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What follows here is an account of the completely amateurish exploration of the Max Delta Mine in Phoenix’s South Mounain Park by a friend and me in the late 1970’s. This story is completely true although I tried to write it in such a way as to make for interesting reading. I actually wrote this about nine or ten years ago and have just recently gone back and dusted it off and tuned it up a bit in order to share it with you. The story is so long that I am going to break in down into two parts.
Enjoy.
FUN THINGS TO DO IN THE PARK
Back when I was a much younger guy, I found myself studying music at Arizona State University in Tempe, Arizona. The year was 1978. Jimmy Carter was the President of the United States, Bing Crosby had recently died and the popular T.V. sitcom "Happy Days" was on prime time television if that gives you any indication. Ah yes, I show my age. I know.
We were having typical early "fall" October weather in the greater Phoenix area with high temps around 100º. It felt as if summer would just never end. One day after practicing the piano for several hours in the ASU music building, my good friend Greg walked into my practice room and was really ancy to do something "fun".
"Let's go to South Mountain Park", he urged, "There's a great view there and they say you can find Indian hieroglyphics. It'll be a great break.” I just wanted to practice my “Ragtime”, however, and quickly dismissed his suggestion.
“Ah come on”, begged Greg, “It’ll be great fun; there are all kinds of fun things to do in the park. Besides, all practice and no play makes Jack a dull boy”. I looked at the clock. 1:00 p.m. Well, the afternoon was still early, so, why not? I asked myself.
Greg went out and jumped into his car and I into mine and we headed for the park with me following him in convoy. For those of you unfamiliar with the Phoenix area, South Mountain Park is a large city park intended to protect and preserve desert Salt River Mountains range just south of Phoenix. It stretches about 10 - 15 miles long and is sandwiched in between the sprawling city of Phoenix to the north and the Gila River Indian Reservation to the south. A paved road goes to the top which is around 2,500 feet in elevation. There is a parking lot, a lookout and some antennas, I think.
We jumped on I-10 westbound to the Phoenix Central Avenue exit. Then we proceeded southward along Phoenix’s Central Ave until we crossed the park boundary. The road then curves toward the west, curves southward again then curves once more back toward the east and heads toward the top of the mountain. As we wound our way around the curves and began heading east up the mountain, I glanced off in a southerly direction and up toward the saddleback of the range. There, off in the distance, I saw what looked like two large tailings piles and several smaller ones. I’d seen this in the past but never really paid too much attention to it.
After we were done looking at the view and searching for the Indian petroglyphs that we never found, Greg felt it was time to head back. It was then I suggested that we check out the tailings piles I'd spotted further down the mountain.
Greg queried, "Huh? Tails? What are you talkin' about?"
"The tailings piles down closer to the entrance", I rejoined.
"What's that?" he asked baffled.
"Well, let’s drive back down there and we'll see", I encouraged. "Just follow me."
And so we did. Upon seeing the large piles of rubble in the distance, Greg exclaimed, "What in the world is it for?"
"I dunno. I think it's an old mine. Let's go check it out", I suggested, to which he countered, "Hey, cool!"
There was a dirt "road", if you could call it that, which led up toward two of the largest tailings piles. It was largely washed out and in the most abominable condition, fit only for the very most rugged Jeep or Landrover.
So we just parked and locked our cars on the south side of the main road and hiked up to the piles. It was probably about a half to ¾ of a mile or so to the first pile.
Climbing up the side of the tailings pile I realized that the darn thing was a whole lot bigger than it had looked from the main road. We scrambled to the top. Once we got up there we saw that the pile was quite flat on top, "fan-shaped" and narrowed to a point.
We walked over to where it narrowed, but couldn't really see anything. I theorized that this large, man-made alluvial fan had to have come out of a hole somewhere but there was nothing to be found. If there had once been an adit portal (miner’s lingo for tunnel entrance), it had either collapsed or, more likely, had been bulldozed in. If that was the case, then the dozer operator had certainly outdone himself.
Greg looked at his watch then exclaimed, "O.K., that's it! It's high time we started heading back".
But looking further up the mountain, off in the distance, I spotted what looked like a huge volcano-shaped pile of tailings reminiscent of an enormous "anthill".
"O.K., we can go, but let's just go up there and look at that first", I beckoned.
But Greg, looking at his watch and shaking his head, stayed firm. He stated adamantly, "No way! I gotta get back".
"But Greg, you don't know when we might ever get a chance to come back here! O.K. Tell ya what. Start walking back to the car, I'll run up and check out that "anthill" thing then run back down the mountain and catch up to you at the car".
So I darted off but Greg wasn't too keen on that idea either. He ended up just tagging along behind me complaining about the late hour and the need to "get home". Shoot! It was only four o'clock! We probably had at least three hours of daylight left yet.
Once we got to the base of the "anthill", which was really quite large, I led the way, scrambling up the side of it. At the top of the hill someone had stuck some barbwire posts in the ground arranged in a rough circle and strung a wire around them. On one side of this crude enclosure hung an old, weather-beaten sign on which someone had written the word "DANGER" with a marker. Inside the wire was a gaping hole probably ten to fifteen feet in diameter.
We ducked under the wire and peered down into the hole. A sickening, subterranean odor wafted out of the depths.
Greg exclaimed, "Holy smoke! What the heck do you s’pose is down there?"
The hole was not vertical but proceeded downward at a steep, probably 45 – 55 degree angle. I don't know if it was the mystery of the whole thing or what, but a completely different mood had come over my friend. He had completely lost all interest in "going home".
Greg blurted out with a tinge of excitement in his voice, "Let's see where it goes!"
"Yeah, right! You go first; I'll follow", I told him.
Greg proceeded to scramble down the inside of the hole in his "Hush Puppies" with me following. Once we got down in there a ways it became evident that the shaft was not only non-vertical, but it wasn't exactly straight, either. It had an occasional twist or turn to it almost like a descending corkscrew. We just slid down the thing to a depth of around 20 or 30 feet to where it came to a narrow ledge making it easier to remain standing in one position.
The angle of the sun together with the angle of the shaft admitted just barely enough light so that we could see a little bit once our eyes adjusted. After a few minutes we became aware of a dark, spooky shadow lurking off to our right. I cannot even begin to describe how creepy this felt. It gave me goose bumps all over – almost as if a large, black, amorphous “ghost” was right there beside us, watching us. As our eyes continued slowly adjusting to the dark, we realized that the black shadow to our right was none other than an opening to a drift (underground tunnel). Meanwhile, the shaft we'd just slid down continued its descent into an ink-like blackness and there was that awful, unnatural odor.
Greg entered the dark drift (tunnel) equipped only with a penlight loaded with weak batteries. I followed close behind. The drift was quite narrow, perhaps three or four feet wide at the most but the ceiling (“back” in miner’s lingo) was high enough that we could easily stand up in there without hitting our heads.
