A day in the life of a prospector
By DB
It’s still dark outside, you still feel a bit weary but you check your watch to see whether it’s worthwhile trying to get back to sleep. It’s 4.30am. If you get up and start wandering around outside it’ll be another hour before you’ll no longer need the torch. You try to go back to sleep but already there’s too much to think about. Will I go back to where I found those few small pieces yesterday, or try that place I worked the day before. Then that area down by the quartz blow looks promising. They’ve all been thrashed by hundreds of others before I arrived but yeah, nobody gets all the gold.
Bloody hell though, I wish I could find a virgin patch; be the first one on new ground. At last it’s 6am! I must have dozed off. Boy it seems to have grown colder in the last hour – perhaps I’ll curl up for a few more minutes. 6.15am. C’mon you lazy bastard, the sun has been up for ages; throw back the rugs, swing your legs over the edge of the bed. Jeez that lino floor is cold. On with the shorts and working shirt; it’s starting to smell a bit – how many days is that? Four? Better change it tomorrow or even the flies won’t want to know me. Then again… Breakfast – the same every day. One Weetbix (crushed), topped up with homemade muesli and enough long-life milk to cover it. Glad it’s winter time – the fridge is working well this time out. Fill the kettle with enough water for 1½ cups. Two slices of bread, under the griller on the two-burner stove, kettle on top. Toast buttered, kettle boiled – hot coffee at last.
Breakfast finished, rinse the dishes using as little water as possible. Clean your teeth, on with your work boots. Socks need a change too. Maybe tomorrow. Mother Nature calls, grab the toilet roll, portable toilet seat and the pick, and it’s a short stroll to your favourite resting place. Crikey that seat is cold, but the sun is up, the birds are singing, there’re a couple of ‘roos in the distance and it’s still too cold for the flies, so nice and peaceful. And not another person within shouting distance. The way we were meant to start the day. Well, that job done, and I’ve decided where I’ll detect today. Grab the freshly filled water bottles, into the car and away. Drive slowly over the broken quartz and ironstone. One day I’ll get a four-wheel drive. The old Ford sedan is great for the highway but it’s not built for this type of work. The two back tyres are bald and I’m sure that’s a new rattle coming from the front end somewhere. Ah well, as long as she keeps going till I get home in a couple of weeks.
There’s the turn off. Onto the highway for a few clicks today, not another vehicle in sight, just cruise along, save fuel! Back on the dirt again, just over this hill, across the creek, quickly remember just how low the car is. No problem. Just down that track a while and there it is, the same as when I left it yesterday. I was feeling good then, five pieces of that yellow stuff in my pocket, about 10 grams I reckon. Another day like that would be nice.
Park in the same spot, for luck. Out of the car at 7.30am and shit it’s cold! And that damned wind has come up. That’ll play hell with hearing through the headphones. Never mind; I’m not gonna get any gold standing here thinking about it.
Gold found by the author around Cue and Nannine
Cap and Headphones
Backpack on, cap on, mosquito net over the cap, headphones over the top of that; army belt with knife and water bottle; bum bag on containing ‘gold’ canisters. Hook up the detector to the backpack battery, plug in the earphones, turn it on, ground balance it. Sounds good, let’s go!
Another lovely day, should be about 28°, fine and sunny – shame about the wind. Bugger! I’ve forgotten the chain. Trudge back to the car, curse the chain for hiding on the back floor where I couldn’t see it, clip it onto the back of the army belt. That feels better; knew there was something missing.
Think I’ll take the pick with me because that pile of dirt I got those two pieces from yesterday might have some more in it. If I flatten it out, I should get a few small pieces.
Walk down the hill to where I finished working yesterday – heaps of dirt mounds, mine shafts, fallen trees and plenty of quartz boulders.
Well, what to do first – detect or hook in with the pick? I think the pick while it’s cool and if I get a couple of pieces from there it will make the rest of the day easy.
And so much for that idea. Not a speck. Never mind, I did get a piece off that other bigger pile of topsoil on the end so while I’m in the mood I’ll flatten some of that and see what it’s hiding.
Two tonnes of shifted dirt later and not a glint of the yellow stuff. Something tells me it’s not going to be a good day. Well, nothing for it but to start swinging the detector and make up for the two hours lost knocking down sandcastles.
Is it Rubbish or Gold?
It’s 9.30am and it’s warming up. The flies are out and about and as I’m the only person for about 5km around, I wonder what they would do if I wasn’t here? Do they just fly around in circles all day or do they sit in the trees waiting for someone to come along and then descend on them?
10am and I get a faint noise. I check it again, and again, from two other directions to make sure. It’s very faint but it’s there. I very carefully scrape away the stones and top layer of dirt covering ‘it’, and check to make sure the noise is still there. If it’s gone it was only a hot rock or a small piece of rusty tin you couldn’t see on top of the red dirt.
