Saved for Posterity
AUGUST 13, 2006
No matter how you do it, flying from Oslo to London and then London to Los Angeles is not easy. The London to Los Angeles part only takes 11 hours. However, 11 hours on a plane is not the same thing as 11 hours somewhere else. I think because you're going so fast in an airplane, time slows down. Fortunately on Air New Zealand they have TV's in every seat. The channel I like the best is the GPS (Global Positioning Satellite) channel. Every minute or two it updates and tells you how far you've gone, where you've gone and how much time you have left. The fjords of Greenland were remarkable. I think I angered people in our cabin who were trying to sleep by keeping the windows open and staring down at the glaciers.
Once I landed at LAX I had to go through Customs. One of the customs agents flagged me and had me wait by a concrete pole. About two minutes later, police officers for the customs department came by and told me that I had been flagged. They took my passport and told me as soon as my luggage comes to go to the little customs police office. As I waited for my luggage, I couldn't imagine why I had been flagged. Do they think I am a terrorist? Drug smuggler? Did I forget to pay a speeding ticket? Did they buy something on the network they didn't like? Fortunately my luggage was late and after waiting about 20 minutes, the customs police officer came back over to me and asked me if I had asked for rush service on my passport. I said yes. He said that explains it, handed me back my passport, and that was it.
After spending a few days with Jenn and the kids, I got a haircut, went to the chiropractor, washed some clothes and was off to the state of Nevada. Before I continue, let me tell you that I am certain I am missing a gene or at least a chromosome. The Hobby Gene. I have no hobbies. Don't get me wrong, I like to do a lot of things, but I can only do them once or twice. Like golf, fishing, bowling. I am missing the gene that would allow me to have a hobby. I'm sure with medical technology advancing as fast as it is, some day I'll be able to go into a doctor's office and get a hobby shot. The closest thing I have to a hobby is mining. For over 25 years I have been fascinated by base metal and precious metal mining as well as drilling for oil. I can't explain it. When I was 15, my dad's closest friend was a geologist and an oil promoter, and I would find every opportunity I could to be on site while Jack, my dad's friend, drilled for oil. Whenever I'm out and I see an old mine of any kind, I get excited. About five years ago I took a trip with two other shopping network hosts, Jeremy Hall and Bob Weinstein. We drove Nevada in an RV and I drove them crazy making them stop at every old mine so I could get out and look around. Normally there is not much mining activity going on in Nevada in August. The mining companies tend to do much of their exploration on leases in the Yukon and Alaska in the summer. Most of Nevada exploration is done after September because of the heat. However, a deal that includes three mining companies in Nevada is about to happen. I own stock in two of these companies and I'm friends of the officers of these two companies. So I was invited to take part in witnessing this historical event for these companies. However, because they are publicly traded I have been sworn to secrecy until the news is released in about two weeks. So keep that in mind as I tell you about central Nevada.
I chartered a small Piper Cherokee from Torrance airport where I was flown to Tonopah, Nevada. Tonopah is a strange but interesting place. It's in the middle of nowhere in south central Nevada. One of the biggest things that ever happened in Tonopah is when Howard Hughes went there to marry actress Gina Peters. (I think that's her name.) Once I arrived in Tonopah I was met by one of the chief engineers, Roger, who goes by the nickname of Dooley. I got in Dooley's jeep and we drove for over two hours on big roads, little roads and eventually no roads. Just desert. It is beautiful out there. The minute we got to the mining camp, Dooley insisted that I put on a pair of boots because of rattlesnakes. I did not have any boots and I really did not want to wear the pair that Dooley thought would fit me. I told Dooley I've been in Nevada many times and never once saw a rattlesnake. Dooley kept on and I did not wish to anger him. So I wore the boots. Now folks, I hadn't walked more than three minutes down a path when a rattlesnake jumped out and bit my boot. The snake bit my boot so hard it got its teeth stuck in the bootstrap. So there I am with a rattlesnake attached to my boot. Now folks, if this ever happens to you, you'll quickly realize there's not a whole lot of options. I didn't want Dooley to shoot the snake on account of the fact it was attached to me. One of the other folks out there got a stick and two of them discussed the possibility of pulling the snake by its tail. After several minutes (which seemed much longer) I started shaking my boot fiercely and the snake fell off. Dooley wanted to shoot it, but I told him that would be bad karma. I'm fine, the snake's fine, let's leave it at that. They didn't shoot the snake and they did make me examine my leg to make sure that I really wasn't bitten. Now Dooley either has the greatest sixth sense in the world or rattlesnakes are attracted to that style boot.
