It was a photo I found online of the Virginia May mine that sold me on a nine-mile long hike into a remote region of the Turtle Mountains. It's not like I really needed a reason to hike in the Turtles. Every time I've ventured beyond their wilderness boundary has been spectacular, my most recent memory being The Perfect Day for Something Stupid.
It was the description that went along with the photo that really baffled me (highlight mine):
The Virginia May Mine (also known as the Horn Mine) had been on my "To Do" list for years. It was never a high priority, but its remoteness called to me. Located in the southern Turtle Mountains of California, it is out in the middle of nowhere and there is not much else around. Still, I knew there was once a mine camp there at an old spring and an ore bin still stood high on the mountain.
Also, there is a story that the mine was discovered and worked by one of the Earp brothers (as in Wyatt Earp). Wyatt Earp did indeed have a small house in nearby Vidal Junction and owned claims in the Whipple Mountains to the east, so it could be true, but I couldn't find any more evidence about it.
The mine was worked for a few years sometime around 1900 for high-grade copper. It went idle and then it was worked again sometime in the early 1950s.
Having told you all of this, and now, having been there, I can tell you something else… Don’t bother going.
The mine really isn’t worth hiking to. It’s just not. It has a pleasant view, and it was a good walk out in the desert (although it was really windy when I was there) but there really isn’t any reason to go there; not much is left except for an old car or two.
Starbuck
Maybe I'm just a weirdo, but with a description like that, I found myself wanting to visit even more. The cynic in me wondered if the Virginia May Mine was an amazing treasure, downplayed to keep the hoards away. Whatever the reason, I knew that any hike in the Turtle Mountains would be a treat, so I cajoled @mrs.turbodb and Mike @mk5 to head that direction on the tail end of return to the desert so we could tackle the 9-mile roundtrip before heading home.
After a fantastic night around the campfire - that included cake (!) - we awoke to clear skies and a beautiful day on the edge of the wilderness.
Unfortunately, the previous couple of days spent planting baby Joshua Trees and wandering through the Mojave Preserve in search of petroglyphs - or historic rock vandalism as Mike liked to call it - had left Mike's feet in a bad way. Blistered and sore from some shoes that - he assured us - were "not new," a nine-mile hike with 2,000 feet of elevation gain was a smidge more than he felt ready for, at least for the time being.
And so, it was 8:09am - exactly an hour after the sun crested the horizon - that @mrs.turbodb and I left Mike uncomfortably situated in his driver seat and set off toward the mine. It felt a little crummy - and we turned back to check on the status of camp several times as we gained elevation - but after seeing where Mike ended up the rest of the day, we need not have worried; that guy knows how to have a great time!
Maybe we should have gone with Mike.
Following the old road into the wilderness.
Not only were the first couple of miles easy going up the gradually sloped alluvial fan, but endless views to the east unfolded into the horizon, and we stopped several times to soak in a scene that had been billed as not worth it.
Queen of the hill, surveying the surroundings.
Sublime desert views.
Having packed lunch to eat when we arrived at ruins of the old mine camp, we felt a little silly as we wandered over the concrete slabs and wondered at the numerous bits of copper ore we found strewn across the site a few minutes after 9:00am. Once again - and not for the last time - we remarked to each other about the great time we were having!
The last standing structure of the old camp, a water tank high on the hillside. (left) | An 1940s Cadillac peeked out from its hiding place in the wash below camp. (right)
If only we could get rich off of copper ore!
Postponing lunch for a more reasonable time of day - perhaps once we reached the apex of one of the mining roads, @mrs.turbodb suggested - we continued up the road behind camp towards the workings. Still unsure how interesting it would really be, we tempered our enthusiasm even as we stumbled on interesting historical artifacts and the mine structure that had initially piqued my interest came into view.
Finding an old black and yellow California plate was a fun discovery.
Climbing higher and higher, the views were like all the rest in the Turtle Mountains. Spectacular.
Layer upon layer.
This solitary ore bin only shares its special secret once you've climbed the hill behind it!
Known as the Horn Copper Mine at the time, the Virginia May Mine was established in the early 1900s.
