We started off excited and enthusiastic as we began hiking up the river, daydreaming about finding big gold.

My right rib cage took the brunt of the blow from the fall, which left me feeling partially paralyzed and in immense pain.

My brother Darryl and I had not had a prospecting adventure since January and we wanted to try out our new drywasher, so we decided to go for the weekend and check out some claims near Barstow…

…I was looking down on what was a frightening 500-foot sheer drop-off. We were precariously close to the edge as the shoulder was practically non-existent.

We all love to see that first glimmer of gold when it peeks out from under the black sand in our pan, or feel the weight of a nugget in our scoop when we dig a good target. But sometimes things don’t go quite so smoothly.

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

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