Quite a few years later my younger brother Shannon and I were champing at the bit each morning to get to the field. After a sauce with pasty and a farmers union iced coffee, we were totally pumped. Off down the dusty track in the crusty ute to our claim in the desert. In those days we had what is known as a 'self tipper' or automatic hoist. Dead Horse Gully was a favourite field we dubbed "red sauce gully" because of the stunning unusually blood red colour in the opal. On one spot we drove 200 odd feet by hand which is blasting and removing the dirt with 2 x 20 litre buckets on a barrow. We wheeled the buckets to the base of the 45 ft shaft and transferred them into the 50 litre bucket on the automatic hoist, and away she went, up and over and back again. Ironically, when we arrived and were installing the winch, we found 3 $2 coins at the top of the shaft and said, maybe its a sign we will find 6 million! Turned out to be 6 thousand, barely wages at the end of it, but an experience I would probably do over for free.
At one point in that claim we were trying to open up a 9 inch air shaft that was blocked with gibbers about 30 ft down. We devised a simple plan to drop a sausage of anfo (ammonium nitrate/fuel oil) or 'nitro' locally. With the safety fuse alight, Shannon dropped the plastic bag down the hole attached to a skinny frayed rope with the idea that a small jolt at the bottom would release the sausage and we would crack the blockage. I still clearly remember the look on Shannon’s face when he brought the rope up and the bomb was still attached! There was still a smidge of time on the fuse so I grabbed the rope and hastily dropped it in the hole. Right then we realized the ute was only about ten feet from the hole and could suffer some damage from the blast. I quickly grabbed a short handled shovel and covered the hole thinking it may stop some rocks from flying out. Cerrracckk!! Off went the shot as we woo hooed and leaped with excitement at the adrenaline rush, being not too far from the hole. As the dust cleared, we noticed the shovel had disappeared, then looking upwards saw the shovel spinning at rpm about 150 ft in the air on it's way back down. Thankfully everything missed the ute and we survived. We literally had a blast, got the shaft cleared and the air flowing but all for very little opal in the end. One of the partners was always totally beside himself and yapped his face off every time a bomb exploded, our trusty red heeler cross mining dog Goof, Goofaloofa or Loofy as we liked to call him most. He loved the back of the ute better than anywhere else on earth, like any other bush dog. If we approached speed on the Stuart highway the wind would catch Loof's eyelids and lips, turning him into a freak. Brilliant for a laugh after a hard day mining, being full of endorphins and pretty 'surfed out'.

 Watch to see the process we followed mining this claim, and some of the spoils at the end...

An old World Class Opal article from back in the day detailing an adventure to Mintabie, note the blasting, subsequent seam and resultant fine jewelry set ready for sale. 

We have been at this a while! 

Drilling and blasting underneath the opal level and subsequent jackpicking down of the opal level. Circa 1999.

The 'kingstone' I cut this stone into a nice larger oval and two smaller ones, then had them set into solid 18k gold as a pendant and earring set. 

The photos are pretty bad as I only had an analogue SLR camera but was happy to have documented the process!

Sadly both Australian federal and state Liberal governments have shut the township of Mintabie meaning this opal field, and the opportunities it afforded to adventurous, entrepreneurial pioneers and indeed the local indigenous people, is now virtually abandoned. 

My earliest memories apart from visceral infant vaugeties are of the old lady next door looking down at me and saying hello. I either remember from the event itself or from my family recounting it somewhere over the decades, answering, “got any biscuits?” Apparently she did have biscuits, along with milky ways, ice cream, various lollies, meat pies and steak.. Being the youngest of  seven kids who didn't get a lot of sugary treats, I began to escape the frequent adolescent melees to become her ‘pet’ by default.

Now being the 'pet' of the old lady next door had its advantages, like lollies, and somewhere to escape to when your big brother is after you to 'smash your face in' and somewhere for a young man to grow soft and fat.. Well the latter is an obvious disadvantage, and every kids needs a heroes adventure, I never imagined how mine would manifest.

