Mining Claims and Surveying.

Irrigation circles, San Luis Valley, Colorado.

If you've flown over the heartland of the American continent you've seen it.

The patchwork quilt of our nation's agricultural landscape.

Jim Wark, a generous, quiet and personable man, began his career as a mining engineer and geologist. For twenty years now he's been studying the patterns of landforms on the North American continent. And making beautiful pictures of them, from one end of our country to the other.

He flies out of Pueblo, Colorado, in a sturdy front-and-back two seat airplane. Like most photographers, he's moved to digital equipment. But only in his commercial work. These images here, like all of his stock work, were created with Leica R-series 35mm film cameras--those of crystalline lenses. The plane is small, with a high wing and a large side opening for an unobstructed view. I imagine him banking a turn in his little Husky, hanging out the window, wind in his hair. Capturing beauty, one click at a time.

San Joaquin Valley, California.

Jim makes these photographs available at Airphoto North America, "providing 100,000 high quality stock aerial images with coverage from Alaska and Labrador to Costa Rica and the Lesser Antilles - and everything between."

A prize-winning aerial photographer, he's also published a number of magnificent books.



A viewer with a bit of historical perspective sees in Jim's images the bedrock of the American way of life, the blueprint for our national economy. Three of the four presidents featured on Mt Rushmore--George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Abraham Lincoln--were surveyors.

Oullette, Maine.

Thomas Jefferson--himself the son of a surveyor--proposed a system for overseeing the setting of boundaries and defining the nature of the measurements of the vast land that stretched out west of Washington DC. The basic module of the Public Land Survey System is a Section, one mile along each side, one square mile. Section lines are roads.

In surveying history, Ohio is perhaps best known as the birthplace of the Public Land Survey System, which is still in use today. This system split public land into townships of six miles by six miles. These would be divided into sections, each one mile square and containing 640 acres. The first area surveyed under the Public Land Survey System was in eastern Ohio, and the work began in 1785 with the Point of Beginning, or the intersection of the Western boundary of Pennsylvania and the North bank of the Ohio River.

Land Surveying History and Systems in Ohio.

Thus, the patchwork from California to Maine, from Texas to North Dakota. To the discerning eye it's an elegant, austere beauty, a God's eye view of the countryside. Ask Jim Wark.

Mt Pleasant, Iowa.

In the present layout of our counties, the pattern is unmistakable. One can see it in the layout of the streets, in the layout of the agricultural parcels. Here's Boulder County, south of Longmont, Colorado.

Less visible but nonetheless still in evidence, section lines continued to define our space when we moved to towns and cities. Looking at northwest Denver streets, east and west, one sees 64th Ave, 72nd Ave, 80th Ave, 88th Ave. Each major thoroughfare, one mile from the next.

North and south, one sees Pecos St, Federal Blvd, Sheridan Blvd, Wadsworth Blvd, Kipling St, each measuring off some variation of a one-mile marker.

In Boulder, we see Table Mesa/South Boulder Road, Baseline Road, Arapahoe Road. Each precisely one mile from the next.

And thus it is in one American city after another, making way only for natural breaks in the terrain--rivers, mountains, passes.

Mining Claims.

Superimposed on the Public Land Surveyor System is the system for mining claims, based on the geologically-defined location and direction of valuable minerals. PLSS defines surface rights only; lode mining claims define subsurface rights as well.

Deposits subject to lode claims include classic veins or lodes having well-defined boundaries such as quartz or other veins bearing gold or other metallic minerals and large volume, but low-grade disseminated metallic deposits. Federal statute limits their size to a maximum of 1,500 feet in length along the vein or lode and a maximum width of 600 feet, 300 feet on either side of the centerline of the vein or lode. The end lines of the lode claim must be parallel.

The Mineral Prospector. 

1500 feet long. 600 feet wide. Following veins of gold and silver. The resulting parcel map is a riot of pickup-sticks ownership parcels.

