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Basin Range Volcanics Geolapidary Museum and Rock Shop in Deming
Last updated on Sunday, January 12, 2003
What thunder in an egg
By Jay Jackson
Christopher Blackwell discusses
the vagaries of thundereggs
Photo by Jay JacksonIt's easy to miss. The country's largest public display of thundereggs - a dazzling array of color - lies hidden in a small dirt building with a cave-like entrance and a sign that has the appeal of a high school science book.
But, for the curious, to crack open the rough-hewn wooden door to the Basin Range Volcanics Geolapidary Museum and Rock Shop 10 miles southeast of Deming and two miles below Rockhound State Park is to find the pearl in the oyster, the pea in the shell game or, in this case, the rainbow hidden in the plain rock.
For a buck, museum manager Christopher Blackwell turns on 4400 watts of electric lights and personally guides visitors through the unique world of thundereggs.
It was believed by the Warm Springs Indians of Oregon that thundergods living in the Mount Hood and Mount Jefferson volcanos threw hot rocks at each other when they had their explosive quarrels, Blackwell said, explaining how the name thundereggs came to be used to describe the occasional hollow rock that is filled with colorful minerals.
In fact, early theories about the eggs were similar to the mythology, namely, that the colorful insides of the rocks were due to volcanic "bombs" tossed into ash, he said.
However, the present theory, furthered by the museum's owner, Robert Paul "Geode Kid" Colburn, is that cavities formed by escaping gas left porous rock shells that were filled with water. Minerals in the water - like agate, silica and mud - gave the eggs' yolks their individual designs and stunning colors.
Theories, though, quickly pale when the lights come on with a "thunk!" and visitors find themselves face-to-face with row after mesmerizing row of polished, paired egg halves staring back from long, glass cases. If one looks closely enough at the sparkling blues, reds, greens and browns, Blackwell said, there's a face in one, a beach with waves in another and even one that looks like a pistol.
Next to each group of rocks is a bit of information that Blackwell expands upon for those interested.
A person can visit for the beauty or the science of the rocks, he says, both of which are in abundance at the museum.
The museum started some 12 years ago when Colburn wanted a place to house his life-long passion for finding and polishing thundereggs. He has on display the first egg he found at 13 in the Berkeley hills of California. Though he has eggs from around the country, 80 percent of those in the museum have come from his mines in Luna County.
Of note are a couple of uncracked, 16-inch diameter eggs from nearby Rockhound State Park and an equally large cracked rock that has an egg within an egg within an egg.
Although bigger collections exist, the museum's display is the largest open to the public, Blackwell said.
The eggs, most of which are found in the northern part of the western American mountains, were first mined in Oregon in the 1920's. They're rare: one percent of ash bed with geodes (hollow rocks) have eggs and only one percent of those eggs are considered good, making them a treasured find by rockhounds, Blackwell said.
When asked by a couple if it's possible to tell which rocks are eggs, Blackwell said no, not at first.
"But you do learn a little when you've mined an area for awhile," he said. "Learning an area is really no more than learning a fishing hole."
"We've lost a big part of the rockhound hobby over the past 20 years," Blackwell said, "with a loss, too, of those who could teach newer rockhounds. Rock books can be a problem, because they just add new sites to their lists, never rechecking previous public sites, some of which have been dug out for years."
But despite all this, the search for thundereggs remains a popular pastime.
For those interested, the museum also sells eggs for anywhere from one dollar to hundreds. All work from mining to final polish is done by Colburn and Blackwell.
"Every piece is cut and polished one at a time," Blackwell said. "Though not really an economically efficient means, a person gets the same polish on the stuff for sale as on collection pieces."
And the same individual attention is given as well to museum visitors as well.
Blackwell said that when he was young he wanted to guide people around as a forest ranger, "but, unfortunately, they don't do that much, so I just do it here."
"You know how you become an expert?" he said, squatting down to talk with a young boy who just completed the tour with his family. "You find something most people don't know anything about and learn a little bit."
For those rockers who thrill at the prospect of a rare find, pulling off the road to Rockhound State Park and on to the thunderegg-paved driveway of the Geolapidary Museum and Rock Shop is one of rockhounding's few sure things.
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