Other voices have spoken for moderation, cautioning that indiscriminate closures of shafts and adits can deprive certain wildlife species of needed habitat. In fact, regulations require federal agencies like the BLM and National Forest Service to assess underground mine workings to ensure that habitats are protected.[1] Not all abandoned mines are suitable for wildlife, but unrelenting pressure on traditional habitats makes these mine workings increasingly important and – in some cases – they may be the last alternative for the long-term survival of some threatened species. Solutions for preserving abandoned mines include fencing, barricades and steel grates or cupolas that permit access for wildlife while keeping humans out. Mines that serve as habitats have been destructively closed in the past, trapping entire colonies of bats in the underground workings. In other cases, excessive human visitation and vandalism have forced bats and other wildlife to abandon some mines and caves. In April 2009, an unknown number of individuals shot and killed up to 90 bats in an abandoned mine in the Superstition Mountains.

The BLM’s policy handbook, Abandoned Mine Lands Policy Handbook states:

Abandoned underground mines provide significant habitat for bats-more than half of North America’s 47 bat species are known to use mines. Acquiring even a basic understanding of bat use of abandoned mines often requires repeated surveys during different seasons. Sealing mines without first evaluating their importance to bats may be one of the single greatest threats to North American bats.”[2]

There are two broad categories of closures: (1) Destructive closure, where the shafts or adits are permanently sealed by blasting or backfilling, and (2) Protective closure, where the shafts or adits remain intact, but access to the underground workings is prevented using some type of barricade.

Protective closures actually have two objectives that frequently operate concurrently: First, to keep people out of a dangerous underground mine without resorting to destructive closure; and second, to protect wildlife that might be using the mine for nesting, birthing, hibernation, night roosting or migration, etc. Protective closure means that the subterranean workings are effectively closed to human visitors. For wildlife, it remains a seasonal or permanent habitat – but with the danger of human disturbance greatly reduced or eliminated.

Figure 1, Simple Fence at Mine Shaft

The simplest and least costly method of protective closure is a fence constructed with metal stakes and wire, as shown in Figure 1.[3] Although this type of structure can be defeated by a vandal with wire cutters, it provides several benefits, including:

• It is a visual warning to visitors.
• With proper signage it serves notice that entry into the workings is criminal trespass.
• It can at least partially relieve potential liability.
• Fences can be quickly installed on site.
• With periodic maintenance these structures can last for decades.
• The materials are not expensive.[4]

Warning signs like that shown above are generally effective for most visitors but unfortunately, are not a deterrent to the small minority of people who choose to enter an abandoned mine in spite of the risks. [5] Not surprisingly, very few fences have been erected – even around abandoned mine shafts that are difficult or impossible to see from a distance in daylight or darkness. In my experience, the mere mention of fencing is met with deprecating remarks from state and federal officials.

When underground mines serve as permanent or seasonal habitats for wildlife, more robust solutions must be considered. One type of barricade is a gate structure like the one shown in Figure 2. These purpose-built gates are installed inside the entrance of an adit and must be designed to conform to its dimensions as well as to the type and condition of native rock in the walls. The variability of these factors is almost limitless and requires customized solutions. There is no “shrink-wrapped” or “one size fits all” gate.

Figure 2, Vertical Gate for Adits – Grandview Mine

Notice that the sides and top conform to the shape of the roof and side walls of the adit. Understandably, vandal-resistant gates such as this require the use of materials that are more costly. However, quality materials and extensive anchoring, using super-strong rods, ensures that this gate will remain in place for a very long time.

Variations of the adit design include gates that incorporate the use of culverts when the entrance to an adit is at risk of future collapse. This type of protective closure is particularly important for maintaining air flow in existing secondary mine openings, as shown in Figure 3.

Figure 3, Culvert Gate

As with mine adits, shafts come in a seemingly endless variety of shapes and sizes. Surface conditions around the shaft entrance (collar) can further complicate design criteria and affect the choice and cost of materials. Shafts that are particularly large can limit the degree of off site construction; requiring that some assembly be performed at the mine site.

Figure 4 illustrates a type of protective closure known as a cupola that accommodates the requirements of bats and owls in the same mine. Clicking on the image will open a larger graphic.

Figure 4, Cupola Design for Mine Shaft

Protective closures with gates or cupolas are only used when populations of bats, raptors or tortoises have been confirmed. As we will see however, preserving these habitats is far from automatic.

In Part three we will examine a gating project that used the cupola design to protect a colony of California Leaf-Nosed Bats and Barn Owls at a mine shaft near Wickenburg. You will be introduced to two organizations that work with state and federal agencies to protect habitats in abandoned mines.

Footnotes and References:

[1] Access to BLM Abandoned Mine Lands policies and manuals can be reached via these web sites:
Abandoned Mine Land Program Policy Manual Section (MS-3720) http://www.blm.gov/nhp/efoia/wo/manual/manuals.html
AML National Strategic Plan http://www.blm.gov/nhp/efoia/wo/fy06/im2006-145attach1.pdf
AML Website http://www.blm.gov/aml
BLM Manual Sections http://www.blm.gov/nhp/efoia/wo/manual/manuals.html

[2] Bureau of Land Management H-3720-1 Abandoned Mine Lands Policy Handbook. 9.3.3.4. Bat Surveys. Page 61.

