We were standing on the edge of an old mine shaft, looking
down into it. “I wonder how far down
that goes?” I said. Al shrugged. “Don’t know”, he answered as he picked up a large rock. “Let’s see.” He heaved it over the edge and we listened. It seemed like it just fell into a black
hole. We heard it bounce off the side
of the shaft a couple of times with a deep thud, and then just keep going. We thought we heard a dull “plunk”
somewhere in the far depths underground as it landed. “Wow,” I said. “That
was a REALLY long way down.” “Uh-huh”,
he said, as we both took one step back further away from the edge.
There were lots of old mines like this all throughout the
desert near Beatty. We had driven past
several while hunting for fossils, but we were determined to see bighorn
sheep. Heading out to the spring where
the sheep congregated, we passed several more mines and promised to explore
them on the way back or tomorrow, depending on how much time we had left that
day. When we got to the spring we
spotted a herd of bighorns, so that was the deciding factor. The rest of the evening before sunset was
spent watching and photographing the bighorn sheep. Soon the sun was dipping behind the peaks, and the mines would
have to wait.
So today we closed early, and headed out to investigate some
of the mines. The map was full of
mining symbols all along the 4-wheel drive roads we were exploring. It wasn’t a matter of finding them, it was a
matter of deciding which ones to stop at.
One we had passed on the way to Mud Mound had a little abandoned cabin
at it. It had an open pit that looked
like a gypsum mine, and over further was a deep shaft. Its opening was covered with steel
reinforced concrete beams. An old mine
car track came up out of it and then just ended at the surface. What had been mined there, we wondered. Gold?
Silver? Nevada isn’t called the
Silver State for nothing.
The Bullfrog Hills around Beatty are full of gold and
silver- or at least they used to be during the Nevada Gold Rush in the
early1900’s. Many of the mines and
ghost towns are from this time period- but some are more modern. There is a flourospar mine that is more
recent, and a marble mine that is still active, just south of Beatty. But many of the abandoned mines in this
part of the Nevada desert were also mines for minerals like Diatomite,
Dolomite, Limestone, Talc, Gypsum, and Silica. Considering all the fossilized sea creatures we had just found
that wasn’t surprising. And so, half
the fun of exploring these old mines was looking at the rocks and trying to
figure out what had been mined there.
Some of them were easier to figure out than others. Some had old tracks and structural elements,
like this cabin and old mine car track.
Others were just holes in the ground, or tunnels, or big pits. A few were complex systems of tunnels,
shafts, tracks, roads, tailings piles, and more.
I used to hate old mines. I like pristine wilderness
settings and beautiful natural areas.
The debris and destruction typically associated with old mines angered
me and made me sad. But people can
change and grow. Increased knowledge
brings increased understanding. I have
learned a lot about mining and minerals recently, and have a new found
appreciation for the industry and the time, effort, skill, and investment it
takes to get minerals we need for our lives out of the ground. As both a recreational miner and a
wilderness enthusiast, I walk both sides of the line mentally and emotionally-
and sometimes it is a delicate balancing act. Still I am saddened by old mines and ghost towns. Occasionally a twinge of anger arises at the
ugliness of them compared to the beauty of the land they are on. But now I am also fascinated and
curious.
“Whatcha thinkin’ about?”
Al asked. We had been driving
through the desert, and I was staring out the window lost in my thoughts about
mines and pristine wilderness. “Just
that mental tug-of-war that I have about mines…that’s all. And looking at how beautiful the desert
is.” I knew he would understand what I
meant. We’d had this discussion before,
anyway. And he’d heard me have the
conversation with countless customers at the store, too. He knew how I felt and why, and I didn’t
have to defend myself to him. He just
smiled. “Yeah the desert is
beautiful”, he said. The sun was
casting a golden glow on the desert plants.
It was almost magical. And then
he pointed up ahead. “Look…look!” A huge jackrabbit bounded across the road
ahead of us. We could see its ears
sticking up above the shrubs. It was funny, seeing that jackrabbit hide behind
a bush, while its ears stuck up like an old TV antenna. “Silly thing…look how obvious he is with his
ears sticking up!” We laughed.
A little further up the road, a huge white mound stuck
up. “What’s that?” I looked on the map, but it was hard to tell
exactly where we were. “I don’t know. Let’s go see.” Around the other side of the big white mound was a big white
pit. “Hey, cool!” We parked next to the big pit. “Look, it’s talc! A talc mine! How cool is
this?” We climbed to the top of the
mound- our feet covered in white talc powder.
Clouds of dust swirled around us.
There were many more spots on the map to explore. Mines, ghost towns, cool rock formations. So much to see, so little time. Daylight was fading. In a few more days we would close up, leave Beatty, and head further north. “Let’s go”, Al said, as we left the big pile of talc and headed out on the little jeep trail toward the section on the map that was covered with little pick-and-shovel icons.
Mine Shafts and Piles of Talc by Jenn Jedidiah Free is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
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