Into A Coal Miner's World...
... communication is key to the safety of everyone. Lives depend on a system unbeknownst to those in any other field.
Now, we all have opinions on how to supply our world with energy, building materials, jewels and a myriad of buried treasures, but it must be acknowledged that the curious nature of tapping the Earth for riches is quite incredible. Controversy has followed underground mining of every kind, in every land but I, for one, can clearly see what our coal mines mean to the area we live in. They provide a livelihood for many.
I’d been asking Mayor of Hotchkiss, Wendell Koontz, a.k.a. brilliant Sir Mine Geologist up at one of the local mines, for a decade, if he’d take me for a personal tour underground. This is not an “open to the public” kind of adventure and I really had no idea what an ordeal it is to make the trip. None! I bided my time and one day I got the call.
Our little group met early with our packed lunches and headed to the West Elk Mine, outside of Somerset, where mine safety is stressed above all else. We went through a battery of safety films, lecture, written statements and finally hands-on equipment usage training before we even dressed for the event. And dress we did…We eventually looked like bona-fide coal miners and that alone was worth the trip even before descending the 800 feet we eventually went down.
I had a bit of trouble with my life-saving, self-rescue equipment and imagined in graphic detail telling the group, “oh go ahead, just leave me, I’m useless at gadgets.” Turns out I was with a patient group of individuals and everyone waited for me to get it right. I cringe when I see the photo of me with my breathing tube unattached, giddy with anticipation and stressing over wardrobe malfunctions. Our outfits were ordered in advance so that we had correct boot size, pantsuit, helmet, goggles, earplugs, headlamps, GPS signal apparatus and the very heavy and important self-rescuer. The ensemble was accentuated with bold strappy things containing major reflectors so that we could be seen and also carry our equipment. Mine had noticeably more reflectors on board and Wendell had a leash for me. Just kidding, but he did seem aware that I might be the one to wander off into the darkness.
We climbed into vehicles and headed down into the mine, through locked pressure doors that tested our eardrum flexibility. To experience an underground longwall mine is to venture into a hazardous underworld. Dangers are everywhere: from falling roof or wall chunks; from working in tight confines with huge machines; and, most of all, from methane released from the excavated coal.
Wendell turned off headlights for a nanosecond around corners to see if anyone was coming in our direction. I learned what “dark” really is. Wendell parked the truck and out we spilled into the underworld. We got up close and personal with maps, asked questions, got answers, learned a lot about ourselves and what makes us uncomfortable. Human moles working in another dimension without the comforts of the natural conditions most of us enjoy, such as sunlight and open air.
Wendell was in his element as we trudged carefully past heavy equipment and negotiated watery pathways. He explained the air system and we oogled at the electrical cables that keep things working. The West Elk Mine has netting on every single surface to keep debris from falling and we witnessed the implantation of such material along with watching the continuous miner machines blasting away. Teamwork, again, seemed to be the name of this game.
I had a moment to speak with a miner named Heff. He mans a beast of a machine that he must keep moving without fail for his entire shift. He has a lot to watch so he couldn’t talk for long but he tells me he loves his job, the responsibility of it and the miner’s way of life. He’s been at it for many years and for some reason, I felt compelled to hug him. I’d been underground for ten minutes and I’m a comrade!
It’s soon time for lunch and we go to a designated mine eating area, sort of like a rough kitchen. Miners are digging into lunch boxes and I feel like a den mother, literally. I want to stay down here and share my lunch with guys who just want me to shut up and eat my own meal. I’m convinced that I’ve missed my calling as a coal miner.
Next we go to the working Long-Wall. This is a treat that not all tours get to see. This piece of equipment is so large, three football fields long in fact. The operation of it was explained in layman detail and it was fascinating to all of us.
Deep underground, continuous miners—cutting machines on wheels—bore passages on both sides of seams of coal up to a quarter mile wide and a mile or more long. At the mine face, a massive shearer slides back and forth across the face like a giant cheese grater and water sprays constantly to dampen coal dust. After each pass, the whole apparatus, as wide as 1600 feet, lurches forward, letting the area behind the shields collapse. A conveyor belt catches the coal and it heads for the surface.
Time passes quickly when you can’t see the sky and I was not ready to surface when the day was over. We piled back into the truck, Wendell at the helm. The feeling was like going up and down in a narrow parking garage in complete darkness. When we came out into the sunlight, the heat, the air, my fellow one-day miner, Alex, let out an audible gasp. He said he hadn’t known how uncomfortable he had felt down there until he was out. He wasn’t a natural mole.
We all went and washed off our muddy selves, turned back into above-grounders, had a debriefing of sorts and said our thanks and good-byes. (I’m not sure if I was the only one with some pocketed coal for a souvenir. I keep it in a Dixie cup on my desk.)
Our group decided to head up Minnesota Creek and visit the above ground area that we had just been under. We paused with views of a pristine landscape and thought maybe we heard the hum of workers deep beneath. It was a quiet moment spent thinking about the things we saw. Amazing, to say the least.
Thanks again West Elk Mine for taking the time to host us curious neighbors!