[3] The shaft shown in this photo is approximately 200 yards west of the Mammoth Spar Mine. It is one of two shafts in the immediate vicinity that are awaiting external surveys to determine if they serve as habitats.

[4] The approximate retail cost of materials shown in Figure 1 is less than $80.00 (8 metal stakes at $7.00 each and 288 feet of wire at 6 cents per foot, plus signage.)

[5] Infrared sensors placed in abandoned mines in Nevada before and after warning signs were installed revealed no significant reduction in human visitation. Bat Conservation International. 2009. “Managing Abandoned Mines for Bats.” Page 79.

The tsunami set off by the earthquake in Chile didn’t do much damage around the Pacific Rim, but it did cause a river surge in the Hassayampa.

A wave of sand half a meter high surged out of the Gila River near Arlington and rolled up the Hassayampa as far as Morristown, smashing against seven million acres of tumbleweeds.

We don’t have many big events like that around here. And yet we live by the weather, or lack of it. As we see reports of blizzards and flooding elsewhere in the country, and catastrophes worldwide, we feel ever more grateful to live here. Miss Ellie, a northern California girl, says she doesn’t miss the earthquakes and mudslides. Mudslides are rare in Arizona, and very dusty.

We did have heavy storms off the Pacific about a month ago. We measured more than five inches of rain here at the institute, which qualifies as a weather phenomenon. The Hassayampa got all wet.

Now, vast stretches of desert are emerald green, and we figure the rain sets us up for a spectacular season of desert wildflowers, starting any day.

As a matter of fact, I was out looking for early wildflowers the other day, which is why I know about the river surge in the Hassayampa. I was alongside the river, just north of Buckeye, when the sand began rippling back out toward the Sea of Cortez.

Frankly, I was lost. That also was because of the recent storms. The rain stirred up the boogie bushes (Meanderous adios), which move from place to place on a whim, looking for wetter places to extend their shallow roots.

I thought I was driving north on Vulture Mine Road. But a big boogie bush that I use as a landmark had moved across the road from west to east, nudging up alongside a damp wash.

My subconscious, acting out of habit, told me that if that bush was on my left, I must be driving north. (The Arizona Woolgatherers Association meets here Wednesdays.)

I didn’t realize my error until I was almost to Buckeye. That’s when the wave of sand rippled past, also heading south.

Desert wildflowers should get a big boost from saguaros this spring. As you know, a saguaro is basically a water-storage machine. Its accordion-pleated hide allows it to expand and suck up water, as much as 200 gallons from a single storm.

After the recent storms, some of the saguaros found they had taken on too much water. They’ve been squirting water out of their “ears,” the holes left by woodpeckers and butcher birds.

When I was driving the wrong way on Vulture Mine Road, I saw a couple of saguaros that looked like they were having a water fight.

All that sprinkling can’t help but promote wildflowerism. I’m going back there in a few days to see if the cacti have raised a garden of gold poppies.

Responsible collectors of mineral specimens regularly (and safely) visited this popular site for 48 years until, in 1990, a young man set out to explore the underground workings on his own. About 100 feet into the McNeil Tunnel, in darkness, he stepped into a winze and fell 350 feet to his death. The entrance was sealed off a few years later but, in June 2002, another visitor entered the same tunnel after prying open the protective metal grating. Predictably, his fate was identical to that of the previous victim. The Tonopah-Belmont Mine now has the distinction of having more fatalities in its underground workings after it closed than during its long years of operation.[1]

Arguments for or against mine closures can be passionate – if not always rational. At one extreme, some would advocate that all underground mines should be found and permanently sealed – regardless of the cost for closing an estimated 100,000 shafts and adits in Arizona. At the other extreme, some argue this is simply wasteful government spending, that public funds should not be used to remediate any mine opening unless it is leaking toxic substances into the water table or poses a similar ecological threat.

To be sure, injuries, fatalities, vandalism and ecosystem damage have left an unhappy legacy at more than a few of Arizona’s historic mines. Federal and State agencies have struggled to find solutions but, as off road recreational vehicles make more mines accessible to incautious people, there is an increasing sense of urgency to destructively close mine entrances; either by collapsing the entrance with explosives or by backfilling with rock and soil. Some official circles have even suggested dumping old tires into abandoned shafts.[2]

An example of destructive closure can be found at the Mammoth Spar Mine south of Wickenburg, between Vulture Peak and Morristown. In January 2010, the BLM contracted to have five shafts backfilled with waste rock from the mine dump.[3] The Mammoth Spar was an underground fluorspar (calcium fluoride) mine that dates to the early 1950’s. Records indicate the mine produced about 100 tons of the mineral, which is an important flux material for smelting. The shafts at the Mammoth Spar are not particularly deep, ranging from 60 to 100 feet to reach the mineral vein. The area within a one mile radius is dotted with old shafts and adits, many of which are within a few yards of old mine trails.

