The Lost Tunnel Of Niagara

There is a story more than a thousand years old. It involves a secret Native American treasure worth more than a hundred million dollars in today’s money. The thing is no one has heard about. It was spirited off by a Native American chief and there was only one written record of it and that was on a stone buried on the Canadian side of the Niagara River. The thing is that the record is written in a language that died out more than a thousand years ago.

A couple of years ago an older man was walking around the whirlpool a few miles downriver from the falls. He was looking for strange stones at the bottom of the gorge. Now, he had been lucky most of the time but that day the gods were not shining on him. Despite all of his searching he had come up with nothing but that changed when he saw a stone sticking out of the rock wall. As soon as he pulled it out he saw that it was cut into a rectangle and there was writing on it…actually two styles of writing that he could not read. He dug it out and took it out of the gorge with him and, thinking that it might be worth something, he took it straight to the Niagara Falls Historical Society.

That was the first time he took anything there so he did not know what kind of reaction he would get when he walked carrying the stone. To his surprise that reception he received was a hell of a lot better than he ever expected.

“Hello or Bonjour,” the man behind the counter said as he extended his hand in friendship. The older man told him that he spoke English. “Thank you very much sir. How may I help you?

The older man held out the stone tablet and said that he had found it down by the Whirlpool Rapids. “I collect rocks down there and this was sticking out of the ground. It looks like it has some kind of writing on it.”

The man behind the counter took the rock, looked at it carefully and disappeared into a hallway leading to a series of rooms. The man ducked into the third room and almost as soon as he went in he and another man rushed back out and came running into the lobby.  “I am Dr. Fredric Depau, Director of the historical society. My assistant said that you have something that I should see.”

“I found this down in the gorge,” the old man said. “It was sticking out of the wall, I just had to do a little digging and it came right out.”

He took the tablet and held it out for the man to see. Depau took it gently and looked at it…it did have two kinds of writing on it just as the old man thought. One was a Seneca Indian language that was used when the white men discovered the Niagara region so it was easily readable. The other was older…much older…possibly more than a thousand years old.

Depau looked at it for several minutes, analyzing it in his mind. He knew that he had seen the writing before but he had no idea what it said. “Oh my God,” Depau said as he slowly sank into a chair. “Do you know what you have here?

“I have no idea,” the old man replied.

“Man, you have found the holy grail and the Rosetta Stone,” Depau said while grasping the stone as hard as he could. “We can know what people have wanted to know ever since the first white man’s eyes set foot on the falls.”

“What does that mean,” the old man asked.

“My friend you have found the key to a legend that has been told for a thousand years,” he said ask his eyes darted back and forth between the texts. “This will answer a lot of questions.”

“What questions,” the old man asked.

“There was an animal skin scroll written more than a thousand years ago. It was found up by the falls but it was in a language that no one knew how to read. If I am right…using this we may be able to find out what that scroll has to say. If I am right you are going to be a very wealthy man…I can promise you that.” Then, after making a Xerox copy of the stone for the old man he had him write down his name, address and phone number.” I should be calling you in a couple of weeks to let you know what we found out.” The old man nodded in agreement, put the paper in his pocket and left for home.

For the next several weeks Depau looked and relooked, read and reread and finally he was able to make a somewhat accurate translation of the ancient scroll. It read, “Under the falling water lies a tunnel. If you enter you will walk a long way into the stones. There I placed my treasure…a treasure meant for my people after I have left this world. It was vague but at least there was a glimmer of hope that maybe…just maybe the treasure was still there.

“Holy shit,” Depau yelled in a very unacademic tone. “We found it! We know where it is!” Immediately afterwards, rather after he calmed down enough, he got on the phone to set up a meeting at the University of Quebec. The meeting would involve him, academics from the university and the leaders of the Seneca Nation.

The meeting lasted about seven hours and when it was done there was a unanimous vote that an expedition would be launched  to explore behind the falls and find out if, as they believed, there was a cave hiding treasure or if the entire thing was just a prank played several centuries before.  The expedition was scheduled for the following week. It was to include Depau and five other scientists of differing fields.

Finally the day came. Their first stop was to be at Table Rock where they all met and bowed their heads and said a prayer to The Lady of the Mist. They asked for her protection during their upcoming endeavor. Each tossed a silver dollar into the flowing water as a kind of blessing to the woman who was to protect them.

One by one they entered the elevator which would take them down below the falls. It took about three minutes to make the trip to the bottom. Donning raincoats they stepped out on the deck and as they looked up they finally saw the power that they were facing. There were more than 500,000 gallons flowing over top of them.

