Before we began talking money in earnest, I got off the horse to drink from a miracle spring. The crystal-clear water pouring out of rocks tasted like water beyond any water I have ever tasted, and it was not a trickle but a flow. He told me this was ancient water coming through veins deep in the earth from majestic Mt. Shasta, which I could see to the North.
He asked me if I could handle $6000. I almost passed out thinking he meant per month. That was the end of my crazy dreams and hopes. He saw my face and shoulders hang in sadness and said, “total!” I reached for his hand, and we shook, and both of us broke into big smiles. “This price will allow me to log the forest this winter,” he added.
Okay,” I replied, not knowing anything about logging or the logging world—I would own this magnificent land, which is what drove me at that moment. But before we sealed the deal, I said, “your freedom to log is only for this coming winter because we will be building out camp so we can open in 1960.” Surprisingly, he agreed, and this would be in the sales agreement.
Think about the following Serendipitous Event: It rained well over 100 inches that winter, and because of mud and the difficulty of using machinery, he could not log a twig. Camp Shasta remained untouched. But there’s more. The land was a prime property for logging as well as an ideal location for a logging camp. After the purchase was published, a logging company in Redding placed a big gate and lock at the entrance of our one-mile dirt road into camp. I was locked out of my land. The sign on the gate gave the address in Redding, and that’s where I immediately headed.
In my following paper, I’ll tell you about my meeting with the owner of the logging company. Sy
