delara news Delaware Amateur Radio Association, Delaware OH   VOL 36 NUMBER 3

Jet Trails

Wally Kenyon  W8WLK

What’s That Noise?

When I moved to my new house, I strung up a dipole and started DXing on the HF bands and I noticed just about every band had interference. This interference was a low pitched hum. I did the normal switch off each circuit breaker to see if it stopped which it didn’t, and I even used a battery powered UPS to run the radio and used a laptop computer with the house main off and I still had it. I talked about it on the weekly net several times and got several things to try but nothing worked. Then, I got an email from a friend. He had just bought something off the Internet and wanted to stop by and try it out. The something he had just bought was called the  “Interference Interpreter.”  It was a little box that had a cone shaped antenna and you had to download an app to an Android phone to make it work.   All you did after all the downloading and pairing to the phone was bring up the app, turn on the box, and if there was interference present it would tell you which direction and power level. After we got the thing setup, I turned all of the radio equipment on and we opened the app. Immediately the little arrow on the phone pointed directly at…the window. We walked over to it and it still pointed the same way. Then we realized it wasn’t pointing at the window but something outside. We left the building and it pointed to the back of the property, but there’s nothing back there but a creek and five acres of woods.   So, off we went over the bridge and since the woods are really thick we took the walking trail off to the side. As we walked to the back of the woods, the little needle pointed to the house. Super… So back to the house and the needle pointed to the woods again. This time as we crossed the bridge and took the trail we kept an eye on the needle and it did something strange…it moved. No matter where we walked, it pointed to the center of the woods. Great, it’s impossible to get through the woods it’s so thick.  Then I remembered watching a deer head into the woods so I thought there must be a way to get through, and I found it, a deer trail. If we bent way over we could just barely get through. After about fifty yards or so I stepped on something spongy. Upon closer examination after moving some plants out of the way I found a sheet of some kind of wood that fit perfectly into a frame. I realized it was a door and pried it open to reveal some steps that lead down into darkness.    I scrambled back to the house to get some flashlights while my friend guarded the opening. And I thought I’d better arm myself. I grabbed a dough roller. Hey, it was the best I could do. Back at the steps I passed a light to my friend and he was eyeing the roller. I just told him “don’t ask.” As soon as we started down the smell of hot metal wafted up to us and the temperature started to rise. We first came to a door that was weathered and appeared to be stuck shut so we continued down a stone passage. And then we came to another door. This one was unlike any door I’ve ever seen.   It was beautiful. I tried the latch and to my surprise it opened. And the hot metal smell was almost overwhelming as the temperature went up at least twenty degrees. And someone was singing. I couldn’t make out the words because they weren’t in English. We slowly entered and could just make out what appeared to be an old man with something over his head like a helmet. On his hands were heavy gloves and he was pouring something gold colored into a mold. When he finished he turned and the helmet had two dark eyes like a welder would use. He saw us. He whipped off the hood and yelled “Du're sen.”  I just looked at him and said “English?” “Ye’r’ late” he says. Ok Scottish, I can do Scottish. “Late for what?” I asked and he replied “th’ pickup” and he pointed past where he was working to rows of boxes piled to the ceiling that went on as far as I could see. “Whats in ‘em?” I asked. “Ye mean thay didnae tell ye,” “Nope” I said. “ 'ere” he said,  “this is whit in th' boxes” and he pointed to a pile of golden discs and handed one to me. The sides had a cross on them and it was hard to read but it looked like “1 runde tuit.”   “What is it?” I asked. “Urr ye dunderheided jimmy ‘tis a round tuit” he yelled.  “A round tuit…so they do exist, what are they made of, it looks like gold?” I asked. “'n' ye wid be richt they're gowd” he said. “'n' tis heich time ye git 'ere, whit year is it?” “2017 “ I replied. “'n' thare hasn't yin bin passed oot in nye ower four hunderd years!” “Four hundred years…and you mean to tell me each box is filled with these?” “They’re probably worth several billion dollars” I gasped. “Aye bit dinnae be thinking aboot sellin` them...they mist be given awa' tae fowk wha need yin.” “'n' ye best be movin` 'em as it wull tak' awhile 'n' a've git wirk tae dae.” “Ok, you want us to move them out and you have work to do” I said. “Come on” I said to my friend, “we better get started like the man says.”  The old guy put the hood back on and turned back to his desk as we each lifted a box off a stack. It was all I could do to lug the thing up the stairs and when I got close to the house someone yelled “Wally, what are you doing with that bag of cat food?” “Cat food, huh? What? No, not again. “Go take a shower, we’re meeting my parents for breakfast, remember?” my wife said.  “And don’t forget about tonight. We always go out on the 1st of April.”
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