“Oh my God,” Depau said loud enough to be heard over the roar of the falls. “How in the hell are we supposed to get back in there?”

They all strained their eyes as they looked behind the falling water. There, hidden by the mist, was what could only be called the echo of a long unused footpath. It was badly beaten and covered with moss from side to side and from what they could view of it, it had large sections that were covered by rocks. Now, they were not the huge rocks that lay at the bottom of the American Falls. Rather, they were small to medium in size. Not too bad but they would make the trip challenging to say the least.

Depau took the first step. The rock was slippery but he managed to keep his balance. The others followed closely behind. Each slipped in the same spot and he kept their balance.

The roar of the water was deafening. They were caught between the water and the solid rock so the sound was even louder than it was when they were standing up on Table Rock. The mist in the closed area was thick…so thick that even with their raincoats on within seconds their clothes was soaked and their vision was cut down to just a couple of feet in front of them.

Step by step the measured each movement that they made. All of them knew one thing…if they slipped and fell into the raging water there would be no chance to rescue them and that meant sure death. Maybe they were showing bravery maybe it was common sense but they didn’t have ropes tied between each other. That way, if one fell the rest would not be pulled into the falls with them.

Their travel went slowly. Depau felt every inch of the rock wall. There were hundreds of cracks in the otherwise solid wall. Even though he could not be heard Depau said, “How are we supposed to find the cave, That rock has been beaten so long no wonder…” Just then he felt something that was more than a crack. They were about half way across the walls and Depau’s hand was touching …nothing. He looked, smiled and yelled,” It’s here! I think we found it!”  The word passed from one member to the next and by the time it reached the end all of them were carefully jumping up and down and cheering.

There was a ledge outside of the hole. It was just big enough for Depau and a couple others to stand on. The rocks were moss covered and they saw ferns growing between some of the small cracks that had been formed. The scientists also noted that there was a strong wind blowing into the opening; it was strong but not strong enough where they would have trouble. They also noticed that it was a lot quieter that it had been for the last couple of hours.

Depau lead the group in. It was narrow but they were able to walk comfortably. Step by step they walked father into the tunnel. The light from the opening faded and the flashlights came out. The light revealed a cave of such beauty that no one could believe what they were seeing, Pink quartz, blue azure and gem stones  lined the walls. The floor was covered with wood planks, rotten somewhat yes but still able to holds a man’s weight. The tunnel went on for more than a half a mile and by the time they reached the cavern they were nearly exhausted,

“At last,” Depau said as he entered the room. It looked like a cathedral. Stalactites hung from the ceiling. “This is so beautiful,” he said.

At last they were where they thought, according to the scroll, the treasure would be. They spread out and one of the scientists found a box. It was nearly rotted away but the sides still held what remained of the lid. Depau slowly lifted the lid and looked in. Inside was a single gold disk. Not big at all. It was about the size of a fingernail…worth about $150. They searched and searched for several hours but there was nothing else anywhere.

Yes, they were disappointed but yet the expedition was a glowing success. They didn’t find the massive treasure they were looking for but that disk…that little piece of gold proved that the legend was true. That was the most they wanted to achieve…they proved an unknown part of history.

The old man…they called him and told him that they did find gold and Depau kept his word. He paid the man half of what they had found…$71.94.

As far as anyone knows that old man still searches the walls of the Niagara escarpment. He has found a few artifacts but nothing as important as the one he found that afternoon in the valley of the whirlpool

Ghost Gold

The year was 1842. Indians still controlled much of the lands in California which was still eight years from becoming a state. Both Mexican and United States troops patrolled the mountains and countryside, except for one section of the territory. That was the area that was known as Valle De La Muerte or Death Valley.

Valle De La Muerte lived up to its name. Hundreds of settlers, both Mexican and American lost their animals, their food, their hopes and finally their lives. The floor of Valle De La Muerte was covered with the bodies of those who did not know where the sparse water holes were located.

One group of American soldiers was ordered to patrol the edge of the desert but while on their patrol they noticed and young Indian boy running into the valley. The boy was dressed as most Indians they had seen in the mountains but there was one thing different…the bracelets the boy was wearing shined brighter than even the stars in the night skies.

The officer in change, Captain Fredrick Sir George, ordered his troops to follow the young boy while making sure that they kept enough distance as not to be seen or heard. They followed him for about an hour as he took pathways that no white man knew about but too the soldiers it seemed like they had travelled an entire day.

Their horses were exhausted and almost dead from not having any water since they left their camp and the men were almost as bad. It was as if they had become the walking dead in the 130 degree heat of the valley.