By Marla Bear Bishop
Now, we all have opinions on how to supply our world with energy, building materials, jewels and a myriad of buried treasures, but it must be acknowledged that the curious nature of tapping the Earth for riches is quite incredible. Controversy has followed underground mining of every kind, in every land but I, for one, can clearly see what our coal mines mean to the area we live in. They provide a livelihood for many.
I’d been asking Mayor of Hotchkiss, Wendell Koontz, a.k.a. brilliant Sir Mine Geologist up at one of the local mines, for a decade, if he’d take me for a personal tour underground. This is not an “open to the public” kind of adventure and I really had no idea what an ordeal it is to make the trip. None! I bided my time and one day I got the call.
Our little group met early with our packed lunches and headed to the West Elk Mine, outside of Somerset, where mine safety is stressed above all else. We went through a battery of safety films, lecture, written statements and finally hands-on equipment usage training before we even dressed for the event. And dress we did…We eventually looked like bona-fide coal miners and that alone was worth the trip even before descending the 800 feet we eventually went down.
I had a bit of trouble with my life-saving, self-rescue equipment and imagined in graphic detail telling the group, “oh go ahead, just leave me, I’m useless at gadgets.” Turns out I was with a patient group of individuals and everyone waited for me to get it right. I cringe when I see the photo of me with my breathing tube unattached, giddy with anticipation and stressing over wardrobe malfunctions. Our outfits were ordered in advance so that we had correct boot size, pantsuit, helmet, goggles, earplugs, headlamps, GPS signal apparatus and the very heavy and important self-rescuer. The ensemble was accentuated with bold strappy things containing major reflectors so that we could be seen and also carry our equipment. Mine had noticeably more reflectors on board and Wendell had a leash for me. Just kidding, but he did seem aware that I might be the one to wander off into the darkness.
We climbed into vehicles and headed down into the mine, through locked pressure doors that tested our eardrum flexibility. To experience an underground longwall mine is to venture into a hazardous underworld. Dangers are everywhere: from falling roof or wall chunks; from working in tight confines with huge machines; and, most of all, from methane released from the excavated coal.
Wendell turned off headlights for a nanosecond around corners to see if anyone was coming in our direction. I learned what “dark” really is. Wendell parked the truck and out we spilled into the underworld. We got up close and personal with maps, asked questions, got answers, learned a lot about ourselves and what makes us uncomfortable. Human moles working in another dimension without the comforts of the natural conditions most of us enjoy, such as sunlight and open air.
Wendell was in his element as we trudged carefully past heavy equipment and negotiated watery pathways. He explained the air system and we oogled at the electrical cables that keep things working. The West Elk Mine has netting on every single surface to keep debris from falling and we witnessed the implantation of such material along with watching the continuous miner machines blasting away. Teamwork, again, seemed to be the name of this game.
I had a moment to speak with a miner named Heff. He mans a beast of a machine that he must keep moving without fail for his entire shift. He has a lot to watch so he couldn’t talk for long but he tells me he loves his job, the responsibility of it and the miner’s way of life. He’s been at it for many years and for some reason, I felt compelled to hug him. I’d been underground for ten minutes and I’m a comrade!
It’s soon time for lunch and we go to a designated mine eating area, sort of like a rough kitchen. Miners are digging into lunch boxes and I feel like a den mother, literally. I want to stay down here and share my lunch with guys who just want me to shut up and eat my own meal. I’m convinced that I’ve missed my calling as a coal miner.
Next we go to the working Long-Wall. This is a treat that not all tours get to see. This piece of equipment is so large, three football fields long in fact. The operation of it was explained in layman detail and it was fascinating to all of us.
Deep underground, continuous miners—cutting machines on wheels—bore passages on both sides of seams of coal up to a quarter mile wide and a mile or more long. At the mine face, a massive shearer slides back and forth across the face like a giant cheese grater and water sprays constantly to dampen coal dust. After each pass, the whole apparatus, as wide as 1600 feet, lurches forward, letting the area behind the shields collapse. A conveyor belt catches the coal and it heads for the surface.
Time passes quickly when you can’t see the sky and I was not ready to surface when the day was over. We piled back into the truck, Wendell at the helm. The feeling was like going up and down in a narrow parking garage in complete darkness. When we came out into the sunlight, the heat, the air, my fellow one-day miner, Alex, let out an audible gasp. He said he hadn’t known how uncomfortable he had felt down there until he was out. He wasn’t a natural mole.
We all went and washed off our muddy selves, turned back into above-grounders, had a debriefing of sorts and said our thanks and good-byes. (I’m not sure if I was the only one with some pocketed coal for a souvenir. I keep it in a Dixie cup on my desk.)
Our group decided to head up Minnesota Creek and visit the above ground area that we had just been under. We paused with views of a pristine landscape and thought maybe we heard the hum of workers deep beneath. It was a quiet moment spent thinking about the things we saw. Amazing, to say the least.
Thanks again West Elk Mine for taking the time to host us curious neighbors!
By Marla Bear Bishop