Every gold prospector starts out with the same picture in their head: gold comes from quartz. Big white quartz blows, sharp quartz veins cutting through slate, glittering quartz stringers holding the motherlode. It’s ingrained in the culture so deeply that it practically becomes gospel. If there isn’t quartz, there isn’t gold — at least, that’s what most people end up believing.
But here’s the secret every prospector eventually discovers if they dig deep enough into the craft: most gold does not come from quartz. Not even close. Quartz is just the most obvious, the loudest, the easiest to recognise. It’s the billboard gold rides in on. But behind that billboard is an entire world of hidden, strange, counterintuitive gold hosts that most prospectors never even think about. Some of the richest gold systems in the world are almost completely quartz-free. Others had quartz once, but time erased every trace of it. Many don’t look like “gold country” at all. And if you don’t broaden your eyes to these hidden environments, you’ll walk right past more gold than you’ll ever find.
This video is going to dive into a topic that is barely discussed in the prospecting world. It will open your eyes and your mind to the deposits most people skip over or never look at twice. The inspiration for this topic came from a gully I’m working for fun on a mates 40-acre property. This is the gold I got from two pans yesterday. The gold is waterworn. It looks as though its travelled far. I’ve tested all the quartz reefs in the area, and none of them contain gold. They contain an abundance of sulphides instead. I believe this area contains gold derived from a gossan, or a slate host rock. The gully was worked heavily in the past, once in the 1800s, and again in the 1930s. Yet gold is still being shed into the waterway. Large nuggets were found here. But the source of the gold? It’s never been found. Forcing me to open my mind up to the possibility that it contains a non-traditional host rock or that the land itself has been subject to deep weathering.

So, let’s take a walk through that hidden world — not the well-worn stories everyone knows, but the ones prospectors whisper about, the ones written into the rocks long before any of us turned up with a detector or pan. This is the world of non-quartz gold.
Let’s start with something that has fooled more prospectors than anything else: sulphide-rich lodes. These are the types of lodes I normally work because a lot of people skip over them. When most people picture sulphides, they think of pyrite — fool’s gold. The shiny stuff that tricks greenhorns. But here’s the twist: fool’s gold might be the single best friend real gold ever had. A massive fraction of the world’s gold is actually locked inside sulphides like pyrite and arsenopyrite. And it doesn’t come in flashy nuggets or bright visible grains; it sits quietly, invisibly, in microscopic inclusions. You could smash a hundred kilos of ore and never see a fleck of gold with your eyes or hand lens, but chemically it’s loaded.
Deep underground, where the pressure and heat rewired the rocks, gold often followed the chemistry rather than the quartz. Sulphur-rich fluids interacted with iron-rich rocks, forming sulphides that sucked up the gold like sponges. These aren’t the big quartz veins people imagine when they think of gold deposits. These are often paper-thin stringers — tiny, hairline fractures in slate or shale filled with pyrite or arsenopyrite. And because they’re so thin, they weather away almost completely by the time erosion drags them to the surface. The quartz veins next door might still be standing tall and proud, but the sulphide veins? They crumble into ochre clay or rusty streaks in the soil, and their gold trickles out into the landscape over time.
Picture a hillside where the rock looks normal — grey slate, weathered mudstone, nothing special. But hidden within that slate were once hundreds of razor-thin veins of sulphides. Now every one of them has oxidised away, leaving faint rusty smears and soft clay seams. The gold liberated grain by grain as the sulphides dissolved, has drifted only a short distance downslope. That’s why some hillsides with zero quartz produce excellent gold when eroded. The original infrastructure was sulphide-based, and nature has already done the hard work of freeing the gold.
If you’re only looking for quartz, this entire environment is invisible. But the prospector who recognises the subtle clues — a streak of limonite, a patch of ochre, a zone of slightly redder soil — is already halfway to the gold others will never know existed.