Figure 1, Location of Mammoth Spar Shaft Closures

Figure 1 shows the location of the Mammoth Spar Mine, including five shafts that were backfilled. The two with red arrows were photographed by me.[4] A sixth shaft was also backfilled at another location about 1.5 miles west of Vulture Mine Road near the upper end of Mill Wash. This shaft is not related to the Mammoth Spar Mine.

Figure 2, Site of Former Mammoth Spar Shaft

Figure 2 shows the results of backfilling at the south shaft shown on the map. The second (red arrow) shaft is about 200 feet to the left (north) of this photo.

At first glance you might think the area was scraped clean, that historic artifacts might have ended up in the bottom of the shaft; but that is not the case. The decision to seal, fence or gate a mine entrance involves a careful, sometimes lengthy, process that includes inspections by mine engineers, archaeologists, wildlife conservation personnel and mitigation experts. Items of historic importance, even old concrete foundations, are left in place. Trash dumps that contain old cans and bottles are not disturbed and, generally speaking, are not located on the mine dump or tailing pile anyway. The appearance of the shaft area in Figure 2 shows that waste material from the mine dump was used for fill and leveling purposes. According to the BLM, nothing else at this site was moved or destroyed.

Figure 3, Open Shaft at Mammoth Spar

Surprisingly, there is a recently fenced open shaft less than 100 feet from Figure 2. This shaft is as visible, accessible and dangerous as the five nearby shafts that were backfilled. In fact, it was so dangerous that wildlife specialists could not safely rappel into it to perform subterranean inspections. The Arizona Game and Fish Department will conduct “emergence surveys” later this year to determine if bats or owls are flying in and out. This type of survey, typically using night vision or motion activated cameras, is not totally effective in determining seasonal use or the size of a resident colony, but it is one of few alternatives when safety is an issue.[5] Only after this survey is completed will a decision be rendered on the final disposition of the shaft. In the meantime, the fence serves as a visual warning to visitors.[6]

Since it is impossible to fall into a hole that doesn’t exist, you can say that destructive closure is 100 percent effective. Still, there is something vaguely disturbing – a sense of history lost – about closing an old mine site in this manner.

In Part two we will examine an alternative known as “Protective Closure” that preserves subterranean mine workings for wildlife while preventing access to people.

Footnotes and References:

[1] Steve Voynick. “Stay Out and Stay Alive.” Rock & Gem, July 2006.

[2] Arizona Daily Star, “Plan: Use old tires to plug state’s abandoned mines.” February 1, 2010. The State Mine Inspector’s Office advocates dumping tires into shafts because they are cheaper to haul than concrete, gravel or bricks. The state has a problem figuring out what to do with a growing surplus of waste tires.

[3] Funding was provided via the American Recovery and Reinvestment Act (the federal “stimulus” program) and cost $14,300.

[4] The main site of Mammoth Spar Mine is located at N33 52.763′ X W112 43.118′ in the NW1/4 of section 7 T6N, R4W. Mindat erroneously places the mine in section 5.

[5] “Managing Abandoned Mines for Bats.” Scott Altenback, University of New Mexico; Richard E. Sherwin, Christopher Newport University; David L. Waldien, Bat Conservation International. External surveys (such as above ground motion detection) are only 61 percent effective in confirming the presence of a bat colony inside a mine.

[6] There is no record of injury or fatality occurring at any of the abandoned shafts that were backfilled. Although there were several complaints filed by recreational visitors to this site in the past, the BLM’s policy is to proactively close abandoned mines that may pose a risk of injury or death.

By Jim Cook
Official State Liar of Arizona

I came home from our winter tour of Lapland with terrible respiratory problems. The staff in the emergency room here in  Wickenburg couldn’t believe that I got sick while being chased by wolves.

Now, as I sit here hacking and coughing and blowing permafrost out  my ears, I know that the trip was worth it.

I always wanted to see Lapland. It started in the fourth grade, when I saw photographs in geography books of the native people posing stiffly beside their reindeer.

Engineers from the Wickenburg Institute for Factual Diversity had to go to Lapland to road-test the new Hyundai Hypothesis. Miss Ellie and I went along.

The Hypothesis, a mid-sized SUV, is designed to run on a fuel that hasn’t yet been invented. Attempts to turn permafrost into fuel are not promising, but we needed to test the vehicle under arctic conditions. 

Since the Hypothesis engine is still a theory, we borrowed the engine from a Hyundai Tucson. We used the same powerplant to test the Hypothesis on the harsh deserts of southwestern Arizona last July. For the Lapland tests, we had to install four-wheel-drive skis.

You probably remember from grade school that Lapland is a blanket name for a region that spreads from Russia across Finland, Sweden and Norway. (Blankets are recommended). But to confuse me, Finland has an actual political subdivision called Lapland, a province squeezed between Russia and Sweden.