For the next three or four hours, I witnessed mining activity and discussions and then we all headed 30 miles to the nearest restaurant/bar/only place you could get anything in the desert. The bar was run by a guy named Crazy Larry. Crazy Larry's bar has an official size pool table. Dooley quickly challenged me to a game of pool for $10 (cash money). I won. Dooley wanted to go double or nothing. This happened many more times until Dooley owed me approximately $320. I told Dooley that since he saved my life with the boots, he didn't have to pay me. But he would not accept this. I told him he could pay me by check or just send me the money whenever he wants. But according to Dooley, that would make him a welcher, and to Dooley that is unacceptable. Since Crazy Larry's vintage ATM was not working (and probably hasn't since the mid-1980's) Dooley insisted we drive approximately 45 more miles to the next town to get the cash. I continued to explain that it wasn't necessary but after about 15 minutes finally gave in, just like with the boots. At 12:30 at night I was not looking forward to a 45-minute drive and then an hour-plus drive back to the camp. Fortunately, we only got about 8 miles when Dooley insisted he saw a UFO and pulled his jeep off the road. Folks, if you ever find yourself in the middle of nowhere at 12:30 at night with a man you've only known for a half a day who gets out of his jeep with a shotgun to hunt UFO's, you can become a bit concerned. I asked Dooley if it was a real UFO and you point a shotgun at it, wouldn't they, like, vaporize you? And after they vaporized you, wouldn't they vaporize me just to be safe? I mean, if they can travel through space they could almost certainly disarm Dooley! Well, Dooley spent the next 30 minutes walking around in a big circle looking at everything in the sky and at that point decided it was best to just go back to camp and get my money tomorrow.
The activities began real early, just about an hour after it got light, because it hadn't gotten desert hot yet. Once again, I'm not able at this time to disclose the different activities, but it was a fascinating event to watch and partake in. About 2:00 that afternoon it was decided we were going to have a cook-out in the desert. You really don't need much charcoal. Basically, just finding a rock and putting something on it would work if necessary. We had enough meat, buns and beans. But we were missing ketchup, mustard, tomato, lettuce, and we were running low on sodas and beer. Not having exactly the right ingredients for a middle of the desert barbeque gave Dooley the opportunity he needed to not only get the groceries, but to find an ATM machine and pay me so he would not have to live with his self-assigned welcher title. Believe it or not, folks, this is where the story gets really strange.
I went with Dooley on this errand because it was hot and I liked riding around in his jeep. Dooley didn't tell me that we were on our way to the nearest brothel. Dooley knows the owners of the brothel. They have plenty of sodas there, and an ATM machine. Upon arrival at the brothel, I quickly noticed the framed Pierre Henri Matisse hanging in the main room, as well as three or four other pieces of art which I sell on the network. I was surprised and flattered to find out that the owner (can I say madame?) of the brothel watches Barry Chappell's Fine Art Showcase. So do many of the girls in her employment. One of the girls who works there, Bambi, studies art when she's not working. She also paints in her spare time. She insisted on showing me a tattoo which she drew herself on her derriere. It was a hand wearing a white glove with a rose in it. She apparently drew the picture on the small of her back herself using only a mirror, hence drawing backwards, then went to the tattoo parlor where they filled it in. It was a beautiful drawing. Bambi had also thought about entering the "Win a Date with Wade" contest that we had about ten months ago. She had even written the letter, but decided not to send it in because she thought she might not win. I told her that if she had sent the letter in, she would have won because she is both charming and also would have been the only person who sent in a letter. I told her that I would do the best I could when I get back to see if I could fix her up with Wade anyway. An unofficial survey of the ladies at the brothel showed that their favorite artist by a narrow margin was Arbe.
Dooley gave me the money he owed me. Although I didn't want it, I had to take it. I was hoping I would get another chance to play Dooley at pool and would just make the 8-ball on a shot and lose it back to him. However, I never got the opportunity. We got back to the campsite and had a great desert barbeque. After several hours of conversation, one of the mining executives offered me an opportunity to fly in a chartered plane with him from Hawthorne, Nevada to Reno, where I could get out and catch a commercial flight back to Los Angeles. So we spent the night in Hawthorne, a much larger town that houses an Air Force base, and I was back in Los Angeles by noon the next day.
