Mining New Mexico: Mica Mines and the Pottery that Glitters Like Gold, Part One

Alas, our time in the Land of Enchantment amounted to little more than an extended vacation; a month in Corrales and two more in Santa Fe before the lure of better work prospects drew us further west to Oakland, California. There is so much to see and do in New Mexico; we managed to get in several little adventures during our stay, but the possibilities for further exploration seem truly limitless there, if one's time allows. One brisk morning we headed north out of Santa Fe, Taos bound, to see what the day might bring.

We passed under a few highway overpasses embellished with images that reflect aspects of the local Pueblo culture:







and spied a monumental lithic dromedary (Camel rock!) gazing out over the expansive landscape:



We spent a few hours poking around Taos before heading north on U.S. 64 out of town towards the Rio Grande Gorge. Now that was a sight for which I had been totally unprepared. Having never visited the Grand Canyon, I can't compare the two, but as we approached the bridge that spans that gorge I could hardly believe my eyes. We parked and walked halfway across the bridge, where the view over that vast gorge was positively breathtaking! I had never heard anything about this place before, but I felt certain that what I was seeing must surely have been every bit as awe-inspiring as the Grand Canyon!



Eventually we made our way back to the car and, consulting our guide book, found that we were a reasonable distance from the town of Ojo Caliente, home of the famous hot mineral springs! Reckoning that a goodly hot soaking might be a fine way to conclude the day, we adjusted our course towards Ojo, and were there well before sundown.



The hot springs themselves were not quite the rustic, backcountry pools I had envisioned; a rather posh resort-like environment now envelopes the 4 original mineral pools, and an admission fee must be surrendered to gain access. As it turns out, admission is slightly discounted after 6 pm, so we decided to explore the area a bit until that time. A map available in the lobby indicates that hiking trails extend for several miles out behind the resort, leading to the ruins of a Tewa Indian pueblo on the mesa above the resort, and also to a few abandoned mica mines further out. The main path leading up to the lobby entrance continues out towards the trails:



The ruins above Ojo Caliente, called Posi Ouinge, are the remains of a thriving community inhabited by the Tewa people between around 1300 to early 1500 a.d.



People have been attracted to the healing waters of the hot springs for thousands of years; while the Tewa are believed to have relocated to other areas after a period of illness reduced their population, the Spanish took up residence in the area shortly thereafter.

To the untrained eye, there is little left to indicate that a city once stood here; time and erosion have erased most traces of walls and plazas. Look down, however, and the signs of human habitation are scattered everywhere in the form of broken bits of pottery.



Some pieces are colored, some bear remnants of vivid geometric designs, some are inscribed with neat rows of lines, and others are dull black, but glisten curiously in the sunlight. One of these latter pieces glistened so brightly I thought surely I had spotted a nugget of gold! Closer inspection revealed that tiny flecks of what appeared to be mica embedded in the fire-blackened clay of a pottery sherd were responsible for that golden flash.



Knowing that some old mica mines lay further out, I wondered if mica from the area had been worked into the clay for either decorative or utilitarian purposes. I took a few photos of the potsherds and then we hiked our way out towards the mica mines.

The mines weren't difficult to spot. We knew well in advance that we were on the right track, as the ground became increasingly sparkly with flakes of mica as we approached the shallow caves.









As we were walking towards the caves, eyes trained on the ground, my heart would skip a beat every time I spotted a chunk of mica larger than a quarter. Little did I know that the mines would yield massive sheets of mica the size of which I had never before seen.

Yes, I am putting those in my backpack; while collecting pottery sherds is strictly forbidden, I believe it is ok to collect some samples of the mica.

Thin, transparent sheets can be peeled off of the "books" of mica. Once, on a tour of Acoma Pueblo, I recall learning that the adobe-walled pueblos were fitted with windows created using sheets of mica; I had a hard time picturing it, since I had only ever seen little flakes of mica. The sheets we found could easily be trimmed into neat squares and secured in wooded frames, making perfectly serviceable windows!



