't know what you're looking at. You pick up a rock that looks promising, but it's packed with mud, so you place it in the bucket and figure you'll clean it at home. If it's nothing, you've got a lovely piece of granite for your garden. On the other hand, sometimes you've just had a really good day and you've got more crystals than you know what to do with, and you justify it by telling yourself you're about to have all winter to clean them. I'm writing this 7 months later, and, admittedly, it has taken us until last week to clean them all... so I think the lesson is in being more selective with what I bring home.
When we returned to the car that evening, we packed up and began heading down the road. We passed a couple of parked cars, one of which had the hood up. The driver was looking at the engine with a headlamp on. I recognized him immediately and we hopped out of the car only to discover that several of our friends had arrived to camp and do some hunting the next day.
I was excited to hear their adventures, so I called several days later to find out how it had gone. Unfortunately, it turned out that one of them had dug too far under a tree and had been pinned by a large rock. After a quick trip to the hospital, he was bruised and sore but thankfully had no broken bones. It was a real-life reminder of the dangers of rockhounding and the importance of playing it safe.
Finally, the days became too short and the snow level dropped and the summer was officially over. It was time to hunker down and clean the treasures we had collected, and dream about what next summer held in store.
Hunting anew...
Excited by our initial finds, we soon returned to our new-found hunting grounds; this time armed with a few extra tools to make the process easier on our bodies. We also brought Daniel's 11 year old daughter, in hopes that she would be able to enjoy the adventure of hunting nature's treasures with us. Unfortunately, crystal hunting was too tedious and dirty for the likes of the young'un and eventually we called it a day, determined to return soon and recommence our adventures.
Most memorable for me from that second exploration, was that I found my very first Amethyst. It was small and not very dark, but even covered in dirt and oxidation, I knew right away what I had found and it was thrilling!
When we got back to the car, we decided to do a little more driving to see if we could spot the location of another hunting site, purported to be in the vicinity. Unfortunately it was getting dark and all we found were winding roads, with beautiful vistas, littered with a carpet of bullet casings.
We returned a couple of days later, this time without the kiddo. The hike in felt like it took forever, since we were all-the-more excited and now had heavy expectations. This time, however, we got a much earlier start to the day, so that we could really explore and not feel rushed or constrained for time. We brought lunch, extra water, buckets for carrying supplies and crystals, and rubber-reinforced gardening gloves (these are so key!). After a couple of hours scouring the hillside, we were again enchanted by the subtle breeze and the cheerful song of alpine birds, but we were ready for some new adventure.
I had beefed up my research and felt pretty confident that we could find the other site. It was much further up the mountain than I had initially understood, so we just pressed on until the road ended and our only option was to park and hike. It's amazing now to think that we were on the right trail the whole time, for as we hiked, every step was unknown and every bend held the potential of a wrong turn. Following our frail clues we eventually came to a minor break in the brush lining the road and a small pink ribbon told us this was the start of the trail to the hunting grounds. My directions indicated that the trail had once been an old forest road that was no longer used, and so was flat, but completely grown over. Our clue was to follow the rough, rocky path through the overgrowth until we reached our destination. I kept thinking to myself - thank goodness Washington State doesn't have a plethora of poisonous plants, like poison ivy or poison oak! Reluctantly, we dove in and kept our eyes on the ground, following the rocky trail as our only indication that we were headed in the right direction. In the back of my mind, I was remembering the story I had read of a father and son who had attempted this same trail, only to encounter a sleeping bear, and abandon the adventure entirely. It was almost more difficult to maintain a positive attitude, than it was to push through the thick brush.
Finally, the overgrowth cleared and we were treated to an exquisite view, down into a remote valley, flanked by rocky slides pouring down the mountain. It was gorgeous!
Still uncertain of where our hunting grounds were, we walked with caution, pausing every now and again to examine the crumbling boulders along the path. Again, it was difficult to avoid wanting to stop and examine every stone. A voice in the back of my mind was nagging, "What if there are crystals here and you're moving too fast to see them?" But finally we rounded one last bend and we knew we had arrived. The crystallization was everywhere!
Boulders glittered with quartz remains. The ground literally sparkled. It was like nothing I'd ever seen. Clearly, others had spent time here, hunting as we were now. Mineralized rocks were heaped together - fun to examine, but too damaged to bring home. I realized we were hunting on an actual rock slide. It didn't take long to figure out that we needed to be extremely careful - one unintentionally placed step could start a deadly chain-reaction. For the next couple of hours, we scrambled around, turning over rocks and marveling at the plethora of sparkling quartz shards. Unfortunately, very little of it was salvageable... until Dan made a discovery.