After spending almost 6 weeks in Europe it felt good getting to the Nevada desert. In a couple days I leave once again to meet up with another mining company near Elko, Nevada in the Carlin gold trend. If there is reincarnation, I must have been in a past life a prospector who wandered around with his faithful mule. So until I get a hobby shot I'm going to keep exploring for natural resources. I will update you as soon as I get back from Elko. -Barry
No matter how you do it, flying from Oslo to London and then London to Los Angeles is not easy. The London to Los Angeles part only takes 11 hours. However, 11 hours on a plane is not the same thing as 11 hours somewhere else. I think because you're going so fast in an airplane, time slows down. Fortunately on Air New Zealand they have TV's in every seat. The channel I like the best is the GPS (Global Positioning Satellite) channel. Every minute or two it updates and tells you how far you've gone, where you've gone and how much time you have left. The fjords of Greenland were remarkable. I think I angered people in our cabin who were trying to sleep by keeping the windows open and staring down at the glaciers.
Once I landed at LAX I had to go through Customs. One of the customs agents flagged me and had me wait by a concrete pole. About two minutes later, police officers for the customs department came by and told me that I had been flagged. They took my passport and told me as soon as my luggage comes to go to the little customs police office. As I waited for my luggage, I couldn't imagine why I had been flagged. Do they think I am a terrorist? Drug smuggler? Did I forget to pay a speeding ticket? Did they buy something on the network they didn't like? Fortunately my luggage was late and after waiting about 20 minutes, the customs police officer came back over to me and asked me if I had asked for rush service on my passport. I said yes. He said that explains it, handed me back my passport, and that was it.
After spending a few days with Jenn and the kids, I got a haircut, went to the chiropractor, washed some clothes and was off to the state of Nevada. Before I continue, let me tell you that I am certain I am missing a gene or at least a chromosome. The Hobby Gene. I have no hobbies. Don't get me wrong, I like to do a lot of things, but I can only do them once or twice. Like golf, fishing, bowling. I am missing the gene that would allow me to have a hobby. I'm sure with medical technology advancing as fast as it is, some day I'll be able to go into a doctor's office and get a hobby shot. The closest thing I have to a hobby is mining. For over 25 years I have been fascinated by base metal and precious metal mining as well as drilling for oil. I can't explain it. When I was 15, my dad's closest friend was a geologist and an oil promoter, and I would find every opportunity I could to be on site while Jack, my dad's friend, drilled for oil. Whenever I'm out and I see an old mine of any kind, I get excited. About five years ago I took a trip with two other shopping network hosts, Jeremy Hall and Bob Weinstein. We drove Nevada in an RV and I drove them crazy making them stop at every old mine so I could get out and look around. Normally there is not much mining activity going on in Nevada in August. The mining companies tend to do much of their exploration on leases in the Yukon and Alaska in the summer. Most of Nevada exploration is done after September because of the heat. However, a deal that includes three mining companies in Nevada is about to happen. I own stock in two of these companies and I'm friends of the officers of these two companies. So I was invited to take part in witnessing this historical event for these companies. However, because they are publicly traded I have been sworn to secrecy until the news is released in about two weeks. So keep that in mind as I tell you about central Nevada.
I chartered a small Piper Cherokee from Torrance airport where I was flown to Tonopah, Nevada. Tonopah is a strange but interesting place. It's in the middle of nowhere in south central Nevada. One of the biggest things that ever happened in Tonopah is when Howard Hughes went there to marry actress Gina Peters. (I think that's her name.) Once I arrived in Tonopah I was met by one of the chief engineers, Roger, who goes by the nickname of Dooley. I got in Dooley's jeep and we drove for over two hours on big roads, little roads and eventually no roads. Just desert. It is beautiful out there. The minute we got to the mining camp, Dooley insisted that I put on a pair of boots because of rattlesnakes. I did not have any boots and I really did not want to wear the pair that Dooley thought would fit me. I told Dooley I've been in Nevada many times and never once saw a rattlesnake. Dooley kept on and I did not wish to anger him. So I wore the boots. Now folks, I hadn't walked more than three minutes down a path when a rattlesnake jumped out and bit my boot. The snake bit my boot so hard it got its teeth stuck in the bootstrap. So there I am with a rattlesnake attached to my boot. Now folks, if this ever happens to you, you'll quickly realize there's not a whole lot of options. I didn't want Dooley to shoot the snake on account of the fact it was attached to me. One of the other folks out there got a stick and two of them discussed the possibility of pulling the snake by its tail. After several minutes (which seemed much longer) I started shaking my boot fiercely and the snake fell off. Dooley wanted to shoot it, but I told him that would be bad karma. I'm fine, the snake's fine, let's leave it at that. They didn't shoot the snake and they did make me examine my leg to make sure that I really wasn't bitten. Now Dooley either has the greatest sixth sense in the world or rattlesnakes are attracted to that style boot.
