Adams Diggings Found!
Ever since the a man named Adams stumbled into a fort the 1860’s with his amazing story of a valley filled with gold, thousands of people have searched in vain for the amazing lost treasure.
On his way from New York to Tucson, Adams survived having his wagon being set ablaze by Apache Indians, and then joined up with a group of miners in what’s now known as Catron County, searching for gold. Their Pima-Mexican guide promised to lead them to a valley “whose walls cried tears of gold larger than coins.” The guide kept his word and Adams and the other miners found themselves in a remote valley with huge gold nuggets. Adams and the other miners harvested and hid the gold in corn-grinding basins left by ancient Indians. Needing supplies, the group sent several men to a fort near current day Grants. When they did not return in nine days, Adams went to investigate and found all of the supply party dead. Rushing back to the gold, he discovered that Apaches had found the camp, killed everyone, and burned it. Only Adams survived.
Adams moved to California and repeatedly returned in hopes of finding his treasure again. But he never found the way back. Since that time thousands have searched Datil, Zuni, and Grants. Many have focused their searches on Reserve because that was the area Adams himself revisited. Yet no one has ever found the treasure—until now.
On Tuesday, April 1 I was distributing copies of the Carton Courier at a local business when I noticed someone I hadn’t met before took a paper then left to suspiciously wait outside. When I finished my conversation with the proprietor and stepped out, he approached me. He made me swear not to describe him physically, not to mention his age, and not to mention where I met him. I swore an oath to honor his request.
The man told me that he, by himself, had finally found the famed Adams Diggings. I always try to be open minded, but I figured the guy was a liar. He sensed my doubt and handed me a leather pouch about the size of my fist. It was very heavy, as if filled with lead fishing weights. “Look inside!” he said. The pouch was filled with shining gold nuggets that varied from the size of a grape to the size of a walnut.
He took back the pouch and tied it to his belt next to several other pouches.
“How did you find it?!” I asked.
“All I did was I put myself in the shoes of the miners in the legend,” the man said. “There were over twenty miners plucking gold nuggets off the valley walls for near two weeks and putting ‘em into a corn-grinding basins. That means that the valley walls probably had no more visible gold! And I bet they didn’t leave that gold in the basins visible, so they must of covered ‘em up with dirt and rocks. So I searched for covered corn-grinding basins! Sure enough, I found ‘em!”
I asked him why he was telling me all this. “You see, I regret I never did get permission from the land owner to take this gold. Technically, it belongs to them, so I might be considered a thief. I need to be sure no one can ever track me down, otherwise they might take my gold or arrest me! I concocted a plan. To cover my tracks, I’ve salted every remote valley from Reserve to Grants, from Datil to Red Hill with dozens o nuggets. I’ve got so many it makes no difference to me. Once you print this story, hundreds of folks will go out hunting, leaving dozens of trails. No one will be able to follow my trail or figure out where I found the treasure. That way I can spend my fortune in peace, far away from here.”
I could understand why he wanted to stay anonymous. He must have had eight-million dollars worth of gold on his belt alone. Who knows how much more he had stashed away.
“It’s time for me to disappear,” he said. “I do love this little newspaper of yours. I’ll miss it.” He pressed something into my palm. “This is for your trouble. Don’t forget your promise!” He walked away.
I opened my fist and saw he’d handed me a gold nugget. I tucked it into my pocket, but Adams’ gold has a way of disappearing. When I got home, I found I had a hole in my pocket. My little piece of history had fallen out somewhere and was now waiting to be found again.
It turns out it took one practical thinking man to finally find the gold. I wish him a happy life, and I hope he can hang onto his gold and make the world a better place. But I sure would like my nugget back