Now we get to one of the most powerful indicators in gold country: the gossan. If sulphide lodes are the vault, the gossan is the rusted-out safe left behind. A gossan is the oxidised cap of a sulphide deposit — the place where all the reactive minerals (like pyrite) rotted away, leaving only ironstone behind. This ironstone can look like rusty boulders, porous “boxwork” patterns, honeycomb structures, or even just crumbly red dirt.
And here’s the twist most prospectors don’t realise: a gossan might be the richest clue you will ever stand on.
Why? Because gossans sit exactly where the original orebody was. They’re the remnants — the footprints — of mineralisation that might now be completely erased except for the gold it released. Picture standing on top of a ridge that looks like nothing more than a red, iron-rich patch of weathered rock. No quartz. No veins. Nothing most prospectors would get excited about. But underground, millions of years ago, this patch was seething with sulphides and gold. When the sulphides oxidised, the gold was left behind. It might still be there, trapped in pores and cavities in the ironstone, or it might have dribbled downslope into the surrounding soils.
The surface expression — that rusty, crumbly, iron-rich ground — is the only clue left. Gossans can shed gold for thousands of years. They can be metres thick or just a narrow seam only a few steps wide. They can look like impressive iron outcrops or like nothing more than a streak of rusty dirt in an otherwise normal hillside. Once you learn the signature of a gossan, you start seeing gold potential in places most people walk right by without a second thought.

One of the biggest traps prospectors fall into is thinking that any hard, silica-rich rock must be quartz. In reality, silicification is a totally different beast. It’s what happens when hydrothermal fluids flood through rock and saturate it with fine silica, turning it tough and glassy. This can happen in slate, sandstone, volcanic rock — anything. It doesn’t form big white veins. It forms entire zones of hard, flinty material.
These silicified zones are often riddled with microscopic fractures and tiny, needle-thin veinlets of quartz or carbonate too small to notice unless you cut a slab. Gold loves these little pathways. It precipitates along the micro-fractures, coats tiny cavities, or gathers where the rock’s chemistry changes subtly.
If you’ve ever walked past a pale grey rib of rock sticking out of a hillside because it didn’t look like quartz, you might have walked right past a silicified gold zone without knowing it.
Silicified rocks often weather differently too. They may stand proud above softer rocks, forming subtle ribs or benches. The soil around them may be unusually coarse or contain fragments of pale, tough material that ring when struck with a hammer. These are the quiet signs that a gold-bearing system once pulsed through the ground, even if the quartz veins never developed or never survived erosion.
A prospector who only looks for classic quartz veins will never recognise these zones. But the prospector who understands silicification digs deeper. They notice the hardness, the colour, the alteration patterns. And eventually, they find gold where others didn’t even stop to check.

If quartz veins are the bold sentences in the story of gold, faults and shears are the whispers between the lines — subtle, easily missed, but essential. Some of the richest gold sources aren’t veins at all. They’re fault zones, where rock has been ground into clay, shattered into angular fragments, or stretched and smeared into long, thin, ductile layers.
These zones create pathways for mineralising fluids. They act like natural plumbing systems. And because the rock is crushed, full of open spaces and chemically reactive surfaces, they’re perfect places for gold to precipitate.
But what do they look like at the surface?
Often nothing impressive. A narrow strip of black, greasy carbonaceous clay. A sliver of shattered slate that crumbles between your fingers. A zone where the rocks look slick, polished, or striated. These signs don’t scream “gold,” but in many systems, they’re the real heart of the mineralisation.
When these zones weather, the clay washes away, the sulphides oxidise, and the gold — once trapped in tiny fractures — becomes free. Over time, gravity and water carry it downslope, forming patches of gold in the soils and creeks below. These fault-hosted gold systems are some of the most misleading because they rarely have big quartz veins. They don’t stand out. They don’t look like the “classic” gold environment. But they shed gold relentlessly.
Many prospectors spend their whole lives chasing quartz veins while walking right over narrow shear zones that actually fed the alluvial gold they’ve been finding.

Another massively overlooked gold host is carbonaceous sedimentary rock — black shale, carbon-rich slate, and graphitic schist. These rocks can hold surprising amounts of gold even if they never hosted a single quartz vein. The secret lies in chemistry. Carbon is a powerful reducing agent, and when gold-bearing fluids meet carbon-rich layers, the gold often drops out of solution and sticks to the carbon and associated pyrite.
The result? Rocks that look dull, grey, or black can be quietly pregnant with gold.
When these rocks weather, they release tiny particles of gold into the surrounding soil. Unlike quartz veins, carbonaceous rocks don’t leave flashy rubble. They may simply decay into dark, crumbly material, and yet the gold that once hid inside them begins to accumulate in the regolith. Over thousands of years, enough gold can be released to form detectable patches — even nuggets — without a single quartz vein in sight.
Prospectors who don’t understand this walk away from black shales, thinking they’re worthless. But those who’ve read enough geology or spent enough time studying subtle clues know better. Sometimes, the blandest rocks in an area are the quiet gold producers.

