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Giant Hole in the Ground

Bingham Canyon Mine from the International Space Station 2007 Courtesy NASA
Bingham Canyon Mine from the International Space Station 2007. This astronaut photograph ISS015-E-29867 was acquired September 20, 2007, by the Expedition 15 crew with a Kodak 760C digital camera using an 800 mm lens. The image is provided by the ISS Crew Earth Observations experiment and the Image Science & Analysis Laboratory, Johnson Space Center. The image in this article has been cropped and enhanced to improve contrast.
Courtesy NASA

Kennecott Mine from Outside Courtesy & Copyright Mary Heers, Photographer
Kennecott Mine from Outside
Courtesy & Copyright Mary Heers, Photographer
Years ago, I was flying in an airplane headed into Salt Lake when the captain came on the intercom and suggested we look out the windows. Below us was a truly huge hole in the ground. This was my first look at the Kennecott open pit copper mine.

In 1847, when Brigham Young and the first Mormon pioneers arrived in the Utah territory, this bit of land we were flying over was an 8,000ft mountain, part of the range the Native Americans called the Oquirrhs. Back then two brothers were grazing their cattle in these mountains when they noticed some gold that had washed down the mountain and settled in a sandy stream bed. They took the gold and showed it to Brigham Young. Brigham Young told them to “forget it.” Growing food for the survival of the settlers was his top priority.

The Bingham boys went back to grazing cattle, but by 1873 the news had gotten out that there was gold in these hills. People started to move in, many of them recent immigrants. The Finns and Swedes settled up Carr Canyon, while the Austrians and Slavs settled near the Highland Boy mine. The town of Bingham grew up around 30 saloons, its many brothels , as well as many boarding houses where single men rented a room and took their meals. I really enjoyed reading a memoir written by Violet Boyce, whose Aunt Becky ran one of these boarding houses. She tells us the softer side of life in the early mining town, like one miner, Pete Kalvos, who had a beloved pet magpie. Now this bird was the chief suspect when Aunt Becky’s thimble, teaspoons, and jeweled pin disappeared. Aunt Becky got so mad she took the bird outside and told it to “git.” Joe moped around the house until the bird returned. Luckily by then Aunt Becky had cooled off, because some repair work on the chimney had revealed the magpie nest and all the missing items.

Everything changed in Bingham Canyon in 1906 when new entrepreneurs and engineers decided the real future of the canyon was in copper, and the best way to get it out was with an open pit mine. Dynamite started blasting away the hillsides. Violet writes how vases were knocked off shelves and pictures turned sideways on the walls in her house. As the mine kept expanding, the walls of her house crumbled. Eventually the whole town was devoured.

Nowadays, if you go to the Visitor Center at the Kennecott mine, you can stand on the viewing platform on the upper lip of the huge bowl-shaped pit. It’s a breath taking 2 ½ miles wide, ¾ of a mile deep – and still getting bigger. Trucks the size of two-story houses lumber up the inside of the bowl carrying away the newly blasted debris. It now takes 2 tons of this mix of rock, dirt and ore to eventually produce 9 pounds of pure copper.

The story of this giant hole in the ground is woven into Utah’s history, but it’s also left its mark on our planet Earth. The Kennecott open pit copper mine is one of a handful of man-made structures that can be seen from the International Space Station as it passes over us, 250 miles away.

This is Mary Heers and I’m Wild About Utah

Credits:
Photos: Courtesy NASA and Mary Heers,
Featured Audio: Courtesy & © Anderson, Howe and Wakeman
Text: Mary Heers, https://cca.usu.edu/files/awards/art-and-mary-heers-citation.pdf
Additional Reading: Lyle Bingham, https://bridgerlandaudubon.org/

Additional Reading

Wild About Utah, Mary Heers’ Wild About Utah Postings

Crump, Scott, The Oquirrh Mountains, Utah History Encyclopedia, https://www.uen.org/utah_history_encyclopedia/o/OQUIRRH_MOUNTAINS.shtml

