Baltic Mine

It was the Baltic Mine that started it all for the great Copper Range. While starting as an independent mine in 1897, the vast share of its stock was quickly gobbled up by the Copper Range Consolidated Company. In 1917 Copper Range took the rest, and the mine became the company’s flagship mine. The Baltic was the first to exploit the rich Baltic Lode (from which the mine was named) that started just southeast of South Range. The lode continued on for miles to the south-west, feeding the future Trimountain and Champion mines as well. Together with those later mines, the Baltic formed the backbone of the second largest mining company ever to exist on the Keweenaw.

The Baltic Mine first begun its life around 1897, spending two decades as an independent mine before being absorbed by Copper Range in 1917. During that time the mine was served by a branch of the Atlantic and Lake Superior Railroad, which transported the mine’s rock to the nearby Atlantic Mill for processing. (The Baltic Mill would not be completed until 1901). In 1900 the Copper Range Railroad would lay its own tracks nearby, part of the railroads 5-mile Painesdale Branch which connected the Champion Mine to the CR mainline. Soon after the Copper Range would send its own spur line out to the Baltic Mine, taking over haulage duties from the A&LS RR. It was along this spur line that we would stumble across today’s mystery ruins.

The first shaft sunk along the Baltic Lode was sunk at the wrong angle, and quickly passed through the lode and into trap rock. It turned out that the Baltic was the steepest lode along the Keweenaw, dropping down into the earth at an angle which was nearly vertical – 73º in fact. Three new shafts were quickly sunk (this time at the right angle) to the north, these being the No. 3, No. 4 and No. 5 shafts. It wasn’t until 1906 that the mine’s southern most shaft was started to tap the riches missed by the abandoned No. 1 – a shaft we know today as the No. 2. This single shaft would go on to furnish half of the Baltic’s total copper production.

As the newest shaft opened along the Baltic property, the No. 2 benefited from the installation of a modern surface plant including a steam powered Nordberg hoisting engine. The engine here was nothing special, more or less a standard installation for shafts of this era (early 20th century). By this time however the standard red-brick hoist foundation had been upgraded to concrete, and at Baltic it was this massive concrete structure that first attracted our attention through the trees.

The surface plant of a mine is like any other industrial complex in its need for utilities. Besides the usual suspects such as electricity and water, a typical copper mine also required two additional industry-specific resources: steam and compressed air. Steam was used to power the various steam engines scattered about the plant, and compressed air was primarily needed to run the drills underground. Both of these resources were carried throughout the surface plant in pipes that ran along along shallow utility trenches. In some cases these trenches were covered, and became utility tunnels instead. It was fellow explorer and reader Jay Wrix that had first clued me in to the existence of these tunnels here at Baltic, and it was his quickly scratched map that sent me back to Baltic in search of them.

As is the case with any copper mine top billing often goes to the stars of the show – the hoist and the shaft. But a mine’s minor players also deserve their due, since they two have had a role in the final production. Two important members of this supporting cast are the boiler and compressor buildings, the subjects of our post today. But just as you often have to sit through an entire movie to discover who played the janitor, you also have to do some serious bush-whacking to find the ruins of these buildings which often sit far from the mine’s stars.

After having taken some time exploring the remains of the Baltic’s compressor and boiler houses, we headed off into the woods to see what else we could uncover. It wasn’t long until we came across a looming concrete wall stretching along the hillside. Sitting about six feet in height, the concrete wall was backfilled to its top on its backside – creating a flat terrace along Six Mile Hill’s base. We thought it was perhaps another building foundation, but its length was far too long. To make matters even more confusing was something we discovered half-way along its length.

It was rumored to exists somewhere out by the old Baltic Mine, and it looks like we finally have proof thanks to fellow explorer Jay Wrixon. Its the mines powder house, still in remarkable shape and hidden deep within the fall foliage of the southern range. At first glance its a rather typical design, built from thick poor rock walls with sandstone quoins. But the roof, the roof is something all together different. Compared to the roofs found at other powder houses built around the same time (Trimountain, Ahmeek, LaSalle) this one is strikingly different. Instead of a rounded concrete top the building features a pitched wood version sheathed in corrugated steel.