With lobster season now officially over, I can now take some time and try and make some money to buy new diving equipment.

Every single glove, wetsuit and boot that I have has holes in it.

So, it’s back up to the East Fork to become wealthy – and with Gold now around $1,000 a Troy ounce, all I would need is a teaspoonful of flakes to make my trip worthwhile.

I arrived in the parking lot at the end of the road at 7 AM.

I figured out how to pack my sluice, shovels, pick, pans, classifiers, cigars, lunch, beer and cleaning kit into one backpack.

I tried to recruit another person to come along, but nobody could make it – or didn’t want to come; I didn’t even consider “Mr. Know It All” from previous trips for today’s run – he’s totally out of shape and needs to rest every 100 yards for a “smoke and beer break.”

So, just like solo SCUBA diving, I went solo prospecting today.

I was fully prepared to use my martial arts abilities should anybody try and take my Gold.

I hiked for about 40 minutes up river and started to sample pan areas where the water slowed.

From what I have heard, the Gold here is very spotty; you can be working an area five feet away from someone who’s pulling out color, but end up with nothing.

I came across a huge rock in the middle of the ice cold river that looked like it had virgin gravel deposits on the down stream side.

I crossed the river in almost waist high water to get a sample.

I panned – and there were Gold flakes.

I went back and crossed with my equipment.

I packed my sandwiches a little too far below the water line – the turkey was still good, but the bread was soggy and ruined; I would have to get my lunch time carbs from my beer.

I set up my sluice box and unpacked the rest of my equipment.

Behind the big boulder is where I started to dig.

People wonder why prospectors dig behind the rock – on the opposite side of the water flow – but Gold is so heavy is collects where water slows.

The sun started to peak into the canyon.

This place is sort of desolate, so I didn’t have to worry about any chicks being offended by potential “plumber’s crack,” but I did look over my shoulder when I had to get rid of some used beer.

There was an abundance of river deposits behind that rock; I moved many buckets of heavy gravel in the four hours I was there.

It would have taken me hours to pan what my sluice box can do in a matter of minutes.

It’s cool to drink a beer, smoke a cigar and watch the heavier gravel (and hopefully Gold) get caught in the rifles as the lighter stuff flies out the end.

I ended up collecting three loads of sluice concentrate before panning it.

The most anyone can ever hope to collect here, from what I had heard, is flake and flour Gold; nuggets are very rare…

…and that’s what I got – a few flakes of Gold for four hours of digging.

Sort of sucks, but as I was hiking back I met two prospectors who had been working this area as a hobby for several years.

The best advice that both of them gave me was, “go to Sheep Mountain – it’s a six hour hike way past the Bridge To Nowhere.

“That place hasn’t been over worked like around here and they’re still finding nuggets.

“Plan on spending at least one night – and it gets cold up here at night.”

They gave me a few more really good pointers on how and where to find Gold here, but I’m getting tired of writing.

As the answer to the question, “Where do you find Gold?”

“Gold is where you find it.”

Secret Location: 4e 6f 72 74 68 20 6f 66 20 74 68 65 20 67 61 74 65 20 77 69 74 68 20 4d 61 72 73 20 6f 66 66 20 74 68 65 20 68 69 6c 6c 73 20 77 69 74 68 20 47 72 65 65 6e 20 54 72 65 65 73 2e

Southern California Buddy Diving With The Divevets off the Island Diver

In With: 2900 psi
Out With: 300 psi
Max depth: 50 feet
Waves: Minor chop, strong surge towards shore
Visibility: 15 feet plus
Water Temperature: 55 degrees
Total Bottom Time: 40 minutes

Since we can’t safely go deeper, we went to our secret shallow spot for the second try.

I again, was the first off the boat because I had the most time to out gas from the previous deeper dive.

This place has a lot of kelp and the vis was pretty good.

Lots of other divers and hoop netters were out trying to get their last bugs for the season.

After I submerged off the back platform, I swam towards shore; I forgot to check the anchor line.

I didn’t see any lobster until I got to 30 feet, but the water became very surgy – almost unmanageable.

I grabbed for a few good ones, but unlike the flat sand of previous dives, the bottom is contoured with rocks and reefs – sometimes I just couldn’t pin the bugs.

I managed to grab one and measured it – it was good.

I reached for my bag and it was a tangled mess that wouldn’t open.

I struggled with my bag harder than I did with the lobster.

I ended up surfacing and untangling it with one hand.

My new wrist mounted dive computer is too cumbersome for bug hunting; it tends to get caught in the bag’s metal mouth.

I continued shallower, to about 25 feet; but, the surge was getting to be too much and I turned around.

At the tail end of the season (no pun intended), the surviving bugs are pretty smart and fast; a lobster monster saw my light and took off.

I made my way back to the boat, doing a shallow surface swim under the kelp – burning my air down to almost 200 psi.

The rest of the divers made it back; Dan caught one, the rest got skunked.

The debriefing started on the boat in traditional fashion.

On the way back, there was a very loud “Bang!” coming from the engine; Captain Anthony slowed the engine down.

“I think we’re OK; we probably just blew a turbo,” he said.

The boat continued on, slowly.

“Uh, hey Anthony, there’s black smoke coming from the back of the boat!” I yelled.

“We’re OK, I think it’s just something passing through the engine,” he said.

I was a little concerned and was sort of pissed that I was no longer wearing my wetsuit, but we eventually made it back.

As we discovered later, a pipe from the turbo on the engine had popped out of its fitting.

The lobster that I caught was so big, Bob couldn’t fit the whole thing in the camera frame.

The only chick on board – Annelaure – complimented my hat and called it “technical.”

The debriefing continued in the parking lot as is always the case; we celebrated Annelaure’s newly acquired Ph. D in Chemical Engineering.

I bet she can brew some pretty damn good beer!