Saddleworth Primary school was a typical nineteen eighties Australian country school, although whenever I said something stupid, Grandpa would joke “you can tell you went to school at Saddleworth”. It wasn't funny.

On reflection it seems to me that small town and school life was essentially utopia for the average kid, and after a 1985 family trip up to Alice Springs with a stop over at Coober Pedy, our class watched the film based on the Colin Thiele book ‘Fire In the Stone’ back in Saddleworth.

I was mesmerised.. The character of the 12 year old boy, from a broken home with an alcoholic father, coupled with the mystery and lure of opal field legends of fortunes won and lost, was just too much.. I was taken, hook line and sinker, a profound fascination with the outback opal fields and with opal that as it turns out, would last a lifetime.

In 1986, another trip up to the red centre. Seemingly infinite, heavily corrugated roads with huge puddles of bone dry bulldust that would swallow half the car, throw us around like rag dolls, then fill the back seat with superfine red dust that mixed with Dads cigarette smoke to choke us all the more.. It was like hell, and heaven all at the same time.

 The three of us brothers still living with Mum and Dad would be quietly provoking each other in the back seat. Spit, thump, kick, smile.. repeat…

If the shenanigans got out of hand, there was the obligatory “Cut it out!, or I will pull this car over and bang your bloody heads together!” 

Then at least once, after a stern warning and a lull in the back seat scrimmages..

 “Daaaad… Lachlan smiled at me!” the baby brother would complain.. “ Smile back at him” Dad would furtively retort in his dry, smug manner. 

Above mentioned siblings, Shannon (7)in the foreground, Lochy (13) sitting in the back near Dad (Kev) in an extremely rich claim that we missed the opal in because we had no idea how to read the signs, details to follow in upcoming posts! 

To be continued....

For about 25 years I searched the underground labyrinths of the Coober Pedy opal fields for any hint of precious opal. It is a fascinating pursuit with visceral rewards. If I say so myself, I became quite adept at sniffing out colour traces, coupled with some level of tenacity this often produced beautiful, cuttable opal stones, and quite often, in particular, opalised shells. The opal fossils of the Stuart Range bulldog shale occur throughout a cretaceous sedimentary shale that is up to a mile or more deep in places, with opal fossils occurring in the top one hundred or so feet of intensely weathered shale. These creatures are thought to have lived about 120 million years ago and have been replaced through the still relatively mysterious process by which calcareous fossil deposits are sometimes filled with precious opal. Earlier this year (2021) While Shannon was shifting dirt with the Kanga loader in our mine on Donna's Rush, I couldnt sit idle for the machine to dig the specified hole. Many years ago a miner showed me some beautiful opal from Donna's Rush and I knew the spot he worked but never had the chance to have a look at it.

 

I drove our trusty mining winch over to the spot, and picked a 3 foot diameter shaft to set up the winch nearest to the 6 foot (tunelling machine) shaft where they let the machine down, this way i know its most likely open and has access to the mine.

Once down the bottom, at about 50 feet to the floor, I was confronted by a myriad of strong sticky redback spider webs all thoughout the mine, most accompanied by big momma fat redbacks, each with enough dangerous venom that one decent bite could mean I wasnt leaving the mine that day.. 

Once upon a time I would leave the red backs in peace, that is until one time i let a big nest stop me from checking a mine, Several other miners soon found well over 150 thousand in beautiful opal there. Now i do what i have to do to be able to check the mine....

In this video, I show the pocket of beautiful white based vertical opal i managed to locate in front of the opal bearing fault \ slide at about 45 feet depth and the shell that was further out from the fault, hiding a few inches behind a speck of untouched shell trace left in the wall at about 50 feet. 

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This opal can be purchased at opalauctions.com/stores/graceopal

 

Cheers for now, Lochy.