We didn't go very far. It was just too dark and spooky. Greg began to talk about it getting late again and this time I agreed.
We returned to the shaft from which we’d entered and began scrambling back up to get out of there. “Funny”, I thought out loud, “goin’ down didn’t seem to be nearly as hard as goin’ back up”. The rocks were loose and would slide out from under our feet. Progress was slow. Sometimes it was a process of sliding back two paces before clawing ahead three. I began to worry and muttered to myself, "'Posin' I can't get back outta here?" But with a little effort we made it O.K.
Once back out into the sunlight, we walked back down the trail to where our cars were parked. We soon discovered that Greg had inadvertently locked his keys in the car. So we made an attempt to “Jimmy” the door lock open using an old coat hanger that I’d found in my car. It worked! Unfortunately, it also badly damaged Greg’s window seal.
The damage done to the seal really upset Greg. Perhaps this was an omen! We jumped into our cars and headed for home. Later that evening, Greg called me at home and lamented the damage done to his window seal. His father was absolutely furious to put it mildly!
Broken window seal or not, a few days later we were back again and well-armed with two powerful, heavy-duty flashlights this time. On this outing we both went in Greg’s car which we parked by the side of the road at the same place we did the first time. Since we were more familiar with the surroundings than we were on our first visit, we marched straight up the trail heading for the anthill-shaped tailings pile further up on the side of the mountain. Upon reaching the base of it, I looked over toward the east and spotted two smaller anthill-like tailings piles over on another slope.
“Hey! Let’s check those out first!” I encouraged. We hiked over there to the smaller of the two and began our ascent. Surely all this stuff had to have come out of a hole somewhere. We scoured the whole area but found nothing. Then we went over to the other somewhat bigger pile and scrounged around there with nearly the same results.
We were just about to give up when Greg found a small, rocky hole the diameter of which couldn’t have been too much bigger than the opening to a large fox den. Evidently, someone had bulldozed this portal in as well but over the years the fill material had settled enough to allow a small hole to open back up again. We shined our lights in there and, sure enough it definitely led into something.
I asked Greg, "Well, whattayathink? You think we can squeeze through that opening?" Greg looked aghast at the mere thought. “Come on”, I told him. "Let’s try it".
I didn’t wait long for a response. I put my legs in there and squiggled through that tight opening like a snake slithering into a hole. I didn’t get in there very far before I could feel the tug of gravity pulling me downward. I pulled my head through and began sliding down on rubble on my back and my “derriere”. When I reached the bottom, I realized that the inside of this thing was probably at least 6 feet tall – easily tall enough to stand up in. I yelled back at Greg, “Come on, man, there’s a tunnel down here”.
Soon, Greg came sliding down, too, and when he landed he looked nervously back up at the small aperture we had just squeezed through. "Oh my gawd! I don’t like this! Let’s get outta here”, Greg urged in a voice that sounded near panic.
“No, wait; let’s see where this goes first.” I shined my light back into the adit that led in an easterly direction. With Greg still moaning about wanting to leave, I began walking back. The adit only went about forty feet or so then came to a complete dead end underneath an old chute which appeared to come down from above.
So there was nothing to do but turn around and go back which Greg was more than eager to do anyways. He scrambled back up the rubble and shot out of that fox-hole sized opening as fast as he could. After I got back outside, I saw that his face was as white as a sheet as if he’d seen a ghost. He had the wits scared out of him.
I commented on Greg’s composure, "Greg! Whatsamatter?"
“I dunno. I just felt like there would be a ‘shoooom!’ and that opening was gonna to close up with us in there”, Greg stammered. Poor Greg’d had an attack of claustrophobia in there. In the years since that happened, I’ve had to wonder if I didn’t miss my calling. I didn’t feel even the slightest tinge of claustrophobia in there at all. Perhaps, with a little training, I might have made a good “Underground Explorer”.
We were really puzzled by the chute we’d seen in there. Where did it come down from? We combed the entire hillside above trying to figure out where it could’ve possibly come from but found nothing. So, we decided to head back to the main, big anthill-like tailings pile and associated shaft that we’d partly explored on our first visit.
Acting more like we knew what we were doing this time, we slid right back down the same shaft with our flashlights until we arrived at the side drift we’d found on our first outing. We proceeded into the drift. We followed it for perhaps a hundred feet or so then all of a sudden it just inexplicably came to an abrupt end. It wasn’t a cave-in but simply a dead end at a solid rock wall. That was it. There was nothing to do but to go back the way we’d come in.
So we returned to the shaft area and discussed our next move. We concluded we’d descend deeper down the shaft into the mine. After another 30 feet or so we found another very similar side drift that also went off in the same southerly direction.
This drift went further than the first one did. The drift, like the first one we’d explored, was not completely straight but would curve ever so slightly in one direction then back another direction. I felt a really creepy feeling sneaking up on me.
After we'd gone perhaps 100 feet or so we suddenly became aware that there was no longer a tunnel roof or "back" over our heads. Shining our lights upward revealed a huge underground gallery that went up at a very steep angle.
The gallery was not quite large enough for a man to stand up in but was about 20 or 30 feet wide. Shining our lights up there we couldn’t see how far it went.
“Wow!” exclaimed Greg, “What in the world was this?”
“I think this is what miners call a ‘stope’”, I rejoined.
There were short, 6 X 6 timbers wedged in every so often between the floor and ceiling of the stope. There was some ancient looking, rusted equipment lying around, an old chute and broken pieces of what looked like an old conveyor but no ore cars or tracks anywhere to be seen.
The feeling or emotions that had been creeping up on me became stronger. I had this sickening feeling that something was wrong, that something bad was going to happen. It was like a premonition or sixth sense or something. It’s difficult to explain.
“Greg, you know, I think we should get outta here”.
Greg shined his light up ahead revealing that our drift continued on the far side of the stope. This time it was Greg’s turn to be the brave one.
“Oh, come on, let’s see where this goes”, he beckoned.
“Naw. I don’t think so. I’ve had enough, Greg, Let’s just get outta here”.
“What’s wrong? You’re not gettin’ scared, are you?”
“Well, I guess I’m ashamed to have to admit that but I guess I am sorta, yeah. I just gotta bad feeling about all this, that’s all”.
“Well, O.K. then. Go back to the shaft and wait for me there. I’m going on ahead to see where this goes”. And so I did and the two of us parted.
That was probably a very bad, very stupid thing to do. First of all, here we were, two dumb, inexperienced college kids in an abandoned mine and absolutely NO ONE, NOT ONE LIVING SOUL KNEW WHERE WE WERE!