He had the bright idea of making for the shade, and beginning his search there. He had found a small muddy pocket, exposed above a heap of loose rock. He had discovered a vugh! For a while he poked around and was finding some broken crystals. Even though they weren't totally intact, many had nice terminations, which can make all the difference in the presentation and value of a crystal point. It was a precarious location and required him to crouch awkwardly to reach inside the pocket. We made a team effort of it - he would reach in and scoop the loosened dirt and crystals toward the opening and I would retrieve the small piles and sort through it. After a while we switched, but I didn't last long. Lying on my belly on a pile of precarious rock, I plumbed the depths of the pocket with a dental tool, fastidiously scratching away dirt, in hopes of uncovering more crystal points. Unfortunately, most were broken, as the vugh had collapsed, and my belly couldn't hold out much longer on the sharp rocks.
Dan picked up where I left off and I spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around and sifting through alluvial washes, where rainwater flows between rocks and rinses crystals clean so you can see what you're picking up.
When we paused for lunch, we took a moment to sit and take in the outstanding view. It's not often, in our modern world, that we get out to places where the sounds of the cities and the highways, and people are non-existent. Even up there, so far away from it all, we were hearing the echoing returns of a firing range in the valley below, or the occasional jet cruising over the pass, heading to or from Sea-Tac airport. I've flown that route before and looked down on these very mountains. From above, their scale can be fully appreciated - a seemingly endless maze of crags, mountain lakes, and snow-covered peaks.
When we decided our aching knees and backs couldn't take it any more, we readied for our descent and basked in the glow of our exciting finds all the way back to the car. It's funny how the hike back is actually the hardest part, because in addition to all the supplies you're carrying, you now have 20 lbs of crystals to add to the load. Thankfully, there's a sense of relief that you will be returning to the car and its comfortable seats, and that yummy snack you stashed in the glove compartment as a bonus for making the trek. It's the type of exhaustion that has an edge of sweet fulfillment - even if the next couple of days are spent aching and stiff.
When we got back to the car, we enjoyed our snack and loaded in our gear. I was too excited to examine our score, so I reached into the bag and pulled out a couple of the points from Dan's vugh. I filled a camping bowl with water and scrubbed the mud with a toothbrush. Eventually the smooth faces of the points could be felt and I pulled it out of the cloudy water to examine our treasure. Right away I saw these were special. They had even and geometric bands, running the circumference of the crystal, about half-way down. Amazing! I washed a couple more and found the same. We realized that every one of the points that Dan had recovered from his pocket had this awesome pattern. We jumped for joy! We had seen what is known as "Chlorite inclusion" before. It's a type of iron inclusion that usually appears as green spots within the Quartz of this area. But we had certainly never seen green banding before. And there was something else there - something that took a moment to understand what we were looking at.
When I held the crystal in a particular light, I realized that deep inside, hovering above the green band, was a ghostly, translucent pyramid. A phantom!
You can check some of them out here: Phantom Points. A few of these even have little bits of pyrite glitter in the tips!
Our minds were totally blown as we examined each crystal to find that every one, above the green band, had its own tiny, perfect pyramid in the center of the crystal.
To this day, that find remains one of our favorites. Unfortunately, because the vugh was collapsed, most of the phantom points that came out of that pocket are broken.
Nevertheless, when the sun rose the next morning, despite aching muscles and torn fingers, we were too excited to waste any time. We had even left all the equipment in the car, knowing we simply had to return the next day. We spent one more afternoon on that crumbling slope and every sunburn, bug bite, and glorious crystal point was entirely worth it!
Most memorable for me from that second exploration, was that I found my very first Amethyst. It was small and not very dark, but even covered in dirt and oxidation, I knew right away what I had found and it was thrilling!
When we got back to the car, we decided to do a little more driving to see if we could spot the location of another hunting site, purported to be in the vicinity. Unfortunately it was getting dark and all we found were winding roads, with beautiful vistas, littered with a carpet of bullet casings.
We returned a couple of days later, this time without the kiddo. The hike in felt like it took forever, since we were all-the-more excited and now had heavy expectations. This time, however, we got a much earlier start to the day, so that we could really explore and not feel rushed or constrained for time. We brought lunch, extra water, buckets for carrying supplies and crystals, and rubber-reinforced gardening gloves (these are so key!). After a couple of hours scouring the hillside, we were again enchanted by the subtle breeze and the cheerful song of alpine birds, but we were ready for some new adventure.