The indigenous people of Lapland do not like to be called “Laps” or “Lapps.”  That’s like calling an Apache a “Redskin.”

The natives of Lapland are Sami people, the oldest indigenous culture  in northern Europe, and a rich culture it is. They do Sami dancing, not Lap dancing.

Some Samis still herd reindeer, but others are right up-town, working in mills, electronics factories, banks and bistros. One morning when it was 76 degrees below zero, we saw a man walking down the street on snowshoes, carrying one of those little red ”designer” laptops. The computer turned blue in the cold.

We were never out of sight of tourists. Apparently, a lot of people share my curiosity.

We hired a Sami support crew, with their reindeer, their sled dogs, their snowmobiles. From our base in Enari, Finland, our little caravan headed into the wilderness, going east toward Russia’s Kola Peninsula. Only the tops of trees were poking out through the snow, which must have been twelve feet deep.

We were not far out of Murmansk when the Hypothesis quit cold. No one could figure out why. It’s the kind of thing your car will do when there’s no mechanic around. But we had a factory-trained Sami mechanic with us. His best guess was that gasoline was retreating to its nice warm tank, refusing to go meet the fuel injectors. Samis employ a good deal of mysticism to explain life. 

We put a sled under each corner of the Hypothesis, and  hitched up twenty reindeer to pull it. Miss Ellie had always had a secret wish to drive sled dogs, so the Samis fixed her up with a team. I followed along on a Finnish kicksled powered by one big reindeer.

We traveled rather slowly and sedately, until the bears came at us. There must have been a dozen of those big critters. They were grizzlies of the 800-pound kind, and they looked hungry.

We whipped up the reindeer and the sled dogs, and sped back toward Finland. The bears were gaining on us. Riding out there alone on my kicksled, I thought I was sure to be devoured. I could feel one big bear’s breath on my neck. He grabbed the scarf off my neck, which is probably why I have bronchitis. 

Then we heard the wolves. There must have been 40 of them, coming up on us fast. We didn’t know if the wolves were hunting us, or the bears, but they were howling and yipping and slavering, and we didn’t want to stop and ask their intentions.  

We were now sandwiched between thundering bears and slavering wolves. Bears were starting to pass me. I whipped up my reindeer and herded the hindmost bear off ro the left, around a little knoll. Sure enough, the wolves followed.

Our Sami crew chief saw what I had in mind. He went around the other side of the knoll, steering the Hypothesis behind its reindeer train. The bears followed him.

Our party hurried to the top of the knoll so that we could watch as bears and wolves met head-on. We expected a gory sight, but it was not like that. Traditionally, bears and wolves are not supposed to meet that way. They stalk each other.

They seemed confused and embarrassed. The bears sneaked back toward Russia, and the woves skulked off in the direction of Sweden.

It was a memorable experience, but I’m finnished with Lapland, and Miss Ellie says there’s Norway she’ll ever drive a dog sled again.

In one incident, (December, 1913), a worker decided to take a short cut through an underground chamber at the end of his shift — even though blasting was in progress. He reasoned (incorrectly) that he could reach the surface more quickly by cutting through the Number 3 Stope after the first round of blasts had occurred, but before the second round went off. His sense of timing was every bit as poor as his judgment. He lived for two days, but they just couldn’t stop the bleeding.

The Assay Office at Vulture Mine. Photo by Maria Langer.

The second incident occurred in 1923 and involved the unhealthy combination of stupidity and greed. Seven miners, whose names are not recorded, sneaked into the mine at night to engage in personal enrichment.

If you are not familiar with hard rock mining terminology, a stope is an open chamber that remains after valuable ores have been removed. Stopes could become quite large if the ore deposit was substantial. If the native rock was of sufficient strength the chamber would not be reinforced with timbers for reasons of economy. Instead, the stope would be supported by columns of native rock. The larger the stope was the more columns were needed to prevent collapse.

The seven larcenous workers planned to chip away some of the rich gold ore in the columns and make their escape with as much fortune as they could load onto a dozen burros. The column or columns they selected that night must have been particularly rich in gold. In their greed they removed so much ore that the entire stope collapsed; killing them and the burros. Their grave marker is a large depression on the surface known as a glory hole.

Sadly, most fatalities in Arizona’s underground mines were not self-inflicted by foolish people. The 1912 report of the Mine Inspector covered a period of only six and one half months. During that span of time 33 serious injuries and 28 fatalities occurred in the mines. The first full year of reporting was in 1913, which saw 70 serious injuries and 66 fatalities.

How one injury qualified as “serious” and another injury might not could have been a bit too subjective for the legislators, and this deficiency was addressed the following year. The public began to see just how dangerous it was to work in the mines – or at least in some of them.

By the end of the ninth year of record-keeping (1920), 561 fatalities and 7119 injuries had been reported. The potential for injury or death was, it seemed, everywhere. A random sampling of fatalities from this period is shown below; with the cause of death listed verbatim.

