Your first day in the riverbed, you jostle with other prospectors for a spot along the south fork of the American River.

You’re almost out of money. You spent a few of your remaining dollars on a gold pan — it looks like thousands of shallow bowls you’ve seen back East — and a sluice box, consisting of some wire screen tacked crudely to the bottom of a small pine frame.  These two pieces of equipment cost $4.25 — almost $200.00 in 2011 money.

The stores in the town of Coloma, which sprouted up as a mining outpost, all charge ridiculously exorbitant prices. A half pound of beef jerky costs as much as a dinner out at Delmonico’s in the city.

A milkshake and a room for the night costs as much as a month’s rent back home. Unless you find gold — and fast — it’s going to be a long and embarrassing trip back to your old job as a bookkeeper. Just imagining your father’s reaction makes your spirits sink.

Your first day in the riverbed, with your new overpriced goldpan, the sun beats down on your back. You’ve never known weather like this; the sun feels like it’s just above your head, and there’s no moisture in the air to block its rays.

It’s so parched in Coloma that your sweat evaporates as it’s produced, leaving you to sizzle in the morning sun.

Morning becomes afternoon, and afternoon becomes evening.

And then you see it.

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