Butte to Lincoln - Mines! | MTBDR #3

Butte was by far the largest city - or town, if you ask @mrs.turbodb - that we'd pass through on the Montana Backcountry Discovery Route (MTBDR). Being the hub between Stage 2 and Stage 3 was nice, as it meant that anyone who had run into trouble on the first couple of stages could pop into a local auto parts store or shop to get those issues addressed, before tackling the final six stages.

And the three ADV riders we'd met in Stage 1 were planning to do just that, one of them ordering ahead for a more mud appropriate rear tire when he passed through town!

While we didn't have any maintenance business to take care of, we did decide to make a quick stop at the local Burger King for a couple of Whoppers - and some tasty fried potatoes - before heading to the first attraction of Stage 3... in Butte!

Butte started as a placer gold camp in 1864, but gold was almost as scarce as water to wash it out of the ground. The first miners hauled gravel down the hill to Silver Bow Creek in ox carts, only to find that it contained very few nuggets. Quartz veins stained black with manganese and full of silver minerals were discovered at about the same time as placer gold, mainly because they were too big and obvious to overlook.

In fact, there were two important sets of veins: silver bearing quartz veins with manganese, and veins full of copper. The copper congregated in a tight bullseye in the area that later became the Berkeley Pit and the silver swarmed like a halo around them. That pattern is typical: geologists commonly find copper veins passing into silver mineralization with increasing distance from the source of the metals.

Some of the many mines that started working during the 1880s produced mostly silver, others mostly copper, depending upon the kind of vein they were following.

Many of the rich veins were completely worked by the 1950s and the end was in sight for the others. Then Butte changed its style by switching to production of enormous tonnages of low grade ore from the Berkeley pit. Most of the ore from that pit contained less than one half percent copper - so little that it was difficult to see ore minerals in a specimen of the rock. The pit operated on an extremely narrow profit margin, offset by its ability to produce large amounts of ore with a fairly uniform metal content.

Although the high grade veins were worked out years ago, the supply of pit grade ore is by no means exhausted. The mines finally closed because the price of copper persistently failed to keep pace with inflation. If renewed demand for copper were to restore the price to a level equivalent to that of the mining years, Butte could resume its former identity as a mining camp.

Roadside Geology of Montana

So here's the thing about the Richest Hill on Earth: there is no hill. They took it. All of it. And then - this is the part that gets me - they kept going, past where the hill used to be, until they'd dug a mile-long, quarter-mile-deep hole where the hill had been standing.

Even though Butte never made it as a gold mining camp, total production of gold did amount to some 2.9 million ounces, far more than any gold mining camp in Montana. But all that gold, like several other metals, was a byproduct that could never have been mined if the ore had not also contained much larger amounts of copper. The district lived on copper, and the other metals sweetened the ore.

According to estimates made after mining ceased in Butte, the district produced a total of more than 20 billion pounds of copper. Zinc, the next most abundant metal, amounted to just under 5 billion pounds. Manganese - an absolutely vital metal used mostly for making steel alloys - 3.7 billion pounds; 855 million pounds of lead, and 704 million ounces of silver.

Today, the Environmental Protection Agency rates the area among the worst in the nation - even more toxic than New York’s infamous Love Canal. After mining ceased in 1983, the Berkeley Pit filled with poisoned water. In 1995, several hundred snow geese were found dead in the new lake. In 2016, upwards of 60,000 snow geese landed in the pit during inclement weather, with between three- to four thousand of the geese dying after drinking the acidic, metalliferous water. Downstream, the reservoir at Milltown, east of Missoula, was so full of copper waste that drinking water became tainted. The cleanup - still in process - is projected to cost hundreds of millions of dollars and to last for decades.

Roadside Geology of Montana

After about an hour - we had a few different viewpoints to check out various aspects of the Berkeley Pit - the sun was starting to get a little closer toward the horizon and it was time for us to hit the trail. We wanted to cover about 50 miles - a feat that would depend entirely on the types of trails we'd be traversing - before calling it a day and finding a spot to camp for the night.

Here, the roads through the Boulder Mountains were reasonably well kept. This appeared to be largely due to years-old logging, as the forest was a patchwork of newer, older, and mostly-missing growth. Today, while we didn't see any active tracts, the area seems heavily populated with moo-ing steak, so rather than swerving to avoid potholes, I was trying to keep from flinging cow patties high onto the sides of the Tacoma. But we made great time, and ticked off several dozen miles as my right-hander engaged after-dinner-nap mode.

