They Say this is the Golden Age, And Gold is the Reason for the Wars We Wage...        
        Mo stopped by with her bike this afternoon, and since I had been putzing around the apartment all day getting caught up on the latest Apple Computer news (they introduced the 3g iPhone today) I decided to take it for a spin. I rode down to the Earth Angel health mines where for three bucks you can sit in a mine full of radon gas and be cured of your ailments (it's supposed to be a miracle worker for arthritis).
        I decided my body is healthy enough as it is (isn't radon deadly anyway?) and tried to find the old railway path that connects Basin to Boulder (Mo told me it would be a good idea to ride the bike there if I ever needed to go to Boulder). I found some kind of old path and decided to follow it for a bit. It ended up paralleling a river so I stopped and walked down the hill to check it out. There was a little pool of water gathered off to the side and some sand that had washed ashore. I decided to test the water temperature. It was freezing of course. While I was bent down sticking my hand in I noticed the weirdest thing: it looked like someone had dumped glitter in that part of the river. Every time the water lapped against the shore it sent little gold particles racing around. "What the...are you kidding me? Is this gold?" It was throughout the sand as well. I had to bring some back with me and find out what the heck it was, so I looked around and found an old Walmart bag and filled it up with the sparkling sand.
        When I got back, I began the process of separating the "gold" from the sand, and let me just say: what a major pain in the ass. The funny thing is I became obsessed with doing it and devised a method that included using coffee filters, an old peanut butter jar, an aluminum cooking pan, a large plastic bowl, and a tub for discarded water. I couldn't pull myself away until I was satisfied that I couldn't get any more gold out of the sand. It seemed like every time I sloshed water around in the pan it would sparkle more and entice me to keep going. I forgot all about dinner and it was after midnight by the time I stopped. I reckon I spent 7 hours nonstop pulling gold flakes and dust from a few cups of sand.
        My feet are aching and my back is stiff from being bent over the sink all night, but I know tomorrow I'm going to have to tell myself that I can't go back down there, get more, and do it all over again. That's not what I'm here for (and besides I'm running out of coffee filters). No, my career as a prospector is over, but now at least I can somewhat understand why communities like Basin were founded in the first place.
        There is something both magical and terrible about the possibility of striking it rich.