U2 Mining Town

[Mack Mosely]

In Germany, a Bergstadt refers to a settlement near mineral deposits vested with town privileges, Bergregal rights and tax exemption, in order to promote the economic development of the mining region.

The little village of Tallmansville, W. Va., sits alone now. The eye of America's pervasive media has moved on, leaving the families to bury their dead in hillside cemeteries, and the preachers to ask questions for which there are no answers, save perhaps in the Book of Job.

Watching the tragedy unfold, I kept being reminded of Coalwood, the mining town in West Virginia where I grew up. Back then, I thought life in Coalwood was pretty ordinary, even though men died or were horribly maimed in the mine all the time. My grandfather, run over by a careening shuttle car, lost both his legs and lived in pain until the day he died. My father lost an eye to a snapped cable while trying to rescue trapped miners, though he kept on working for fifteen years afterward. He would eventually die of black lung, which is a polite way of saying he suffocated to death, his lungs choked with coal dust.

When I began to write my books about Coalwood, I was surprised to discover, upon reflection, that it wasn't an ordinary place at all. It was a town filled with people who had learned to live in a harsh place by adopting four basic attitudes toward life: We are proud of who we are. We stand up for what we believe. We keep our families together. We trust in God but rely on ourselves. Put together, it allowed them to say and believe: We are not afraid.

My life in Coalwood and present-day Tallmansville is separated by nearly a half century. Yet, I recognized everything about the village I saw on television: the tiny but spotless church sitting proudly on the hill, the old wood-frame houses, and the vast mine. Just as in Coalwood, the people of Tallmansville are strong, resilient and self-effacing. Thank God they are, and that they continue to do the dirty work of coal mining, on which the prosperity of this country depends.

My father use to say if coal died, the country died. He was right. Our economy rests on the back of the coal miner. If we did not have the black diamonds of the mountains to burn, we would lose more than half of the nation's energy reserves. As the price of oil has increased, coal mining in West Virginia has become king once more. Coal miners these days are not pick and shovel types. They operate complex, heavy machinery. They know mine geology and understand intricate ventilation techniques. Their world underground is dynamic, challenging, and difficult. Death stalks them every day. During the television coverage of the Tallmansville mine disaster, the question kept being asked, in one form or another: Why do these men do it? Why do they go into these deep mines?

When I was a boy, one of my favorite places to go was a pine-filled hollow high on the mountain behind our house. It was a place where the industrial song of Coalwood subsided. I would sit on a dead log and listen to nothing except the beating of my own heart and the thoughts racing through my head. One of the things I used to think about was the cold war between my parents, a war that had been fought without cease all the days I had known them.

My mother hated the mine. She saw Dad leave the house every morning and disappear inside it. She argued with him constantly about it, begging him to quit. But he never did, not until he began to spit up blood and his miners refused to let him go inside any more. Sitting there, in my little copse of pine, I couldn't understand why my dad loved the mine so much. Eventually, I went underground and then I knew. He loved the challenge of coal mining. He loved the choreography of the miners at the face, a ballet of heavy machinery. He loved that mining coal defined who he was and it gave him an identity and a source of pride.

This was true for my father in Coalwood long ago. I believe it is true for the miners of Tallmansville today. Fortunately, in times of tragedy, they and their families are still sustained by the old values:

Custer was founded in early 1879 by gold speculators. Economically supported by the operations of the Lucky Boy and Black mines, Custer reached its peak population of 600 in 1896. By 1910, Custer had become a ghost town. The Challis National Forest took ownership of the area in 1966, and in 1981, Custer was placed on the National Register of Historic Places. Through the efforts of the Friends of Custer Museum, the site was kept open for public enjoyment.

Colorado is my favorite state. I love the mountains, the incredible wildlife, and the down to earth, laid-back people. My husband and I both want to move there at some point. It came to no surprise that she has many places to be explored.When I found out we were going on vacation to Estes Park, Colorado, naturally, I had to research abandoned places in the area. There were many foundations strewn throughout the mountainous landscapes, and rotting ruins of old mills and mines I explored, but one really caught my attention and I HAD to explore it. The abandoned and forbidden mining town of Gilman, Colorado, which was a 3-hour trip one-way from where we happened to be staying for the week, but I could not stop thinking about it, so I planned a day-trip.