One of the most surprising truths in gold geology is that the original source rock doesn’t even have to exist anymore. In deeply weathered terrains — places where millions of years of rain, oxygen, and biological activity have completely destroyed the original geology — the gold can still be there, preserved in the mottled clays and iron-rich regolith.
In these environments, everything that once made the ore identifiable is erased. If quartz was present, it might have dissolved or broken down. If sulphides were present, they’re long gone. What’s left is a chaotic mixture of rust-coloured clay, mottled yellow zones enriched with iron, pisolitic nodules, and crumbly, iron-rich subsoil.
It doesn’t look like a lode. It doesn’t look like anything except weathered dirt. And yet just beneath the surface, gold still sits almost exactly where the original orebody once lived. The gold may have moved only centimetres or decimetres through the weathering profile. The slope above may look completely featureless. But the regolith remembers.
These deep-weathered profiles produce gold that seems to “appear from nowhere,” because the geological context has been erased. Prospectors find nuggets and scratch their heads, wondering why no quartz veins exist. The answer is simple: quartz veins once existed, or sulphide veins once existed, or silicified zones once existed — but weathering wiped them away. Only the gold stayed.
Understanding deep weathering is one of the biggest leaps a prospector can make. It teaches you to read landscapes instead of rocks, soil colours instead of veins, iron content instead of quartz content. It stops you from assuming that “no veins = no gold,” and starts you thinking in terms of ancient processes.

Volcanic rocks can also be surprisingly gold-bearing, even if they contain no veins at all. Some volcanic rocks, especially those that have been altered by fluids, turn soft, crumbly, or pale in colour. The alteration halos around volcanic intrusions can contain fine pyrite and tiny pockets of gold that quietly weather over time.
These gold systems are subtle. You might see rocks that look bleached or greenish, or that crumble easily in your hand. You might see scattered iron staining or bits of altered porphyry that don’t fit with the surrounding geology. None of it screams “gold,” but if the hydrothermal system was right, those rocks can release gold every time they weather a little more.
Gold in volcanic rocks tends to hide in tiny fractures or in fine-grained sulphides. When exposed at the surface and broken down, it gets freed into the soil. Over long periods, the gold can accumulate in hollows, depressions, and creek systems, creating patches that confuse prospectors who are expecting veins and quartz blows.

Finally, there’s the wide world of iron-rich regolith — laterite, pisolitic ironstone, and mottled iron-oxide zones. These environments are like nature’s chemical sponges. Iron oxides love to bind metals, including gold. In some areas, gold becomes trapped in tiny iron nodules or in the iron-rich layers near the surface. In others, gold remains in the deep weathered profile, just waiting for erosion to bring it closer to the surface. These zones often have crunchy ironstone underfoot, red soils, and dense layers of iron-rich rubble.
Many prospectors avoid these areas because the ironstone makes detectors noisy. But the same ironstone that frustrates detectors is also what concentrated the gold. Once you recognise the signatures of iron-rich regolith — the colours, the textures, the pisolitic nodules — the picture sharpens. Gold can be locked in that ironstone, waiting to be released.

If you take all these environments together — sulphide remnants, gossans, silicified ribs, fault gouge, carbonaceous slates, deep weathering profiles, altered volcanic rocks, and iron-rich regolith — a single clear truth emerges: gold has far more hiding places than anyone raised on quartz-only thinking ever realises.
Gold follows chemistry, heat, fluids, pressure, fractures, and time. Quartz is just one of the many things that happened to share space with gold in some systems, not all of them.
Once you stop expecting gold to advertise itself with bright white veins, the world of prospecting opens up in a completely new way. Landscapes start to make sense. Rusty patches mean something. Silica ribs, soft black shears, and ironstone flats mean something. Soil colours become clues. Rock textures become maps. And gold starts turning up where no one else bothered to look.
That’s the secret every prospector needs to know.
Gold isn’t loyal to quartz.
It never was.
And when you finally let go of that idea, the hidden goldfields of the world suddenly reveal themselves — quietly, patiently, waiting for the one prospector who sees the bigger picture.
I hope this article helps you out. May you go out and find a life changing gold deposit!