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I was a very small child when we moved to Tucson, Arizona from the Northeast in the
late 1950's. Unfortunately, I realize I show my age here.
We weren't there very long before I began to become aware of the many, many mines in the area - both abandoned and active. My parents had some good friends in Bisbee and we went down there a few times. The whole town was a fascinating mining relic from the past.
My older brother was fascinated with mines but mostly because he had a general fascination for the history of the old West more than a specific interest in mining. He would drag my Dad off on explorations from time to time but more often than not the little baby brother was left behind.
There was one time, however, that Dad relented and took me along with them to the ghost town of "Helvetia" south of Tucson. The year was around 1959 or '60. I was really excited and fascinated by it all. I saw what looked like giant head frames and a strange, round-shaped almost mystical-looking edifice in bright colors up on the side of a hill. I later learned it was small smelter.
The actual remains of the town of Helvetia were also still in evidence. There were a lot of ticky-tacky looking houses on grid-like dirt streets that used to house the miners. Some of the windows had been broken and had plastic film in them instead of glass. I was really excited but, of course, we didn't get out of the car. For me, looking around and exploring Helvetia would have to wait until I was older.
In the early 1970s, I found myself at the U of A in Tucson when my friend "Brian" and I made a trip down to Helvetia. The head frames and smelter I had remembered were gone. Only deteriorating foundations remained where the houses had once stood. We sat on the ground near where the houses had been with our backs propped up against Brian’s car eating lunch. After lunch Brian asked me, “You wanna go pokin' around in the mines?”. I was like, "YES!"
We drove up what you might call the "main road" through the area although it was a dirt road and clearly not in the best of condition. Along the side of a hill, right next to the road was a huge, gaping hole, what I call a "glory hole". We stopped the car, grabbed our flashlights and began a descent into the blackness of the hole. It was really scary! You have to realize this was the first time I ever did anything like this.
It had a really steep slope (at least 45 – 55 degrees) covered with loose rubble. We started sliding down on the rubble and I was afraid I wouldn't be able to stop! It looked to me like this thing descended into the bowels of the earth, maybe directly into hell. I had no idea how deep this thing was! Did it perhaps come to an abrupt end at a sheer drop? We slowly slid into what amounted to a huge, man-made, underground cavern. Once my eyes began to adjust to the dark, I could see the bottom of this thing and wasn't so scared anymore.
There were holes way up on the side of the cavern walls and even in the ceiling with old, rickety, wooden ladders leading up to them, the bottoms of which were well beyond our reach (which was probably a blessing). It was really bizarre! I never saw anything quite like that before or since. But there was ONE opening right at the floor level that we could walk up to. We shined our lights in there and it looked to us as if it went deep into the mine. We started into the tunnel when I spied some boards on the tunnel floor probably not more than five or ten feet inside the opening. I yelled at Brian, "Hold it! What are those boards for?"
Well, they spanned a hole, of course. The width of the hole reached from tunnel wall to tunnel wall so stepping around the hole was not an option and the diameter was too great to simply jump over. My friend started out onto the boards and began to "test" them. Boing, boing, boing, boing. I yelled at him, "Have you completely lost your mind? Why, those boards have probably been lying there for the better part of 50 years!" At the last fraction of an instant, Brian was stricken with an attack of good sense and backed off. We dropped a large rock into the hole. Never heard it hit bottom! We could hear it hitting the walls and knocking stuff loose on the way down but the noise just slowly faded out. No crash at the bottom was heard. So we dropped another larger rock into the abyss, then another with the same results each time. Holy smoke! How deep could that be? Brian shined his flashlight at the tunnel ceiling and that’s when we saw it went UP too as well as down. With no way to safely cross the chasm and with really nothing else left do or see down here, there was really nothing else for us to do but leave.
We began scrambling back up the steep slope of the "glory hole". It was almost like work. Sometimes I felt like I'd slide back a couple of steps in order to advance three. But after a little effort and perseverance we reached the rim of the opening and returned to the car.
During my years in Arizona I had a couple more good experiences but this story is long enough for now. Anybody on this group should get an "A" if you made it this far!
Exploring abandoned mines can be dangerous, but it is REALLY dangerous if you are unprepared and don't know what you're doing – and I certainly did not. It would've been a big help if I'd had a hard hat, a miner's light, a back-up light, steel-toed boots and protective clothing. My friend Brian really didn't know much more than I did. It's really too darn bad that there wasn't a group like the Mojave Underground back then that I could've hooked up with. If there was, I didn't find them nor they me.
I often wonder what this area is like today. I wish I could go back and check it out again but since I now have a family and live in Indiana that is not an option.
It would be interesting if some of the Mojave Underground experts could visit Helvetia someday and come back with a full trip report. Sadly, in recent years Arizona has been very aggressive in sealing old mines and has some of the harshest laws on the books of any western state against entering or exploring abandoned mines.
This was largely in response to a number of high-profile deaths and injuries that have occurred abandoned mines in recent years. Ironically, few if any of the tragedies occurred among underground explorers but rather by people who were simply wandering around in the desert or in the mountains and accidently fell, drove or rode into a hole while hiking, dirt biking, four-wheeling or snowboarding.
Here are a few pictures of the Helvetia area but I don’t know for sure how recent they are. They certainly don’t offer a lot of details:
http://www.mindat.org/sitegallery.php?loc=5437
Regards,
Fred M. Cain,
Topeka, Indiana (formerly of Arizona)
late 1950's. Unfortunately, I realize I show my age here.
