Mining History

Well, I'm down to the last day of field camp. One to go. And during this day I'll need to fill in a couple of holes in the map I've cobbed together of the Badger Pass area, to the west of Dillon. Badger Pass is located right between two historic montana mining districts: a few miles north is the Ermont district, and a few miles south is the Bannack district. Both were the sites of significant gold mining activity in the late nineteenth and earty twentieth centuries. The deposits mined included gravels, which were run through a waterworks or panned to remove gold pieces, and also ores. The geologic context is that Mississippian carbonate rocks have been thrust-faulted over Cretaceous intrusive and volcanic rocks in the area, with the fault plane running just beneath the surface in many places. Later in the Cretaceous, and igneous intrusion showed up on the scene, causing mineralized fluids to move around in the rocks. Among other things, these fluids contained ions of precious metals. The fluids would commonly follow the weak zone of the previous fault plane, and contact with the carbonates would alter their pH, causing the ions to come out of solution and form ore deposits, which were presumably subsequently mostly dug up by crazy old-timey Yosemite Sam type guys.

Walking in the field, one is confronted with constant reminders of the area's history (see link to right for photos): it's almost impossible to find a spot where you can't see prospect pits, tailing piles, or a dilapidated log building of one sort or another. And once in a while you chance upon a mine shaft: a gaping hole in the earth going straight down into blackness. Some of the shafts are covered surrounded by barbed wire fences, while others are coverd by a big steel grate that you can walk out on, perching yourself over the darkness. Looking down it's very hard not to feel a little spooked. If you yell down the shaft there is no echo, and if you drop a pebble through the grate, you don't hear it hit anything until after you are wondering if you might have missed the sound. We were also able to visit the ghost town of Bannack, first capital of Montana Territory. Bannack was a typical mining boom town -- two years after gold was struck near Grasshopper creek, a town of 3 to 5 thousand people existed where there had previously been nothing. The population of Bannack is back down to zero lately, and the ghost town has been made a state park and national historic site. The State of Montana maintains a web resource on abandoned mines and you can check out the history of Bannack here.

In addition to cool old buildings and stuff, the local lore is also quite interesting: Legend has it that gold shipments from Bannack were not making it to their destination (Virginia City, to the East). They were all being hijacked and no survivers were left to identify the thieves. Understandably, the businessmen of Bannack were concerned. So they formed a masonic group and began to search for answers. The theory they developed was that the sherrif was involved in a criminal gang which had a mole in the telegraph office in Virginia City and so was able to learn when the shipments were coming and ambush the caravans. The businessmen took justice into their own hands and formed a vigilante band which proceeded to hunt down accused gang members all over Montana. It's said that once they caught a guy they'd stand him on the stool and put the noose around his neck and ask him for the names of three others involved in the gang. Fearing for his life, he'd give them names. Then they'd kick out the stool anyways and go look for the guys he'd ratted out. Eventually the shipments were able to get through and things calmed down a bit. Case closed, right? Maybe. The stolen gold was never found: either the looters were able to sell it, it's still hidden someplace in the hills (we've been looking: no luck so far), or else some other funny business was afoot. Some people think that the sherrif was never involved at all, and that the vigilante businessmen had been pocketing the gold under the table all along. Blaming the sherrif would be convenient because it would call into question any accusations he might make of them, and stringing him up would simplify the cover-up operation by removing the detective and providing a scapegoat. The vigilantes all became powerful political families in the Territory and eventually the state, and needless to say the case has never been re-opened. So I guess we'll have to hike around in these hills bearing that uncertainty, but certainly glad that justice has become at least slightly more organized and armed highway robbery a little less common over the past hundred years or so.