Finally the boy walked into a small community of Indians. Sir George looked at them from a ledge above the camp. They seemed friendly so Sir George and his men….all three of them…walked down and, once the Indians saw them, they were invited to share a meal, a drink and a chance to rest in the shade,

An Indian woman was cooking dinner in a big, roughly made metal pot. They were not sure what she was cooking…it didn’t matter they were hungry and would have eaten their horses if they weren’t government property. It ended up being a sort of rattlesnake stew but they didn’t care…food was food and that was that.

While they were eating Sir George noticed that all of the members of the tribe had gold. It was not just a little either. They had more jewelry than he had ever seen…bracelets, necklaces, rings and headpieces all made of the precious metal.

After dinner, out of gratitude, Sir George helped a young woman wash the dishes. As they cleaned he was washing a grease covered cooking pot. “What in the hell,” he said. Looking he saw that the pot he was cleaning was made of a shiny metal. Looking closer he saw that even the pots and plates were made of the same gold as was the jewelry. Then he looked at the rocks surrounding the camp….it was all rose quartz which was well known to be the rocks prospector looked for because it was the rocks that contained gold…a lot of it.

Silently, he called his men together and showed them the pot as well as the rocks he had found. They whispered between themselves while the Indians went on with their lives down below. Not one of Sir George’s men said anything as they stared down at the people below “Father forgive us for what we have done and what we are about to do,” he said as he raised his eyes to face Heaven. Sir George flicked his finger and the soldiers leveled their rifles and, within seconds, there was not a man, woman or child left alive.

Sir George ordered one of his men to get their horses but it wasn’t before the soldier came back and reported that all of the horses were gone. “That’s impossible,” Sir George said but the soldier confirmed that indeed all of their horses were gone. “Did anyone leave the camp while we were eating,” he asked. Another of the soldiers answered quickly saying that no one, Indian or soldier left the camp while they were there. “What in the hell…,” he yelled.

They climbed down off of the rocks. The soldiers took every piece of gold from every body and stuffed it in their pockets while Sir George went right over to that pot. He picked it and didn’t bother putting it in his pack. He carried it with him with the handle hung of the handle of his sword…like trophy he had just won.

They knew that they could not go back to the fort. There would be too many questions that neither Sir George nor his men wanted to answer. The nearest town was over 30 miles away. Not too far except they would have to cross the desert during the hottest part of the day but there was nothing else they could do so they started out heading south.

They started out with a limited supply of water and overloaded packs so the going was slow. It was less than a half of a mile away when the first soldier dropped. They all ran back and saw a bullet hole in the back of the man’s head. Not one of them heard a gunshot nor did they see anyone when they looked around. The man was shot but there was no way for the man to be shot. It was just impossible.

They continued walking after the remaining soldiers split the gold the dead man was carrying. Yes, it increased the weight each man was carrying but gold is gold and nothing was going to be left behind.

“Come on,” Sir George ordered. The men left the bodies to the vultures that made sure that all that would be left behind would be bleached bones.

A mile and then another passed by. The men were hungry, thirsty and tired but they knew that they had to make it to the town before they could rest because, for miles around there was nothing except flat ground and heat. There was no chance for shade or water so there was no reason to stop.

Another half mile or so and another soldier dropped. Again there was no sound and no one around to fire a gun but this time the men saw what happened. The private’s chest exploded right in front of them. They had seen this kind of would before and, when they turned the body over it confirmed what they thought. The young man was shot in the back by what looked like a bullet from a military rifle. They checked and they had their weapons including the one they took from the first dead man.

“Captain, what’s going on,” asked the last member of the patrol except for Sir George.

“I don’t know,” Sir George said. He was not just nervous…he was scared…more scared than any man should ever be but he could not show it. He was an officer and he had to show confidence to the man he had left. “Leave his gold. We have to keep going,” he said as he starting walking again, closely followed by that last man.

It took seven hours for them to cover the next five miles. By now, if they looked around they could see mountains in the distance but they knew that they were miles and miles away so they just kept walking.

The strange thing was, Sir George finally thought, there was not a noise when those men were killed. Not a gunshot, not the sound of a bullet and the men…they did not scream. The thoughts shook him but he just kept walking.

An hour later Sir George looked back and saw that he was alone. He didn’t see what happened or when that last soldier dropped but he could assume and that was probably going to be the right answer.

There are no records written that explained the incident but a few years later the body of Captain Sir George was found about 15 miles away from that small town. His body was merely bones but it was easy to see he had been shot in the back. They looked at the body and noticed one thing…his hand was still tightly gripping that golden pot and because of that the legend was born about the Ghost Gold of Death Valley.

Since that time in 1842 the legend has grown and dozens of people have searched for the campsite. Some came back and expressed frustration while other must have found the hold because they simply never returned. Yet people still come to town and still search for the gold and somehow they always will.