We weren't there very long before I began to become aware of the many, many mines in the area - both abandoned and active. My parents had some good friends in Bisbee and we went down there a few times. The whole town was a fascinating mining relic from the past.
My older brother was fascinated with mines but mostly because he had a general fascination for the history of the old West more than a specific interest in mining. He would drag my Dad off on explorations from time to time but more often than not the little baby brother was left behind.
There was one time, however, that Dad relented and took me along with them to the ghost town of "Helvetia" south of Tucson. The year was around 1959 or '60. I was really excited and fascinated by it all. I saw what looked like giant head frames and a strange, round-shaped almost mystical-looking edifice in bright colors up on the side of a hill. I later learned it was small smelter.
The actual remains of the town of Helvetia were also still in evidence. There were a lot of ticky-tacky looking houses on grid-like dirt streets that used to house the miners. Some of the windows had been broken and had plastic film in them instead of glass. I was really excited but, of course, we didn't get out of the car. For me, looking around and exploring Helvetia would have to wait until I was older.
In the early 1970s, I found myself at the U of A in Tucson when my friend "Brian" and I made a trip down to Helvetia. The head frames and smelter I had remembered were gone. Only deteriorating foundations remained where the houses had once stood. We sat on the ground near where the houses had been with our backs propped up against Brian’s car eating lunch. After lunch Brian asked me, “You wanna go pokin' around in the mines?”. I was like, "YES!"
We drove up what you might call the "main road" through the area although it was a dirt road and clearly not in the best of condition. Along the side of a hill, right next to the road was a huge, gaping hole, what I call a "glory hole". We stopped the car, grabbed our flashlights and began a descent into the blackness of the hole. It was really scary! You have to realize this was the first time I ever did anything like this.
It had a really steep slope (at least 45 – 55 degrees) covered with loose rubble. We started sliding down on the rubble and I was afraid I wouldn't be able to stop! It looked to me like this thing descended into the bowels of the earth, maybe directly into hell. I had no idea how deep this thing was! Did it perhaps come to an abrupt end at a sheer drop? We slowly slid into what amounted to a huge, man-made, underground cavern. Once my eyes began to adjust to the dark, I could see the bottom of this thing and wasn't so scared anymore.
There were holes way up on the side of the cavern walls and even in the ceiling with old, rickety, wooden ladders leading up to them, the bottoms of which were well beyond our reach (which was probably a blessing). It was really bizarre! I never saw anything quite like that before or since. But there was ONE opening right at the floor level that we could walk up to. We shined our lights in there and it looked to us as if it went deep into the mine. We started into the tunnel when I spied some boards on the tunnel floor probably not more than five or ten feet inside the opening. I yelled at Brian, "Hold it! What are those boards for?"
Well, they spanned a hole, of course. The width of the hole reached from tunnel wall to tunnel wall so stepping around the hole was not an option and the diameter was too great to simply jump over. My friend started out onto the boards and began to "test" them. Boing, boing, boing, boing. I yelled at him, "Have you completely lost your mind? Why, those boards have probably been lying there for the better part of 50 years!" At the last fraction of an instant, Brian was stricken with an attack of good sense and backed off. We dropped a large rock into the hole. Never heard it hit bottom! We could hear it hitting the walls and knocking stuff loose on the way down but the noise just slowly faded out. No crash at the bottom was heard. So we dropped another larger rock into the abyss, then another with the same results each time. Holy smoke! How deep could that be? Brian shined his flashlight at the tunnel ceiling and that’s when we saw it went UP too as well as down. With no way to safely cross the chasm and with really nothing else left do or see down here, there was really nothing else for us to do but leave.
We began scrambling back up the steep slope of the "glory hole". It was almost like work. Sometimes I felt like I'd slide back a couple of steps in order to advance three. But after a little effort and perseverance we reached the rim of the opening and returned to the car.
During my years in Arizona I had a couple more good experiences but this story is long enough for now. Anybody on this group should get an "A" if you made it this far!
Exploring abandoned mines can be dangerous, but it is REALLY dangerous if you are unprepared and don't know what you're doing – and I certainly did not. It would've been a big help if I'd had a hard hat, a miner's light, a back-up light, steel-toed boots and protective clothing. My friend Brian really didn't know much more than I did. It's really too darn bad that there wasn't a group like the Mojave Underground back then that I could've hooked up with. If there was, I didn't find them nor they me.
I often wonder what this area is like today. I wish I could go back and check it out again but since I now have a family and live in Indiana that is not an option.
It would be interesting if some of the Mojave Underground experts could visit Helvetia someday and come back with a full trip report. Sadly, in recent years Arizona has been very aggressive in sealing old mines and has some of the harshest laws on the books of any western state against entering or exploring abandoned mines.
This was largely in response to a number of high-profile deaths and injuries that have occurred abandoned mines in recent years. Ironically, few if any of the tragedies occurred among underground explorers but rather by people who were simply wandering around in the desert or in the mountains and accidently fell, drove or rode into a hole while hiking, dirt biking, four-wheeling or snowboarding.
Here are a few pictures of the Helvetia area but I don’t know for sure how recent they are. They certainly don’t offer a lot of details:
http://www.mindat.org/sitegallery.php?loc=5437
Regards,
Fred M. Cain,
Topeka, Indiana (formerly of Arizona)
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