Recently reactivated gold mines along the Switzerland Trail right of way.

(There's a splendid irony that this jumble of chaos lies directly along one of the true spinal axes of the world survey system, the 40th parallel north. Baseline Road--"baseline"--in Boulder. The Kansas / Nebraska border a few hundred miles east.)

Imagine now the complexities of logistics and administration of a system like this, and put it in the context of the management technology available in the 19th century. This graphic was prepared using 21st century state-of-the-art GIS/computer technology and the advantages of aerial orthophotography. These folks used paper and pencil, drafting table and t-square, transit, Gunter's chain and red-and-white pole.

The potential for error and for conflict were immense as the mining claims were being filed and worked--all with an urgency even in our time-saturated pace of today we might find overwhelming.

This was the situation on the ground--quite literally--as people came together to seek their individual fortunes. These were fierce individualists, self-reliant, proud. And facing the absolute reality of requiring protection in a desperately competitive situation. Stripped raw of all political cant, they were faced with the ultimate need to form a government that would respect their freedom while protecting the rights of each of them.

One wonders how the simple geometric layout of our land has influenced the American psyche, so steeped in rational thought and post-Enlightenment thinking. No doubt there's comfort there, the illusion that we've tamed the world. Perhaps there's a clue here to why we so value our time in the mountains and the wild places of the earth?

Maxwell Pitch.

Less than a mile from the opening of Boulder Canyon, a marker's been placed by the Boulder Historical Society to indicate Maxwell's Pitch, one of the earliest structures remaining from the original toll road up into the mountains. Spend a little time studying this structure and the challenges of early transportation become more than evident. There's a reason why the earliest routes to the gold mines went up Sunshine Canyon.

MAXWELL PITCH

The iron aqueduct that you see adjacent to the trail lies just beneath "Maxwell Pitch," named for Boulder Canyon Wagon Road engineer J.P. Maxwell. At this point the road pitched steeply up and down, and was a well-know landmark for travelers. Because of its steep, narrow grade, sharp curve, violent winds, and poor visibility, Maxwell Pitch was the scene of numerous horse and wagon accidents. Notice the remnants of a stone wall visible above the aqueduct. This was is said to have been constructed in 1865 (without mortar!) by Maxwell and a crew of Italian laborers. The iron aqueduct was originally a wooden flume, and supplies Boulder with a portion of the meltwater from Arapaho Glacier.

An extension of the Switzerland Trail ROW has become a hiking trail now, an important part of the City of Boulder pedestrian and biking network interactive map here). Here it's visible below the irrigation structure, in this location the edge protected from a steep dropoff with a section of wrought-iron fencing.

The ROW itself actually crossed the creek at this point. Directly opposite the Maxwell Pitch are the remains of one of the dozens of bridges crossing Boulder Creek. Another sign posted by the Historic Preservation group describes the use of the stones from these bridges in the later construction of the Boulder County Courthouse, after the Denver, Boulder & Western Railroad was dismantled and sold for parts in 1919.

Earlier this year the Maxwell Pitch was pictured Then and Now as part of a presentation on the role of irrigation ditches in the development of Boulder Valley. The historic image shows the roadbed more clearly than is visible now. Erosion has taken its toll.

Life Was Never Easy.

Sanitation and public health, though recognized as issues of extreme importance in an urban environment, were not communally resolved. Natural drainage could not cope with the situation, and individuals were lax or negligent in self-regulation. Piles of offal, manure, and other filth accumulated in the alleys behind the business district. Trash of all descriptions was liberally scattered around the camp. The housewife, no more considerate, threw the garbage out in the backyard and allowed it to rot. Privies with shallow cesspools and vaults ranked perhaps as the greatest menace of all. In this disease-fermenting atmosphere, health was seriously threatened. The combination of putrid, rotten, decaying material and refuse produced a stench which hung over the camp and which would have been extremely offensive to later generations of Americans who were not accustomed to such conditions.