That was bad enough but now we were separated underground as well. Back in the shaft, I squatted down and sat on the backs of my heels waiting for Greg’s return. It seemed like he was gone for hours. The minutes crawled by like torture. I strained my neck to look up the shaft and could see a dull point of light at the top. The sickening feeling grew worse.
There I was, all alone in the mine shaft, squatted down, sitting on my heels nervously awaiting my friend Greg’s return. I shined my light down the shaft into what seemed like a bottomless pit. I couldn’t imagine for the life of me what could possibly down there and was afraid to even wonder about it. Where was Greg? I contemplated climbing up the shaft andwaiting for him on the outside but quickly dismissed that thought as well. I turned out my flashlight to conserve power.
Then a truly macabre thought entered my head. Suppose, just suppose, Greg doesn’t come back at all? Then what am I supposed to do? I immediately ruled out the possibility of looking for him. If he fell down a hole somewhere what’s the use of me following him into the abyss?
Trying to call or yell for him was likewise out of the question. I had heard too many times not to talk loud or yell in an abandoned mine because the sound vibration could loosen something precipitating a cave in. I wondered if that was an “old wives tale” but I wasn’t about to attempt to do any experiments here to prove or disprove the theory!
What should I do? All my emotions were jumbling up inside of me. I felt panic welling up from within. Then suddenly I heard footsteps running and saw a flashing light back in the drift. Greg burst forth into the shaft very excited, puffing and exclaiming in a loud whisper, “Fred, oh my gawd, Fred! You gotta see this, you just got to! It’s awesome!”
I told him I was ready to leave a long time ago but he would have no part of that. “Please, Fred, just do this one thing for me this one time, you just gotta see this!”
So Greg headed back into the drift with me following reluctantly. We walked back through the stope area and continued walking through the drift on the other side.
It seemed as if we walked a long, long ways. I noticed the air was different back in here. It smelled or felt “dead” and I noticed my breathing was more labored. I don’t know how much of that was the air and how much was only my nerves, but I had to work at breathing.
Finally Greg stopped ahead of me. “Now, look at this!” He shined his light ahead and revealed a three-way split in the drift. Shining his light in each of the drifts one at a time he said, “It goes that way, that way and that way! Which tunnel should we follow first?”
I told him emphatically, “Hey, look Greg, I’m outta here. Period. I don’t think we have much oxygen back here and I’ve got this bad, negative premonition that we’re gonna have a real problem or something”.
“Ah, come on, man, we don’t wanna stop now do we? We gotta see where these tunnels go”.
“Look, Greg, this is only our second time here, we can come back if need be. But I’m leaving. You can either come with me or not”.
A bit more arguing ensued but in the end we made our way back to the shaft and started scrambling for the top. If trying to scramble up that thing from the top level was tough, it was much worse from this deeper level. I kept looking up toward the light. It just didn’t seem to be getting any closer. Leading the way, I kept discharging rocks and debris on Greg which he didn’t appreciate.
Finally, finally, finally, I burst through the opening and out into the desert sunshine. The light really hurt my eyes. But it was sooooo wonderful to be out from underground that I felt like I had just been born. It was positively exhilarating!
But that nagging premonition or sixth sense still haunted me. Why? I took a few steps and the car came into view off in the distance down on the main road. My heart sank down into my stomach. I just couldn’t believe what I saw. It just couldn’t be! There was another large, white car parked right behind Greg’s and part way up the trail I saw what looked like a huge, burly, 275-lb gorilla in uniform heading up the trail in our direction!
I turned to Greg and said, “Well, Greg, it looks like the cops!” Greg completely lost it and went into an absolute frenzy. How could he be so “ brave” down in the mine but panic over the possibility of having an encounter with the law?
He blurted out in a panicked whisper, “Oh my gawd, no, no, NO! Quick! Let’s hide!”
Hide? If I hadn’t been so nerved up this whole scene would have struck me as beyond comical and would’ve really cracked me up. Instead I just said, “Greg, get real. You can’t hide from the police. Besides, what have we actually done wrong? I don’t feel like I have any reason to hide. I’m gonna go down there and face the music.”
Greg snapped back at me, “Look! He hasn’t seen us yet. Now I’m telling you we have to hide. Now, quick! Let’s get behind those rocks over there!”
I turned and walked away in the direction of the officer. Greg grabbed a hold of my shirt and ordered me, “Look, doggone it, I’m telling you to hide. Now do what I tell you for once!”
I just jerked myself free from him and started walking down the path to meet the officer. When Greg saw there was no way I was going to hide with him, he turned and ran off on his own and hid himself behind the rocks.
After what seemed like the longest walk of my life, I finally got close enough to the officer to make eye contact. But we were still not within easy talking range. When I finally came within easy speaking distance, I stopped and opened the conversation trying to act cool but probably came off more like a young child who had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
I managed to stammer out, “Hello, sir. N-nice day today, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is! It’s a beautiful day”, he responded in a friendly tone. Then with a stern, forceful voice continued, “but of course you know, I didn’t come up here today to talk about the weather”. Then his voice grew even harsher as he lashed out at me, “You know full well that this area is strictly off limits and there is absolutely no trespassing up here”.
Uh-oh. I had to think fast. Quickly trying to collect my wits I stammered out, “Uh, ah well, ah, actually no. I d-didn’t know that. I didn’t see any signs or anything posted that said ‘no trespassing’”.
The officer got a most aggravated and frustrated look of consternation on his face then in a most disgusted tone of voice shot back, “Ah, yeah, I know it! Vandals keep taking them down. It wasn’t six months ago we had this entire area reposted again and now they’re all gone again!”
Then he started drilling me. “What’s your name?”
“Fred Cain”
“How do you spell that?” he asked pulling out a small note pad.
“F-R-E-D C-A-I-N”
“Where do you live?” and then, “where do you work?”
I tried to explain that I was a student at ASU. Then he demanded, “I need to see your driver’s license”.
All this time, Greg had been slowly coming to his senses and was sneaking up behind me. As my interrogation proceeded, he gradually came to my side.
Next the officer asked me, “How many are there in your party?”
“Just the two of us”, I told him. Next, he turned to Greg and went through the same procedure. After he was done with Greg he began to lecture us.
“O.K. Now this is how it is. As you have accurately pointed out, you did not see any ‘no trespassing’ signs. That being the case, I am not going to arrest you today. But I am going to fill out an “F.I.” [field investigation] on the both of you. That way if you are ever caught up here again we will have it on record that you have been told to stay out of this area. Then you will be hauled in. But let me make one thing very, very clear. I would MUCH rather haul you both in than to have to come up here and dig you out. Especially if it means we just dig out two dead bodies. Because I am here to tell you both right now, that mine is very, very dangerous. You’re probably both lucky that you are even here talking to me!”
Then all of a sudden, with his official duty done, his mood began to change. The officer got a funny little twinkle in his eye. He looked right at me and queried, “By the way. I’m just curious. How far in did you go?”
