Names in this article except for John and myself have been changed because of an NDA (Non-Disclosure Agreement).
The narrow hard packed road was littered with large holes. My good friend and cohost of my TV show John (RIP my friend)was driving his Ford pickup truck as we bounced along the old wagon road.
“What kind of a person would live out here,” he said as he drove with one hand on the wheel, and placed a milk bone dog biscuit into his mouth with his other hand.
“How can you eat those things?” I asked.
“I’m hungry Frank” John answered as he finished devouring that milk bone like it was a choice steak.
“What’a ya mean you’re hungry? You just ate that slice of pizza I gave you and a Snickers bar.”
“I’m a growing boy. Besides, I didn’t eat breakfast. Now don’t tell Cubby I ate one of his treats,” he answered as he continued to maneuver his truck slowly down the hard-packed road trying to avoid the many holes.
Cubby was John’s brown lab retriever dog.
“You’re a jamoke. You know that don’t you.” I told him.
“Hey, don’t go there. I need to concentrate on this road.” John answered.
We were searching for a cabin deep inside a dense forest. The owner of the property, Mike lived alone in the cabin on the land he purchased at a foreclosure auction.
“Are you sure we’re in the right area?” John asked as we continued to bump along the gravel and potholed road.
“Ya, the 1865 map shows this road,” I answered as I stared at the map.
“He said he’s about three miles from the secondary road we turned off of, and just past the wooden bridge that goes over a creek.”
“Okay, I see a wooden bridge now,” John said as he slowly pulled up to the bridge.
“WOW, is that thing safe to cross?” He said, stopping his truck.
“I don’t know,” I answered. “Let’s get out and look it over.
The wooden bridge was old, real old. The plank flooring was rotted, and parts of it were missing. The creek below it was approximately ten feet wide and deep.
We walked onto the bridge to see how sturdy it was. Then we walked off the bridge and tried to look beneath it to see just how rotted it could be.
“Frank, I think we can make it over okay. I’ll just avoid those two missing plank sections,” John said as he stared at the bridge.
“Okay, go ahead,” I told him. “I’ll wait here.”
“Oh come on you big baby,” He said while laughing at me.
“Damn right,” I told him. “I’ll watch you go over and I’ll say a little prayer for you.”
“Oh boy. I’m gonna tell everyone what a mamaluke you were.”
I laughed at him as I watched him climb into his pickup, and slowly begin to drive over the old bridge.
When he safely got to the other side of the bridge John got out of his truck and yelled back to me, “Hey you big baby. See how easy that was?”
I walked across the bridge and got into John’s truck, “I wasn’t afraid. I just wanted to see if you would go over that bridge without me.”
“You liar,” John answered.
In a few short minutes, we arrived at the cabin.
“Man, who would live there?” John said as he pulled his truck closer to the cabin.
“WOW,” was all I could say as I stared in disbelief at the old, rundown cabin.
“Go ahead Frank, knock on the door,” John said as we sat staring at the tiny, decaying cabin.
“What, now you’re afraid?” I asked.
“Are you sure about this guy?” John asked. “The hair on the back of my neck is starting to stand up. “This guy could be an axe murderer.” He said while shoving another milk bone into his mouth.
“Ya, this guy’s good. He’s a retired police officer. He sounded fine every time we talked on the phone. Let’s go knock on the door.”
At that moment the front door to the old cabin opened and out stepped Mike the owner and three very large, barking, mixed-breed dogs. Mike commanded them to stay and they immediately did so.
“You must be Frank and John,” Mike said as he walked toward us. “Did you find this place okay? He asked.
“Yes we did, thanks for meeting us,” I answered.
By now John had finished chewing his milk bone and asked Mike if it was okay to give his dogs some biscuits. This surprised me because John never shares his food with anyone.
Mike told John he could share his biscuits with his dogs and that the dogs were fine now. John kept a few milk bones in his pocket. He gave one to each dog.
We sat down at a rustic wood table Mike had built with the lumber he used from trees he felled on his property. He showed us the chainsaw mill attachment he used to cut the slabs from the logs.
“I’ll be repairing the house beginning this year, using this attachment,” he told us. “It’s long overdue,” he continued. “I’ve been here two years and when I first moved in I hurt back when I fell off the roof. Then I had another health issue. So there wasn’t much I could do to the place after that. I was pretty much disabled for almost a year.”
“Sorry to hear that Mike. Hope you’re okay now,” I asked.
“Ya, I’m good to go, thanks for asking. So you guys want to know more about that fur trader that lived on this property, and possibly search for those gold coins he supposedly hid somewhere here?”
“I’m all ears,” John answered.
Coming Soon – Part Two
I was the first to produce a real, reality, metal-detecting, TV series, even before YouTube metal-detecting videos became popular. There was no scripting and no planting or seeding of relics or coins before they were filmed being found. My Exploring History’s Treasures TV series is now on Rumble.