I had beefed up my research and felt pretty confident that we could find the other site. It was much further up the mountain than I had initially understood, so we just pressed on until the road ended and our only option was to park and hike. It's amazing now to think that we were on the right trail the whole time, for as we hiked, every step was unknown and every bend held the potential of a wrong turn. Following our frail clues we eventually came to a minor break in the brush lining the road and a small pink ribbon told us this was the start of the trail to the hunting grounds. My directions indicated that the trail had once been an old forest road that was no longer used, and so was flat, but completely grown over. Our clue was to follow the rough, rocky path through the overgrowth until we reached our destination. I kept thinking to myself - thank goodness Washington State doesn't have a plethora of poisonous plants, like poison ivy or poison oak! Reluctantly, we dove in and kept our eyes on the ground, following the rocky trail as our only indication that we were headed in the right direction. In the back of my mind, I was remembering the story I had read of a father and son who had attempted this same trail, only to encounter a sleeping bear, and abandon the adventure entirely. It was almost more difficult to maintain a positive attitude, than it was to push through the thick brush.
Finally, the overgrowth cleared and we were treated to an exquisite view, down into a remote valley, flanked by rocky slides pouring down the mountain. It was gorgeous!
Still uncertain of where our hunting grounds were, we walked with caution, pausing every now and again to examine the crumbling boulders along the path. Again, it was difficult to avoid wanting to stop and examine every stone. A voice in the back of my mind was nagging, "What if there are crystals here and you're moving too fast to see them?" But finally we rounded one last bend and we knew we had arrived. The crystallization was everywhere!
Boulders glittered with quartz remains. The ground literally sparkled. It was like nothing I'd ever seen. Clearly, others had spent time here, hunting as we were now. Mineralized rocks were heaped together - fun to examine, but too damaged to bring home. I realized we were hunting on an actual rock slide. It didn't take long to figure out that we needed to be extremely careful - one unintentionally placed step could start a deadly chain-reaction. For the next couple of hours, we scrambled around, turning over rocks and marveling at the plethora of sparkling quartz shards. Unfortunately, very little of it was salvageable... until Dan made a discovery.
He had the bright idea of making for the shade, and beginning his search there. He had found a small muddy pocket, exposed above a heap of loose rock. He had discovered a vugh! For a while he poked around and was finding some broken crystals. Even though they weren't totally intact, many had nice terminations, which can make all the difference in the presentation and value of a crystal point. It was a precarious location and required him to crouch awkwardly to reach inside the pocket. We made a team effort of it - he would reach in and scoop the loosened dirt and crystals toward the opening and I would retrieve the small piles and sort through it. After a while we switched, but I didn't last long. Lying on my belly on a pile of precarious rock, I plumbed the depths of the pocket with a dental tool, fastidiously scratching away dirt, in hopes of uncovering more crystal points. Unfortunately, most were broken, as the vugh had collapsed, and my belly couldn't hold out much longer on the sharp rocks.
Dan picked up where I left off and I spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around and sifting through alluvial washes, where rainwater flows between rocks and rinses crystals clean so you can see what you're picking up.
When we paused for lunch, we took a moment to sit and take in the outstanding view. It's not often, in our modern world, that we get out to places where the sounds of the cities and the highways, and people are non-existent. Even up there, so far away from it all, we were hearing the echoing returns of a firing range in the valley below, or the occasional jet cruising over the pass, heading to or from Sea-Tac airport. I've flown that route before and looked down on these very mountains. From above, their scale can be fully appreciated - a seemingly endless maze of crags, mountain lakes, and snow-covered peaks.
When we decided our aching knees and backs couldn't take it any more, we readied for our descent and basked in the glow of our exciting finds all the way back to the car. It's funny how the hike back is actually the hardest part, because in addition to all the supplies you're carrying, you now have 20 lbs of crystals to add to the load. Thankfully, there's a sense of relief that you will be returning to the car and its comfortable seats, and that yummy snack you stashed in the glove compartment as a bonus for making the trek. It's the type of exhaustion that has an edge of sweet fulfillment - even if the next couple of days are spent aching and stiff.