At almost exactly the 200-miles-for-the-day mark, a two track led off the main route and what appeared to be straight up as it climbed to the top of a local rise. I wasn't sure how the Tacoma would do - largely because I wasn't sure if the ground would be slippery mud or something more substantial - but I did know that if we could get to the top, we'd have great views of the surrounding area. So up we went!

Now 8:30pm and still with another 90 minutes of daylight, we brushed our teeth, got ready for bed, and climbed up the ladder. There, @mrs.turbodb played a couple of rounds of Reforest, while I transferred the day's photos from the camera to my laptop for safekeeping. And then, tired, we dozed off to the distant whooping of coyotes calling out for their companions.

The following morning...

We awoke to another beautiful day, and the first where the exterior of the tent was completely dry! The night had been mostly uneventful, a single deer wandering by - and pausing outside the tent door before scampering off - around 3:00am.

Much like the first two days, this one would be filled with - yep - driving. We still had 100 miles of Stage 3 and then hoped to get through most of Stage 4 by the time the sun was creeping toward the horizon. It was the 3rd of July, and if we got high enough, there was the possibility of enjoying some early, distant, fireworks celebrations!

For now though, we ate a quick breakfast and got ourselves on the road. For about five minutes.

It looked like the trailer had been abandoned for only a couple of weeks. Likely, a flat tire led to a run back into town; perhaps a lack of fuel to get back resulted in the owner never returning at all. Both wheels were missing; windows were broken; the door was still locked. The inside was jam-packed with all manner of unnecessary items. It was, likely, a hoarder's home.

Luckily for us, there was just enough room to squeeze around the trailer, following the tracks of the motorcycles before us. Not long after, the dirt roads spit us out just east of Basin and along an old rail grade that ran alongside I-15 and the Boulder River.

The engineering inherent in every mile of rail must be immense. Even having been out of commission for decades - if not longer - this one was still solid and smooth, its gentle grade following that of the river. We wound along - the water rushing beside us - for a few miles until we came to Basin.

As we rolled along the elevated roadway, I was overcome with a sense of déjà vu. The memory would trigger for @mrs.turbodb as we followed a wide bend in the river. We'd been here before!

It was Memorial Day, 2018, when Monte @Blackdawg and Devin, Mike @Digiratus, and we had passed through Basin on the way to our Longest Campfire. We hadn't known much about the place at the time - certainly less than @mrs.turbodb had uncovered for this visit - but we'd still enjoyed the massive chimney of the old smelter.

The most conspicuous ghost of big mining in Basin is the empty, argus-eyed Jib mill across the Boulder River from the town. The 300-ton mill which dates back to the 1900s, stands on the site of the Katy concentrator. The Butte and Superior Mining Company made use of the buildings and some of the machinery between 1909 and 1912, treating zinc ore from their Black Rock mine by the froth flotation process. This method was new to the western mining world, so when E.H. Nutter, chief engineer for Minerals Separation, Ltd., of London, visited the plant in 1910 he was insistent upon seeing the mill. Upon his return, he reported to his company that their patent to the process was being infringed upon. A lawsuit, which involved several western mining companies affiliated with the D.C. Jackling interests, followed and was not settled until 1922 by each company’s payment of $5,000,000 to the English firm.

In 1917 Marcus L. Hewitt, and A.E. Spriggs, incorporated the Jib Mining Company with the intention of unwatering the shaft and cleaning up the mill. In May, 1924, quantities of high-grade gold were encountered and reserve bodies of ore blocked out “I excess of $9,000,000.” During this prosperous period the company worked three shifts and employed 175 men.

Within two years gold ore totaling $1,700,000 was recovered from the Hope, Katy, and White Elephant, and as production grew, Basin’s population rose from a mere handful to a thousand. Both Miners’ and the Smeltermen’s Unions were strong, and the town felt assured of a stability it had never known.

Then, stock market manipulations and mismanagement caused the Jib property to shut down and the boom was over.

Montana Pay Dirt

As we discussed the success - or perhaps, perceived success - of the old mines in Basin, we headed northeast to visit what would be the most interesting mine and ghost town of the entire route. This was, again coincidentally, a place that I'd been before, when I'd met up with Mike and Zane @Speedytech7 for Half a Trip in 2023.

I have to say - it was just as cool to see Comet a second time, and fun to explore with someone who had no idea what to expect!

Mining began in what would become known as the High Ore Mining District as early as 1869, when a man named John W. Russell began to prospect in the area. However, after working on his claim for five years, Russell sold it to the Alta-Montana Company in 1874, which invested heavily in mining operations and soon a 40-ton-per-day concentrator - a mill process that separates the ore from the dirt and rocks - sat on site. By 1879, the Alta-Montana Company had invested more than $500,000 in developing the Comet and nearby Alta Mines.