In the summer and fall, dust from the streets, mills, and mines added to the general discomfort. In the winter and spring, mud contributed its share. The summer months were the worst, for the warm sun brought into full strength all the odors which the cold of winter had helped to mask. With trees and natural shrubbery having been appropriated for other uses, erosion took place, so that a sudden shower might cascade mud, sand, and rocks into the camp. To be sure, the water washed away some of the filth but it was soon replaced.

Not a pretty picture, this camp scene, and the reader might be justified in declaring it too grim for any one camp. What cannot be denied is that all suffered to some extent, and in general, the larger the settlement, the more unfavorable the health conditions. Dysentery and diarrhea resulted from contaminated water, and even worse, typhoid, which swept through communities in epidemic proportions. Diphtheria. smallpox, scarlet fever, and other illnesses threatened both young and old. Before transportation improved, scurvy continued to be a menace in the winter-isolated camps. The common cold and sore throat were potentially dangerous, for even a mild cold weakened resistance and could lead to something far worse. Pneumonia, a dreaded killer at high altitudes, often resulted. These frontiersmen were not weak, unhealthy specimens susceptible to every illness, but in the crowded and unsanitary environment a host of diseases could emerge. Only the cautious and lucky citizen survived in this natural breeding ground of sickness.

from
Chapter Twelve: Life Was Never Easy.
Duane A Smith
Rocky Mountain Mining Camps: The Urban Frontier
1967

A far cry from the pastoral scene of today's life in the mountains.

Reality I: Sanitation in the Mining Camps.

Nearly every day I drive by the site of the previous "townsite" of Tungsten, near the base of what is now Barker Dam, east of Nederland.

In the boomtimes of the early 20th century, when the mineral tungsten was discovered to have significant applications in the hardening of steel for machine tools and weaponry, this site was reported in some sources to have a population of 30,000 people. Eventually I'll track down a link to this, but for now I'll just report it.

30,000 men, sleeping in beds rented in eight-hour shifts.

The stories of the crowded conditions are a bit legendary in these parts. The Presbyterian Church in Nederland was built and paid for during these times, by the pastor renting out the floors and pews for miners to sleep on.

Well, with the work I've been doing for the last few years, I've been sensitized to a vital municipal public health function: the treatment of human waste.

I keep wondering, how was this managed in the mining camps and towns in 1910?

The Mountain Community.

In the byline of this online journal, we say Mapping the history of a mountain community.

Here's that community.

It's a bit wider than the area served directly by the narrow gauge line, shown in red on the map. The folks who live here consider it a neighborhood.

Crisman.

Click on the image to see it in larger view.

Searching maps and aerial photographs for an historic mountain community is a challenge. Changes in vegetation over the past century have obscured and altered town and camp sites beyond recognition. In at least one instance that I've yet to document in this journal--the Salina Depot--the original site is buried under tons of mining debris, since grown over with heavy aspen cover.

Even when the location of a town is unquestioned--Puzzler, or Sunset at Pennsylvania Gulch, the heavy growth of forest makes it impossible to identify exact locations of landmark features.

Other times the exact location is simply difficult to discern from the road. I've yet to identify the exact sites of Shale or Copper Rock, despite the looming presence of obvious geological cues.

So with Crisman, showing up on maps as the area below the Logan Mine site. Despite a good number of trips up and down Four Mile Canyon, the precise location of this important townsite eluded me. Was it buried in the forest now? Needless to say, for residents of the areas in questions these are silly questions. But for a researcher, not so silly.

On a run up the canyon last January, I was moving slowly enough--with good time to actually look at what I was passing--and saw the street sign with the name on it. Crisman. About a half-mile below Logan Road, not far from the Black Swan mill site and curve.

It's a clearly marked opening with a road branching down, the main Four Mile Canyon Road continuing on uphill across the eastern flank of the valley. Unmistakably, this is a natural location for a settlement.