When we got back to the car, we enjoyed our snack and loaded in our gear. I was too excited to examine our score, so I reached into the bag and pulled out a couple of the points from Dan's vugh. I filled a camping bowl with water and scrubbed the mud with a toothbrush. Eventually the smooth faces of the points could be felt and I pulled it out of the cloudy water to examine our treasure. Right away I saw these were special. They had even and geometric bands, running the circumference of the crystal, about half-way down. Amazing! I washed a couple more and found the same. We realized that every one of the points that Dan had recovered from his pocket had this awesome pattern. We jumped for joy! We had seen what is known as "Chlorite inclusion" before. It's a type of iron inclusion that usually appears as green spots within the Quartz of this area. But we had certainly never seen green banding before. And there was something else there - something that took a moment to understand what we were looking at.
When I held the crystal in a particular light, I realized that deep inside, hovering above the green band, was a ghostly, translucent pyramid. A phantom!
You can check some of them out here: Phantom Points. A few of these even have little bits of pyrite glitter in the tips!
Our minds were totally blown as we examined each crystal to find that every one, above the green band, had its own tiny, perfect pyramid in the center of the crystal.
To this day, that find remains one of our favorites. Unfortunately, because the vugh was collapsed, most of the phantom points that came out of that pocket are broken.
Nevertheless, when the sun rose the next morning, despite aching muscles and torn fingers, we were too excited to waste any time. We had even left all the equipment in the car, knowing we simply had to return the next day. We spent one more afternoon on that crumbling slope and every sunburn, bug bite, and glorious crystal point was entirely worth it!
Friday, May 17, 2013
Adventure we sought, adventure we got...
Several years ago I was at work and a friend of mine stopped by and handed me a fistful of small quartz crystals. "Here you go," he said, "I found these, you can have them." I was baffled and intrigued and launched into a barrage of questions about where they had come from and how I could go find some of my own. He gave only simple information - that the crystals were found in a hill of dirt along the mountain pass, and militantly guarded by a man with a shotgun. Exciting as it may have been, it sounded a little too risky for my style and I soon forgot all about it.
After exploring Walker Valley, Daniel and I were both smitten with the adventure of hunting for crystals so I took it upon myself to suss out future hunting grounds. Lo and behold, the internet is teeming with information on local crystal hunting (Washington State hosts a great deal of mineralization because of the cascade mountain range - and much of it is within easy driving range). Many mining sites are privately owned, meaning that they are inaccessible, or available only to those willing to pay the fee for collecting there. But there are still a few that don't require permission or fees - you just have to be crafty enough to find them.
When it comes to new interests, I'm tenacious to the point of borderline obsessiveness. I spent a couple of weeks watching every video, reading every article (mindat.org is a fantastic resource!) and pouring over maps - satellite, USFS, topographic. One thing that can be noted is that crystal hunters (as well as hunters of other precious goodies - such as edible mushrooms) aren't exactly forthcoming with their information about where to find these valuable gems. Much of the time you're relying on vague directions such as "follow the power lines" or "around the bend" or "look for the pink ribbon in a tree to the left". Crystal hunting is typically an adventure fit for anyone who enjoyed scavenger hunting as a child.
Armed with a plethora of inexact information, we headed up to Snoqualmie Pass to find a site that promised oodles of small but beautiful quartz crystals - mythically guarded by a grumpy man with a shotgun, though the evidence for such was anecdotal at best. I was tickled that I would finally be exploring the original site that had opened my mind to the idea of hunting crystals in the first place. I had no idea what to expect. After finding our forest service road, there was a fair amount of "Have we gone 2.2 miles yet?" "Was that the turn off?" "Ah hah, here's the train trestle!" Finally, we arrived at the trail head and it was time to hike.
When exploring new grounds (especially as a novice rock-hounder), it's easy to get distracted. Along the trail were mighty exposures of fractured granite that begged to be explored but also shouted, "Danger!" I wanted to look at every rock, expecting to turn them over and find amazing treasures beneath. But with each distraction, we realized more and more that we were only wasting time and needed to stick to the directions if we were to find the true hunting site.
Finally we reached the end of the hiking trail and it turned into a dirt path that led into the trees. Coming through the trees was like entering a realm of fairies and gnomes. The hillside itself was broad and pocked with holes that had been dug by previous prospectors. Young evergreens filled in the dusty hillside, providing cool shade and a canopy of secrets. The more we explored, the more we found trees that had been disrespectfully undercut by those seeking yet undiscovered ground.