Perhaps the pueblo people used sticky Piñon resin to seal up their mica windows? I couldn't help but stop to scoop up the fragrant resin that oozed from the many dead Piñon pine trees in the area, victims of the 2002- 2003 drought and heat wave that took quite a toll on New Mexico's Piñon population.





As the sun sank below the horizon, we realized that 6pm was nearly upon us; we hastily loaded up my mica and Piñon resin and made our way back down the trail towards the hot springs. The evening was cold and clear by the time we arrived; steam rolled off of the surface of the various mineral-rich springs as burning Piñon fires perfumed the air. My muscles ached from carrying back the heavy burden of mica samples I had collected, and it felt just grand to lay back in the hot water and look up at the steep wall of the mesa upon which the old Tewa village once stood; stars twinkling above. I felt privileged to have the opportunity to soak away my aches and pains as countless generations before me had done; I hope you have the opportunity to explore Ojo Caliente someday too!

A few days after visiting Ojo Caliente, a curious coincidence revealed all sorts exciting information about the glittery, mica-enriched pottery pieces I had noticed at the Posi Ouinge ruins. It turns out that "micaceous pottery" is well-known to archaeologists and aficionados of indigenous pottery, and soon I would find myself back on the road towards Ojo to meet up with a fellow who is well-known for transforming the local mica-rich clay into beautiful (and useable!) pieces of pottery! I hope you will check back soon for part two of the "Mica Mines and the Pottery that Glitters Like Gold" story!!!

FinderMaker West Coast Edition, Volume One!

Happy end of the year tidings! I still have one more "Mining New Mexico" post in the works, but thought I might just do a brief post to let folks know that FinderMaker & Co. are now relocated to the West Coast and very much looking forward to a prosperous and fulfilling new year in the San Francisco Bay area! It has been a rather trying voyage, and it actually isn't quite over yet; on Wednesday I'll be traveling back to New Mexico to rent a truck and load up all of our stuff that is in storage in Santa Fe and drive it all out here.

I was recently looking at some photographs I took during some of my beach walks in Bristol, Rhode Island and started to feel nostalgic, wondering if my beachcombing days were mostly behind me. What a silly thing of me to fret over! A vigorous beach ramble may be enjoyed at a moments notice here!



Yesterday, feeling a little over-nourished from holiday treats, we set out in search of some activity that might get our blood pumping and, within an hour, found ourselves on a remote portion of Point Reyes National Seashore scrambling and sliding down muddy cliffs to the rocky beach below.



I immediately spotted a huge abalone shell awash in the surf and brought it ashore. There were lovely, smooth pieces of broken abalone shell all over, and although my back and bulging pockets eventually protested, one could hardly help but bend over to pick up those enchanting rainbow-hued sherds!



The day was misty and drizzly; plenty of water to keep this waterfall rushing!



The recent rough weather had washed all sorts of goodies ashore! I didn't find a whale vertebra (yet!) but I did find a couple of the biggest sea urchins I've ever come across...





I was also delighted to come across a little piece of "beach turquoise"... a Chiton shell.



Who would think this drab, armored mollusk would have such a colorful interior?



Thanks for joining me on the first of many future West Coast beach rambles! I hope you all enjoy a terrific New Year!!!

Mining New Mexico: A Turquoise Trilogy in Old Cerrillos, Part Two!

When last we met, I had just returned from a vigorous ramble through the Cerrillos Hills State Park where my turquoise fever, instead of subsiding, became rather more advanced, and I determined that I might like to reconnoiter a portion of the public land that lies just north of the park boundaries to see what I might see.

A mysterious, anonymous reader left me a comment shortly after I published Part 1 of this trilogy, warning that "individual mining claims have been legally registered across the landscape and are worked and fiercely protected on that land." Alas, the warning was delivered well after the completion of my backcountry adventure, though I was aware ahead of time that there might be active mining claims in the area and, accordingly, packed in only a camera, a honeycrisp apple, and plenty of water in place of the pickaxe, black powder, and shovel that I might otherwise have preferred to convey into the "forbidden zone."

