I stumbled on Ama Vicente Badongen in the midst of a research in 1983. This miner from Lubon, Tadian was then in charge of a group of miners glued to a hillside in a remote village of Mabini, an adjacent town of Pantukan in what is now Compostela Valley province.

The group opened a tunnel in a bid to find gold but ceased operation when the thin gold vein was exhausted.

Thereafter, I became his frequent visitor every time opportunity presented itself.

He had since become a bona fide resident and an active church leader in the village of Panamin. He has also married a lady from Surigao.

From him, I learned that several others from this region, mostly miners, have since relocated to the Davao and the Agusan provinces and married with locals from the 1970s onward.

They went South to try their hands into small scale mining. And from them, the locals have learned to pan the rivers for gold and acquired their ABCs on gold prospecting and in managing a tunnel.

Badongen never struck it rich but managed to acquire at least a sizeable parcel of land for his growing household. One Marcelo Pasadillo of Palasaan, Mankayan led a crew that tried their luck in various sites in Davao del Norte and Agusan. He eventually established residence north of Butuan City.

Randy Cadiogan, a mining engineer from Bontoc, arrived during the mining boom in the 1980s and was able to find employment by offering his expertise to several companies. Last time I knew, he was president of the Mindanao Small Scale Miners Federation.

During one visit to Badongen’s household, he was preparing to hike up Boringot in Pantukan, the site of a mining boom in 1984. He was with two others.

We hiked more than six hours to reach the place. But we were not welcome. An armed contingent supposedly from the MNLF occupied the place and was wary of newcomers. Our moves were watched and armed men were everywhere. It was one of the scariest moments of my life.

We were not allowed to do shifting in one of thetunnels, the term used for outsiders to work in a particular tunnel with the end and view of sharing in the production. The next day, we left empty handed.

We heard later that a group of Army scout rangers occupied the place but it skipped me if they were able to share in the gold mined.

On my next visit, Badongen and I went up to Mt. Diwalwal where we did shifting in one tunnel. We managed to bring out several sacks of ore, brought these to a ball mill for grinding, and then poured mercury on the grounded ore to recover the gold.

But with a gram of gold then priced at P140, we managed to split the equivalent of P6,000. Not bad for a whole night’s effort.

We never found the proverbial gold at the end of the rainbow, but we both enjoyed and chuckled over our experiences. He eventually settled into farming while I went back to the news desk, pounding the beat.

I thought I would never see him again until last week when one of his daughters sent a message to say he was in the city.

He was still nimble and easy-going but at age 73, he now walks with measured steps.

He said his priority was to visit his sisters and brothers in the provinces and may stay home for good.

Over lunch, we reminisced the old times and the old names we brushed elbows with as well as our forays into small village cockpits and into suspected gold. It was, we agreed, good while it lasted.