I attempted to relate the events of the afternoon as well as my shook up nerves would allow. He studied for a minute and then said, “Oh. O.K. I see. That sounds like you were down on level two. There are three more levels below that. The bottom level, believe it or not, still has the old ore car tracks in it. It’s flooded with water in spots but it’s shallow enough that you can still wade through it without too much trouble”.
“Really?” I asked with curiosity and a tinge of amazement in my voice. Then something hit me. “Uh, sir, wait a minute here. If I didn’t know better I would think that you’ve been down in there, too”.
“Oh yeah, many times”, he answered with a slight chuckle in his voice. Then he turned, stretched his arm out pointing toward the large, flat-top alluvial fan-shaped pile of tailings off to our right which Greg and I first encountered during our initial visit.
“Over there is where the main entrance used to be. But they bulldozed that in about 20 years ago. In fact, they bulldozed in the shaft where you entered as well but over time the fill material settled and it just opened up again. Abandoned mines tend to do that. After they’re sealed they often don’t stay sealed. Almost like they’re alive”.
Then he got serious again, “Just remember what I told you. I want you to leave this area immediately and don’t ever come back. Now, don’t get me wrong. You can hike in the park all day long if you want to. But just stay away from the mine, that’s all”.
We promised him we would and started for the car. The officer walked along behind us bringing up the rear as if to make sure we were, in fact, really leaving.
Back at the car we saw the officer’s assistant sitting in the patrol car parked right behind Greg’s car. Thankfully Greg did not lock his keys in the car this time! Greg got in and fired ‘er up. As we headed for home, the cops continued to follow us in their patrol car and Greg kept looking nervously into his rear-view mirror. Then, after a couple of miles, the cops turned off and went down another road.
Greg just continued driving in silence for a few more miles. Then he and I looked at each other and burst out into hysterical laughter. It was as if all the tension of the day had suddenly broken. We had just begun to regain our composure when I said, “Did you see how that cop responded when I asked HIM if HE had ever been in the mine?”
We broke out into laughter anew and laughed until tears streamed down our faces.
All this happened not quite 25 years ago. And as Greg and I drove off toward home, it’s as if I can visualize his car slowly vanishing, swallowed up by the hazy fog of fading memory. I have no idea what any of the events were of the rest of that day or even of the next few days, weeks or months for that matter. Yet the memory of that afternoon in October of 1978 remains crystal clear in my mind as if it had only happened last week!
I have had many years to think this over. You may find me corny and old fashioned, but I do, in fact, believe in a Higher Power. I believe that a Higher Power intentionally put that police officer where he was right at the appointed time. It was no coincidence. It was just meant to be.
Without the intervention of a Higher Power, the day could’ve turned out vastly different. What if the officer hadn’t stopped us? I truly believe that there could’ve been a whole different outcome. We would’ve no doubt been insufferably pleased with the success of our exploration and would’ve planned a much more ambitious expedition or series of expeditions in the future. We would’ve gone deep into the mine, I’m sure.
In a different outcome, I might not be where I am today. In a different outcome perhaps my remains have still yet to be discovered even after all these years. But for the Grace of God, that didn’t happen.
It’s hard to know what it is, exactly, but there is no doubt in my mind that there is truly a mysterious, almost mystical, seductive attraction to an abandoned mine. Even the police officer in the park had experienced it. It is my hope and prayer that everyone stays safe.
I like to think that I would never do anything like this again. I didn’t realize in my youth what I stood to lose, a future wife I had yet to meet and three as yet unborn children. Why did I put their future at risk along with my own?
Am I sorry that I did this? Do I regret having done it at all? NO! In the end, I guess I have to swallow my pride and admit that it really was just plain FUN! You BET it was! After all, it was one of the FUN THINGS TO DO IN THE PARK!
EPILOG AND AFTER THOUGHTS
Since the time I first wrote this nearly ten years ago, I have since stumbled across some new information that I did not have at my disposal back then. One relatively recent development in the last few years has been that exploring abandoned mines has actually turned into a rather popular sport among some mine aficionados. In some parts of the country, well-organized groups of explorers have been formed. This has federal, state and local safety officials beyond horrified. Their position is that ALL abandoned mines are deadly and absolutely no one should ever enter an abandoned mine under any circumstance.
However, the abandoned mine explorers’ stance is that if it is done right and the explorers are well trained, well equipped and prepared, drug and alcohol-free and cautious, then exploring abandoned mines can actually be a lot SAFER than some other more popular and well-accepted sports such as rock cliff climbing, whitewater rafting, rodeo and perhaps even “tackle” football.
It could also be pointed out that these people are actually performing a valuable national service of sorts. They are, in essence, engaged in a kind of “industrial archeology”. They have taken literally hundreds, perhaps thousands of photographs underground documenting a fascinating aspect of American industrial history that would have otherwise been completely lost. In a few cases, they have retrieved antique pieces of abandoned mining equipment such as old ore cars or “trammers” (small locomotives) and lovingly restored them.
Here are a couple of videos of a somewhat more professional team exploring the Max Delta Mine in Phoenix’s South Mountain Park:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0hsjD3Z8pqA
and http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c_Wx9sPMrOs
What astounded me about this was the fact that the videos seem to show this mine is actually even bigger than I once thought. What I found even more astonishing is that people are still exploring this mine after all these years. Since it is very nearly “in town” it’s bewildering that it has never been successfully sealed especially given Arizona’s aggressiveness in sealing old mines.
Unfortunately, I could see no evidence in the films of the ore car tracks that the police officer had told us were on the lowest level.
Additionally, here is a URL to an old photograph that was taken back when the Max Delta was still in operation:
http://www.ghosttownaz.info/max-delta-mine.php#!prettyPhoto[pp_gal]/0/
And here is a related newspaper article from 2009:
http://www.examiner.com/article/mining-the-history-of-south-mountain-park
I would like to end here by saying that it is my sincerest hope and prayer that everyone stays safe. Do not take chances in an abandoned mine. Know what you are doing and what you are dealing with and always think “Safety First”. If you or someone you know is interested in exploring abandoned mines then, by all means, join a well organized group first. NEVER explore alone and do NOT do like my friend Greg and I tried to do. We were untrained and ill prepared and, in short, we could’ve easily been killed.
It may be somewhat of a blessing in disguise that I am not young today because, if I were, I can honestly say with absolute certainty and conviction that I would *REALLY* get into underground mine exploration in a big way. I would join a group and go out every chance I had. But back in the 70s, I never found anyone like that.
I don’t think that abandoned mine exploration is necessarily any more dangerous than many other sports *IF* a person is well trained, well equipped and cautious. As the above story makes clear, neither my friend nor I were and that is what made us so lucky.
