My curiosity was sparked back in June while my parents were visiting and consequently beginning to understand the "mental affliction" that made me want to move up here to Alaska. One day, we drove up to Independence Mine, which is located in Hatcher Pass, several miles from the town of Palmer. We milled about, looking at all the dilapidated ruins of Independence Mine and admiring the awesome scenery of Hatcher Pass that makes it unique and distinct- at least in my own mind. My younger brother, Ian, wanted to get a closer look at some of the equipment and structures up on the hillside, so I took him up the path to see. At the top, there's this kind of board-walk path with some old mining trains on the left, and the remnants of a supply-house on the right. Towards the end, the warped and buckled track of the mining trains extends over the hillside on what used to be a trestle towards what used to be a mill. But following the tracks in the opposite direction led to the source of all these ruins. The mine itself. Independence Mine has been sealed off from public access for many years, and for many good reasons. Mostly because people are idiots with no common sense, but that's another story. All that's there is a short hall enclosed with corrugated steel and an old steel door with the usual DANGER and KEEP OUT signs. Usually, signs like that intrigue me, and this time was no different than before. What made me take a second look was the fact that there wasn't a perfect seal even though the door was there. There was a steady cold breeze coming from whatever was behind that door. It felt wonderful to me, since temperatures were in the mid 70's and not a cloud was in the sky. I stepped out of the sun and into the shady hall. The comforting feeling from before was now gone, and had now turned downright chilly. Listening carefully, the sound of dripping and running water could be heard just beyond. I was also surprised to see sold chunks of ice still clinging to the walls and ceiling. Most of all though, I really wanted to explore the insides of this mountain.

Fast forward to today, August 18th. Today was the day I got that chance to go and see what lay beyond that cold metal door to Independence Mine. I happened to catch a glance at last Sunday's newspaper, and there was a small section that just said "Independence Mine Underground Tours" with a phone number. I called to reserve spots for Lisa and I on Monday and got in by the skin of our teeth. These underground tours of the mine are only held once a year, and only 20 people are allowed per tour. Thankfully, due to such a large response, another tour group was added, so there were a total of 4 groups of 20. They're not free either. Its a fund-raiser for a local group that's involved with Alaska's State Park system. All I can say is that the $75 per person they charged was worth every single penny and then some!

We got started in the old Bunk House with a short introduction. The bunk house is this large, 3-story building that looks better from the inside than from the outside. Lisa and I checked ourselves in and received a couple of hardhats. It took us a few minutes to attach our headlamps to them, but we eventually got it. I can't remember the name of our guide, but a pleasant looking gentleman in in his late 30's to early 40's stepped up to gather everyone's attention. He handed out a couple of strange looking maps while he explained that his family owns one of the only remaining gold mines in operation- the Goldstone Mine, which was coincidentally only about a quarter-mile away.

He also talked about how to read these weird maps he gave us. Mine maps require a little more imagination than your standard highway map. You need to think in 3 dimensions while the piece of paper only shows 2. Our map looked like a jagged line that began in the upper-right corner and snaked it's way down toward the lower left. The measurement of distance is also different. These maps start with an area called "Surface"- which is the point on the face of the mountain where the mine actually starts. It's basically a zero-point. From there, distance is expressed in feet in terms of how far you get from the main opening of that particular vein. Our tour would take us past the 2000' level, or about a half-mile into the mountain.

After asking if there were any questions, we started the short trek up the hill to the mine. Lisa and I made sure we had all the proper gear before we lost our chance to go back.

-Headlamp
-Hard Hat
-Rain Pants
-Raincoat or waterproof coat
-Heavy socks
-Flashlight
-Knee-high Rubber boots

We had everything and were totally ready. I brought along my camera on the off-chance I'd be able to get some pictures, and started setting it up to have the best chance of taking some kind of photo in near pitch-darkness.

Once at the top of the footpath, our guide explained how some of the various kinds of machines work; mainly the drills and the trains. I thought it was really interesting to see him take us through a mock-demonstration of how to work the mucking train and ore cars. Its so completely different when there's someone there explaining this stuff compared to when you're there by yourself and you see this old, rusty train just sitting there.

We crowded around the entrance again to wait for a few out-of-shape stragglers and to get one final little "safety" talk. "Just watch your step, because there are holes in the track... Well, not deep holes, but they can trip you up pretty good if you're not paying attention." He also said to speak up if anyone's feeling claustrophobic, because it would be better to get that out of the way in the beginning instead of losing it way down in there.

