Rubyvale…what is there to say about Rubyvale? What a fucking experience. It is a tiny little mining town population….maaaaaaaaaaaaabye 40. We drove in and set up camp at the little rv campground. Some people chose to put up tents some people decided to sleep under the stars. We jumped in the pool which was probably about 38 degrees, but it felt good as it was about 95 degrees out. We met with Peter, a sapphire miner who came to rocky from New Zealand in the 70’s when he was 21 and never left.
The next day we split into two groups, one that mined in the morning and one that would mine the afternoon. I went in the morning group. After we got to the mine, we split in half again and half of us went down in the mine to jackhammer and fill wheelbarrows to take up top, and half sorted through the dirt and rocks already collected panning for sapphires. We then switched. We came back, had lunch, and went for a walk around the “town” which was essentially a number of shacks or campers hastily scattered over a number of mining sites.
We came back and jumped in the pool again. Zoe was determined to start a whirlpool and so about 8-10 of us got in and started jogging around the rim of the pool. It actually worked pretty damn well. We got a fairly strong current going and when we stopped I did two laps around the pool without moving a muscle.
The afternoon group came back and we went over to Pete’s shop where he sorted out all the sapphires for us. He put them all in plastic bags in a big Tupperware and we pulled them out without looking. Mine were pretty cool but not that good. Some people got really really nice ones. Then they took the most expensive/pretty looking ore and did a raffle for it. Zoe got it. Damn.
Then the night really began. We went across the street to the bar/restaurant in town, we got ourselves some delicious greasy pub grub, and we started drinking. Like miners. There were a lot of old bearded men in the bar, and there was a one-man-band who played a lot of classic rock/countryish type songs. We kept buying Jen drinks. And I think I had two beers before dinner, 3 after, and then a number of jack and cokes after that (lost count after 2) needless to say when midnight rolled around I was pretty much trashed. The funny…or disturbing…(we’ll go with disturbingly funny) thing was that I was one of the most sober people at the bar (keep in mind some people did leave early…can’t imagine why). We bought Jen some more drinks. She confessed after I gave her a Jack and Coke that “this is the most drunk I’ve ever been in my life,” which is funny, because I have been able to witness/have been responsible for the 3 out of the 4 times that has happened on this trip (the first two times were back-to-back excursions to the AB hotel way back in Sydney).
Anyways people disappeared, shenanigans occurred OH MY FUCKING GOD I FORGOT ABOUT PEDRO! Peter (our Peter, Peter C, our professor) got Spenny to convince the one-man-bad to allow some harmonica accompaniment with the next song. Peter had apparently been trying for a while but wasn’t quite as intimidating as a 6’8’’ 20-something year old Amurican.
I saw Peter approach the mic. Saw him whip out the harmonica, and I thought: “Oh, no. This will not end good.” Peter had been keeping up with us drink for drink, and while he might be a veteran, he is certainly not 20 years old.
He then proceeded to blow my mind. I have never heard harmonica that good. Probably because I have never been that drunk listening to harmonica…but all the same. It was AMAZING. It was a proud moment for us, and it was probably the peak of the night. It all went downhill from there.
Well, not as downhill as it could have been knowing our group. The “drunk bus” headed out at around 12:00. I should explain. The bar hired a local kid to drive his van around on Friday nights and take everyone home from the bar. Hence, “the drunk bus”
Jen wanted to spend some more time with this local young chauffeur, and so she decided to take a seat next to him on the drunk bus. Then she met the witch.
The witch was, essentially, Caitlin Smythe in 40 years. She was a 60 year old lady in…..robes….that kicked Spencer’s ass in pool, and when he asked her what she wanted to drink (they had bet the outcome of the game on a drink) she just told him to let them know that she wanted a drink and they would know what to do. Spencer pointed her out and the bar whipped up a drink for him. He asked them what was in it, but they wouldn’t tell him. He noticed that at least three different hard alcohols went into it. When he asked her what it was, she told him it was a witch’s potion.
She threatened to put some curses on people later in the night. Before selling some weed to the locals. In the bar.
Anyways. She ran out of the bar to get a spot on the drunk bus and shooed Jen out of the front seat because that “is my damn seat missy!” She made a wild gesture at the crowd outside, and shouted “I’ll see you all next Friday!” or something to that extent. Some raised their glasses to her, others merely shook their heads.
As Jack said: “When you have a permanent spot on the drunk bus, you know you’ve got a drinking problem.”
ANNNNNYWAYS. I left around 12:30 because we were going to go try and find this bonfire that some guy had invited us to. I realized that half of our group had disappeared with him some time ago, and everyone I was with didn’t have a fucking clue where they were supposed to go. I half contemplated wandering the pitch-dark roads in search of the party for maybe a minute. Then we heard a splash and saw two figures emerging from the pool, and hop the fence over towards us.
It turned out that they were to local kids who had managed to find someone (no naming any names but SOMEONE from our group) to buy them alcohol. They were 14 and 17. They wanted to hang out with us and go to the party. I decided it was time for me to go to bed.