• Ramaldo Carillo – Detroit Copper Company: While blasting a round of holes he had difficulty in lighting the last hole and the first hole exploded while he was still at the last.
• Roy Jacobson – Copper Queen Mine: Crushed by cage and then fell down shaft.
• Augustine Camache – Little Daisy Mine: Overcome by gas, fell in water and drowned.
• Teolindo Estevez – Gold Road Mine: Drilled into a missed hole.
• P. Padillo – Vulture Mines: When going off shift he went through No 3 stope where blasting was going on. First round of holes had gone off and as he started going through this stope the second round went off.
• Charles Jenkins and Agapito Gutierrez – Arizona Copper Company: Failed to open air valve after blasting and Gutierrez was overcome by gas. Jenkins went down to rescue him and was also overcome.
• Francis L. Dupen – Miami Copper: Fell off a cage to about 350 feet below.
• Moises Lastra – Detroit Copper: Was being lowered in a bucket when the engineer noticed the bell cord shake and stopped the bucket. Went down to investigate and found Lastra’s body at the bottom of shaft.
• Jose V. Garcia – Arizona Copper Company: While climbing into car, came in contact with trolley wires.
• W.M. Roberts – Calumet & Arizona: Stepped on cage while in motion. He was caught between cage and station bar, and almost decapitated.
• Joe Pianti – Iron Cap Copper: Fell from 500 foot level to 800 foot level.
• E.E. Sargent – Iron Cap Copper: Crushed between (ore) car and timbers.
• Batiste Guizzetti – Inspiration Consolidated: Sufficated [sic] in raise.
• E. A. Stevens, T. Sandovol & A. Cardello – Arizona Copper Company: Repairing bulkhead at fire. Burned.
• Frank J. Perks – Walnut Creek Mining Company: Caught by flywheel and drawn through base of engine and flywheel.

Inside the Assay Office at Vulture Mine. Photo by Maria Langer.

A review of the injuries and fatalities shows that the difference between the quick and the dead was often only a matter of inches or seconds. To be sure, some of these incidents were the result of carelessness by the victim or a fellow worker; but the lack of safety training, the use of unsafe equipment, dangerous procedures and the ineffective shoring of underground spaces were far more significant factors. The top ten causes of death in Arizona mines from 1912 through 1920 include:

1. Falling rock or timbers: 168 deaths resulted from miners being struck or crushed by falling rock (not cave-ins). This includes rocks, boulders and slabs falling from the roof or side of a stope or drift, rocks falling down chutes or raises, falling timbers, or similar circumstances.
2. Fall of mine worker: 104 deaths came from falls by miners. This includes falling out of cages or buckets that were being raised or lowered in a shaft, slipping and falling into shafts, winzes or down ore chutes, or being knocked off a piece of equipment and falling.
3. Explosions of powder or dynamite: 70 miners were killed during this period by premature or delayed explosions. Many of these can be attributed to defective fuses.
4. Crushed by equipment: 64 deaths resulted from the mine worker being crushed by equipment. This includes derailment of trains or ore cars, being caught under or run over by engines, being crushed between two ore cars, between a moving piece of equipment and a tunnel wall, or by a cage or bucket in a shaft.
5. Cave-ins: 36 fatalities resulted from the complete collapse of the roof and/or walls of a stope or drift. Death may have been caused by crushing or suffocation while buried under debris.
6. Missed Hole: 28 miners were killed when they drilled or picked into a hole that had been charged with blasting powder or dynamite. In these cases, the charge had not exploded when all of the holes were set off.
7. Electrocution: 26 fatalities came from contact with bare electrical wires. Typically, these deaths were from contact with an overhead trolley wire.
8. Suffocation: 15 miners died from suffocation caused by gases, unventilated spaces after blasting, dust, or having been trapped in a confined area.
9. Falling equipment: 11 miners were killed by buckets, cages or other equipment that fell down a shaft, striking them.
10. Air blast: 5 fatalities occurred in a single incident involving an air blast. Details are not available, but this may have been a concussive shock wave.

The remaining 34 fatalities were caused by collisions (4), steam or gas explosions (3), fire (3) and a variety of decidedly bizarre accidents, including one miner who was impaled on his pick. In the ten years that followed, from 1921 through 1930, another 357 miners would die in accidents and 6,388 would be injured. Not surprisingly, the major causes of death did not change appreciably in that decade. The total reported deaths and injuries for the period between May 15, 1912 and November 30, 1930: 918 fatalities and 13,507 injuries.

The graph titled “Mine Fatalities” illustrates both year to year (red line) and cumulative (blue line) deaths during this period. If the death toll seemed to moderate in the years leading up to 1930 it was due more to a decrease in the number of men employed by the mines rather than to substantive improvements in safety. In fact, the rate of injury and death (as a percentage of the work force) would usually spike in years that experienced a sharp reduction in the number of mine workers.

