A Mine is a Terrible Thing to Waste

The plan seemed easy enough, but it wasn't without serious risks. I knew that the Indians on the reservation didn't take kindly to white folk trespassing on their land, and I had heard some terrifying stories about people who had been caught out there. The Indians had a reputation for dragging the offender behind his own truck across the desert, then confiscating the vehicle, forcing the injured person to walk many miles, never to see his truck again. The same thing would happen to us if we weren't very careful. But if we were successful, we would have in our possessions some of the choicest specimens of quartz crystals anywhere in the world.

The crystals were said to be five to six feet long and more than a foot wide. What made these crystals special wasn't their size so much as their impeccable quality. The US Government had been mining them for use in spy satellites, but before long, Uncle Sam wore out his welcome on the reservation and the mining of the quartz crystals came to a halt. Now, all we had to do was figure out how to get to the crystals without being killed... or worse.

We decided to approach the reservation from the east, which meant that we'd be passing over the large Ibapah Mountain range. There was a bit of a road there, but much of our travel would have to be done on foot. After a couple of surveillance trips to the area, we had it all figured out regarding how to proceed to the mine entrance on the other side of the mountain. From there, Shalom would unlock the gate using the combination he had procured from his usual source in law enforcement. Then, we'd proceed to the crystals with the aid of a map of the mine. The moment we arrive at the quartz is when the work really begins. Quartz is a very hard substance and doesn't yield to hand tools easily. It would take a bit of time and effort to remove the crystals, and since there would be only two of us, we'd have a limited amount that we'd be able to carry with us back through the mine, and over the mountain to Shalom's truck tucked away in the bushes. We didn't have much time to accomplish our mission either. The entire adventure would have to take place under the shroud of darkness, giving us only a handful of hours. We awaited the next new moon, hoping for favorable weather.
I had been on subterranean expeditions with Shalom before, and was confident in his almost supernatural abilities to navigate through the catacombs of tunnels in search of semi-precious stones. Shalom had quite a reputation among the other mineral collectors who revered him with a kind of saint-like respect. He was the Indiana Jones of underground exploration, and had narrowly escaped death many times. But unlike Indiana Jones, Shalom always returned home with the treasure, and possessed one of the finest private collections.

The day of the new moon approached, and it looked like all systems were go. I headed to bed early the night before the expedition, knowing that I wouldn't be getting any sleep the following night. As I soundly slept, I dreamed about our adventure to the mine on the reservation. Everything was going as planned. We had procured some nice specimens and were making our getaway when a band of angry Indians on three-wheeled ATV's began chasing after us. There must have been five or more three-wheelers in hot pursuit when Shalom reached under his seat and grabbed a stick of dynamite, lit the fuse on his in-dash lighter, and tossed it out at the savages. Direct hit. One down. Shalom continued throwing dynamite at our angry pursuers. After a lengthy chase across acres of sagebrush and halogeten, I awoke from my nightmare, sweaty and heart pounding. It was so real. I didn't sleep well from that point on, and began having second thoughts about the expedition.

I decided to not let my crazy dream keep my from going, and Shalom picked me up at my house on schedule. We left the Salt Lake Valley behind, traveling west on I-80, passing the Great Salt Lake on our right, then exited south on Highway 36 through Tooele Valley and Rush Valley. We left Hwy 36 near Vernon and heading west over Lookout Pass, on the old Pony Express route, spewing up enormous dust-clouds as we sped along the southern boundary of Dugway Proving Grounds.

Shalom knew about a vein of quality fluorite crystals not far from the road we were traveling and we decided to make a quick stop there to gather some specimens. It would only take a little while, and we'd be off to pursue the valuable minerals on the other side of the Ibapah Mountains. We turned north and followed the western boundary of the proving grounds about a mile or so before turning off on a rough and rocky road that headed in a westerly direction a hundred feet or so, and we were there.

The sun was setting when we arrived at the location of the fluorite crystals. Unfortunately someone had beaten us to them. There was evidence that heavy equipment had beenworking in the area. They had taken it all. Bummer!

When we returned to the truck in preparation to leave, we discovered that the back driver-side tire was completely flat. Shalom said, "I hope I have a jack and lug wrench." We searched through the back of the truck, and found a jack, but were unable to locate a lug-wrench. Double bummer!

Now it looked like our quartz quest had been thwarted by a flat tire. We pitched a tent about two hundred feet outside the fence that contained the proving grounds and prepared to sleep. Rest didn't come easily however. It was as though there wasn't enough oxygen in the air, and I had to struggle for every breath. I don't know if they were conducting some kind of experiment at Dugway, or if the fine dust was making it difficult to breath, but I was awake most of the night. In the distance I could see lights from the proving grounds, and could only assume that they were aware of us as well. It was an uncomfortable situation.

The darkness couldn't last forever, and the sun arose on schedule, illuminating the valley to reveal a desolate landscape before us in every direction. It would be a long walk to find help. Shalom decided to look through the cab of his messy truck in hopes of finding a lug wrench. We were in luck. Tucked beneath his seat and under a hundred maps and papers, next to a couple of loose sticks of dynamite, Shalom retrieved the lug wrench, and before long, we had changed the tire and were on our way home. The quartz crystals would have to wait.

2 B continued?