Midway into my first tank of gas I was beginning to see color in my sluicebox. Needless to say, I was excited.

With one outstretched hand grasping the bottle and the other waving at air, I moved forward feeling for the tent. No tent. No tree.

The dredge and our gear, with us clinging on to the sides, bounced along until it got hung up on a large boulder in the middle of the river.

Making matters worse, we could feel the truck moving very slowly down the mountain along with the trees and mud. It was an uncomfortable sinking feeling, as you might guess.

The sound got quiet when the fuse burned down into the clay. I waited, and waited…

As we got closer to a wide stream bed, we started hearing some gunfire. It was single shots at first, then semi and automatic weapons fire…

I have a slight mental disorder. It causes frequent lapses in common sense, good judgment and bouts of high fever—gold fever.