Trimountain Mine

While circumstances continue to keep us from exploring, I’ll take another trip to the archives for today’s post. I have had many requests to feature more sights from along the southern range of the Copper Country, more specifically the mines of the Copper Range company. Copper Range was a juggernaut, easily ranking second in terms of size and scope along the Keweenaw. While C&H had wrestled control of most mines north of Portage Lake, Copper Range had succeeded in taking control of most south of it.

We have seen a great deal of hoist foundation remains in our travels. As is the case with most copper mining infrastructure, they all tend to follow a similar design. The hoist we found at Trimountain was no different, complete with threaded rods and red brick. But what Trimountain offered us that no other ruin had in the past was a unique look into its inner workings; a glimpse into how the foundation was constructed. With this information we were able to piece together a better picture of a hoist foundation’s design.

As we branch out our exploration away from the hoist and shaft ruins, we quickly discovered that we had stumbled across an expansive operation. Atop hills, along the side of hills, down hills, in valleys, along old trails; the ruins just kept popping up out of the frozen ground. It had quickly become too much for us to keep track of, and we decided to call it quits and return another day. Before we left we were able to record a small portion of what was to find at Trimountain, mainly bits and pieces really. Today we present those morsels to you, as an appetizer for our return this summer.

Man’s pursuit of the Earth’s mineral riches is yet another violent expression of his dominion over the natural world – practiced with the destructive force of explosives. With these powerful weapons we’re able to extend our influence into the Earth itself, thousands of feet below the surface we were meant to inhabit. But with this great power comes an inherent danger, demonstrating in the end that our dominion over the Earth may be nothing more than an illusion. For the Copper Empire this meant that the same explosives that provided them with their riches, could just as easily take those riches away.

Of all the mines that had sunk shafts into the great Baltic Lode, the Trimountain could be considered the ugly ducking of the bunch. Besieged by mismanagement and difficult geography the mine was never able to fully take advantage of the copper bounty below its feet. From its establishment in 1899 up until its closure in 1920 the mine was only able to produce minimal profits – only about 3.5 million when all was said and done. (It’s neighbor to the south – the Champion – made over 25 million during the same period) Even after Copper Range took over operations in 1925, it could only keep the struggling mine afloat for another five years. It closed for good in 1930.

A hoist was simply a tool. The building which housed it – shelter. The existence of both were strictly functional, their purpose was simply to make money for the company. The hoist and its house were never intended as art, or as some great monuments to the past. But here they sit a century later decayed and ruined under the shroud of foliage and a piece of art is exactly what they have become. Unlike the poured concrete monoliths we find at more modern mine sites which appear to have been simply built by man, these old stone and sandstone beauties looks to have been crafted. Even when profits were king, the capitalists of old seem to have taken pride in their empires which shows even to this day.

After leaving the hoist ruins behind at Trimountain No.1, we turned our attention towards finding the next piece in the puzzle – the boiler house. It was from within this building that the steam used by the hoisting engine was produced. Since both buildings would have been connected by a steam pipe we decided to begin our search from what we thought was the steam pipe inlet along the old hoist ruins. But after searching for a a good half hour we gave up and headed back towards the old rail line. It was then that we stumbled upon the ruins we were looking for.

Leaving the boiler house remains behind, we took a stroll through the forest in search of the old rail bed that we initially used to find this shaft location. It wasn’t long until we found a short ridge running along a straight line through the woods. Climbing to the top we expected to come across a dirt trail but instead found ourselves standing within some dense underbrush. This wasn’t the trail we were looking for, but it was definitely an old railroad grade and worth a look nonetheless. Unfortunately the grade didn’t last too long. Before we knew it we had come to the end of the grade, which had dropped off quickly into a shallow valley. Climbing down to take a look we found the reason behind the grade’s sudden demise – concrete foundations.

Making our way back uphill to the No.2 surface plant (which we have visited previously HERE), we decided to once again climb its massive rock pile and take a look around. From the top we were greeted to a sweeping panorama of fall brilliance. Ahead of us – piercing through the calico shroud of the forest canopy – stood the dusty gray silhouette of a lone smokestack. Its solemn and solitary vigil beckoned us forward, and we climbed back down the pile to go get a closer look.

After our discovery of the concrete stack at No. 3 we knew that the boiler house ruins would not be too far away. Near the base of the stack was a collection of concrete remains which looked to have once been the stack’s flue. We follow them a short distance before we came across what looked like a foundation wall capped with sandstone blocks. Most likely this was an outer wall for the boiler house, with the sandstone marking an old window or door opening. Beyond it was the buildings basement, now simply a large whole in the ground. We dropped down to investigate.