Fred M. Cain,
Topeka, Indiana
March, 2013
What follows here is an account of the completely amateurish exploration of the Max Delta Mine in Phoenix’s South Mounain Park by a friend and me in the late 1970’s. This story is completely true although I tried to write it in such a way as to make for interesting reading. I actually wrote this about nine or ten years ago and have just recently gone back and dusted it off and tuned it up a bit in order to share it with you. The story is so long that I am going to break in down into two parts.
Enjoy.
FUN THINGS TO DO IN THE PARK
Back when I was a much younger guy, I found myself studying music at Arizona State University in Tempe, Arizona. The year was 1978. Jimmy Carter was the President of the United States, Bing Crosby had recently died and the popular T.V. sitcom "Happy Days" was on prime time television if that gives you any indication. Ah yes, I show my age. I know.
We were having typical early "fall" October weather in the greater Phoenix area with high temps around 100º. It felt as if summer would just never end. One day after practicing the piano for several hours in the ASU music building, my good friend Greg walked into my practice room and was really ancy to do something "fun".
"Let's go to South Mountain Park", he urged, "There's a great view there and they say you can find Indian hieroglyphics. It'll be a great break.” I just wanted to practice my “Ragtime”, however, and quickly dismissed his suggestion.
“Ah come on”, begged Greg, “It’ll be great fun; there are all kinds of fun things to do in the park. Besides, all practice and no play makes Jack a dull boy”. I looked at the clock. 1:00 p.m. Well, the afternoon was still early, so, why not? I asked myself.
Greg went out and jumped into his car and I into mine and we headed for the park with me following him in convoy. For those of you unfamiliar with the Phoenix area, South Mountain Park is a large city park intended to protect and preserve desert Salt River Mountains range just south of Phoenix. It stretches about 10 - 15 miles long and is sandwiched in between the sprawling city of Phoenix to the north and the Gila River Indian Reservation to the south. A paved road goes to the top which is around 2,500 feet in elevation. There is a parking lot, a lookout and some antennas, I think.
We jumped on I-10 westbound to the Phoenix Central Avenue exit. Then we proceeded southward along Phoenix’s Central Ave until we crossed the park boundary. The road then curves toward the west, curves southward again then curves once more back toward the east and heads toward the top of the mountain. As we wound our way around the curves and began heading east up the mountain, I glanced off in a southerly direction and up toward the saddleback of the range. There, off in the distance, I saw what looked like two large tailings piles and several smaller ones. I’d seen this in the past but never really paid too much attention to it.
After we were done looking at the view and searching for the Indian petroglyphs that we never found, Greg felt it was time to head back. It was then I suggested that we check out the tailings piles I'd spotted further down the mountain.
Greg queried, "Huh? Tails? What are you talkin' about?"
"The tailings piles down closer to the entrance", I rejoined.
"What's that?" he asked baffled.
"Well, let’s drive back down there and we'll see", I encouraged. "Just follow me."
And so we did. Upon seeing the large piles of rubble in the distance, Greg exclaimed, "What in the world is it for?"
"I dunno. I think it's an old mine. Let's go check it out", I suggested, to which he countered, "Hey, cool!"
There was a dirt "road", if you could call it that, which led up toward two of the largest tailings piles. It was largely washed out and in the most abominable condition, fit only for the very most rugged Jeep or Landrover.
So we just parked and locked our cars on the south side of the main road and hiked up to the piles. It was probably about a half to ¾ of a mile or so to the first pile.
Climbing up the side of the tailings pile I realized that the darn thing was a whole lot bigger than it had looked from the main road. We scrambled to the top. Once we got up there we saw that the pile was quite flat on top, "fan-shaped" and narrowed to a point.
We walked over to where it narrowed, but couldn't really see anything. I theorized that this large, man-made alluvial fan had to have come out of a hole somewhere but there was nothing to be found. If there had once been an adit portal (miner’s lingo for tunnel entrance), it had either collapsed or, more likely, had been bulldozed in. If that was the case, then the dozer operator had certainly outdone himself.
Greg looked at his watch then exclaimed, "O.K., that's it! It's high time we started heading back".
But looking further up the mountain, off in the distance, I spotted what looked like a huge volcano-shaped pile of tailings reminiscent of an enormous "anthill".
"O.K., we can go, but let's just go up there and look at that first", I beckoned.
But Greg, looking at his watch and shaking his head, stayed firm. He stated adamantly, "No way! I gotta get back".
"But Greg, you don't know when we might ever get a chance to come back here! O.K. Tell ya what. Start walking back to the car, I'll run up and check out that "anthill" thing then run back down the mountain and catch up to you at the car".
So I darted off but Greg wasn't too keen on that idea either. He ended up just tagging along behind me complaining about the late hour and the need to "get home". Shoot! It was only four o'clock! We probably had at least three hours of daylight left yet.
Once we got to the base of the "anthill", which was really quite large, I led the way, scrambling up the side of it. At the top of the hill someone had stuck some barbwire posts in the ground arranged in a rough circle and strung a wire around them. On one side of this crude enclosure hung an old, weather-beaten sign on which someone had written the word "DANGER" with a marker. Inside the wire was a gaping hole probably ten to fifteen feet in diameter.
We ducked under the wire and peered down into the hole. A sickening, subterranean odor wafted out of the depths.
Greg exclaimed, "Holy smoke! What the heck do you s’pose is down there?"
The hole was not vertical but proceeded downward at a steep, probably 45 – 55 degree angle. I don't know if it was the mystery of the whole thing or what, but a completely different mood had come over my friend. He had completely lost all interest in "going home".
Greg blurted out with a tinge of excitement in his voice, "Let's see where it goes!"
"Yeah, right! You go first; I'll follow", I told him.
Greg proceeded to scramble down the inside of the hole in his "Hush Puppies" with me following. Once we got down in there a ways it became evident that the shaft was not only non-vertical, but it wasn't exactly straight, either. It had an occasional twist or turn to it almost like a descending corkscrew. We just slid down the thing to a depth of around 20 or 30 feet to where it came to a narrow ledge making it easier to remain standing in one position.
The angle of the sun together with the angle of the shaft admitted just barely enough light so that we could see a little bit once our eyes adjusted. After a few minutes we became aware of a dark, spooky shadow lurking off to our right. I cannot even begin to describe how creepy this felt. It gave me goose bumps all over – almost as if a large, black, amorphous “ghost” was right there beside us, watching us. As our eyes continued slowly adjusting to the dark, we realized that the black shadow to our right was none other than an opening to a drift (underground tunnel). Meanwhile, the shaft we'd just slid down continued its descent into an ink-like blackness and there was that awful, unnatural odor.
Greg entered the dark drift (tunnel) equipped only with a penlight loaded with weak batteries. I followed close behind. The drift was quite narrow, perhaps three or four feet wide at the most but the ceiling (“back” in miner’s lingo) was high enough that we could easily stand up in there without hitting our heads.
