Derelict alcoholic recluses shift a few rickshaws of opal dirt to regain their pride and status as an opal miner and perhaps, with some help from Lady Luck, actually augment their Pub funds. Women, be they adventurers, authors, or helpmates to miners, discover that they too can shift dirt and find the not so easy to find silica dioxide gem. When times are tough, the sheep shearers, farmers, and bank clerks try their hand at shoveling and jackhammering their way through the depths of Mother Earth. Opal s siren call continues to lure men and women from all walks of life. They still suffer the intense heat, dust, black flies and mosquitoes.
Supplies are still more costly and more difficult to get than along the coast.
Medical help is often hours away or dependent upon the Royal Flying Doctor Service. Thievery, skullduggery and greed still come hand in hand with the instant fortunes and astounding luck. But now thieves are well equipped with night-vision goggles, all terrain motorbikes, advance field communications and close access to attorneys. The modern opal miner is using high tech tools as well. Giant cement mixers with endless contrivances of rumblers and conveyor belts process opal dirt and the sound of a cell phone can be heard ringing amidst the din of the giant agitators.