Trash to Treasure
If there is one thing of certainty in our explorations across the Copper Country, it is the fact that no matter where we go or how deep into the woods we venture, we will always find trash. In fact no exploration of a ruin is considered completed until we find a washing machine. The sad truth is, we are never disappointed.
Keweenaw-Land
By the 1960’s it had become painfully apparent to the powers-that-be across the Keweenaw that the end was near. The copper industry had been slowly dying for decades, and as the decade opened only a handful of operating mines still remained. The writing was on the wall and a plan B had to be formulated to sustain the area. Instead of attracting new industry to the area, a decision was made to concentrate instead on the service sector. Thus Copper Country was reborn as a tourist destination.
Shaft Family Portrait
Copper mining existed along the Keweenaw for almost 150 years (roughly between 1850 and 1995) During this time the technology, architecture, equipment, and environment changed significantly. The remains of the Mohawk #1 and its brothers represent the 2nd generation of Copper Mines on the Keweenaw. It was born from everything learned and lost by copper mines before it, and passed on that heritage to those mines that followed.
Brick
When mines were first built along the Keweenaw it was done with materials that could be commonly found within the Peninsula itself. The large distances separating it with the rest of the industrialized world and the lack of mass transportation routes to deliver needed supplies to its shores, the Copper Country had to make do with what it had. Before the advent of poured concrete, this meant a reliance on materials that could be manufactured locally.
Garden City Way
Somewhere along Garden City Road (and presumably near Garden City Pond) should be the ruins of the Garden City Mine. It was our hopes to find these ruins during a drive along the old road early in the fall. Almost too easily we happened across a small poor rock pile along the north side of the road. Poor rock piles mean a nearby mine, and we took a look around to find it. We dropped down from atop the small pile and entered a shaded cedar swamp, sprinkled with a variety of shallow dips and holes in the ground.