Seriously, though, it is my understanding that BLM land may generally be used responsibly by the public for purposes of hiking and similar low-impact leisure activities; tracts may be registered for purposes of mineral exploration, however, and anyone that goes into the area seemingly intent on working a miner's legal claim might well face the wrath of said miner. While I might have held out hope that a little chunk of color might reveal itself from the drab tailings of some old, disused shaft, I certainly would not have endeavored to poke around any area appearing to be actively worked, and neither should you; it's wrong, and it simply isn't worth the risk.



My trusty, dusty old Palladium boots served me well through the journey, protecting my ankles from the numerous low-growing cacti that guard the hills. I will confess, however, that those boots are on the heavy side, and the long trudge through deep, sandy gravel up the creekbed (we call them arroyos around here) into the BLM land that was my destination left me rather in need of an extended period of rest, during which time I found that previously mentioned honeycrisp apple to be a welcome, if rather insubstantial, refreshment. Reasonably revived, I commenced to work my way east towards the front (south) side of Grand Central Mountain, encountering along the way a great number of lovely cholla cactus skeletons, one of which I might like to have collected had I not been required to haul it back out via that long, burdensome arroyo:



I was not long in happening upon some old mine sites. A few had been capped and marked by the New Mexico Abandoned Mine Land Bureau:







And not too far from those, this:



A very uncapped, unmarked vertical mine shaft. I suppose this is what I hoped I might see out here, and yet, faced suddenly with that gaping, black, seemingly endless pit, I began to question the wisdom of my bounding alone out into this remote and slightly scary tract of land. That shaft was no joke; if I had attempted to peer in and lost my footing in that loose dirt I would certainly have gone down far, fast and hard, irreversibly concluding, I do believe, my time on this earth. Notably rattled, I paused long enough to snap a few photographs and then continued on my way.

Continuing along the sunny south-facing side of Grand Central Mountain, a bright-white object concealed in the dry grass caught my eye:



Do you see it there? My mood, rather darkened by my encounter with the gloomy pit, brightened considerably as I approached the white object, which revealed itself to be a lovely shed mule deer antler!



I have never before found a shed antler, and determined that this one was well worth hauling along with me for the duration of my ramble! My prize safely crammed into my backpack, I rounded the eastern slope of the mountain, and beheld in the distance a landmark I dearly hoped I might catch a glimpse of: the famed Mount Chalchihuitl.



The NM Office of the State Historian describes mount Chalchihuitl thusly:

...the largest known prehistoric turquoise mine in North America, with turquoise artifacts found from the site dating from around 1000 AD. Native miners excavated thousands of tons of waste rock at Mt. Chalchihuitl before Spanish invasion in the 16th century. Archeologists have recovered cultural materials at the site that confirm that this prehistoric mining occurred, including grooved stone axes, mauls, picks, hand-held hammers, anvils, and lapidary stones, mostly made of igneous rock. Pieces of pottery found at the side indicate that the greatest periods of activity at the mine were 1000-1150 and 1300-1600 AD. The name “Chalchihuitl” is a Nahua word derived from the word “xui,” meaning blue. Nahuatl is a group of related languages that was spoken by the Aztecs, and has been spoken in central Mexico since the 7th century AD. The word “chalchihuitl” is used to refer to other green stones such as emeralds and jade, and has a connotation of preciousness. Southwestern peoples have valued opaque, blue-green turquoise stones for trade, ornamentation, and ceremonial use for thousands of years. These stones appear in Navajo, Zuni, and Hopi creation myths.

This short video provides a little more information about the history of the mine at Mount Chalchihuitl:



Mount Chalchihuitl itself and much of the land surrounding it is currently privately owned. I didn't dare go near it; I was perfectly content to have such a nice vantage point from my perch on the side of old Grand Central! Barely a stone's throw from that vantage point, I stumbled upon a disturbed area of the mountainside that, upon closer inspection, revealed a tunnel leading directly into the mountain.



I remembered reading about a tunnel that had been dug deep into Grand Central Mountain in the late 1880's, and wondered if this could be it.



