Mates Are Easier To Find Than Gold

And they’re worth a lot more. Anyway my loves, today was the fourth consecutive day in the bush, although today’s bush was less isolated than the Kara Kara. That was a strange feeling place, not antagonistic but watchful and maybe resentful. All these goldfields saw massive population growth over days, not weeks, and success was rewarded by theft and murder. And if I see any baston digging up gold when I’m not then I’ll stick my pick in his head and nick it! Today was a lovely day. The temperature had turned in the night and I’d had to put another cover on the bed, but it was brilliant to be cool in the morning sun.

I checked out of the motel, drove down to Coiltek, where I’ve hired my gear, and extended the hire to Sunday night. Tonight I’m staying at a smaller town called Avoca, just to see if a change can change my gold luck. Coiltek advised me of a local place to find gold, just a couple of miles away. Now, I’m not sure that this isn’t Muck About a Pommie Week, but I’ll trust them.

I found the track, parked up and started detecting. Plenty of action but all old iron, or lead bullets. Then a revelation occurred. An old bloke, who had been in Coiltek when I was there, had heard that I hadn’t found owt for four days and he drove down to where they’d sent me. He introduced himself as Bill and told me to pack up and follow him. Diamond geezer.

He guided me to hot spots where he had found lots of gold up to last week, and walked round with me for a couple of hours. Then he had to go to pick up his cousin from hospital who needs a triple heart bypass. Bill, you are a gent and I’ll see you again tomorrow!

The day went on, but you don’t notice time passing when you’re prospecting, particularly when it’s pleasantly warmed up. However plenty of action but no gold. No freakin gold. No freakin gold.

In the end some monkeys moved in to where I was prospecting so I wrapped up and came down to Avoca, a typical rural Oz town.

The light on the way down was beautiful as the sun was slipping down. But still reasonably high as it is still late summer/early autumn here.

Avoca is small but pleasant. A bit like me, and my room in the Avoca Motel was great.

The centre of the village is the memorial to lost soldiers, loads of them in both world wars.

Poor little buggers. Dragged from here to Palestine and Gallipoli when they should have been shearing sheep and herding cattle. Cop this; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cZqN1glz4JY

Need any hankies? If you do then don’t worry. It’s normal.

I showered and went down to the Victoria Hotel for beer and dinner. There was a very lively Hen Party doing a bus tour of the region in a day. They were very drunk and kept singing about the bride that ‘her name is Sheila, her name is Sheila, she drinks and smokes and ***** all the blokes, her name is Sheila.

What they said she did with all the blokes didn’t refer to playing bridge with them or anything civilised like that. I can’t repeat it. I caught a photo of the reluctant rearguard who had to be dragged back on to the bus. The older woman up front is the mother of the bride, who sang the song most loudly. The lady on the left drank her drinks through that straw in her mouth which was in the shape of a willy and things. Disgusting.

The food was great, which is lucky because it was the only place open in town. Tomorrow is gold time!

Night night.