However, these efforts were unsuccessful in turning a profit due to the high costs of transportation. Still, director - and major stockholder - of the Alta-Montana Company, Samuel T. Hauser, was determined to make a go of the Comet Mine. So, in 1883, he formed the Helena Mining and Reduction Company, purchasing the assets of the struggling Alta-Montana Company to once again invest in the Comet Mine.

Almost immediately a new smelter was constructed in nearby Wickes along with a 100-ton concentrator at the mine site. At first, silver and lead ore were transported to the smelter by wagon, but a year later a more efficient rope tramway began to carry the heavy loads. When the Northern Pacific Railroad opened their line between Helena and Wickes in 1887, mining operations began to grow.

The town of Comet was officially surveyed and platted in 1876, and its first post office opened the following year. Through the 1890s, Comet and Wickes held a combined 300 people, including a 20-student schoolhouse, numerous homes and businesses, and nearly two dozen saloons. The mine became profitable enough to weather even the silver panic and depression of 1893.

As is always the case, the richest ore didn't last forever. By the turn of the century, the accessible ore was beginning to play out, and the mine sold several times over the next several years, eventually falling into disrepair.

Things changed again in 1927 when the Comet and the Gray Eagle Mines were purchased by the Basin Montana Tunnel Company. A 200-ton concentrator - described at the time as “the most modern in Montana" - was constructed using more modern techniques and soon the mines were buzzing again, once again employing about 300 men and weathering the depression years. During the 1930s, the operation was the second-largest mining venture in Montana (second only to Butte), and mining operations continued until 1941, at which time most of the equipment was sold, the people moved away, and Comet became a ghost town for good.

Over its lifetime, the Comet mine produced some $20 million in lead, zinc, iron, copper, silver, and gold ore and was the richest mine in the district.

History of Comet, Legends of America

Though some of the houses are in very good condition, most of the doors and windows have either been stolen or broken by vandals. A nice little group of log cabins and stable on the hill make up the best part of Comet today. A post office operated and closed four times between 1877 and 1894.

Hinges screech and tin roofing slaps as a strong breeze comes out of the north. Deeply rutted trails form some rough roads across the sage-covered hillside. The buildings on the mains street are well on their way to ruin, now that many of the roofs have collapsed in onto the floorboards.

Visitors are not welcome at Comet, due to the amount of vandalism that has sadly occurred. Most of the town lies on a patented claim and is privately owned. Hopefully this camp will survive as a true Montana ghost town, complete with the eerie sound of wind whistling across weathered wood.

Montana Ghost Towns and Gold Camps

Luckily, these days, visitors seem more welcome - or at least, I haven't been hassled on either of my visits - and we were able to wander across the stream to check out the interior of the two main structures.

We spent half an hour poking around Comet, the constant sound of heavy equipment echoing from the opposite side of the valley. Whether this was a small ongoing mining operation or an effort to revitalize parts of the old town - in the same way Cerro Gordo is being stabilized and improved as a tourist destination - wasn't immediately clear, but whatever the reason, there's still a rumble of life in this old ghost town.

Still a few minutes before 8:00am, we loaded ourselves into the truck and began a long climb up the southeastern escarpment of Mt. Thompson, en route to the Occidental Plateau. A vast green expanse, this area once served as a thoroughfare, crisscrossed by numerous mining roads used to reach the Colorado and Basin mining districts. Today, it's a much more serene setting, with only a few decaying old structures, scattered piles of waste rock, and a cabin-sized monument of rocks overlooking the Wickes mine in the valley below.

Where the roads had been reasonably quick to this point in the day, they got significantly slower as we dropped down through the northern half of the range and eventually across the Continental Divide. This, too, felt eerily familiar, though I'm not sure when it was, or who I was with, when I previously bounced along these same stretches of trail.

Crossing the Continental Divide, the roads transitioned again to much smoother surfaces. It's curious how quickly these changes take place, often in terrain that seems largely "the same." Now though, we careened around corners and kicked up dust as we wound our way north toward Elliston. Around us, the Jericho Fire - a burn that nearly closed this section of BDR only a few days earlier - scarred the hillsides.

As with many BDRs, long stretches of down are followed by similarly long stretches of up, and after a quick stint on US-12, we were back into the Boulder Mountains, sweeping our way along the base of Roundtop Mountain and skirting the slopes of Mt. Belmont.

As we did, the Ham radio crackled to life. As usual, the radio guys were talking about their radios, and one of them was busy activating (getting to the top of, and then trying to talk to at least three other radio geeks from each summit) four peaks in the immediate vicinity. Or so he claimed; we never saw him speeding from one mountain to the next.