We didn't go very far. It was just too dark and spooky. Greg began to talk about it getting late again and this time I agreed.
We returned to the shaft from which we’d entered and began scrambling back up to get out of there. “Funny”, I thought out loud, “goin’ down didn’t seem to be nearly as hard as goin’ back up”. The rocks were loose and would slide out from under our feet. Progress was slow. Sometimes it was a process of sliding back two paces before clawing ahead three. I began to worry and muttered to myself, "'Posin' I can't get back outta here?" But with a little effort we made it O.K.
Once back out into the sunlight, we walked back down the trail to where our cars were parked. We soon discovered that Greg had inadvertently locked his keys in the car. So we made an attempt to “Jimmy” the door lock open using an old coat hanger that I’d found in my car. It worked! Unfortunately, it also badly damaged Greg’s window seal.
The damage done to the seal really upset Greg. Perhaps this was an omen! We jumped into our cars and headed for home. Later that evening, Greg called me at home and lamented the damage done to his window seal. His father was absolutely furious to put it mildly!
Broken window seal or not, a few days later we were back again and well-armed with two powerful, heavy-duty flashlights this time. On this outing we both went in Greg’s car which we parked by the side of the road at the same place we did the first time. Since we were more familiar with the surroundings than we were on our first visit, we marched straight up the trail heading for the anthill-shaped tailings pile further up on the side of the mountain. Upon reaching the base of it, I looked over toward the east and spotted two smaller anthill-like tailings piles over on another slope.
“Hey! Let’s check those out first!” I encouraged. We hiked over there to the smaller of the two and began our ascent. Surely all this stuff had to have come out of a hole somewhere. We scoured the whole area but found nothing. Then we went over to the other somewhat bigger pile and scrounged around there with nearly the same results.
We were just about to give up when Greg found a small, rocky hole the diameter of which couldn’t have been too much bigger than the opening to a large fox den. Evidently, someone had bulldozed this portal in as well but over the years the fill material had settled enough to allow a small hole to open back up again. We shined our lights in there and, sure enough it definitely led into something.
I asked Greg, "Well, whattayathink? You think we can squeeze through that opening?" Greg looked aghast at the mere thought. “Come on”, I told him. "Let’s try it".
I didn’t wait long for a response. I put my legs in there and squiggled through that tight opening like a snake slithering into a hole. I didn’t get in there very far before I could feel the tug of gravity pulling me downward. I pulled my head through and began sliding down on rubble on my back and my “derriere”. When I reached the bottom, I realized that the inside of this thing was probably at least 6 feet tall – easily tall enough to stand up in. I yelled back at Greg, “Come on, man, there’s a tunnel down here”.
Soon, Greg came sliding down, too, and when he landed he looked nervously back up at the small aperture we had just squeezed through. "Oh my gawd! I don’t like this! Let’s get outta here”, Greg urged in a voice that sounded near panic.
“No, wait; let’s see where this goes first.” I shined my light back into the adit that led in an easterly direction. With Greg still moaning about wanting to leave, I began walking back. The adit only went about forty feet or so then came to a complete dead end underneath an old chute which appeared to come down from above.
So there was nothing to do but turn around and go back which Greg was more than eager to do anyways. He scrambled back up the rubble and shot out of that fox-hole sized opening as fast as he could. After I got back outside, I saw that his face was as white as a sheet as if he’d seen a ghost. He had the wits scared out of him.
I commented on Greg’s composure, "Greg! Whatsamatter?"
“I dunno. I just felt like there would be a ‘shoooom!’ and that opening was gonna to close up with us in there”, Greg stammered. Poor Greg’d had an attack of claustrophobia in there. In the years since that happened, I’ve had to wonder if I didn’t miss my calling. I didn’t feel even the slightest tinge of claustrophobia in there at all. Perhaps, with a little training, I might have made a good “Underground Explorer”.
We were really puzzled by the chute we’d seen in there. Where did it come down from? We combed the entire hillside above trying to figure out where it could’ve possibly come from but found nothing. So, we decided to head back to the main, big anthill-like tailings pile and associated shaft that we’d partly explored on our first visit.
Acting more like we knew what we were doing this time, we slid right back down the same shaft with our flashlights until we arrived at the side drift we’d found on our first outing. We proceeded into the drift. We followed it for perhaps a hundred feet or so then all of a sudden it just inexplicably came to an abrupt end. It wasn’t a cave-in but simply a dead end at a solid rock wall. That was it. There was nothing to do but to go back the way we’d come in.
So we returned to the shaft area and discussed our next move. We concluded we’d descend deeper down the shaft into the mine. After another 30 feet or so we found another very similar side drift that also went off in the same southerly direction.
This drift went further than the first one did. The drift, like the first one we’d explored, was not completely straight but would curve ever so slightly in one direction then back another direction. I felt a really creepy feeling sneaking up on me.
After we'd gone perhaps 100 feet or so we suddenly became aware that there was no longer a tunnel roof or "back" over our heads. Shining our lights upward revealed a huge underground gallery that went up at a very steep angle.
The gallery was not quite large enough for a man to stand up in but was about 20 or 30 feet wide. Shining our lights up there we couldn’t see how far it went.
“Wow!” exclaimed Greg, “What in the world was this?”
“I think this is what miners call a ‘stope’”, I rejoined.
There were short, 6 X 6 timbers wedged in every so often between the floor and ceiling of the stope. There was some ancient looking, rusted equipment lying around, an old chute and broken pieces of what looked like an old conveyor but no ore cars or tracks anywhere to be seen.
The feeling or emotions that had been creeping up on me became stronger. I had this sickening feeling that something was wrong, that something bad was going to happen. It was like a premonition or sixth sense or something. It’s difficult to explain.
“Greg, you know, I think we should get outta here”.
Greg shined his light up ahead revealing that our drift continued on the far side of the stope. This time it was Greg’s turn to be the brave one.
“Oh, come on, let’s see where this goes”, he beckoned.
“Naw. I don’t think so. I’ve had enough, Greg, Let’s just get outta here”.
“What’s wrong? You’re not gettin’ scared, are you?”
“Well, I guess I’m ashamed to have to admit that but I guess I am sorta, yeah. I just gotta bad feeling about all this, that’s all”.
“Well, O.K. then. Go back to the shaft and wait for me there. I’m going on ahead to see where this goes”. And so I did and the two of us parted.
That was probably a very bad, very stupid thing to do. First of all, here we were, two dumb, inexperienced college kids in an abandoned mine and absolutely NO ONE, NOT ONE LIVING SOUL KNEW WHERE WE WERE!