The dirt under our feet had surely been sifted and turned for decades - yet still sparkled with countless shards of shattered quartz. It was hard to avoid dropping into the "rock-hounder's stoop" right away; hard to walk past anything that offered a hint of sparkle from the dusty earth.
The thrill of the hunt was fantastic - especially when coming across a crystal with an actual termination. They were few and far between, but that made them all the more special. From my reading, I had learned of the presence of Amethyst at this location and the desire to find such a specimen was all the more motivation to keep digging long past the sore hips and chapped fingertips and aching back and damp, dirty clothes. We just couldn't stop.
Finally, the sun retreated to the far side of the pass and the temperature dropped in our serene grove, and we began to realize how hungry our searching had made us. With great effort, we peeled ourselves away, back on the hiking trail and back to the car - with treasure to ogle and clean and share with our friends, upon our return home.
We knew it wouldn't be the last time we visited Hansen Creek - but we never could have foreseen the adventures yet to be had while searching for Washington State Quartz.
If you'd like to take a look at some of our finds, visit us on Etsy, where we showcase our best material from Washington State and beyond! Check it out at HoundsofApollo.
After exploring Walker Valley, Daniel and I were both smitten with the adventure of hunting for crystals so I took it upon myself to suss out future hunting grounds. Lo and behold, the internet is teeming with information on local crystal hunting (Washington State hosts a great deal of mineralization because of the cascade mountain range - and much of it is within easy driving range). Many mining sites are privately owned, meaning that they are inaccessible, or available only to those willing to pay the fee for collecting there. But there are still a few that don't require permission or fees - you just have to be crafty enough to find them.
When it comes to new interests, I'm tenacious to the point of borderline obsessiveness. I spent a couple of weeks watching every video, reading every article (mindat.org is a fantastic resource!) and pouring over maps - satellite, USFS, topographic. One thing that can be noted is that crystal hunters (as well as hunters of other precious goodies - such as edible mushrooms) aren't exactly forthcoming with their information about where to find these valuable gems. Much of the time you're relying on vague directions such as "follow the power lines" or "around the bend" or "look for the pink ribbon in a tree to the left". Crystal hunting is typically an adventure fit for anyone who enjoyed scavenger hunting as a child.
Armed with a plethora of inexact information, we headed up to Snoqualmie Pass to find a site that promised oodles of small but beautiful quartz crystals - mythically guarded by a grumpy man with a shotgun, though the evidence for such was anecdotal at best. I was tickled that I would finally be exploring the original site that had opened my mind to the idea of hunting crystals in the first place. I had no idea what to expect. After finding our forest service road, there was a fair amount of "Have we gone 2.2 miles yet?" "Was that the turn off?" "Ah hah, here's the train trestle!" Finally, we arrived at the trail head and it was time to hike.
When exploring new grounds (especially as a novice rock-hounder), it's easy to get distracted. Along the trail were mighty exposures of fractured granite that begged to be explored but also shouted, "Danger!" I wanted to look at every rock, expecting to turn them over and find amazing treasures beneath. But with each distraction, we realized more and more that we were only wasting time and needed to stick to the directions if we were to find the true hunting site.
Finally we reached the end of the hiking trail and it turned into a dirt path that led into the trees. Coming through the trees was like entering a realm of fairies and gnomes. The hillside itself was broad and pocked with holes that had been dug by previous prospectors. Young evergreens filled in the dusty hillside, providing cool shade and a canopy of secrets. The more we explored, the more we found trees that had been disrespectfully undercut by those seeking yet undiscovered ground.
The dirt under our feet had surely been sifted and turned for decades - yet still sparkled with countless shards of shattered quartz. It was hard to avoid dropping into the "rock-hounder's stoop" right away; hard to walk past anything that offered a hint of sparkle from the dusty earth.
The thrill of the hunt was fantastic - especially when coming across a crystal with an actual termination. They were few and far between, but that made them all the more special. From my reading, I had learned of the presence of Amethyst at this location and the desire to find such a specimen was all the more motivation to keep digging long past the sore hips and chapped fingertips and aching back and damp, dirty clothes. We just couldn't stop.
Finally, the sun retreated to the far side of the pass and the temperature dropped in our serene grove, and we began to realize how hungry our searching had made us. With great effort, we peeled ourselves away, back on the hiking trail and back to the car - with treasure to ogle and clean and share with our friends, upon our return home.
We knew it wouldn't be the last time we visited Hansen Creek - but we never could have foreseen the adventures yet to be had while searching for Washington State Quartz.