By now we were starting to get a bit hungry - it was nearly noon and we'd been on the road for the better part of  most people's full day - and we figured that we'd stop for lunch at the next shady spot we found. At the time, we assumed that spot was only a few miles away - at the Empire Mill - not knowing that the mill had been demolished and that the grassy clearing where it once stood would be teeming with mosquitoes!

John Stemple discovered the Empire Mine in 1880, but it remained little more than a prospect until 1886, when it was purchased by the Empire Mining Company of London. The company also acquired the neighboring Whipperwill Mine and immediately began an ambitious development program. Although the Empire was only lightly developed at the time, its ore averaged about $30 per ton in gold, silver, copper, and lead, while the more developed Whipperwill had already produced valuable ore.
Early work proved both promising and frustrating. Ore was initially processed in a small 10-stamp mill in Combs Gulch while crews drove a long haulage adit beneath the workings. Progress was slowed by exceptionally hard slate—hard enough that one tunneling crew abandoned its contract after advancing only 40 feet. When the adit finally reached the Whipperwill vein, the ore body that had been expected at depth was nearly barren. Additional exploration also failed to find paying ore. Fortunately, the parallel Empire vein remained productive, allowing the company to continue mining, pay a 15 percent dividend, and finance construction of a new 60-stamp mill. The haulage adit eventually reached 1,500 feet in length.

The new mill came online in stages, with 40 stamps operating by late 1887 and all 60 in service by January 1888. Because the deeper workings failed to produce enough ore, mining shifted to the upper levels, and a tramway was built to deliver ore to the mill. Disaster struck on August 31, 1889, when the quartz mill caught fire. More than one hundred men responded from Marysville to fight the blaze, although the cause was never determined.

By 1891, the property was being operated by the Golden Leaf Mining Company and employed about sixty men. Despite the collapse of silver prices in 1893, the Empire continued to operate intermittently under a succession of owners and lessees. Between 1887 and 1893, the mine reportedly produced about $350,000 worth of ore. A contemporary Helena Journal article described not only the busy mill but also the small company town of Empire, complete with a general store, post office, and daily stage service to Marysville.

In 1901, the Gold Belt Mining Company constructed a cyanide plant to reprocess several hundred thousand tons of tailings, recovering about 90 percent of the remaining values. The plant also treated dumps from the nearby Jay Gould and Gloster mines.

Development resumed in 1933 under W. M. Manning of Helena. Mining continued through World War II, peaking at more than 14,000 tons of ore in 1939 before returning to intermittent operation. In all, the later operations produced more than 36,000 tons of ore containing gold, silver, copper, lead, and zinc. Little else is documented until 1994, when the remaining mill buildings burned. Today, only the stone foundations and scattered ruins remain.

Empire Mill Info Sign

Luckily, our next option for lunch was one that seemed even more attractive: a fire lookout. We wouldn't have shade, but by design we'd certainly have a good view, so we pointed the Tacoma toward Granite Butte Lookout in the along the Continental Divide, and weren't shy about cycling the suspension as we pushed our speed on the narrow dirt roads.

Even from a distance, @mrs.turbodb spotted traffic on the spur road that led to the lookout. A gang of UTVs, and we hoped they'd be gone by the time we reached the top. It turns out, we weren't the only ones who ran into the terrors of the trail. As we climbed from 4,000 to 7,587 feet, our three buddies from Stage 1 - AJ, Shawn, and Carl - were screaming down the mountain, a little miffed at the trail manners of the four-wheeled bozos. We, apparently, were exempt on account of our manners. Even though we hadn't yet realized who they were, we'd pulled to the side of the road in order to give their unwieldy bikes plenty of room. Smiles and a barrage of questions - mostly about how we'd fared since being lost in their snowy spray on Stage 1 - followed, and after a few fun minutes of catching up, we once again parted ways.

And then, a little after 1:00pm, we arrived.

Unfortunately, the lookout - one that can be rented for the right price - was locked up tight, so we weren't able to go in or chat with the summer-long residents of still-active towers. And so, after a quick look around, we set about the task of quieting our bellies.

Lunch - as usual - was the usual. Or at least, the usual for this trip - some caprese sandwiches, a smattering of chips, and a deliciously cold Cosmic Crisp apple. Enjoyed on the top of a mountain, we couldn't have asked for much more.

Then, as we'd climbed up one range after racing down another only a few hours earlier, we once again took advantage of gravity to pull us nearly the entire way to Lincoln, and the end of Stage 3.

 

 

The Whole Story

 

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