And inspection reveals the RR right-of-way along the western flank, down.

Identifying it so positively, I felt the complete fool. I was looking so hard for subtlety I overlooked the totally obvious. Blinded by the openness.

A couple of days ago, Saturday, found me once again on a long run, preparation for an upcoming half marathon in Fort Collins. Starting at my locker room in downtown Boulder, midway through my 14 mile run was Crisman, at mile 7. Stopping to explore the area from the road, identifying the RR right-of-way, making the images for the panorama in this journal entry, I was greeted by a local resident wondering what I might be up to. Introducing myself and explaining my interest, I was met with a warm welcome.

Ms Eileen Sharbonda has lived in Crisman for 60 years. Her mother, living next door to her, has been there 80 years. The home Ms Sharbonda lives in was the General Store for Crisman. She has graciously agreed to meet with me one day soon, when I'm more disposed to visit.

These great images are from God's Country, U.S.A. Wall Street, Colorado, by Delores S Bailey. This is a book I discovered in visiting the Assay Office at Wall Street last summer, a copy of which I've acquired for the STA Foundation Library.

Library of Congress, American Memory.

credit: Western History/Genealogy Department, Denver Public Library

Here's a great research resource for photographs outside the Carnegie Library for Local History in Boulder, including this treasure of Lover's Leap. This is a stunning print of an excellent photograph, beautifully composed, elegantly executed. The cloud cover is classic local afternoon weather.

It's a reminder that the Denver Public Library is rich in archives, and a source I need to return to.

The image here is just above the entrance of Boulder Canyon. The road that wraps around the structure has been replaced by asphalt through a cut in the mountain, eliminating the slow curving right of way shown here.

The rails shown here are along what is now the running path I use for one of my routine runs.

Gold Mining 2009.

Underground mining operations in Ballarat, Australia.

After being closed for nearly half a century, gold mines along the Switzerland Trail Railroad are about to be reopened. The price of gold has closed above $1200 per ounce, making it now profitable.

[It's worth noting here that this is not the first indication of a resurgence in gold mining in our area. In our immediate neighborhood, Tom Hendricks and Calais Resources have been running an environmentally friendly operation for years now, with the Cross / Caribou Gold and Silver Mine near Nederland.]

Aurora Gold Corp, based in Zug, Switzerland, has initiated the process of going back in.

I heard about this from Malachi, who sent me a link to the story at the Boulder County Business Report:

The Front Range Gold Project consists of 85 patented and 21 unpatented lode claims covering approximately 480 acres, or about three-quarters of a square mile. The project is in the Gold Hill Mining District nine miles west of the city of Boulder and includes 18 past producing mines. These mines produced gold and silver from narrow quartz veins.

...Work would begin at the Cash and Rex mines. The Cash mine has an inclined shaft 761 feet deep, with more than 6,220 feet of drifting on nine levels. The Rex mine includes an inclined shaft with more than 2,500 feet of drifting on six levels. The Who Do, St. Joe and Black Cloud mines also would be worked. They have more than 3,000 feet of underground workings on three levels.

The U.S. government's War Production Board halted mining in the district during Word War II. After the war, most mines remained closed. The Cash mine was one of the few that reopened. The Rex mine was discovered in the 1950s. By 1964 development at the Cash mine had reached the eastern limits of the mine property, and both mines were closed by their owner with "ore in the back," awaiting higher gold prices.

The demise of the Switzerland Trail / Denver, Boulder & Western Railroad arrived because the mines were no longer producing enough ore, at the level of technology available in the early 20th century. I'll watch with great interest to see how the ore is managed and transported now.

Denise Grimm, land use planner with Boulder County quoted in the Business Report article, generously provided me with information for mapping. Parcel owners are Mount Royale Ventures, LLC, Southern Cross Prospecting Company and Mi Vida Enterprise. This is a fairly extensive network of mines.

