In a town with golden pastures and stunning mountain backdrops, the line between folklore and fact sometimes blurs. In Otago, historic Arrowtown—a preserved gold‑rush settlement that still evokes the 1860s rush—holds a fascinating secret: local archives suggest that, at one point, you could literally buy gold in its old pharmacy.
The idea might seem improbable, but in the height of Otago’s gold fever, many pharmacies in small towns doubled as places to trade gold dust or nuggets, thanks to their convenient vaults and trusted reputations. This raises an intriguing question: if the pharmacy’s backbone once stored gold, what else might remain buried in its basement today?
A pharmacy unlike any other
Arrowtown was established in 1862 following the famous gold strike at Gabriel’s Gully. It quickly turned into a bustling settlement, with shops, saloons, residences, and services emerging at breakneck pace. Among these, the local pharmacy—housed in a charming 19th‑century stone building—was unique, not just for dispensing medicine but for safeguarding precious items.
According to historical records, small businesses—including pharmacies and hardware stores—often acted unofficially as trusted custodians of miner’s gold when banks were unavailable or unreliable, especially in remote areas. Arrowtown’s chemist, known for its sturdy safes and reputation, became a go‑to place for prospectors wanting to convert or store their finds, even offering small purchases in gold dust or nuggets.
What might lie beneath today?
Fast forward to the present: the pharmacy building still stands on Buckingham Street, now serving tourists and residents as a museum or souvenir shop. But beneath the polished floors and gift displays, a sealed basement remains mostly untouched—a vault that once stored valuables, pills, and perhaps more.
Employees and local historians confirm the basement still contains its original reinforced wooden shelving, safe alcoves, and a small stone‑lined vault. Yet, unlike other historic buildings, there’s no open access—no guided tours, no archaeological digs, no official inventory. The interior remains shrouded in question marks.
Here’s how the pharmacy compares then and now:
| Feature | During gold rush (1860s–1900s) | Today |
|---|---|---|
| Services offered | Medicine + gold exchange | Tourists visits, retail souvenirs |
| Secure storage | Vault for gold, documents, cash | Sealed basement, unused vault |
| Relationship to community | Trusted local institution | Heritage site, no local transactions |
| Physical interior | Original shelving, strongboxes intact | Preserved but inaccessible to visitors |
| Records and archives | Scattered, mostly anecdotal | Limited, some held in local museum |
Despite Arrowtown’s heritage focus—including the Lakes District Museum—no official exploration of this vault has been documented. That’s why the question still lingers: what stories and relics remain locked below ground?
Why this matters—beyond novelty
This isn’t a sensational pie‑in‑the‑sky theory. It’s rooted in local practice and credible accounts of Otago’s gold economy. Numerous pharmacies acted as informal bankers to diggers; in some cases, they sold chemists’ scales to miners for weighing gold.
Furthermore, the very presence of the buried vault, untouched for over a century, represents a missing chapter in Arrowtown’s history—a tangible connection between modern visitors and a rugged, unregulated past. And as properties in the historic precinct face restoration or commercial transition, there’s increasing concern that buried artefacts or even genuine gold remnants could vanish without record.
What might happen next?
Local historians, heritage groups, and even curious descendants of miners have begun to push for a single supervised archaeological inspection of the basement. They argue that recording what’s inside—whether ledgers, safe mechanisms, or old medicine jars—is essential preservation work. But such efforts need support: funding, permissions, and official heritage clearance.
Some residents caution against opening the vault, fearing commercial disruption or loss of character. Others believe it should remain a silent chamber—untouched but respected.
Until a decision is made, though, the sealed basement sits quietly beneath Arrowtown’s vintage façade: a link to a gold‑centred past that’s never fully revealed.
