For years, I have been hearing about and occasionally reading about mysterious obsidian found only at Glass Buttes, Oregon. This year I made a trip to this Mecca for rock hounds and met with Emory Coons a noted knapper and authority on local obsidian. We spent long hours discussing the various forms of obsidian to be found in the locality, then we hit on Fire Obsidian. He showed me some cabs he had fashioned from the material and explained the complexities of finding the stones with fire, orienting the stone for the best possible reflection of color and then how easy it is to grind right through the micro thin layer, ruining this precious gem. Undaunted by the difficulties in acquiring the rock, or the delicacy with which the stone requires, when cabbing, I asked that he take me to mine some of this enigma of the rock world. We planned for the next day, when Cecil, Emory’s father, would be free to take me for the experience I would not soon forget.
One does not realize how out of shape you are until you attempt to do a task, which would have been simple just a few years earlier. Cecil promptly left me in the wake of his dust, which was rapidly turning to mud. Yep, it began to rain on this grey morning adding to the already difficult task. As I stood to catch my breath, I noticed snow on the top of Glass Buttes Adding an ethereal glow to the already enchanting countryside. I finally caught up to Cecil who threw me a rock hammer and said to gently chip the obsidian away from the matrix. Before he finished his sentence, I noticed blood on the ground and told him he must have cut himself. In fact, as I had seated myself on the ground, I had punctured my hand and was the one in need of attention. As I settled in to chipping the obsidian, Cecil began to relate his many experiences in his search for earth’s jewels. Not to be rude I waited patiently for an opportunity to ask when we would get to the Fire Obsidian. Sometime latter, when he stopped to take a drink, I asked so when are we going to the fire pit? He laughed and told me we have been in it since we got here! I looked at the stones we had dug and could not see anything resembling what Emory had showed me the night before. Cecil explained that since the sky was grey it would be nearly impossible and that we would have a better chance to see if we had been fortunate, after we had tumbled the outer surface from the rock.
Later we returned to his home in Burns and began the process of removing the oxidation from the rocks. After only a few hours, we took the rocks, washed and the proceeded to grade them according to the amount of fire each showed. Believe me it is not an easy process, miniscule clues hide within each rock, telling if and where the fire is. More often than not, the stone is just a nice gold or silver sheen and some have no color other than black. However, when you do find one with fire it is unmistakable! Out of the near 200 pounds collected, only about a 5 gallon bucket had potential for fire. Of that, most was practice grade, then there was a small representation of visible fire, and finally a few that were almost blinding. Emory laughed at my inexperience, telling me that this was the easy part. Tomorrow we would sort through the last batch again and see if we found any lunar rock. I could not resist, so I asked how would we recognize a lunar rock, he stated, “It will show fire under a full moon you’ll see.”
As we broke for dinner, Emory started pulling out tray after tray of cabochons he had cut from some of the top grade of Fire Obsidian, these he called Black fire! I soon learned why. Those gems were absolutely the finest examples of fire I have ever seen. The color was so intense on a black bed of obsidian; I knew I had to add this material to my line of jewelry. It seemed each stone became increasingly better as the night went on. Now folks, you think I may be exaggerating, but I tell you the light was no more than a 60-watt bulb and these stones were brilliant. The coup de gras came when Emory said I only have one stone left to show you, at which time he produced an emerald cut Black Fire stone. My jaw nearly fell off its hinges. Everything else became second best. I will say that this form of Obsidian is by far as good as or better than any Black Opal I have seen.