For the next three or four hours, I witnessed mining activity and discussions and then we all headed 30 miles to the nearest restaurant/bar/only place you could get anything in the desert. The bar was run by a guy named Crazy Larry. Crazy Larry's bar has an official size pool table. Dooley quickly challenged me to a game of pool for $10 (cash money). I won. Dooley wanted to go double or nothing. This happened many more times until Dooley owed me approximately $320. I told Dooley that since he saved my life with the boots, he didn't have to pay me. But he would not accept this. I told him he could pay me by check or just send me the money whenever he wants. But according to Dooley, that would make him a welcher, and to Dooley that is unacceptable. Since Crazy Larry's vintage ATM was not working (and probably hasn't since the mid-1980's) Dooley insisted we drive approximately 45 more miles to the next town to get the cash. I continued to explain that it wasn't necessary but after about 15 minutes finally gave in, just like with the boots. At 12:30 at night I was not looking forward to a 45-minute drive and then an hour-plus drive back to the camp. Fortunately, we only got about 8 miles when Dooley insisted he saw a UFO and pulled his jeep off the road. Folks, if you ever find yourself in the middle of nowhere at 12:30 at night with a man you've only known for a half a day who gets out of his jeep with a shotgun to hunt UFO's, you can become a bit concerned. I asked Dooley if it was a real UFO and you point a shotgun at it, wouldn't they, like, vaporize you? And after they vaporized you, wouldn't they vaporize me just to be safe? I mean, if they can travel through space they could almost certainly disarm Dooley! Well, Dooley spent the next 30 minutes walking around in a big circle looking at everything in the sky and at that point decided it was best to just go back to camp and get my money tomorrow.
The activities began real early, just about an hour after it got light, because it hadn't gotten desert hot yet. Once again, I'm not able at this time to disclose the different activities, but it was a fascinating event to watch and partake in. About 2:00 that afternoon it was decided we were going to have a cook-out in the desert. You really don't need much charcoal. Basically, just finding a rock and putting something on it would work if necessary. We had enough meat, buns and beans. But we were missing ketchup, mustard, tomato, lettuce, and we were running low on sodas and beer. Not having exactly the right ingredients for a middle of the desert barbeque gave Dooley the opportunity he needed to not only get the groceries, but to find an ATM machine and pay me so he would not have to live with his self-assigned welcher title. Believe it or not, folks, this is where the story gets really strange.
I went with Dooley on this errand because it was hot and I liked riding around in his jeep. Dooley didn't tell me that we were on our way to the nearest brothel. Dooley knows the owners of the brothel. They have plenty of sodas there, and an ATM machine. Upon arrival at the brothel, I quickly noticed the framed Pierre Henri Matisse hanging in the main room, as well as three or four other pieces of art which I sell on the network. I was surprised and flattered to find out that the owner (can I say madame?) of the brothel watches Barry Chappell's Fine Art Showcase. So do many of the girls in her employment. One of the girls who works there, Bambi, studies art when she's not working. She also paints in her spare time. She insisted on showing me a tattoo which she drew herself on her derriere. It was a hand wearing a white glove with a rose in it. She apparently drew the picture on the small of her back herself using only a mirror, hence drawing backwards, then went to the tattoo parlor where they filled it in. It was a beautiful drawing. Bambi had also thought about entering the "Win a Date with Wade" contest that we had about ten months ago. She had even written the letter, but decided not to send it in because she thought she might not win. I told her that if she had sent the letter in, she would have won because she is both charming and also would have been the only person who sent in a letter. I told her that I would do the best I could when I get back to see if I could fix her up with Wade anyway. An unofficial survey of the ladies at the brothel showed that their favorite artist by a narrow margin was Arbe.
Dooley gave me the money he owed me. Although I didn't want it, I had to take it. I was hoping I would get another chance to play Dooley at pool and would just make the 8-ball on a shot and lose it back to him. However, I never got the opportunity. We got back to the campsite and had a great desert barbeque. After several hours of conversation, one of the mining executives offered me an opportunity to fly in a chartered plane with him from Hawthorne, Nevada to Reno, where I could get out and catch a commercial flight back to Los Angeles. So we spent the night in Hawthorne, a much larger town that houses an Air Force base, and I was back in Los Angeles by noon the next day.
After spending almost 6 weeks in Europe it felt good getting to the Nevada desert. In a couple days I leave once again to meet up with another mining company near Elko, Nevada in the Carlin gold trend. If there is reincarnation, I must have been in a past life a prospector who wandered around with his faithful mule. So until I get a hobby shot I'm going to keep exploring for natural resources. I will update you as soon as I get back from Elko. -Barry