I took a pee, (killing a few cane toads for Kelsey C along the way) and went to bed. I had slept for a bit when I was suddenly awakened by the sounds of Ke$ha BLASTING ALL AROUND ME. “Did the jackasses bring speakers to the campsite? Are they actually partying around all these old people in RV’s who are trying to sleep?”
I emerge from my tent ready to yell at my peers, only to find that the campsite was completely deserted. There was no one out but me. I squinted into the surrounding areas to try and find the glint of a bonfire. I couldn’t see it. It sounded like a pretty good party though. I thought, “hmmmm maybe I should try and find this…..” then I remembered “ITS 3:15 IN THE FUCKING MORNING” I took another pee and went back to bed, and fell to sleep about an hour later. I was dreaming peacefully in my intoxicated sleep before I awoke to the sounds of NPR’s Australian equivalent thundering around me:
OBAMA REFUSED TO MEET WITH RUSSIAN GOVERNMENT OFFICIALS YESTERDAY OVER THE RECENT COMPLAINTS OF
“oh fuck.” Went my hungover brain, “The U.S. declared nuclear war on Russia, and someone is letting us know”
The radio was quickly silenced, however, to be replaced by a shouting Australian. “Eh!? How do you like it when was wake you up! Tryin to sleep are ya? We spent all of last night awake because of you so I thought we’d return the favor!”
Oh. Whew. No nuclear war. Just an angry Australian. Much less formidable.
I thought about going to talk with him, but I decided to let him fume in his self-righteous anger as it was probably more conducive to some level of forgiveness. Pointing out the flaws in his argument would probably not help our case when one is old, grouchy, and deprived of sleep.
I did hear the mutterings of conversation after the outburst though, possibly Aukeem had gone to talk to him? (it is something that Aukeem would do). As I fell back asleep I hoped Aukeem or whoever it was would point out these details (and some extra that I add now based on additional information):
1.) Apologize for the noise, it was inconsiderate and made it impossible for anyone in the area to sleep, however:
2.) Point out that half of our group was in bed by midnight. Some didn’t drink, others drank too much and had to pass out early.
3.) The party was a half-mile down the road. Where we are from, if you walk a half mile down the road, the noise is insulated by buildings, trees, natural structures, and music won’t carry well enough to seem like a party is in your own backyard when it so far away.
4.) No one realized how loud the music was until they reached the campsite after returning from the party.
5.) The music and noise from the bar continued until 2 am. We weren’t at the bar then. If your campsite it literally across from a pub on a Friday night, you can’t really complain too much about noise.
6.) Most of our group, apart from a few stragglers, came home before 3:00. Which means the party, THROWN BY LOCAL PEOPLE AND NOT US, raged on a while after we were no longer participants.
7.) You just successfully woke everyone else up in the campsite not from LC and probably just got to sleep a few hours ago. Thanks for ruining their day.
8.) Apparently, Lewis and Clark has been coming to Rubyvale for over 10 years. The townsfolk know almost one year in advanced the date at which our group will arrive. The town is actually quite dependent on our patronage as part of their local economy. If you know that the LC group is coming then that is probably not the best date to set up your camper in their campsite. Apparently problems like this have occurred in the past.
9.) It is easy to blame us as we come into town, as foreigners, and leave in a few days. But the reality is, the party was thrown by locals, probably the relatives of those in the campsite, and though some LC kids did participate, they were not aware of the consequences until they returned home.
I don’t know what was said but we packed up camp quick to avoid the any angry glances (none came our way) and when our bus pulled out, angry Australian man, waved us off with a big smile.
And here is what I learned about the rest of the night after I had passed out:
The crew I was with had taken the little miner kids under their wing and let them tag along as they looked for the bon fire. They thought they found it when they saw a flickering light in one of the fields nearby, but apparently it was a fire that someone had started and then abandoned. It was a good thing they found that fire when they did because it had started to spread a ways about its boundaries and most likely would have developed into a bush fire if our crew hadn’t stomped it out.
They found the real bonfire a few minutes later when they music started up, and met up with the rest of the LC kids. Apparently there was a good deal of dancing that went on sur la dance floor, mostly by Kelsey C. People kept asking her how much she had had to drink, or asked what she was on, because it looked fun. Little did they know that Kelsey was probably one of the more sober people at the bonfire and “just wanted to dance”
Apparently when the bonfire was getting started, a couple of rednecks decided that instead of looking for firewood for the fire, they would just use a chainsaw (keep in mind they were very much drunk) to cut down a tree nearby. A living tree. That is, a tree which was full of water and very green. When it—for some reason—didn’t light very well, they dumped a half a can of gasoline on the wood and that started the party right up.
Also, a few of the guys showed off their donut skills in their 4x4’s all over the field next to the bonfire. I guess drunk driving isn’t as big a deal when there is nothing to run into but a stray tree every 100 yards or so.
All in all it made for a pretty crazy experience, and not one that I will forget in a hurry. The funny part is, this is actually the censored version of the story. All of the dangerous things are included, but none of that juicy personal information gossip that so many back home want to hear. Looks like you’re gonna have to drag it out of the people themselves when they get back.