The guide turned on his headlamp and opened up the door. We were standing out in the hot August sun, but a strong draft of cool air came from the darkness beyond. I was super excited and couldn't wait to start tromping down there! Everyone started lining up single file and entering the mine. The cold draft was strong enough roar past my ears, and the sound of falling water became louder. We stepped off the boardwalk and onto some waterlogged boards between the rails of the narrow train track. I looked down to see that we were all in ankle deep water. Well, Sludge was more like it. All the silt and dust made the water into a milky, grayish muck that flowed toward the surface. Our guide had us wait for a minute while he closed the door behind us and locked it. Can't have any bumbling tourists wandering around back here.

The sunlight was now gone, and looking forward past the other people, the mine appeared to be a straight tunnel extending far beyond the reach of my headlamp. The spacial dimensions were all relatively uniform, with our path always being about 10 feet wide. The height of the ceiling varied throughout the tunnels. Some areas had 7 feet of clearance, supported by a system of trusses and wooden beams. Other areas had a higher ceiling, up to 15 feet. Some areas were completely void of any supporting system at all, and other areas had these interesting metal plates that seemed to be attached to random areas. These plated were rectangular in shape. Each one was about 4 to 6 feet long, about 12 inches wide, and had 2-inch holes running down the middle. Large rock-bolts were put through two or three of these holes to fix and conform the plate to the wall of the mine. We made our way down the path, moving in a careful, shuffling like fashion. Every few dozen steps or so, there was a gap in the boards or rail ties, and my foot would sink in to the gloppy sludge almost up to my knee. It took a little bit of effort to release myself, but after some graphic slurping and sucking sounds, my foot would become free.

Water was dripping everywhere. Pipes were installed back when the mine was operational to carry water to the places where they needed it, but after decades of neglect and disuse, after being exposed to the harsh Alaskan winters, whole sections of pipe burst or had fallen from their fixtures. The water also came from the mountain itself. The walls and ceiling, the few bits of equipment that remained, EVERYTHING had this grimy film of water and grit. This stuff got everywhere the moment you touched it. I had to reach out and grab the wall to keep my balance in a few spots, and subsequently, everything I touched afterwards was coated in a light gray dusty film.

It was cold, too. The tunnels throughout the mine remain at a constant 39 degrees Fahrenheit, and that's during the summer months. Our guide explained to us that some sections of this mine and a few others are completely inaccessible now because of ice plugs blocking the shafts. We could see our breath and all the particulate matter in the beams of our headlamps. Occasionally, a stray drop of water would fall from the ceiling on to the back of my neck. Boy, if that doesn't get your attention, you've got problems!

One thing that really amazed me was when I noticed the rock that made up the vast majority of the walls in this mine. We were surrounded by what could have been hundreds of millions of tons of granite. It was everywhere, and I thought it was just amazing that there was probably enough granite in that mountain alone to give everyone west of the Mississippi new kitchen counter-tops!

After walking for several minutes, we came to an area that widened. On one side was a ladder that went up to old vein of gold and quartz, but it was semi-hidden by a small waterfall The guide explained how it took one whole year to dig and blast about a thousand feet in to the mountain back when the mine first started running back in 1898. We moved on, and noticed a point where the old train track had stopped and gave way to a hard-packed gravel floor. Evidently, the mine had reopened for a very brief period in the 1980's, when gold prices were hitting all-time highs. Thanks to advances in technology, miners were able to blast away and harvest more gold ore, and at a much faster pace. They decided to abandon the small trains for more versatile vehicles with rubber tires. An interesting thing though, is that mining methods had to change when people stopped using trains. Instead burrowing in straight lines, miners dug in a spiral pattern, to better utilize these newer trucks and vehicles.

There were several spurs and offshoots from the main tunnel, and while I would've loved to explore some more, we ended up moving upward through a spiral tunnel. After walking another 800 feet or so, we climbed a short ladder to get to a more cramped and small area. After squeezing into this new little "room", our guide directed our attention toward one of the walls. He shined a flashlight around, revealing the odd shape of this room. Thick wooden support beams were hammered into place through the increasingly short space that used to be a vein of gold ore. Some of the vein was still there, so we were able to see a thick band of white quartz with darkish streaks running through it. After shining my light at it, I noticed a peculiar glittering in those streaks. With closer inspection I was surprised to see that these dark streaks were in fact the gold itself. I can only imagine the excitement one would feel when he or she came across that same glint for the first time. That excitement followed by the strong desire to find more of it must be the gold fever I've heard about.