Although reporting was mandatory after Statehood, it does not mean that all accidents were reported by the mines or tabulated by the Mine Inspector. On May 17, two days after the Inspector’s office was established, Francisco Vargas fell into an open cut at the Coronado Mine, suffering a concussion and drowned. His death was not reported. Was this an oversight? Perhaps – but there was ample time to collect this statistic before the end of the reporting period. [1]

The worst disaster to ever occur at the Coronado Mine also went unreported. A derailment at the Coronado Incline took nine lives at 4:00 pm on August 13, 1913, but was not included in the statistics for that year. The baby gauge locomotive was transporting ore and workers from the Matilda Shaft to the top of the Incline, which gained 1,500 feet of elevation over a distance of only 3,300 feet. Death certificates indicate the men were thrown from the car(s) and crushed.

Another notable example includes the seven men who produced the Glory Hole at the Vulture Mine. Those deaths may not have been counted because the workers were stealing gold and their actions caused the collapse.

Footnotes:
[1] There had already been six fatalities at the Arizona Copper Company workings between January 1 and May 13, 1912. These were not reported because they preceded creation of the State Mine Inspector office.

I thought I’d share this footage with site visitors.

If you have photographs of the flooding, please use the Contact Us link to send it to us. Be sure to include your name and a caption.

What is a Dark Sky Ordinance?

Dark Sky Ordinances are enacted to protect a community’s night skies from light pollution or urban glow which interferes with being able to see, at night, the starry beauty of deep, dark night skies.

Dark Sky Ordinances typically provide that outdoor lights, at night, should shine downward. Other typical provisions:

• Lights should be turned off when not necessary.
• Safety and security lighting to be provided with lights low to the ground as possible.
• Grandfathering-in and phase-in times for non-conforming lighting.
• Exceptions for police/fire emergency lighting, holiday lighting.

Carefree, Flagstaff, and Tucson have Dark Sky Ordinances. Yavapai County, Wickenburg’s immediate neighbor to the north, also has a Dark Sky Ordinance.

Why Wickenburg, Why Now?

Wickenburg, like other areas west of metro-Phoenix, is currently experiencing slow growth as part of the national economic situation but is poised for a growth spurt. To protect its night skies and to enhance its economic competitiveness as being a pleasant place to live and where property values are enhanced because quality of life is prized, Wickenburg should put a Dark Sky Ordinance in place now, before the next growth spurt takes place and achieving dark skies and accompanying benefits becomes more difficult.

You can become a Dark Sky advocate by:

• Believing that the Town of Wickenburg should have a Dark Sky Ordinance.
• Contributing $1.00 and signing up to allow your name to be known as a Dark Sky Advocate, to help advocate and support, and to receive information about progress in Dark Sky matters.

Say YES to helping preserve the beauty of Wickenburg’s night skies. Say YES to Wickenburg’s enacting a Dark Sky Ordinance. Say YES to being a Wickenburg Dark Sky Advocate.

Contact me to learn more about the Wickenburg Dark Sky Advocates organization: 928/684-3137

Over the next few weeks, the site will be completely reworked in a new format. Although all content should be accessible during this time, you may get the occasional error messages while accessing features. Please feel free to post a comment on this post to share problems you find; the ones that are reported will get attention first.

Also, we’ll need some new header images for the site. If you have any panoramic photos of the area that you’d like to share, please use the Contact Us link to let us know.

Getting Started

Our journey started on Rincon Road, right off of Highway 89/30. It’s a right hand turn not far from the second roundabout if you’re coming from the south. The road takes you past some pasture and a roping facility, then crosses the Hassayampa River, which is usually dry there. The pavement ends and starts and ends multiple times. You’ll cross the river twice. After the second crossing, you’ll find yourself at the site of an old manganese mine. There’s a big parking area there and it’s often filled with trucks pulling trailers for ATVs or horses. Yesterday, there were two camps set up, looking out over the riverbed.

We made a sharp left to continue along Rincon Road. It climbs out of the river area into the low mountains northwest of town. At an obvious intersection, we made a right to continue on Rincon. This short piece of road is extremely rough but offers outstanding views back toward Wickenburg, as well as lots of typical Sonoran desert vegetation. And rocks — did I mention the rocks?

As we continued along this piece of road, we passed a pickup truck with a cap on top. A man was standing, shirtless, at the back. He appeared to be washing his hands. A peek inside the truck cap revealed a mattress on a platform with various supplies under it. It was clear that this was the man’s “camper.” Not everyone needs a 35-foot fifth wheel for living in the desert.

After another quick photo stop, we joined Scenic Loop and headed north along its maintained dirt surface. This was familiar territory for us, so we didn’t remain on it long. Instead, when the road descended into a wash and turned to the east, we turned left into the wash and followed the sandy road northwest. According to our maps, this was scenic loop and the road we knew as Scenic Loop was actually called Stanton Hall Road. As if road names make a difference out there — none of the roads are marked and few people using the roads know their names.

