Old gold

The Perth Mint doesn't make money,¹ per se, anymore, but they still pour boiling hot gold into molds, so I thought that was a good reason to visit. I could get a free sample!

The mint was built in 1899, and it's essentially like your great-great-great-grandfather's pocket watch—out-of-date storied, barely useful revered, and probably worth a small fortune. It's Australia's oldest working mint and still operates from its original building. At least for tours, gold-pouring demonstrations, and gift shop sales. The real work these days is done in a much more modern facility “out by the airport.”²

Turns out the Australians only recently gained ownership of the mint. The British were the sole owners until 1970, the same year The Beatles broke up. Coincidence?³ For the Brits, it was all about refining that sweet, sweet Western Australian gold to make coins for the empire. Today, the Perth Mint mostly makes precious metal bullion and commemorative coins.

One of those coins is the first thing you’re shown when you come in off the street—the red kangaroo coin.⁴ This coin is so colossal it could double as a weightlifting plate or a WWE belt buckle. It is, according to Guinness, the world’s largest gold coin. It weighs one ton. With a face value of $1 million, a gold value of $100 million, and a collectors’ value of $Whateverridiculoussumacollectorwouldpay,⁵ this coin is the apex celebrity of Coinlandia. It’s more than just a coin—it’s a monument to useless extravagance.

And even though it weighs, as I’ve said, One. Full. Ton. they still have a whole Mission: Impossible-worthy going-to-bed process at the end of every day with hydraulics and laser beams. Or so they say. Though I’m not entirely sure what you’d do with it even if you could steal it. I’m pretty sure the coffee shop downstairs would not be able to make change.

There’s also a small museum, an Ode to Gold, if you will. This is where you can marvel at all the collected gold nuggets and imagine life as a miner without the inconvenience of dirt, tents, and back-breaking digging. Everything is behind glass, so there’s a definite look-but-don’t-touch vibe unless you count the one gold bar you can lift. Well, “lift” is kind of a strong word. You have to reach through a hole cut into 3-inch glass to grab hold of an actual gold bar that has been secured in a steel cage that barely lets it breathe, let alone move. You get the fleeting thrill of hoisting it a whopping three-quarters of an inch or so.⁶

Surrounding this are various artifacts and informational signage that paint a picture of goldfield life—apparently a mix of immense toil and the all-too-rare eureka moments, much like trying to find a parking spot in downtown Seattle. Ever. One interesting fact—the miners in Australia were avid bicyclists. Mostly because bikes were way more reliable, faster, and cheaper than horses and camels.⁷ Also—and this is a major consideration for people hoping to just find money in the ground because they don’t have any in their pockets—bicycles don’t need to be fed or watered.

There was a machine that estimated how much you would be worth if you were gold. I think they called it a "scale." Turns out, I am worth a LOT of money—nearly $12 million (Australian). I told Rick that if he's thinking of trading up, he better act fast. At the rate I eat, I could be worth much more very soon.

But the main event was the gold-pouring demonstration. Mesmerizing. The whole thing revolves around a really hot furnace—upwards of 1300ºC, or nearly 2300ºF—and a guy with some seriously thick hot mitts. It's a spectacle of transformation that would make Midas green with envy.

First, the gold is heated in a clay and graphite crucible to molten,⁹ creating a bright orange liquid. The metal caster carefully pours the gold into a bar-shaped mold. This step requires a steady hand and an experienced eye to ensure the gold fills the mold evenly. As the gold begins to cool and solidify, the caster then dunks the entire mold into a tank of water with a fierce hiss (from the hot gold meeting the water, not from the caster). The result is a gleaming bar of pure gold, ready to be admired.¹⁰

I’m not going to lie, though—it was gravely disappointing that they didn’t pass out free samples afterward. Despite that, I still had fun.

1. Well, they “make money” in the sense that they make commemorative coins and other things that they sell for money. They just don’t “make money” in the sense they, you know, create actual money.

2. They weren’t really specific about where, nor did they provide an address. It’s like they didn’t trust us.

3. Yeah, probably.

4. Technically, the Australian Kangaroo One Tonne Gold Coin. But what a mouthful, ugh. Also, it just takes the conversation in the wrong direction, “What’s the difference between a tonne and a ton.” Nothing! Stop spelling things weird, Australia!

5. All Australian dollars, of course. So, you know, much more affordable in the U.S.

6. And, yes, I counted that as my workout for the ~~day~~ ~~month~~ year.

7. No kidding. Australia has LOADS of camels. Nearly 750,000 by last count—the largest population of feral camels⁸ in the world. “What? Why?” I can hear you thinking. Well, they're not native, I can tell you that. They were imported by white people who saw the great sandy waste of the outback and instantly thought, "Camels!" So they kept shipping them in from the Mideast by the thousands until about 1907 when Australian cars and trains were invented. So, in a decision precisely as carefully considered as the one to bring them over, people just let them loose. “Go on, now, scoot!” No surprise, they’d invented an instant Scourge of the Desert. “Hey, I think I read somewhere that places like Saudi Arabia are actually running short of camels,” I can hear you thinking (again…you’re a really loud thinker), “Why don’t they sell the wild camels back to them?” Well, they do. But, sadly, as meat. Not as camels.

8. Artist’s rendering:

9. Moltified?

10. Interestingly, the same gold has been melted and reformed into bars three times daily for more than 20 years, showcasing its remarkable ability to withstand repeated melting and cooling without loss.