The mind blowing part though, is that now we were surrounded by all this gold. But the gold itself was trapped within the quartz crystals. It was spread out, too. Basically, every 1,000 pounds of ore (quartz and gold) would yield about 1 ounce of pure gold. So, you have your work cut out for you if you want to get that return on investment! The guide explained that the ore was removed from the mountain and sent to a mill where it was pulverized into small chunks of gravel, and then processed again to crush it into the consistency of sand. From there, it was sent through an area with water. Gold is much heavier than quartz, so the gold would sink to the bottom of these tanks before the quartz could. Here's where I thought it got really interesting. Mercury was used in the process as well. For whatever reason, mercury literally sticks to gold, so they were able to get every last bit of gold by pouring mercury into this mixture. The mercury and gold sink to the bottom where they are retrieved. To separate the mercury from the gold, this gooey mixture is poured onto a slide made of copper plates. Mercury sticks to copper more than it sticks to gold, so by the time this stuff gets to the bottom, its like a gray goo. Workers would then scrape the mercury off of the copper to use it again on the next batch of gold ore. This gray goo was then strained and squeezed through a chamois cloth to get more mercury out of the mix. When this step was done, all that's left is some stuff that looks like gray paste. The paste is then wadded up and placed in a special type of furnace that gets sealed up very carefully and tightly- Mercury is toxic enough by itself, but breathing in the fumes from heating it up are much worse for you. As this paste heats up, the mercury begins to run off and boil away, leaving only a hunk of gold that looks like a sponge- hence it's name, the "Gold Sponge". These gold sponges are then taken to a smelter where they are melted down and formed into bars. And that's the how it's done! At least, up here...

I know that gold is heavy and all, but our guide had a small bar that he and his grandfather had forged together when he was a boy. It was about the same size as a Heath candy bar, but it weighed 2 pounds. We were all able to hold it for a minute or two and then struggle to hand it off to the next person after learning that a 2 pound bar of gold is worth about $20,000 at this very moment. Darn. I want a gold bar of my own!

From there, we started making our way back. The last really cool thing we saw appeared to be a supply closet doorway covered in ice. However, after looking at it a little closer, we saw that it wasn't ice at all. It was mold! It looked like it was quite a healthy specimen too. I guess the conditions down there are just right for this specific kind of mold to grow there. It looked really soft and fuzzy, but hey- it's MOLD. I'm not going to touch it.

We came back out the same way we went in, and so ended the one of the coolest things we did all summer. For anyone that lives up here in Alaska, I highly recommend checking it out next year. For those of you not fortunate enough to live up here, it's worth checking out if you happen to come up here for vacation in mid-August! Just do a google search for Independence Mine Underground Tours.


Pictures will be posted shortly. Photography in there is very challenging if not impossible. I hope to go back there next year with some better equipment.

The Bisquick Lady Returns.

For those of you that remember back in the day when I was a lowly peon at Borders, there was a terrible lizardwoman I had dubbed "The Bisquick Lady". The Bisquick lady was old, disgustingly overweight, and had a personality that would drive the Dalai Lama himself into a murderous rage. She acquired her moniker because of her unique physical appearance. Her shape was similar to that of a wad of lumpy Bisquick dough, thwacked down on the counter so it looked like some kind of hideously retarded Hershey Kiss. With absurdly thick glasses and long yellowish-gray hair, she waddled about the store with a scowl that made the immediate area a few shades darker. Nothing you said or did could please the Bisquick Lady. With each awkward step, the audible huffing and snorting sounds cut through the air and my inner ear. Her stature was so enormous that she had to stop and speak only from a stationary position. Her short, grunting bursts of speech let me know that I was merely a waste of cellular goo in her universe. I remember my last encounter with her at the cashier's station at Borders. After attempting to give her the correct amount of change, she demanded that I instead give her some wacky combination of singles, quarters, fives, and nickels. This was several seconds AFTER I had closed the till and handed over her change. Due to my status as a lowly dreg of Borders, the simple sequence of re-opening the cash drawer and throwing quarters at her as hard as I could was out of the question. Various insults pertaining to my lack of intelligence could be heard as they were muttered shamelessly by the Bisquick Lady while we waited for a manager to come up and fix this horrendous situation. After a final comment about us idiots at Borders not being able to do anything right, she lumbered deliberately out the door and into the great big world.

So I prayed for her.


To meet her death.




So much for the power of prayer.

Fast forward nearly 3 years. My girlfriend Lisa and I are attending the Highland games held in Eagle River. Lisa is there on behalf of Bird TLC, a non-profit organization that provides presentations with local birds that have been injured and can't be released back into the wild. Lisa came along with her Great Horned Owl, Gaylan. I came along because I wanted to hear the sound of bagpipes rolling through the mountains, and because I had a hankering for some pasties.

Anyway, Lisa is in the middle of her presentation, and there's at least 18 people crowded around. They're all trying to get a close look at this cool owl, and learn a little bit about the species in general. I'm standing along the side, trying to keep people's disgusting jerk-brat kids from running through and scaring the crap out of the birds. Anyway, while Lisa is in mid-sentence, this horrific bloated fat-ball of a human walks up to Lisa through the small audience, squats down, and helps herself to a stray feather that was just dropped by the owl. This was dumb on the idiot woman's part because the owl got spooked and tried to fly away. Since he's missing one wing, he's not very good at flying. So Lisa had to help this bird back on to her arm without getting scratched to bits by its talons. After calming down the flustered owl, Lisa noticed that the Idiot woman had taken a feather. "I'm sorry Ma'am" Lisa said, "I need to take that feather from you."