We took our time along the drive, making a few stops along the way. At one point, we turned right off the main road and climbed up a side road covered with loose gravel. The road was steep and I think this is the only place where 4WD may have been required on the trip. Although we both expected the road to end, it continued past the top of the hill toward the east. We decided to turn back and stay on our original path.

The Photo Spots

I won’t bore you with the turn by turn details beyond this point — partly because I can’t remember every single turn we made as we wound down one dirt road after another, through washes, up steep grades, and around obstacles. I was glad we were in a Jeep and not something with a wider wheelbase. For most of the time, it was slow going. We didn’t stop many times for photos, on the first half of the trip because there wasn’t much of interest to photograph.

There were some exceptions, of course. One was Sand Mill, site of windmill, cattle tanks, and corral. I have a thing about windmills and did my usual study of this one. Unfortunately, it was broken, although I do think it could be repaired. What I found more interesting was the welded iron water tank behind it and the fencing around the corral — which was in unusually good shape. There had been two cows standing in the area when we drove up, but they ran off when we stopped. Cows out in the open range are funny like that. No matter how hard you try to not spook them, they get spooked anyway.

Anyway, here are three portrait view shots I took in the area. (Unlike a lot of amateur photographers, I’m not afraid to turn my cameral sideways.) These are a little more “artsy” than scenic. It was fun to play with the textures and patterns.

Later on, near a place called Brick Tank, I managed to get this shot of two cows. They stood there for about two minutes just staring at us as I rolled the Jeep into position and framed this shot. Then, just as I pushed down on the shutter, the smaller one (on the left) turned her head and ran off. The other followed, of course.

We also passed a herd of about eight mule deer along the way. I stopped while Mike tried to get some photos. They weren’t quite close enough for our lenses — we hadn’t brought along my 70-300mm zoom. Here’s my only shot, which I admit isn’t very good. I cropped it here.

As we reached Stanton, we found the road blocked by a fence and a “No Trespassing” sign. This wasn’t good news; if we had to go back to find another route, it could have easily taken another hour to get to the same spot. Fortunately, two-track roads led around the fence, dumping us right outside the ghost town of Stanton on Stanton Road.

Stanton is owned by the Lost Dutchmen Mining Association (LDMA). It’s always had a caretaker on duty, so the few buildings that remain of the original town — stage stop, hotel, and opera house — still stand. The LDMA offers campsites for its members. On Christmas Day, the place was crammed with RVs of all kinds, from the crappiest conversion van you could imagine to a 35-foot Cameo that looked very new. These folks spend their time panning for gold, which is kind of cool. I say “kind of” because it’s a ton of work and not the easiest way to make money. But every once in a while, someone finds a gold nugget big enough to keep everyone else looking. And it’s nice to be able to spend so much time outdoors with folks who share the same interest.

The Mountainous Portion of the Trip

Stanton Road meets up with Mina Road right there and that’s where we headed to start the second part of the trip — the part I wanted to do. I’d seen a Jeep road up in the Weaver Mountains that I wanted to check out. It wasn’t far from Stanton on the back road that went from Stanton to Yarnell: Mina Road.

Our landmark was a switchback to the left in the road. The road we wanted would go straight instead of making that left turn. But sure enough, it was blocked off with a fence and a “No Trespassing” sign. We made a U-turn and went back a short distance to another road that looked as if it might parallel the one we wanted. According to my GPS and the topo maps we’d brought along, the road we were on ended. But those maps are from the 1980s, before folks with ATVs and gold fever started exploring the area. We explored the road and its side roads until we found the place it met up with the road we wanted, beyond that private property.

We drove across Antelope Creek, which still running as a small stream with a mix of spring water and runoff from snow and rain at higher elevations the previous week. I threw the Jeep into 4WD and powered up a steep, narrow Jeep trail with lots of loose rock. When I leveled out and could see the road beyond, I realized that I just wasn’t prepared to go any farther. The road was very narrow, very steep, and covered with very loose rock. I was tired from almost 2 hours of driving on back roads. I’d had enough rough road exploring.

We got out for a while to take photographs in the area. There was a lot of slate-like rock, standing straight up. Much of the rock was covered with orange and yellow lichen. It made an interesting contrast to the green and brown of the desert, the blue of the sky, and the deep shadows cast by late afternoon sun. The light hadn’t gotten “good” yet, but it wasn’t bad — probably because of its low winter angle.

We also walked down to Antelope Creek. It was great to see so much water flowing in the desert. I knew that downstream, the flow dried up before it even reached Stanton. I tried to get some photos that showed reflections in pools of relatively smooth water. The water, in some places, was about two feet deep. Although Jack the Dog drank some of it without side effect, I wouldn’t think of drinking it without treating it first; just too much open range and wildlife in the area. (That’s why its best to bring your own water, even if you know you might find some along the way.)

The Way Back

We returned to Mina Road and headed back toward Wickenburg. But rather than take the fast way — Stanton Road to Route 89 — we turned left on Stanton Road and headed back on more dirt roads.