There was a gate preventing entry, and for good reason; check out that warning sign:



That's serious stuff, and not to be ignored! The view from between the bars:



Now the fact is I had gotten a rather late start on my day, and I had stopped to investigate enough little things here and there that by the time I rounded the north side of the mountain, it was already getting a tad late for my taste, especially considering we had just turned back our clocks an hour for the winter making the afternoon that much shorter. Its too bad, because old maps I had been studying had revealed a few disturbed areas of land on the far side of the mountain that had been minor sites of turquoise exploration before the turn of the century that I was hoping to get a look at. It didn't take long to find them; the land is easily traversed, and landmarks I had read about or seen on maps were easy to spot in person. Scrambling up from a gully I looked out towards where those sites should be and caught my first glimpse of actual...



TURQUOISE!!!!!! Not quite the turquoise the area is known for, but a fun and very unexpected find nevertheless! There were a few old mine sites in that vicinity, different from the previous ones I had seen in that these were sort of wide pits that had become overgrown with vegetation:



Closer inspection revealed that within the pit, some lucky miner must have followed a vein rather deeply into the rock:



Rather deeply indeed!



Climbing back out... could it be???



TURQUOISE???? The color sure was pretty, but it appeared to just be a hair-thin crust of color on the very surface of the rock; if it was turquoise it surely wasn't worth chipping off of the rock, and I didn't have any tools, anyhow. Good thing I was able to collect that nicely colored specimen on my camera!



Evidence of a 1960's "pit party" reminded me that I was awfully thirsty, and my water supply was getting low; it was time to leave the backcountry.



I had seen more interesting things than I had expected to see, found an antler, didn't get bit by a rattlesnake, fall down a mineshaft, or get chased off at gunpoint by a fiercely protective miner, so I considered my Cerrillos Hills backcountry ramble a real success. I can't say I plan on returning; I feel pretty fortunate to have emerged from that little adventure with my life, so I'm glad to have captured some of it on film, and I'm pleased as punch to be here to share it with you! Thanks for joining me, and don't forget... this is a trilogy! In Part 3, I'll introduce you to someone who has been finding stuff in these hills for years, and makes some truly extraordinary creations... a real FinderMaker!

Mining New Mexico: A Turquoise Trilogy in Old Cerrillos, Part One!

Friends, I hope you can forgive my extended absence from the old FinderMaker forum; my existence has been rather untethered of late, and crafting doesn't come easily when one's materials and tools are boxed up and buried in a storage unit. It dawned on me recently that, although I may not be able to work on my own projects as readily as I had become accustomed to doing, it may be gratifying in the meantime to focus some attention on folks who truly embody the FinderMaker spirit of "finding things and making them into other, better things!"


And so I find myself now, for an indeterminate amount of time, in old Santa Fe, New Mexico. The nights are chilly, and smoke from burning piñon logs that warm the cozy adobe casitas drifts from chimneys and perfumes the air. In the picturesque downtown Plaza, visitors from around the globe embrace the attitude of the Old West and amble about in cowboy hats and boots; they'll make a point of strolling along a deep stretch of covered sidewalk in front of the Palace of the Governors, where Native peoples from the surrounding pueblos spread out their handicrafts on colorful blankets. You'll be hard pressed to board the plane back home without a beautiful souvenir of your stay in the "city different": perhaps a delicate pot from Acoma, or a bold Navajo bracelet accented with turquoise nuggets? It is this latter material that has captivated my attention of late; indeed, I fear I have come down with an acute case of turquoise fever!




Now, I've always heeded the old adage "Feed a cold, starve a fever," but this is one fever that may be fed with gusto, whether in the shops of Santa Fe, or a bit further afield, in the hills of nearby Cerrillos. Hoping a vigorous desert ramble might cool my fever, I headed for the hills. Driving south out of Santa Fe, I exited I-25 and merged onto NM 14, the Turquoise Trail National Scenic Byway, which passes through a number of small, historic mining towns and scenic areas as it winds south towards Albuquerque. Be sure to keep an eye out on your right for a cluster of low but unmistakeable hills; within these hills are numerous abandoned mines, a few active ones, and Mount Chalchihuitl, the site of the most extensively worked prehistoric turquoise mine in North America!




