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(report by John T. Carver)

WalMart amidst the Rubble, Part I

Early on the morning of the second, very early, I drove out from my homestead with what I thought was plenty of time to reach the National Limestone Mine near Middleburg, PA. Three and a half hours was not enough, unless you travel at or around 900 mph. I am not so inclined, even where wavellite, calcite, cacoxenite, celestine, fluorite and strontianite are concerned.

In any case, we met at the the mine office, a rough and ready mini-horde of collectors eager to scour the scree for various and sundry. We were about to head off to do so when Eric Stahl, our kindly host, gave us an impromptu sermon. True, it was not expected, but if nothing else, it lent color to the trip. Also, there were no, repeat: no world ending floods, earth scorching storms of fire and brimstone or twisted ankles the entire day. Thanks for putting in the good word for us, Eric.

We traveled first to the lesser known of the two National Limestone quarries, very near the mine office. There we found flourite in a fine purple, imbedded in matrix and bits of a limestone cave that had, in technical terms, bin blowed de heckup. Several largish chunks of stalactite and flow from the walls were found as well as other fun bits. However, not satisfied with these finds, half the group headed to the second mine early under the leadership Mssr. Winsor. Suspecting that he knew something we didn't, and he did, the remainder of the group followed half an hour later. It turns out that the 2nd location is the richer of the two. Oodles of minerals as well as fossils are found on this site. A fair amount of wavellite in reasonable condition was found - most everyone got some, though the strontianite had been pretty picked over. Several ancient snails as well as calcified tube worms were unearthed. But what really amazed was the vast collection of calcites. Ranging in color from white to yellow to tea to purple red. Miniature caves of crystals, sheets and chunks. Abundanza!

After we had exhausted our group enthusiasm for calcites, about half of the group dissipated back to the DC area while the other half headed for lunch - I had mine paid for by Bob Simonoff. I had freed a double ended calcite crystal from a huge boulder with my trusty persuasion hammer for Bob's bright daughter. See, not every good deed is punished.

Lunch heartily consumed, our cavalcade continued on to the trips fossil site through the old mining towns of central PA. We stopped over briefly in Centralia, a ghost town created by an unstoppable coal fire. To say that I don't suggest it as a vacation destination is something of an understatement. But then, dear reader, I don't know your tastes.

WalMart amidst the Rubble, Part II

Our posse found themselves plop down in the center of an unused strip mine just west of St. Clair, PA. In the center, as I had promised was a WalMart. However, in the time that had passed since I was last there, about two years or so, developers had added a small mall, a Home Depot and a Tractor Supply, the later smack in the middle of the best collecting area. Oh, how I railed against the destructive winds of big box store encroachment. How could they destroy the pristine beauty of an abandoned coal field?

We looked and found a few of the remaining specimens, but there was no denying that another fine fossil site had gone the way of, well, a fossil. A few giant horse tail impressions or a fern or two were not enough to lift our crushed spirits. The blackest of depressions blanketed the hapless squad rock scouts when, with our morale at it's lowest ebb, a hero arose from the ashes, rubble, whatever. Actually, a heroine. OK, that's sexist. I'll stick with "hero".
Now, at this point you might expect me to name our rescuer, but I cannot, because you see I have forgotten her name. This horrible lapse is due to at least one of the following facts;

A: My brain has been addled by years of bizarre pursuits, like rock collecting, or
B: I am male, and therefore congenitally unable to retain things like "names".

In either case, I apologize. Please - mystery hero - contact me with your actual name so credit can be given where due.
To continue: The enigmatic savior of our trip suggested we try another nearby field. We did. As it happens, about two miles north of St. Clair there is a marvelously productive field of fern fossils. Everywhere you turn there are fossils for 100 yards by 50. I filled my pack with them and I plan to return. Whoop-dee-do. Thanks again, masked avenger.

We departed, reluctantly, at sundown. The drive back was long and trying. I arrived home tired, dirty and with a trunk full of rocks. A perfect day.