A Hidden Goldfield: The Story of My Recent Hard Rock Gold Discoveries

The Discovery of a Hidden Goldfield: A Story of Patience, Persistence, and Luck

Over the last month, I’ve been on one of the most exciting adventures of my prospecting life — a journey that, against all odds, led me to the discovery of a hidden hard rock goldfield.
This is the full story so far — the research, the fieldwork, the moments of doubt, and the breakthroughs that made it all worthwhile.

A Field Barely Mentioned

It began, as so many discoveries do, with a simple idea: "What if...?"

I had stumbled across mentions of a location that barely registered in the historical record. A few small alluvial workings. A handful of minor hard rock attempts. No major rush, no massive finds.
To most, it wasn't even worth a second glance.

At the time, I had no plans to visit. I'd been chasing hard rock gold deposits across Victoria for over three months, traveling thousands of kilometers, sampling over a hundred reefs — and finding almost nothing.
Most reefs were barren. Some held tiny specks of gold, but nothing even remotely economical for a small-scale miner like myself.

One afternoon, after leaving a mates place who lived nearby, I figured: Why not?
It was close. It was forgotten. Maybe there was something everyone else had missed.

I had zero expectations — and maybe that's why everything changed.

The First Visit: Dust, Curiosity, and a Tiny Stringer

When I arrived, I did what any prospector would do: I panned the creek.

The first pan yielded fine gold dust. A good sign, sure — but I wasn’t about to wade through cold water chasing crevices all day.
My passion has always been hard rock.
I find hard rock gold more straightforward. Once you find the vein, the gold is consistent.
Rivers shift. Gold moves. You’re forever at the mercy of hydrogeology.
Hard rock, on the other hand, holds its secrets steady.

So I left the creek behind and started studying the surrounding rocks.

What struck me immediately was how tilted and compressed the rock strata were — layers folded and hardened by immense geological forces.
And critically: there were no large quartz veins.

No sparkling reefs running across the hillsides like you see in Ballarat or Bendigo.
Here, the veins were tiny, almost invisible.

Still, I persisted.

For hours, I scoured the rocks, slowly training my eyes to pick out anything unusual.
I have a habit of staring at one patch of rock for minutes at a time, running possibilities through my head:

What forces shaped this?

Could a reef be hidden here?

Where would fluids have moved?

After almost giving up, I spotted it: a tiny quartz stringer, no wider than my finger.

And nearby — a slightly larger quartz fragment, about 3cm across, half-hidden in the hillside.

I bagged them both, more out of habit than hope.
And then something clicked.

Looking around, I noticed the folding of the rocks — and realized I was standing right on top of an anticline.

Anticlines are geological gold mines — literally.
In Bendigo, the richest deposits formed within the arching folds of anticlines, where mineral-bearing fluids concentrated along fractures.

Was this the beginning of something?

Home Analysis: The Moment Everything Changed

Back at home, I crushed the samples.

Tiny pieces — no bigger than 20-cent coins — yielded over 200 pieces of fine gold from just three rocks.

It was, without question, the richest ore I had ever seen.

Not just the quartz — but also boxworks: delicate networks where sulfides once lived, now dissolved away, leaving gold trapped inside.

Even the tiniest, paper-thin layers held gold.

I realized then:
I hadn’t just found a gold-bearing rock.
I had found a gold system.

The feeling is hard to describe.
After months of chasing barren reefs, here, in a forgotten corner of Victoria, I was looking at rocks that glittered with potential.

But one big question remained: How big is this system?

Expanding the Search: Anticlines, Synclines, and More

On my second trip, I switched from prospector to geologist.

Mapping the area carefully, I confirmed that the small anticline was paired with a syncline — a downward fold, tight and compacted by immense pressure.

Synclines rarely host gold — fluids tend to migrate upwards into the crests of anticlines — but finding both meant the compression forces here were extreme.

I reasoned:

If there’s one anticline, there should be more.

And where there’s folding, there’s often fracturing.

And where there’s fracturing, there’s fluid flow — and gold.

I pushed further into the field.

Sure enough, I found another anticline — or at least what appeared to be one.
Oddly, right alongside it, was another anticline... with no obvious syncline between them.
Possibly a parasitic anticline — a smaller fold riding atop a larger one — or perhaps an obscured syncline hidden under talus deposits.

Either way, it was a sign of intense geological stress — the kind of environment that creates rich gold systems.

Samples from both areas confirmed gold presence.
Different styles of quartz. Different fracture patterns.
Same outcome: gold.

The Hidden Hill and the Mystery Vein

On my third trip, I turned my attention to a steep hill between the anticlines.

At first, the rock was unremarkable: compacted sedimentary layers, iron-stained surfaces.
But halfway up the slope, I found it: a large, broken piece of quartz — over 6cm wide — tucked into the hillside.

It wasn't part of a visible outcrop. It had broken free from somewhere higher.

I brought it home. Crushed it.
And the results were staggering:
The quartz was rich, just like the initial find.

Somewhere on that hill, a major quartz vein lies hidden — waiting.

To this day, I haven’t found it.
But I will.

More Anticlines, More Discoveries

Trip four and five were about expansion.

I found a third anticline (after initially mistaking it for a syncline — a reminder to always double-check fieldwork when fatigued).

Gold continued to show up in unexpected places:

A syncline stringer that yielded gold despite the odds

Talus deposits tens of meters from known structures producing saturated ore

Even when an anticline appeared barren, nearby float showed signs of mineralization.

I even stumbled across an old hard rock mine, completely unrecorded in any maps or databases — proof that someone, sometime, knew what I was starting to see:
This field has gold, and lots of it.

Red Quartz and Riches

One particularly exciting discovery came at the base of the second anticline.

In among the talus debris, I spotted fragments of red quartz — stained by iron oxides, a common indicator of oxidized, gold-bearing systems.

The red quartz wasn’t just mineralized — it was saturated with fine gold.

Tracing it upslope is a challenge. The hillsides are thick with thorny vegetation, hiding outcrops and stringers.
But I’m determined.
Somewhere above that base is a richer vein still waiting to be uncovered.

The State of the Field Today

After six intensive trips, countless hours of sampling, crushing, and mapping, here’s what I’ve confirmed:

✅ Three rich gold-bearing anticlines identified
✅ Two hidden source veins yet to be located
✅ One hillside mystery vein still hiding in plain sight
✅ Consistent fine gold across a wide area
✅ Structures typical of major historic goldfields, but completely overlooked by past miners

Why was it missed?
Maybe the narrowness of the quartz.
Maybe the small scale of early finds.
Maybe the overwhelming focus on alluvial deposits.

Whatever the reason, I’m grateful.

Because this field — this hidden network of anticlines, fractures, and unseen reefs — is mine to discover.

And I’m just getting started.

Stay tuned.
I’ll keep updating this blog as the exploration continues.
There’s still gold out there — and the story isn’t over yet.