Not far past those hills is an exit for the town of Cerrillos; hold on to your hats when you make that turn because pardner, you are about to enter the true Old West! The town itself consists of but a few dusty roads and a main street with a row of storefronts that look as though they could be the set for a Western movie; in fact, several have been filmed there. Friendly locals and old timers share a drink and swap yarns outside of Mary's Bar, prominent signs will point the way to the Casa Grande Trading Post (more about that later!), and the local dogs will trot along beside your automobile as you make your way towards the Cerrillos Hills State Park. The beginning of the park is marked by an information and pay station, where a mere five dollars secures your access to the area. Here I could go to great lengths to explain the history of mining in the area, how the park was created, and so forth, but there is an excellent website dedicated to addressing these and many other related topics, and so I will direct you to the Cerrillos Hills State Park site, where the embers of your interest in the subjects of mining and turquoise may be stoked to a veritable conflagration!




Rocky but well-defined trails wind through the hills and reveal evidence of the late 1800s mining rush: gouges and vertical shafts in the earth piled all around with the excavated waste rock.




Many of the shafts are deep enough to have warranted safety precautions: attractive observation decks allow visitors to get a bird's eye view, while sturdy steel mesh covers the opening, preventing anyone from accidentally (or otherwise) going overboard!






Historical information is posted at each of the significant mine sites:






See a whole bunch of historic photos of early mining operations in the hills here.

When is a stump more than just a stump?




When it reveals a story about the area's past! When miners flocked to the Cerrillos hills mining district in the late 1800s to find their fortunes, they needed firewood and timber to brace mine shafts; the juniper and piñon trees that dot the hillsides filled that need, and today you can still see many of the stumps of those trees with axe cuts and saw marks where wood was harvested over a hundred years ago! The park has several unobtrusive signs pointing out those interesting things that the casual hiker might otherwise miss.

Rambling my way towards the back of the park, I crested a hill and beheld one mammoth of a hill off in the distance:




That is what the miners called "Grand Central Mountain" on account of its stature and location in the mining district. Although the Cerrillos Hills State Park encompasses a large tract of the original district, Grand Central Mountain itself, which lies just outside of the park's northern boundry, was the site of several mining operations; out beyond Grand Central Mountain are more hills, and even more old mine sites!




By the end of my day exploring the park, I'm afraid my turquoise fever had advanced considerably. I spent the evening poring over the park's website, eager to find out as much as possible about the area's history and the locations of the mines. Many of the mine claims within the park were struck in pursuit of silver, gold, lead, copper, iron, and coal; little gold was actually discovered, but mine operators often exaggerated its existence to investors back East in order to secure funding to expand operations. Many of the historic turquoise sites are actually located in the hills out beyond the park boundaries. Curious to find out the ownership status of the land beyond the park, I pulled up a detailed Bureau of Land Management (BLM) map, and was surprised by what I found:




While a good portion of area around the old turquoise mines is privately owned, the areas overlaid in transparent yellow (above) are actually public (BLM) land, and that includes much of good old Grand Central Mountain! Now I'd be lying if I said that part of my intended cure for Turquoise fever didn't include finding a few bits of that lovely stone out in the field, but significant effort went into preserving the land and remaining sites within the Cerrillos Hills State Park; removing anything from the park undermines those preservation efforts, so "rockhounding" anywhere within the park must be strictly avoided. Likewise with straying off the trails... it damages the ecosystem and can alter the appearance of the area. I stayed up half the night plotting how I might access the BLM land without going through the park or overtly trespassing on private property, and determined that I might do so by following a dry creekbed that runs well outside of the park boundaries and ends up within the BLM land surrounding Grand Central Mountain. I decided that my goal for the following day would be to hike entirely around the mountain, avoiding the few privately owned sectors, while hopefully encountering some interesting scenery (and maybe a few bits of that mythical blue stone!) along the way. My path is highlighted with red dots in the map above.

Did I make it into the backcountry? Did I fall into a mineshaft? Did I even find a mineshaft??? I hope you will stick around for part two of the Turquoise Trilogy!