If you'd like to take a look at some of our finds, visit us on Etsy, where we showcase our best material from Washington State and beyond! Check it out at HoundsofApollo.
Saturday, May 11, 2013
Walker Valley, Washington
In our quest to break into crystal hunting, we talked with some friends who had experience here in Washington State. In addition to lending us their rock hammers, they pointed us in the direction of Walker Valley, Washington - about 2 hours north of Seattle. It has long been a popular rock-hounding site, and to-date is one of the few we've visited that allow you to drive right up to the site with minimal hiking.
Before we embarked, I did some research and learned that grapefruit-sized amethyst geodes had been found at this location in the past. That got us so excited, we were giddy the whole drive up. With little trouble, we found the site, which happens to be within the bounds of an active ORV park. We knew we were in the right place when we pulled into the parking area and noted the sparkling, crystal encrusted boulders that line the upper edge of the dig site.
Following the road down into the pit, you can still see the remnants of the veins, running through solid black basalt. These veins may once have been the point of interest for this site, however years of mining and exposure have left little to pursue. Basalt is so incredibly hard that even a pick-axe makes hardly a mark. Determined to enjoy our first real mining experience, however, we gladly searched through the pile of basalt rubble that makes up most of the bottom of the pit. Sure enough, there was evidence of mineralization. Within the basalt, we were finding small geodes that resembled crystalline eggs - though they were next to impossible to extract from the rock without destroying the formations.
Giving up on the basalt, I decided to have a look around the outskirts of the pit. Around a weathered out-cropping of bedrock, I found a large sedimentary boulder that contained another egg-like geode - this one with the distinct cleavage lines of Calcite. I worked on trying to extract the egg as a whole, but before I could cry out with success, my impact on the surrounding rock shattered the calcite. Dan helped me retrieve the fragments and took over trying to remove the mineral from its surrounding rock. Unfortunately, our tools were less than ideal for the task and we decided to move on.
On the way back to the car, I noticed a familiar pattern in the dust at my feet and reached down to discover a lovely little plate of druzy with a hazy lavender coloration (amethyst!). It was my first find of this type and the rush of excitement I got when I realized what I had found, was enough to make the whole 4 hour drive worth every minute!
I later turned the druzy into a necklace that I have listed on our Etsy shop: HoundsofApollo
We returned to this site a few times, though access has since been limited and the hike in has become intensely treacherous. What we're realizing is that the vein has been exhausted. As no one is allowed to use heavy machinery or explosives, and the hardness of the basalt is beyond the capacity of hand-tools to manage, one's greatest hope for finding treasure is to scrounge through the heavy black tailings in the bottom of the pit. In addition to the calcite and random druzy we found there, we also gathered an interesting specimen of botryoidal chalcedony, and an unknown mineral that forms a habit very similar to desert rose gypsum.
Despite the low-yeild, I can't help but miss the site dearly. Perhaps because it was our first, or perhaps because of the lure of what once was found in that location, I look forward to returning every year, when the snow has melted and the trees are budding for a new summer.
Before we embarked, I did some research and learned that grapefruit-sized amethyst geodes had been found at this location in the past. That got us so excited, we were giddy the whole drive up. With little trouble, we found the site, which happens to be within the bounds of an active ORV park. We knew we were in the right place when we pulled into the parking area and noted the sparkling, crystal encrusted boulders that line the upper edge of the dig site.
Following the road down into the pit, you can still see the remnants of the veins, running through solid black basalt. These veins may once have been the point of interest for this site, however years of mining and exposure have left little to pursue. Basalt is so incredibly hard that even a pick-axe makes hardly a mark. Determined to enjoy our first real mining experience, however, we gladly searched through the pile of basalt rubble that makes up most of the bottom of the pit. Sure enough, there was evidence of mineralization. Within the basalt, we were finding small geodes that resembled crystalline eggs - though they were next to impossible to extract from the rock without destroying the formations.
Giving up on the basalt, I decided to have a look around the outskirts of the pit. Around a weathered out-cropping of bedrock, I found a large sedimentary boulder that contained another egg-like geode - this one with the distinct cleavage lines of Calcite. I worked on trying to extract the egg as a whole, but before I could cry out with success, my impact on the surrounding rock shattered the calcite. Dan helped me retrieve the fragments and took over trying to remove the mineral from its surrounding rock. Unfortunately, our tools were less than ideal for the task and we decided to move on.