No, ‘it’ is still there. Scrape away the top inch of dirt. If it’s rubbish it should be in that lot. I check to see if I can still hear it. Yes, but it’s louder now – too loud to be anything big. It’s close, which means it’s either rubbish or a small piece of gold. I scrape and dig the next two inches of dirt, drag the dirt out of the hole, and check the hole again and hope the noise is still in there. No luck – check the last lot of dirt. Keep halving the dirt until ‘it’ is located in a small pile. Now the time has come to find out what I’ve found. I take a handful of dirt from the pile and wave it over the detector. ‘It’ is in my hand and I slowly let the dirt trickle out onto the detector.
‘Ping!’ It’s gold – far from a fortune, in fact about the size of a large match head, but my first for the day. Now fill in the hole and let’s get moving. Another is waiting!
Three hours later and with not another piece to be had I decide it’s time for a change of tactics. I’ve been using the 11-inch coil (my favourite) but perhaps the big 18-inch (which is in the boot of the car) might be better on this ground. It penetrates a lot deeper and looking at the mine shafts, there seems to be about a metre of soil until bedrock. I doubt there would be gold in this area heavy enough to sink that deep, but I have to try something.
Take off the backpack, chain and detector, trudge the quarter mile back to the car, and change discs. Boy I hate this big 18-inch thing – it’s so noisy compared with the 11-inch. Ahh, stop bloody whingeing and get working. Two hours later, nothing!
I’ve had enough of the 18-inch and change back to the 11. Two hours later
and that’s enough for the day. It’s 5pm, the sun is low in the western sky, and I promised Allen I would call at his camp to see if he needed a lift into Meekatharra tomorrow for car parts.
The closest watering hole for the author was the historic Royal Mail Hotel in Meekatharra
Sunset and Battery Recharge
As I drive into camp the sun is disappearing fast. There’s just enough time to hook-up the detector battery to recharge overnight; grab the now empty water bottles from the car; get the pick out of the boot (for tomorrow morning); grab the soap and a towel, get out of my dirty clothes and head to my portable Sola shower hanging on a nearby tree. The water’s not real hot but it feels good as the red dirt washes away. It’s getting cold now, 6.15pm and the evening breeze is coming in. Back to the van and into some warm clothes.
Next major decision – what will I have for dinner? I’ve got enough casserole in the freezer for two more meals; baked beans (no, had them last night); canned steak & veg; canned spaghetti & meatballs; or some other canned concoction. No, I think I’ll have chicken chow mein, straight from the packet. While the water is boiling for that, I refill my water bottles, wash the ‘gold’ won today (hardly worth the effort), and decide to put a bit of polish on my work boots.
Dinner is ready – more noodles than chicken. Never mind, my feet are sore, I’m tired and hungry and I like pasta, and tonight is my night to have dessert – fruit cake and custard.
After that little lot it’s time to wash up using as little water as possible because it’s 30km to Meeka for more water.
At last, up on the bed to put my feet up. It feels so good to put them up and not have to walk around again until tomorrow! Time to write a short note about my day. It’s is now 9.35pm, Tuesday May 14 and I am going to make a cup of coffee and after downing that, turn off the radio and gas light and go to sleep to dream of where the next ‘nugget’ is coming from. I’ll probably go back to the same place as today. I’m sure there is gold there. Well, I hope there is.
NOTE: The author’s experience this day was while he was working the Mindoolah Goldfield which is located 70 kilometres north-west of Cue along the Beringarra- Cue Road. Access is a few kilometres north of where the road passes through the gap in the Weld Range, the gravel track heading west to the area. The Mindoolah gold area is a compact location of workings approximately 500 metres east-west and the same north-south. Small time modern gold mining has seen a small shallow pit, a couple of large trenches, and much mullock and disturbance. The field was active from 1906 to 1909 as a prospectors’ field, before interest waned. A very small amount of activity was also reported in the late 1930s. A prospector, J. Bertram, was the first to find gold here, and his Bertram’s Reward lease was the first on the field. In 1907, an option was taken over the lease by Mr Hartrick for £6,000, and the name of the mine changed to Mindoolah Deeps. One report in 1907 lists about a dozen leases with 85 people on the field. Most of the leases contained several shafts ranging down to the water level at 70 feet. Regular small tonnages from these leases were crushed over the three years, 1906-09, probably for not much more than tucker money. A. A. Spencer constructed a 10-head battery on the field to crush from his own lease, and for other prospectors. Often referred to as Spencer’s Battery, its official name was Main Reef Battery. A lack of water held the development of the field back. Little happened after 1909, and the field was abandoned. Mindoolah Mines Limited had a small crushing reported in 1941, and the year before, T. Della Bosca, also put through a small crushing while the mine was under exemption.