That was bad enough but now we were separated underground as well. Back in the shaft, I squatted down and sat on the backs of my heels waiting for Greg’s return. It seemed like he was gone for hours. The minutes crawled by like torture. I strained my neck to look up the shaft and could see a dull point of light at the top. The sickening feeling grew worse.
There I was, all alone in the mine shaft, squatted down, sitting on my heels nervously awaiting my friend Greg’s return. I shined my light down the shaft into what seemed like a bottomless pit. I couldn’t imagine for the life of me what could possibly down there and was afraid to even wonder about it. Where was Greg? I contemplated climbing up the shaft andwaiting for him on the outside but quickly dismissed that thought as well. I turned out my flashlight to conserve power.
Then a truly macabre thought entered my head. Suppose, just suppose, Greg doesn’t come back at all? Then what am I supposed to do? I immediately ruled out the possibility of looking for him. If he fell down a hole somewhere what’s the use of me following him into the abyss?
Trying to call or yell for him was likewise out of the question. I had heard too many times not to talk loud or yell in an abandoned mine because the sound vibration could loosen something precipitating a cave in. I wondered if that was an “old wives tale” but I wasn’t about to attempt to do any experiments here to prove or disprove the theory!
What should I do? All my emotions were jumbling up inside of me. I felt panic welling up from within. Then suddenly I heard footsteps running and saw a flashing light back in the drift. Greg burst forth into the shaft very excited, puffing and exclaiming in a loud whisper, “Fred, oh my gawd, Fred! You gotta see this, you just got to! It’s awesome!”
I told him I was ready to leave a long time ago but he would have no part of that. “Please, Fred, just do this one thing for me this one time, you just gotta see this!”
So Greg headed back into the drift with me following reluctantly. We walked back through the stope area and continued walking through the drift on the other side.
It seemed as if we walked a long, long ways. I noticed the air was different back in here. It smelled or felt “dead” and I noticed my breathing was more labored. I don’t know how much of that was the air and how much was only my nerves, but I had to work at breathing.
Finally Greg stopped ahead of me. “Now, look at this!” He shined his light ahead and revealed a three-way split in the drift. Shining his light in each of the drifts one at a time he said, “It goes that way, that way and that way! Which tunnel should we follow first?”
I told him emphatically, “Hey, look Greg, I’m outta here. Period. I don’t think we have much oxygen back here and I’ve got this bad, negative premonition that we’re gonna have a real problem or something”.
“Ah, come on, man, we don’t wanna stop now do we? We gotta see where these tunnels go”.
“Look, Greg, this is only our second time here, we can come back if need be. But I’m leaving. You can either come with me or not”.
A bit more arguing ensued but in the end we made our way back to the shaft and started scrambling for the top. If trying to scramble up that thing from the top level was tough, it was much worse from this deeper level. I kept looking up toward the light. It just didn’t seem to be getting any closer. Leading the way, I kept discharging rocks and debris on Greg which he didn’t appreciate.
Finally, finally, finally, I burst through the opening and out into the desert sunshine. The light really hurt my eyes. But it was sooooo wonderful to be out from underground that I felt like I had just been born. It was positively exhilarating!
But that nagging premonition or sixth sense still haunted me. Why? I took a few steps and the car came into view off in the distance down on the main road. My heart sank down into my stomach. I just couldn’t believe what I saw. It just couldn’t be! There was another large, white car parked right behind Greg’s and part way up the trail I saw what looked like a huge, burly, 275-lb gorilla in uniform heading up the trail in our direction!
I turned to Greg and said, “Well, Greg, it looks like the cops!” Greg completely lost it and went into an absolute frenzy. How could he be so “ brave” down in the mine but panic over the possibility of having an encounter with the law?
He blurted out in a panicked whisper, “Oh my gawd, no, no, NO! Quick! Let’s hide!”
Hide? If I hadn’t been so nerved up this whole scene would have struck me as beyond comical and would’ve really cracked me up. Instead I just said, “Greg, get real. You can’t hide from the police. Besides, what have we actually done wrong? I don’t feel like I have any reason to hide. I’m gonna go down there and face the music.”
Greg snapped back at me, “Look! He hasn’t seen us yet. Now I’m telling you we have to hide. Now, quick! Let’s get behind those rocks over there!”
I turned and walked away in the direction of the officer. Greg grabbed a hold of my shirt and ordered me, “Look, doggone it, I’m telling you to hide. Now do what I tell you for once!”
I just jerked myself free from him and started walking down the path to meet the officer. When Greg saw there was no way I was going to hide with him, he turned and ran off on his own and hid himself behind the rocks.
After what seemed like the longest walk of my life, I finally got close enough to the officer to make eye contact. But we were still not within easy talking range. When I finally came within easy speaking distance, I stopped and opened the conversation trying to act cool but probably came off more like a young child who had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
I managed to stammer out, “Hello, sir. N-nice day today, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is! It’s a beautiful day”, he responded in a friendly tone. Then with a stern, forceful voice continued, “but of course you know, I didn’t come up here today to talk about the weather”. Then his voice grew even harsher as he lashed out at me, “You know full well that this area is strictly off limits and there is absolutely no trespassing up here”.
Uh-oh. I had to think fast. Quickly trying to collect my wits I stammered out, “Uh, ah well, ah, actually no. I d-didn’t know that. I didn’t see any signs or anything posted that said ‘no trespassing’”.
The officer got a most aggravated and frustrated look of consternation on his face then in a most disgusted tone of voice shot back, “Ah, yeah, I know it! Vandals keep taking them down. It wasn’t six months ago we had this entire area reposted again and now they’re all gone again!”
Then he started drilling me. “What’s your name?”
“Fred Cain”
“How do you spell that?” he asked pulling out a small note pad.
“F-R-E-D C-A-I-N”
“Where do you live?” and then, “where do you work?”
I tried to explain that I was a student at ASU. Then he demanded, “I need to see your driver’s license”.
All this time, Greg had been slowly coming to his senses and was sneaking up behind me. As my interrogation proceeded, he gradually came to my side.
Next the officer asked me, “How many are there in your party?”
“Just the two of us”, I told him. Next, he turned to Greg and went through the same procedure. After he was done with Greg he began to lecture us.
“O.K. Now this is how it is. As you have accurately pointed out, you did not see any ‘no trespassing’ signs. That being the case, I am not going to arrest you today. But I am going to fill out an “F.I.” [field investigation] on the both of you. That way if you are ever caught up here again we will have it on record that you have been told to stay out of this area. Then you will be hauled in. But let me make one thing very, very clear. I would MUCH rather haul you both in than to have to come up here and dig you out. Especially if it means we just dig out two dead bodies. Because I am here to tell you both right now, that mine is very, very dangerous. You’re probably both lucky that you are even here talking to me!”
Then all of a sudden, with his official duty done, his mood began to change. The officer got a funny little twinkle in his eye. He looked right at me and queried, “By the way. I’m just curious. How far in did you go?”