On the way back to the car, I noticed a familiar pattern in the dust at my feet and reached down to discover a lovely little plate of druzy with a hazy lavender coloration (amethyst!). It was my first find of this type and the rush of excitement I got when I realized what I had found, was enough to make the whole 4 hour drive worth every minute!
I later turned the druzy into a necklace that I have listed on our Etsy shop: HoundsofApollo
We returned to this site a few times, though access has since been limited and the hike in has become intensely treacherous. What we're realizing is that the vein has been exhausted. As no one is allowed to use heavy machinery or explosives, and the hardness of the basalt is beyond the capacity of hand-tools to manage, one's greatest hope for finding treasure is to scrounge through the heavy black tailings in the bottom of the pit. In addition to the calcite and random druzy we found there, we also gathered an interesting specimen of botryoidal chalcedony, and an unknown mineral that forms a habit very similar to desert rose gypsum.
Despite the low-yeild, I can't help but miss the site dearly. Perhaps because it was our first, or perhaps because of the lure of what once was found in that location, I look forward to returning every year, when the snow has melted and the trees are budding for a new summer.
Friday, May 10, 2013
In the Beginning...
It all started for me many moons ago, before a date I can solidly identify. I had a hideous orange plastic box that had formerly enclosed a kit of play-doctor toys. When the toys ceased to be a source of fun for my young imagination, they were disposed of and the box became the sacred receptacle for my prized "rock collection". Over the years, the collection grew, piece-by-piece. Birthdays, Christmas, and other gifting occasions would contribute to the precious caboodle. Often, I would open the box and pull out the contents, one mineral at a time, carefully examining each one, admiring its characteristics and applying my perceived value to them.
When I was 15, my family went on a camping adventure over the North Cascade highway. We took a day hike in the glorious alpine wilderness, that brought us - unexpectedly - to an abandoned mine tunnel. I scrambled up the heap of exhumed rocks that spilled forth from the open mine, but knew not to enter the aged tunnel. Sliding on my heels, I descended the crumbling pile and something bright caught my eye amid the dusty rubble. I snagged it as I slid past and when I opened my hand at the bottom, I realized I had found a rather large chunk of flashy golden pyrite. It was thrilling to have found my very own specimen, but it would be years before I realized I could turn that fascination into a hobby.
Unfortunately, my original mineral collection is no longer intact, though I still have the very first "crystal" that was given to me by my father when I was 7 or 8 years old - a small rose quartz marble that I picked out as my favorite during my first visit to a crystal shop in Seattle.
More recently, my partner Daniel and I began a collection of our own, acquiring crystals from friends, local gem shows, crystal shops, and dealers. While driving through Oregon on a road trip, we passed by a shop called Crystal Kaleidoscope. Enchanted by their display of large crystals - visible even from the highway - we promptly pulled over and spent the better part of 2 hours and the remainder of our trip funds on a diverse collection of crystals, minerals, fossils, and meteorites. It was just the beginning...
Acquiring new specimens is always a great deal of fun but it wasn't until Daniel and I were hosting a traveling Gem dealer that I realized there was more to collecting than just buying pretty things. Intrigued by an unusual formation, we purchased a large slab of raw crystallized hematite. I'd never seen anything like it and the price was more than fair. On the back of the heavy stone was the name and location of the mine from which it had come. That was when it occurred to me that rocks, crystals, and minerals don't just appear in display cases and personal collections - they come out of the ground, from very specific places. They are, by definition, a geologic history of the place from which they came. They tell the story of the earth and the chemical make-up and the vast geological forces that all came together to create something unique and very often beautiful. I then realized that I could be the one finding these treasures in nature. I could go to the place where they were made and smell the soil and see the trees and the landscape that has been their home for millions of years.
More than owning them and enjoying their beauty, I realized I wanted to use my own hands to extract them from the earth and clean them off and bring them to light.
While on a summer camping trip last year, Daniel and I were sitting by the fire. In the deepening dusk, an excited couple joined us. They were wearing headlamps and carrying toothbrushes and a large plastic dish pan. They had just spent the afternoon hunting for crystals and returned with a pail-full of large druzy plates. We watched as they scrubbed the mud from the freshly collected crystals and I quizzed them up and down about where we could go to find such treasures.
