I saw on the news last night — oh boy — that California was experiencing a Gold Rush... again.

During the Great Depression the government actually trucked homeless men from the cities, into the mountains of California, handed then a pan, a shovel, a blanket, and a sack of flour, with the same “good luck” you hear from a casino cashier. Many “made wages.” Others made a living mining the miners. A fortunate few founded a fortune the same way Hearst of newspapers and castle fame, and Stanford, as in the university.

Those out on the creeks today all say they are just trying to supplement an unemployment check. Let me tell you that historically, ever since the days Sutter sent Marshall out to build a sawmill on the American River, the best defense of what was yours was not a six-gun, which contrary to Hollywood History —except for the movie, Paint Your Wagon— was not worn where their wasn’t a danger of being attacked by a California Golden Bear, extinct since 1922. Miner’s self governing mining district laws worked very protecting the legal rights of a claim. It was disinformation that kept “greenhorn pilgrims” moving on over the next hill.

Brian Williams of NBC Nightly News made a mistake by reporting that experts consider that only 20 percent of all the gold in California has been mined. I disagree. The wealth that allowed the North to win the Civil War, was less than 10 percent of what is still there.

How this may benefit a tourist from Dusseldorf hoping to find an ounce nugget to pay for his plane fare, takes a bit of explaining. Visit the site of the Marshall Mill in Coloma, stand for a moment above the mill race. The discovery was not for digging in the dirt alone. What happened was when river was diverted into the “ditch,” water power alone uncovered placer gold naturally deposited by rain water runoff a million or more years ago.

I have a friend that underwater dredge vacuums his claims gravel down to bedrock after ever flood, and makes enough in two weeks, to lay on the beach the rest of the year. The next year, he does it all over again. Their are roads in California that show fine gold after every rainstorm.

You need to be a U.S. citizen to stake a claim —that big-city environmentalists have made difficult to do, even though living next to garbage dumps far more destructive than even coal mining — so don’t expect to hit it any bigger than gifting a heart shaped nugget necklace to a girlfriend.

Here is a hint if you get caught prospecting —a mineral trespass— on somebody's claims, supposedly staked under the law of 1872; ask to be shown the discovery and corner posts. Know also, from my experience, all of this is very hard work!

There are many opportunities for recreational panning, sluicing, and metal detecting along the blue Highways 49 of Sutter’s Mill, and 299 running past the Shasta Batholith. The fun part of finding these is striking up a conversation about gold over a short stack of hot-cakes in a “California Cafe, with a waitress named Mabel.” If an old-timer pulls the find of his lifetime for show-and-tell, listen. Be sincere. Take his picture. Ask when, where, and how!