The woman turned around, with her walrus-like mouth agape. "WHAT?" she snorted.

"You're not allowed to collect bird feathers." Lisa stated.

"WHAT KIND OF BULL IS THIS? I HAVE TONS OF THESE AT HOME!"

"Well, I'm sorry, but its illegal in this state collect feathers from any bird. We could lose our permit to keep and show these birds if I let you keep this feather." (This is in fact true. The only bird you can kill with reckless abandon in Alaska is the Spruce Grouse. This is good because they taste great with barbecue sauce.)

It was about now that I felt the horror growing within my gullet. After studying this hideous female, I noticed frightening similarities. This couldn't be the Bisquick Lady, but she could most certainly be a distant relative. In fact, I'm willing to put money on it. This woman had the same grotesque figure, as if she was ripped from the set of a Tim Burton stop-motion film set in Halloweenland. As her anger grew, her breathing grew more labored and raspy. Her skin had the same pock-marked, doughy texture that I remember all too well. But her wrath had only begun...

Lisa had gently plucked the stolen feather from the troll's fingers.

"WHADDYA MEAN I CANT HAVE THE DAMN FEATHER?" the Bisquick Lady hissed. "HE DROPPED IT AND HE DON'T NEED IT NO MORE ANYWAYS."

"I'm sorry Ma'am, but its illeg-" Lisa never had a chance to finish.

"THE PROBLEM WITH ALASKA IS THAT THERE'S TOO MUCH GOVERNMENT NOW. YOU USED TO BE FREE, BUT THEN THEY START WITH THIS CRAP..."

The Bisquick Lady launched into a tirade about too much government, stupid rules, and how all she wanted was a feather. She complained so loudly that another bird presenter a few feet away had to stop his presentation. After a few awkward moments, someone in the audience spoke up and told the Bisquick Lady that the rules exist for a good reason- and that if she's got a problem with them, she's free to leave. She got the hint when almost 20 other people were giving her the most evil looks I've seen in a large group. (finally, a crowd that does the right thing!)

Not expecting such flagrant disrespect from a real human being that didn't resemble Grimace, the Bisquick Lady stomped over to a bench some 20 feet away from the bird presenters. I figured she stopped there because she was so huge and she didn't have the stamina to make it any further. I was right, but then, in a most evil surprise, she launched back in to her rant about how she should get this feather and how Alaska just isn't the same. She continued this rant in a purposefully loud voice for over 20 minutes. Then, in a display that surely put everyone in the park in their place, she marched back over and used her enormous gut as a cowcatcher to wade through the several people standing in front of Lisa.

The Bisquick Lady demanded to know the address of the Bird TLC organization. With an evil sneer on her face, she stated that she was going to send in all the pictures she took of the owl. If she wasn't allowed to have a damn feather, she chortled, she would make sure the stupid bird place had their pictures. Then they could have everything! Lisa smiled, handed the Bisquick Lady an information pamphlet, and told her she would love to see the photos that were taken. And so ended an amazing display of rudeness and idiocy...

I still hope for Bisquick Lady to meet an untimely demise, preferably some way with old, rusty mining tools, but I do admit that I do feel some sadness. After all, I would be ornery too if I was shaped like a giant jello cone with pipe-cleaner feet and coke-bottle glasses... But then again, some people just suck.

This is what I like to call a little "shameless self promotion". Go to

"www.myspace.com/farpointproject"

and listen to the groovy music I've written. I'd post it here, but I don't think DeviantArt will be getting music hosting capabilities anytime soon. My latest work, "Mind Reset", has been freshly posted.

See, in addition to working a real job, and in addition to my hobbies of 3D modeling and digital photography, I also write music. I can't put my finger on it just yet, but there's something about sound that helps me to deal with the stress caused by most of the people on this planet.

I could sit here and type out the history and some of the equipment I use, but its already posted on the other site. And I'm far too lazy to copy it all over here...

So just go there, listen, and then laugh or cry or take out your aggression on an innocent passerby. Just be sure to tell me what you think...

So here it is, Sunday afternoon. I've spent the last 45 minutes or so cursing at my machine and myself for not being able to post the avatar of the AKDA club thing. I took a break and cooked up some stuff to eat for dessert with my better half later on, came back and tried again and again to no avail.

Then, the epiphany came... LOOK IN THE HELP/FAQ SECTION.



After looking through the help and FAQ section, a friend stepped in and set me straight... Woot.