I've learned that vaguery is the best one can expect from such queries. The most information I could get out of them was "a couple of miles down the road" followed by a casual sweep of the hand in the general direction of West. When we returned home a few days later, I eagerly studied maps of the area, using the clues of "a couple of miles" and "that way". Bouncing back and forth between Google Satellite and MyTopo.com (which has searchable maps of the entire US, complete with keys that outline prospecting and mining areas), I realized that Seattle is a rockhound's dream. The Cascade range is teeming with mineral deposits, fantastic crystal hunting and gold-panning opportunities.
Over the summer I spent countless days scouring maps and researching via the internet. It didn't take us long to identify several near-by crystal hunting areas, which we visited regularly during the summer of 2012.
This blog is intended to catalogue our subsequent travels and rock-hounding adventures, as we dig deeper into our passion for minerals, crystals, and breath-taking hiking opportunities.
If you are interested in perusing our collection of mined-by-hand crystals, feel free to check out our store: HoundsofApollo on Etsy.com
Thanks so much!
~ Lola Ocian and Daniel Hensley
When I was 15, my family went on a camping adventure over the North Cascade highway. We took a day hike in the glorious alpine wilderness, that brought us - unexpectedly - to an abandoned mine tunnel. I scrambled up the heap of exhumed rocks that spilled forth from the open mine, but knew not to enter the aged tunnel. Sliding on my heels, I descended the crumbling pile and something bright caught my eye amid the dusty rubble. I snagged it as I slid past and when I opened my hand at the bottom, I realized I had found a rather large chunk of flashy golden pyrite. It was thrilling to have found my very own specimen, but it would be years before I realized I could turn that fascination into a hobby.
Unfortunately, my original mineral collection is no longer intact, though I still have the very first "crystal" that was given to me by my father when I was 7 or 8 years old - a small rose quartz marble that I picked out as my favorite during my first visit to a crystal shop in Seattle.
More recently, my partner Daniel and I began a collection of our own, acquiring crystals from friends, local gem shows, crystal shops, and dealers. While driving through Oregon on a road trip, we passed by a shop called Crystal Kaleidoscope. Enchanted by their display of large crystals - visible even from the highway - we promptly pulled over and spent the better part of 2 hours and the remainder of our trip funds on a diverse collection of crystals, minerals, fossils, and meteorites. It was just the beginning...
Acquiring new specimens is always a great deal of fun but it wasn't until Daniel and I were hosting a traveling Gem dealer that I realized there was more to collecting than just buying pretty things. Intrigued by an unusual formation, we purchased a large slab of raw crystallized hematite. I'd never seen anything like it and the price was more than fair. On the back of the heavy stone was the name and location of the mine from which it had come. That was when it occurred to me that rocks, crystals, and minerals don't just appear in display cases and personal collections - they come out of the ground, from very specific places. They are, by definition, a geologic history of the place from which they came. They tell the story of the earth and the chemical make-up and the vast geological forces that all came together to create something unique and very often beautiful. I then realized that I could be the one finding these treasures in nature. I could go to the place where they were made and smell the soil and see the trees and the landscape that has been their home for millions of years.
More than owning them and enjoying their beauty, I realized I wanted to use my own hands to extract them from the earth and clean them off and bring them to light.
While on a summer camping trip last year, Daniel and I were sitting by the fire. In the deepening dusk, an excited couple joined us. They were wearing headlamps and carrying toothbrushes and a large plastic dish pan. They had just spent the afternoon hunting for crystals and returned with a pail-full of large druzy plates. We watched as they scrubbed the mud from the freshly collected crystals and I quizzed them up and down about where we could go to find such treasures.
I've learned that vaguery is the best one can expect from such queries. The most information I could get out of them was "a couple of miles down the road" followed by a casual sweep of the hand in the general direction of West. When we returned home a few days later, I eagerly studied maps of the area, using the clues of "a couple of miles" and "that way". Bouncing back and forth between Google Satellite and MyTopo.com (which has searchable maps of the entire US, complete with keys that outline prospecting and mining areas), I realized that Seattle is a rockhound's dream. The Cascade range is teeming with mineral deposits, fantastic crystal hunting and gold-panning opportunities.
Over the summer I spent countless days scouring maps and researching via the internet. It didn't take us long to identify several near-by crystal hunting areas, which we visited regularly during the summer of 2012.
This blog is intended to catalogue our subsequent travels and rock-hounding adventures, as we dig deeper into our passion for minerals, crystals, and breath-taking hiking opportunities.
If you are interested in perusing our collection of mined-by-hand crystals, feel free to check out our store: HoundsofApollo on Etsy.com
Thanks so much!
~ Lola Ocian and Daniel Hensley
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