Numerous workings intersect and follow enriched fault zones. Four shafts - as deep as 70 ft. - and 16 adits - the longest extending 620 feet into the mountain - form the backbone of the site. Extensive drifts, numerous trenches and pits contain abundant deposits of copper minerals, along with gold, silver, and zinc. U.S. Bureau of Mines records show that sporadic production from this mine between 1913 and 1954 totaled 1,178 tons of ore containing 92,280 lb copper, 307 oz silver, and 3 oz gold.
In 1983, the principal workings of the mine were actively being examined by Jense McCormick and Mine Development Corporation, though no further mining activity has taken place.
Even from the below, this is an impressive ore bin. The nearby adit only adds interest!
Are we millionaires yet?
After a quick peak into the shallow adit and a good amount of wow-ing at the bright blues and greens that covered the hillside, we scrambled up behind the ore bin with anticipation. There, leading out from another adit, tracks curved gracefully over now-empty space. Yep, definitely don't bother, this place is a bore. 
But for a little maintenance, little in this view has changed since the sound of mining filled the air.
The entrance to the adit feeding the ore bin has mostly collapsed, and further in, the situation is much worse!
With the road terminating at the ore bin, we followed an old miners trail higher up the hillside. It's amazing how long these narrow paths last, even with what can't be more than a handful of folks traversing them in a year. Still, they are plain as day, with creosote and catclaw taking root on the relatively smooth surfaces.
Higher up the hillside, more workings - mostly shafts that emptied into the collapsed adit below.
After investigating a few workings, it was time for a quick route check. Though experience suggested that there'd be miner's trails between the two main groups of workings, these trails were not visible on satellite imagery, and not knowing the difficulty of the terrain, I'd mapped an out-and-back approach from the camp along each fork in the road.
Having found the old trails, we made the decision to follow them up and over the ridge, saving ourselves a mile - and more importantly, from losing and then gaining 500 feet of elevation - to reach a set of workings a half mile deeper in the wilderness.
Plus, it sure seemed like the ridge would be a great place for lunch.
In the shelter of a large rock, this lunch view was one for the books.
Our bellies full - of sandwiches, chips, and some tasty red grapes - we continued to follow the faint trail toward a mining road we could see - the one I'd originally mapped - in the neighboring valley. As we did, we passed by several small workings; prospects perhaps, for copper veins that may have extended through the entirety of the mountain.
A shallow room, perhaps used to store boom-boom sticks. (left) | We never could figure out the purpose of this tiny structure. (top right) | Coyote? (bottom right)
Following the contour lines along the rocky hillside, we eventually caught sight of the workings we were after.
To our north, the sun and clouds played gleefully over Horn Peak.
After tossing rocks down a couple nope-not-exploring-those vertical shafts and wandering our way to the smooth face of the deepest (620 ft.) adit on the property, we were thoroughly satisfied with what we'd found.
Plenty of time to admire the views as we headed back down the old mining road.
Rounding a final bend on our way back to the valley.
Castle Mountain.
Only a few minutes after 2:00pm - six hours after we'd set off - when we hopped the steel cable that marked the wilderness boundary. There was the Tacoma, alone in camp; the solar panels - spread across the windshield - keeping the batteries topped off as the sun blazed down from above.
We're not sure exactly when Mike had wormed his way out of the cab and eaten a breakfast of pineapple upside down cake, but whatever time it'd been, he was long gone. And, after our first trip to the desert for the season, it was time for us to do the same.
Totally not worth it. (j/k)
The Whole Story
Excellent adventure and pix. We may not make the hike to the mine but do plan to be in the area within the next couple of months, mostly to visit the Amboy crater and area around it then maybe Laughlin along with a trip to Algodones to see a dentist and that should be an adventure! LOL
Thanks John, as always!
Amboy crater was a great hike. There's a smidge of elevation at the end in order to reach the rim, but it was well worth it in my opinion. And of course, it's always fun to stop in Amboy itself for a few photos of the old hotel. Have fun out there, and best of luck at the dentist! 👍