Sugarloaf Mountain--From the Top.

A sunny November Saturday was a perfect day for a run along the Trail. Though there was snow, ice and mud on the ground in the shady and the lee side of the mountains, much of the trail was open and dry. At the east end of the five-mile run from the Peak to Peak Highway (State Highway 72), Claudia waited for me with sandwiches, fresh water and Conor O'Neill. We hiked to the top of Sugarloaf Mountain and had a picnic.

In direct view here, due east, lies the city of Boulder, Colorado. The road running from lower right to upper middle is Arapahoe Avenue (State Highway 7), crossing Foothills Parkway (State Highway 157) just above the ridge of the lower foothills. Compare this image with the one made from that intersection.

Boulder County Legion Park is immediately past the right (south) edge of the large reservoir, positioned here just above the stack of the power plant in the middle of the image.

Along the way to the top we saw grim reminders of the fire that devastated the area in 1979.

Conor O'Neill, 60 pounds, shows the size of the remainder of a tree.

The top also offers a sweeping view of the original townsite of Sugar Loaf.

better viewing: click on the image.

This is looking south from the peak, the broad canyon of Boulder Creek sweeping across the middle of the image, just past the two barren rises in the landscape.

One can easily imagine this as a splendid location for a town, yet even more striking in this 2009 image is the long-lasting impact of the Black Tiger Fire that swept through in 1989, burning to the ground everything in its path. On second thought, maybe this is closer to what the town looked like in 1910, before the forests grew to today's density.

Sugarloaf Townsite.

An important stop along the Eldora extension of the line was the Sugarloaf Station. At one time the spelling was Sugar Loaf, but in recent times it has become Sugarloaf. This helps in differentiating it from the original name of the town of Wall Street, which was actually Sugar Loaf. Pretty confusing.

In fact, the Gold Extraction Mill at Wall Street--previously Sugar Loaf--proved economically infeasible, and eventually the mechanical works were transferred from there to the US Mill at the new Sugar Loaf/Sugarloaf, where it operated successfully for many years.

Stories of the town of Sugarloaf are told in the voices of early residents in a fine history by Dawn Kummli, who has lived on the mountainside there for the past 25 years. My friend Jim Hubbard, who lives on Sugarloaf Road, recently told me about The Lives and Times of Sugar Loaf Community. I haven't had time to purchase it yet, but have examined it closely at our friendly Carnegie Branch Library for Local History. Here's a fine line-drawing map from the opening pages.

The Switzerland Trail ROW is shown clearly in the upper left of this cropped image, with Sugarloaf Mountain Peak in the upper center. The solid line extending from lower left to upper right is Sugarloaf Road, which extends to the east down to Boulder Canyon Road (State Highway 119), from there on into Boulder.

Here's an image of the area made from the top of Sugarloaf Mountain.

In 1964 the Sugarloaf community was the subject of a picture essay published in the Focus Magazine section of the Boulder Daily Camera. I can't link directly to the story--its publication (November 22, 1964) precedes the online archive of the newspaper.

Today it's a quiet neighborhood, recently in the news trying to keep itself safe from the dangers of those who want to hunt for wildlife in this part of our mountain community.

Twenty years ago--July 9, 1989--it was in the news for quite another reason. The Black Tiger Fire, started by a carelessly thrown cigarette, devastated the area, sweeping through, burning the forest to the ground. All traces of the town's history disappeared in an afternoon.






Here are graphics from the case study (available as a 3.2MB pdf file) produced later by the National Fire Protection Association. For reference, note the circle in the upper left corner representing the location of Sugarloaf Mountain.
[A free Reader for this file is available for download at the Adobe website.]

Cover sheet from case study.

 

Dawn Kummli has also written a splendid book about the Black Tiger Fire, widely distributed and still somewhat available commercially and through libraries.

In the meantime, the forest and her creatures are returning.