Fools Gold0

I grabbed my friends Lonely Planet: New Zealand travel book and started searching. I stumbled upon the Broken Hills gold-mine workings. Feeling like I had possibly saved the day, I began to suggest the ideas to others. Much to my dismay, it was received with a mediocre response by most of the group. Everyone seemed to be spent from the two previous days on the Coromandel Peninsula. While I couldn’t really blame them, we were in New Zealand for goodness sake! I personally think it’s going to be awhile before I get back here. There seemed to be growing consensus just to head back to Auckland. But I wanted GOLD! And who doesn’t?

Well most didn’t, although the actual probability of finding gold in an abandoned gold mine was non-existent. But it’s the idea that counts, right? Either way, I was able to get the interest of five fellow prospectors. They saw what I saw in it: adventure, excitement, and profit. We managed to steal one of the three cars and set out search for that glorious New Zealand gold.

We traveled south on the peninsula about halfway until we came to the town of Pauanui. A quick stop in the visitor center revealed we were not far from striking it big. We turned off of the main motor way onto a rural road that quickly went from asphalt to stone. The car snaked through the forest on the road that was built to accommodate one and a half cars. The trees above made a canopy that only allowed part of the sun’s ray through, creating an eerie twilight. I felt like Marlow in Joseph Conrad’s, Heart of Darkness, venturing deep into the jungle in search of its spoils. Others in the car began to guess who’d be the first killed, as if we were suddenly part of a B-rate horror film in which one of us was luring the rest in to the remote forest as if to repay the rest for some past wrong doings. I suggested such morbid talks should be end, and they did, with everyone concluding it was I who had evil intentions.

We finally came to a small car park at the trail head, unloaded the car, loaded up our bags, and set out. About five minutes into the hike we were suddenly climbing up through the forest, but excitement soon became exhaustion when the up part didn’t stop. With legs burning and lungs gasping, I soon wondered if those who decided not to come had made the right decision. Of course they didn’t. I knew once we struck gold they’d come running to us like lost cousins when you’ve won the lottery.

We continued to trudge up the mountain on the natural steps that were provided by surfaced tree roots. At one point we passed a group of elderly trampers who were easily in their seventies and thought to myself, “Geez, I’m here sucking wind while these old folks are taking it like was a stroll in the park.” We tried to act calm and collected as we moved by them, but I think they saw through our façade. Old people have special powers you know.

After a good forty-five minutes going uphill we made it to a look out point that peered over the valley. It was a humid day and you could see the moisture wrap around the hills in the distant. The crickets chirping reminded me of summers back home. We drank some water and ate a small snack as we admired the forest’s serenity.

Refreshed and rea
dy to go, we continued on, but this timed downhill. Going down proved to be similarly tricky because the mud made for shoddy footing. A few of my companions found themselves with dirt covered derrieres. At the bottom (well really the middle of the mountain) we came to a five-hundred meter long mining tunnel.

The tunnel, meant to be one of the highlights of the trail, was used about one-hundred years ago to send ore through the mountain when gold mining was still prominent in the area; this was of course easier than sending it over the mountain. We had brought our flashlights (what Kiwis refer to as torches) and were ready to venture into the unknown.

The floor was a muddy mess and forced us to walk on the thin rails on which carts of ore use to run upon. Any slip and I was guaranteed to have my clean hiking boots painted in a reddish brown from top to bottom. The walls too, were oozing with a slimy brown, not to mention the giant cave crickets almost the size of my palm. And when we turned off our flashlights you could see the tiny blue glow worms that made it seem like you were suddenly outside looking at the night sky. I managed to make it down the cool and damp tunnel and appear on the other side with only a few bumps on my head from the ceiling.

The rest of the trail was equally as exciting as the first, with a few other smaller tunnels, mud pits, and waterfalls along the way. All the while, I had been trying to spot some glittery gold and at one point knelt down in a stream, grabbed a handful of dirt and sifted for flakes. Needless to say, I came up empty handed. We’d forgotten to pick up our surveyor pans in town, although actual panning is prohibited in the park.

We twisted around the side of mountain and came upon a copper-colored river down below. While watching the river snake from above, I heard someone behind me say, “Who wants to go swimming?” I, much less anyone else, hadn’t come prepared to swim, but sometimes peer pressure get the best of you. We forged our own path to the river, stripped down to our boxers and slowly waded in. The water was frigid and I had one of those “This was a dumb idea” moments. But why not? We were in New Zealand for goodness sake! At least that’s what I keep on telling my self.

A quick attempt at drying off and short walk back to the car we were ready to head back to Auckland. All the while something had been stirring in my head, somewhat of a revelation, if you will. I began to think about all the others who decided for one reason or another not to come and how much they had missed out. No photos or words would really be able to describe our adventure.

That little description in that tiny travel book just didn’t seem to be adequate to convince the rest of the gold mine’s greatness. It didn’t have any giant billboards advertising it, it didn’t have and pictures showing it, and it must’ve seemed to some that it was nothing more than a hike on the side of the road.

Yet this is what I’ve come to realize- that there doesn’t need to be all that stuff in order to have a great time. All one needs to have is a small sense of adventure and exploration. Why follow the billboards and signs in life if they’re just going to take you where everyone else goes? Of course all those places are great and dandy. And they’ll likely provide a great experience- but I doubt they’ll provide an original experience.

So maybe we didn’t strike gold and aren’t bound to cruise around in Lamborghinis. But we did make a profit; we got to conquer merciless hills, go through a mountain, swim half naked in river, and share a sense of accomplishment with five fellow gold-miners. Gold mining may not be my calling, but I’m no fool when to recognizing a good time.