Gilman, Colorado was once a booming mining town nestled in the cliffs of Eagle County, at an elevation of 8,950 feet, on a cliff overlooking Eagle River. Next to Battle Mountain, what remains of Gilman are visible in multiple places along the stretches of highway, and to patrolling rangers, sheriffs, and highway patrolmen. This is not a location where they welcome visitors, and there are many signs warning against trespassers. The main road is visible from inside the town, and the town is very visible from the main road, so if you trespass, be aware-they can see you, unless you are very good at hiding. I am not a ninja! I am a clumsy middle-aged woman :-), and I had a mild anxiety attach while I was in the middle of this town. Needless to say, I did not last long.

Gilman was founded in 1886 during the Colorado Silver Boom, becoming the center of lead and zinc mining in Colorado. Abandoned by force in 1984 by the Environmental Protection Agency, (EPA) due to toxic pollutants, such as contamination of ground water, and soil.

In 1966, Gulf Western obtained New Jersey Zinc Company, and by 1977 had fundamentally shut down Eagle Mine. In 1984 the town was abandoned by order of the EPA- Environmental Protection Agency, due to toxic pollutants, including contamination of ground water, and top soil. In 2007, The Ginn Company had plans to build a private ski resort, and developing the land to make it safe enough for future use. However, as of 2016, it still sits, perched upon the ledge, overlooking the highway; the once thriving boomtown is now abandoned and discarded, an empty shell.

I lived in Avon and Edwards, CO from 1983 to 1985. During the winter of 1983-84 a new owner of the mine that Gulf & Western had sold out to closed down. They were only open maybe a year. It was a month or so later that one of the mill tailings ponds turned acidic and overflowed into the Eagle River, turning it bright orange,. The State had to take over dumping lime into the tailings ponds to keep the level of acidity down.

During the summer of 1984 a couple friends and I drove right into Gilman and did a little exploring. That was before the town was fenced-off. A few people were still moving stuff out of houses and a couple of the buildings in the downtown area. At that time there were still several older trucks parked in the garage area that said New Jersey Zinc on their doors, and the place looked like it could have reopened if a new buyer was found.

No new buyer was found. Today the town and the mine buildings are falling to pieces. The mine tramway that ran from town down to the lower portal and the railroad shipping facility has collapsed. Some urban explorer types explored into the mine several years ago and found it in bad shape. There are some photos of their adventure online if you look hard-enough,

The mine is not filled-in as it had miles of tunnels underground., Just the portals have been sealed. I would stay back from any vertical portals as it is common for old vertical portals to become undermined near the shaft collar. More than one tourist has fallen 1000 feet or more after a shaft collar gave way under their weight in Colorado. Even exploring horizontal mines can be dangerous because of cave-ins, bad air, and vertical shafts in the dark.

At one time it was proposed to rehab the houses for ski resort employee use but there is a lot of contamination there and the houses are rapidly falling to pieces. Abandonment and exposure to the elements at 9000 feet elevation results in rapid deterioration. I would stay out of most of those houses and other buildings today if you go there. Be safe rather than sorry or worse is my advice.

Hi Mark, I completely agree about being careful! When I was there, I did not enter any of the houses, and I was extremely careful of where I walked for the exact reasons that you listed! I doubt they will ever be able to rehab the area. Such an interesting place though!
Trish

Thank you for capturing what you did. I live in CO and can never bring myself to explore that place (for good reasons). Thank you for risking your life for these wonderful photos! I hope you and you husband can live your dram in CO soon!

Well, almost to ourselves. Not long after settling in we got some van dwelling neighbors. Not just any van dwelling neighbors though. This particular van is the part-time home of fellow travelers Susan and Brian. Susan emailed us a few weeks ago introducing themselves and wondering if maybe we would cross paths in CO. Well it turns out that we did!

Up next was Eureka where we spotted the remains of the Sunnyside Ore Mill perched on the side of red mineral streaked hillside. Eureka is also the site of the Eureka Campground. This rustic camping area alongside the Animas river has dry sites for $10/night, and electric hook-ups for $25/night. It looked like a nice spot with sites tucked in the trees along the river. After Eureka we passed more remains of mines, mills and old mining camps.

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