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During the early '70's a wandering prospector known as "Old Frazier" uncovered a vein of gold at the base of the high mountain adjacent to the "Park."
According to the legends of the oldest settlers, over a million dollars was taken from the workings of the discovery; the mountain was named after the old prospector and the settlement was put on the maps as "Frazier Mountain Park."
One of the winter sport projects now being developed that will attract enthusiasts from all over the country, and foreign places — what's left of them — is a ski-slide starting at the summit of Mt. Pinos, close by, that will follow the gentle slopes into
the valley, a trifle over five miles. A State Highway has been surveyed to the summit, and then on down into the further valleys to connect with Coast Highways.
The "Park" has a sprinkling of fine modern cabins nestling among the old wide spreading oaks, and tall fragrant pines that blend in charmingly with the landscape. There is an abundance of clear crystal spring water, electricity and wood fuel for open fireplaces.
For those enthusiasts who roam with a "Coach Trailer" there are spots of restful beauty and privacy. A vacation place that will make the old young again and keep the young in the vigor of their youth.
would ThROuqh The camera
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and back streets, grabbed my boat just as it was pulling off.
In one of our expeditions we discovered the remains of a people called the Dune Dwellers of Shabrak Usu, who had lived in the Gobi Desert twenty thousand years ago.
In Indo China I contracted a malady that made me deaf for weeks (but I can hear better than ever now ) .
Some of my most terrifying hours were spent aboard our pearling lugger one black night during a hurricane, an eight-knot cross tide and our engine refusing to do more than five knots, and we right in the middle of the most dangerous waters of the Great Barrier Reef off Thursday Island, Australia. We spent the night on beam ends with tons of our gear and food crashing about and two drums of wood alcohol
flooding the decks, which meant no lights of any kind, and every moment we feared that a spark from the lousy engine might set us off into Kingdom Come. With anchors out we could do nothing but hang on by all fours like monkeys until morning came.
In the shadow of the Pyramids, in Egypt, I made the discovery of the remains of a prehistoric race that had lived there fifty thousand years before the Pyramids were built. For this I received an appreciative acknowledgment from the Museum of Natural History in New York. They said the discovery firmed an important link in tracing distribution of "homo sapiens" on this good old planet of ours.
Happenings like these do break the monotony and any one of these experiences would make a good story in itself. One
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Shackelford gets some close-ups of Balinese dancing girls.
of these days, through the pages of International Photographer, I will tell you more of these "carryings on." It will not be long before you will see a collection of these tales in book form similar to one now published, called "Two Lugs on a Lugger," by George Dromgold, which narnates a year's picture expedition of Dromgold and myself to the South Seas.
My travels for picture material have carried me over 600,000 miles to many far corners of the earth, and I hope to double that mileage before I wrap up the old box for good. There are so many things yet to be photographed, unbelievable things that can only be proven through the medium of sound and color motion pictures.
A few of the things I have listed in my little black book yet to be captured pictorially are: A practically unknown islet inhabited only by giant ants. There are over 1,800 ant habitations on the island, averaging sixteen feet in height and sixteen feet across at the base, and so thickly built as to resemble a modern city of towering skyscrapers.
Then there is a country where the hairless ape roams about at will, walking upright like humans and building his home in the tree tops. And speaking of apes, there is another place where monkeys swim under water and catch fish.
And listed, too, in the little book is a cone shaped island rising nearly straight up out of the sea, where over 3,000 people have literally woven their houses into the tangled vegetation covering the cliff-like sides of the island. The natives lash their canoes to the precipitous slopes with vines, as there are no beaches and there is no walking around, as they can only climb about while ashore; the "island of human ants," I call it.
Have you ever seen the place where the poultry peddler walks around with an enormous crate filled with four or five dozen live chickens picked clean of their feathers, the crate balanced precariously on his head? Handy for the housewife, no doubt.
Then there is an island about two miles in diameter. From seaward it appears to be a ring of barren cliffs sixty to eighty feet high, but at low tide and after careful search you may find a winding entrance where you can go through in a small boat, and once inside discover a beautiful lagoon surrounded by smooth sand beaches and luxuriant tropical vegetation and inhabited by some two hundred natives. A friend of mine who was there a few years ago said the natives claimed he was the first white man they had seen in twenty years.
I don't know why so many of my fellow camera explorers have passed up such interesting material, but I do know that as soon as the present unpleasantness involving the different countries is over, I'll be on my way again, with a sound and color camera.
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