But first, we stopped at one of the few buildings that remain at Octave, another ghost town. The afternoon sun had drifted down quite low when we arrived and I think I got some of my best photos of the day. I have a thing about photographing abandoned buildings, and even though this was a small one, it kept me busy for a good 20 minutes. This is one of my favorite shots.

We also stopped alongside the road where the boulder-and-saguaro-strewn side of Rich Hill was illuminated by the low-lying sun. As you look at this photo, remember that each cactus stands at least 15 feet tall. Really gives you an idea of how big the boulders are, no? The horizontal version of this photo will be my desktop pattern.

We turned south toward Wickenburg a while later. Again, I can’t remember where we turned; you’ll need to check my GPS track log to see. The following 90 minutes was spent exploring various ways to get through the desert and back to pavement near Scenic Loop or Rincon Road. We made a lot of “wrong” turns. In looking at our track and knowing the desert from previous non-GPS-assisted trips, I know we didn’t take the best path. But it was a new path, and that’s all that really mattered.

We joined back up with Scenic Loop near Sand Mill and retraced our steps. By then, the light was very low and the mountains were glowing copper colored. We made one more side trip in search of a good spot to take some final photos and found ourselves quite close to the Hassayampa River on a short cliff. Although Mike took some shots, I didn’t like anything I saw through the lens.

We backtracked all the way back to 89/93, drove through town, and headed home. It was a great way to spend Christmas Day.

Trace Our Treads

If you’re interested in following our route, I offer my Garmin GPX track log file for you to load into your GPS. Once you load the track log into your GPS, you can go to the center of town in Wickenburg to pick up the track and follow it. For best results, you’ll want a GPS that you can load topographic maps on; you’ll see that many (but not all) of the dirt roads we followed appear on the Garmin MapSource maps — or standard USGS topographical maps. You’ll also see where we made wrong turns and hit dead ends. You might want to review the track log before following it blindly; here it is on EveryTrail.com.

You’ll also need a vehicle with high clearance and a relatively narrow wheelbase. Leave the Hummer or big pickup truck home. You’ll do better with a Jeep or quad or some other ATV. Although we threw the Jeep into 4WD a few times, I don’t think we actually needed it more than once or twice. In this area, I always recommend using 4WD when driving in deep sand (especially along the Hassayampa River, which is notorious for quicksand).

And I know I don’t have to tell you to bring water, emergency gear, etc., right? Our route travelled to some pretty remote areas of the desert. If we had a breakdown, it would have been a long walk to help.

The Letter

Editor, Wickenburg Sun

Ok, I’m relatively new here moving from New England about 5 years ago and I don’t really understand municipal finance in AZ but it seems to me that a “TRADE” of a portion of the sales tax for a portion of the property tax is just that. Wickenburg property owners will not be getting any tax relief, in fact all their property taxes will now go to the state, county and a school district increasingly focused on developing a new school system in Buckeye. In return, the Town of Wickenburg will get to keep a larger percentage of sales tax revenue generated within its boundaries. So there’s no local property “tax break” only the comfort that Wickenburg property taxpayers might feel knowing that all of their LOCAL property taxes are now going to a good cause to make up for declining collections in Phoenix, Buckeye, Peoria, Surprise, Glendale and other struggling valley communities in these hard times.

Why is total reliance on the sales tax a bad idea? Simple! It pits town government against residents virtually guaranteeing that the town will approve every proposed project that will increase sales tax revenue regardless of whether it will damage the local property tax base or quality of life. Why? Because the town will have no vested interest in the local property tax base and – in fact – under this system, there is no local property tax base – it all belongs to the state and county and any other tax jurisdictions.

In a system where local property taxes are the first source of local revenue, places like Wickenburg are true tax havens. With an average age of nearly 50 and a high percentage of nonresident second home owners, the level of services per resident is extraordinarily low compared to the value of the property tax base. That is, if Arizona communities relied on their own real estate tax base for revenue, Wickenburg would have one of the lowest tax rates in the state. As is, we are already subsidizing the rest of Maricopa County, and with this latest deal we are giving away the rest of farm. And the timing couldn’t have been worse! Assessments in Maricopa County properties decreased on average by over 22% between FY 2009 and the upcoming FY 2010 but Wickenburg’s assessments decreased by only about 4%. So, if tax rates adjust so as to be revenue neutral, the typical valley community will see no tax increase but Wickenburg would see a double digit increase in property taxes!

Our leaders have been drugged by the apparent success of valley communities which is unraveling as I write. Drive east on SR 74 and you see a sign that says “Phoenix – 37 miles” and just 2 miles later you see a sign that says “Entering Phoenix” — or take a ruler to the latest county map showing community annexations and find that Buckeye now measures 46 miles north to south! Is this efficient municipal management or a time bomb based on a self destructive rooftops and retail arms race fueled by the lure of the almighty sales tax?

Anything we can do to keep more of our local property tax dollars within this community should be done. To force the issue, a voter mandate to eliminate local sales taxes might just start the fire that brings some fiscal sanity to Wickenburg and maybe even the rest of Arizona.