Gold! (27 page)

The state has made a concerted attempt for the past century to keep the town the way it was. That means that the path I was walking on, down by the American River, was the same one Marshall took that morning in January 1848. My boots crunched on the gravel as his must have, though it is possible it was just a well-worn, muddy-grass path then.

Most of the trees that surrounded the tailrace in Marshall's time are still there. The tailrace itself, dammed up a little downriver, has brackish waters. Despite the algae
growth, you could clearly see to the bottom. I looked; I didn't see any gold. The reeds had overgrown the sections along the banks Marshall and the Mormons had cut out.

I listened. All I could hear, like Marshall, was the river splashing against the stones in its path. All that was missing was the gold.

The next day, I came back and took the path to the reconstruction of Marshall and Sutter's sawmill. The actual sawmill fell victim to the elements and eventually collapsed during various floods. But some of the timbers have been recovered and repose in a plain glass and log storage shed next to the reconstructed mill.

The mill itself must have been a marvel of mid-nineteenth-century ingenuity. The reconstruction stood about fifty feet above the river, leaning out into it, as the original must have, with the tailrace behind it leading the water through the channel to the waiting paddlewheel that would power the sawmill. Looking around, I saw that Marshall had picked a good spot. He had never counted on anything being more valuable than the timber he was cutting.

Marshall's cabin is up in the hills above Coloma. It looks like it has weathered the 150 years since its origins remarkably well, except that a picture taken in the 1930s by the Work Projects Administration shows it to be rather dilapidated. No matter. Marshall's clear lines and excellent carpentry are clear even in the earlier photograph.

Above the cabin is a monument the state placed in Marshall's memory. It looks unwieldy, like it's about to
topple at any moment, probably like Marshall himself in his later years.

There was only one thing left to do in Coloma now: go panning for gold. You can still do it. There's an area directly across the river from where Marshall made his discovery where anyone can come in and pan for gold.

I was too close. I had to do it
.

I bought a pan in the souvenir shop, the same kind of tin pan the miners used, and drove over a narrow, barely one-lane bridge, over what looked like a cold American River. It was about 11:00 A.M.; I had waited as long as I could. It was October and the weather was mild, though I still wore a sweatshirt that had previously staved off the morning chill.

Walking down the sand dunes to the riverbank, I stopped when I got to the river's edge and looked at the river flowing by me. Again, except for a passing truck, the water was the only sound. But it wasn't then. Then it was noisy, with men screaming when they hit pay dirt, others crying out in frustration, and still others murmuring to themselves as they went about the very difficult labor of panning for gold.

The water was surprisingly warm around my bare toes. Intently, for the next hour, I panned for gold in the American River. My heart didn't miss any beats as I got to the end, with the black sand to sift through, but I was excited.

Whatever happened, I had made it to El Dorado and so, in a way, had my father.

Coloma,

October 15, 2004

Image Gallery

Portrait of John Sutter as an older man.

Portrait of John Sutter as a younger man.

Portrait of James Marshall, about the time he discovered gold.

People from all over the world responded to handbills like this by traveling to the gold fields in northern California.

This handbill used humor to attract travelers to the California gold fields.

Wild Bill Hickok in his younger days, before the Deadwood gold strike.

William Tecumseh Sherman, at about the time of the Gold Rush.

Sutter's Fort, as it appeared to the 49ers.

President James Polk, who started the Gold Rush.

Gen. Zachary Taylor commanded US Forces during the Mexican-American War.