The Trip On The Devil's Highway

“Shit, I said to myself. I was in an attitude. I was hungry, thirsty. I know there’s no one with me but that doesn’t matter I am fuckin’ pissed and I gotta talk ‘bout it “Why in the fuck did I start when I did? I should have known better. The sun went down what…four hours ago? I can’t be sure. I don’t have a watch and the goddamn radio broke last week. How in the hell am I supposed to know where I am or what time it is?”

 I rolled down the window and screamed, “What the fuck time is it?” Yeah, I knew in the back of my mind that I wasn’t going to get an answer but I thought what the fuck?

While I was waiting for a response that’d never come I saw a sign along the road. It read “WEST US ROUTE 666.

I had heard about the road from a friend of mine who had taken it years before. If I remember right it was Jac, Donna, Guf and Ronnie who went on the trip. I wasn’t ask to go ‘cause I was spending 15 days down in the town lockup. I still don’t know why I was locked up…fuck I offered to share my beer with that cop when he stopped…he didn’t take it but he took it. I imagine those cops having one fuckin’ party after work. I had two cases and that sum bitch tool it all.

Jac was the leader. He always set up everything.

I remember they left about 6:00 in the evening. It was just getting a touch of the orange of a sunset and they were travelling west but the sun was up enough for Jac to need his sunglasses.

I watched from my cell as they drove off. Yeah, it bothered me but what was I going to do. Now, I have some shit to tell you. The next morning the judge stopped down and signed the papers to let me out with just a strict warning. “Thank you Your Honor,” I said as I stepped out of the cell and went out into the fresh country air. Yeah, I said “thank you,” but what I was thinking was that fuckin’ jerk cost me a trip and I wasn’t happy about it.

Anywho, I went down past Jac’s place. Now it wasn’t that I was thinking about the trip or anything stupid like that. It was just that I was on my way to the Pancake House and his house was on the way. Jac was sitting on the porch with Guf and they both looked like they seen a ghost or something.

“What’s goin’ on,” I asked. Neither of them answered. They just stared off in outer space or something. “What’s wrong,” I asked again.

“Ronnie…Donna…they went into the woods to take a pee and they never came back,” Jac said. “Me and Guf…we looked for them but there was no trace…not a single trace anywhere. I don’t even think that they went pee…at least I couldn’t smell no pee.”

Guf interrupted, “There was no lights and no strange noises. It was quiet as Dr. Baker’s tomb on a Sunday morning so that means that Bigfoot didn’t do it!” He was getting excited but I just let him talk. “Yeah, I believe in Bigfoot. I heard him…I know I did but not last night…it was quiet as Dr. Baker’s tomb on a Sunday morning. It truly was.”

“Where did all that happen,” I asked.

“Out on 666…I think it was mile marker 76…out by that exit for Murphysborough,” Jac said.

I got them to calm down, which was easy since they were almost catatonic already, then I called the cops. Jac and Guf retold their story again and as so as they finished the cops put handcuffs on them and took them down to the station. I don’t know what for but they were there most of the day.

Yeah, they did have a search. They used helicopters, dogs and even brought in the National Guard. The dogs did pick up their trail at the side of the road but it only went 50 yards into the wood. One guy said that the grass was messed up…you know footprints and everything but they ended at the same place the dogs lost the scent. Other than that…no trace was ever found and Ronnie and Donna were listed as missing and their case was kept open for a few years after that night.

Now, that was 37 years ago. Jac and Guf moved to Pennsylvania and set up a hooka plant outside of a small town called Carbon Creek. Me, I stayed in the town I was born in and I worked at one of the factories before they decided that I was making more money than they could afford so they let me go. Here’s something I still have trouble believing…last year both Ronnie and Donna came walking into town just as if nothing happened.

The thing was neither of them had aged one day in nearly four decades. They looked just the same as the day that they left…except for one thing…they were both pregnant…very pregnant. The town’s doctor examined both of them and they were about eight months along and in perfect health. Within a couple weeks both gave birth to beautiful babies, Ronnie had a boy and named his Alex. Donna had a baby girl named Alexis. The babies were beautiful and, amazingly they both looked alike.

Donna and Ronnie never told what happened to them the night they disappeared and they said….yeah they said that they have no idea how they got pregnant or who the father was so most people just let it go without really asking any questions.

I drive to Murphysborough a couple times a month to see my daughter and my two grandbabies and I always drive Rt. 666 but every time I pass mile marker 76 I don’t stop but I can’t stop wondering what happened to my two friends and if it ever happened to anyone else?