I attempted to relate the events of the afternoon as well as my shook up nerves would allow. He studied for a minute and then said, “Oh. O.K. I see. That sounds like you were down on level two. There are three more levels below that. The bottom level, believe it or not, still has the old ore car tracks in it. It’s flooded with water in spots but it’s shallow enough that you can still wade through it without too much trouble”.
“Really?” I asked with curiosity and a tinge of amazement in my voice. Then something hit me. “Uh, sir, wait a minute here. If I didn’t know better I would think that you’ve been down in there, too”.
“Oh yeah, many times”, he answered with a slight chuckle in his voice. Then he turned, stretched his arm out pointing toward the large, flat-top alluvial fan-shaped pile of tailings off to our right which Greg and I first encountered during our initial visit.
“Over there is where the main entrance used to be. But they bulldozed that in about 20 years ago. In fact, they bulldozed in the shaft where you entered as well but over time the fill material settled and it just opened up again. Abandoned mines tend to do that. After they’re sealed they often don’t stay sealed. Almost like they’re alive”.
Then he got serious again, “Just remember what I told you. I want you to leave this area immediately and don’t ever come back. Now, don’t get me wrong. You can hike in the park all day long if you want to. But just stay away from the mine, that’s all”.
We promised him we would and started for the car. The officer walked along behind us bringing up the rear as if to make sure we were, in fact, really leaving.
Back at the car we saw the officer’s assistant sitting in the patrol car parked right behind Greg’s car. Thankfully Greg did not lock his keys in the car this time! Greg got in and fired ‘er up. As we headed for home, the cops continued to follow us in their patrol car and Greg kept looking nervously into his rear-view mirror. Then, after a couple of miles, the cops turned off and went down another road.
Greg just continued driving in silence for a few more miles. Then he and I looked at each other and burst out into hysterical laughter. It was as if all the tension of the day had suddenly broken. We had just begun to regain our composure when I said, “Did you see how that cop responded when I asked HIM if HE had ever been in the mine?”
We broke out into laughter anew and laughed until tears streamed down our faces.
All this happened not quite 25 years ago. And as Greg and I drove off toward home, it’s as if I can visualize his car slowly vanishing, swallowed up by the hazy fog of fading memory. I have no idea what any of the events were of the rest of that day or even of the next few days, weeks or months for that matter. Yet the memory of that afternoon in October of 1978 remains crystal clear in my mind as if it had only happened last week!
I have had many years to think this over. You may find me corny and old fashioned, but I do, in fact, believe in a Higher Power. I believe that a Higher Power intentionally put that police officer where he was right at the appointed time. It was no coincidence. It was just meant to be.
Without the intervention of a Higher Power, the day could’ve turned out vastly different. What if the officer hadn’t stopped us? I truly believe that there could’ve been a whole different outcome. We would’ve no doubt been insufferably pleased with the success of our exploration and would’ve planned a much more ambitious expedition or series of expeditions in the future. We would’ve gone deep into the mine, I’m sure.
In a different outcome, I might not be where I am today. In a different outcome perhaps my remains have still yet to be discovered even after all these years. But for the Grace of God, that didn’t happen.
It’s hard to know what it is, exactly, but there is no doubt in my mind that there is truly a mysterious, almost mystical, seductive attraction to an abandoned mine. Even the police officer in the park had experienced it. It is my hope and prayer that everyone stays safe.
I like to think that I would never do anything like this again. I didn’t realize in my youth what I stood to lose, a future wife I had yet to meet and three as yet unborn children. Why did I put their future at risk along with my own?
Am I sorry that I did this? Do I regret having done it at all? NO! In the end, I guess I have to swallow my pride and admit that it really was just plain FUN! You BET it was! After all, it was one of the FUN THINGS TO DO IN THE PARK!
EPILOG AND AFTER THOUGHTS
Since the time I first wrote this nearly ten years ago, I have since stumbled across some new information that I did not have at my disposal back then. One relatively recent development in the last few years has been that exploring abandoned mines has actually turned into a rather popular sport among some mine aficionados. In some parts of the country, well-organized groups of explorers have been formed. This has federal, state and local safety officials beyond horrified. Their position is that ALL abandoned mines are deadly and absolutely no one should ever enter an abandoned mine under any circumstance.
However, the abandoned mine explorers’ stance is that if it is done right and the explorers are well trained, well equipped and prepared, drug and alcohol-free and cautious, then exploring abandoned mines can actually be a lot SAFER than some other more popular and well-accepted sports such as rock cliff climbing, whitewater rafting, rodeo and perhaps even “tackle” football.
It could also be pointed out that these people are actually performing a valuable national service of sorts. They are, in essence, engaged in a kind of “industrial archeology”. They have taken literally hundreds, perhaps thousands of photographs underground documenting a fascinating aspect of American industrial history that would have otherwise been completely lost. In a few cases, they have retrieved antique pieces of abandoned mining equipment such as old ore cars or “trammers” (small locomotives) and lovingly restored them.
Here are a couple of videos of a somewhat more professional team exploring the Max Delta Mine in Phoenix’s South Mountain Park:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0hsjD3Z8pqA
and http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c_Wx9sPMrOs
What astounded me about this was the fact that the videos seem to show this mine is actually even bigger than I once thought. What I found even more astonishing is that people are still exploring this mine after all these years. Since it is very nearly “in town” it’s bewildering that it has never been successfully sealed especially given Arizona’s aggressiveness in sealing old mines.
Unfortunately, I could see no evidence in the films of the ore car tracks that the police officer had told us were on the lowest level.
Additionally, here is a URL to an old photograph that was taken back when the Max Delta was still in operation:
http://www.ghosttownaz.info/max-delta-mine.php#!prettyPhoto[pp_gal]/0/
And here is a related newspaper article from 2009:
http://www.examiner.com/article/mining-the-history-of-south-mountain-park
I would like to end here by saying that it is my sincerest hope and prayer that everyone stays safe. Do not take chances in an abandoned mine. Know what you are doing and what you are dealing with and always think “Safety First”. If you or someone you know is interested in exploring abandoned mines then, by all means, join a well organized group first. NEVER explore alone and do NOT do like my friend Greg and I tried to do. We were untrained and ill prepared and, in short, we could’ve easily been killed.
It may be somewhat of a blessing in disguise that I am not young today because, if I were, I can honestly say with absolute certainty and conviction that I would *REALLY* get into underground mine exploration in a big way. I would join a group and go out every chance I had. But back in the 70s, I never found anyone like that.
I don’t think that abandoned mine exploration is necessarily any more dangerous than many other sports *IF* a person is well trained, well equipped and cautious. As the above story makes clear, neither my friend nor I were and that is what made us so lucky.
Fred M. Cain,
Topeka, Indiana
March, 2013
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