Strack, Don, Years of Discovery, to 1863, Railroads and Mining in Utah’s Bingham Canyon, Discovery to 1863, UtahRails.net, https://utahrails.net/bingham/bingham-discovery.php

The Bingham Mine – Our National Historic Landmark, Rio Tinto, https://www.kennecott-groundbreakers.com/stories/the-bingham-mine—our-national-historic-landmark

Milligan, Mark, GeoSights: A View of the World’s Deepest Pit – Bingham Canyon Mine Overlook, Utah Geological Survey (UGS), Utah Department of Natural Resources, Survey Notes, v. 49 no. 2, May 2017, https://geology.utah.gov/map-pub/survey-notes/geosights/geosights-bingham-canyon-mine/

Bingham Canyon Mine, USA, Captured 20 April 2021, by the MSI instrument, aboard the Sentinel-2 satellite, NASA, https://www.earthdata.nasa.gov/news/worldview-image-archive/bingham-canyon-mine-usa

1904 to 2022, Bingham Mine through the Years, https://youtu.be/yvoQuH9C2d0?si=wQhMZWXYs-M-zclW

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Outdoor Gear

Members of the 10th Mountain Division at Camp Hale, Colorado. Left -to- right: Clare Symonds, Elton Beard, Vincent Dalzell, Francis or Roger Duchesneau, Clifford Perkins. image c.a. 1940-1944. (Unit History Collection). (Members of what was then called the 10th Light Division (Alpine), prepare for ski training at Camp Hale, Colo. ) Courtesy US Army
Members of the 10th Mountain Division at Camp Hale, Colorado. Left -to- right: Clare Symonds, Elton Beard, Vincent Dalzell, Francis or Roger Duchesneau, Clifford Perkins. image c.a. 1940-1944.
Members of what was then called the 10th Light Division (Alpine) were recruited by the National Ski Patrol, which was directed by Charles Minot “Minnie” Dole. Applicants had to prove their ability to ski.
(Unit History Collection) Courtesy US Army, The Denver Public Library ArchivesSpace and Wikipedia
Skiing up our lovely canyon yesterday, enjoying American dipper and stream music, occasional king fisher chatter, Townsend’s solitaire melodies, I began ruminating on my ski equipment while watching their effortless glide through snow.

A few weeks earlier, I had donated a pair of WWII 10th Mountain Division US military issue skies to the Stokes Nature Center for their “History of Skiing” program. Seven feet long with leather and steel bindings, each weighing near 10 pounds. The Division trained at Camp Hale, Colorado with 60-90-pound packs, leather boots strapped onto seven-foot long wooden skis with thick cable bindings. Casualties in the winter of 1945 were staggering, but when the ski troops returned home they poured their heart and soul into the newly-evolving ski industry, opening ski resorts, managing ski schools and influencing innovation.

Compare this to my skies made of plastic materials with aluminum alloy bindings weighing in at 3 pounds each, my boots various synthetic materials, light and durable, and a minuscule day pack attached to my back.

When I began Nordic skiing some 40 years ago, my Bonna laminated wood skies were coveted. I miss their natural beauty and high performance. Now, they sit in a corner, replaced by a light weight, wax free pair. Somethings lost, something’s gained.

From there it went on to my backpacking equipment from boots, backpack with contents, and my clothing attire. All synthetics with the exception of RMI type, super light weight dehydrated space/military evolved food and equipment.

Looking back to my early Scouting days, our tents were heavy canvas, backpacks with heavy metal alloy frame and canvas fabric, clunky leather boots, wool and cotton clothing, and beefy cooking pots and pans, metal canteen, and several pounds of canned food.

We were tough then. My Scouts grew blisters on shoulders and feet. A few tears were shed from the arduous hike up a mountain or across hot desert, near collapse, sure they couldn’t take another step. Now, as middle aged adults, their fondest memories were from those crazy days of long suffering. Many survival stories came later of their intrepid accomplishments.

We have evolved to a plastic, synthetic culture replacing canvas, cotten, wool, wood, and heavy metals. How soft, comparatively effortless, and efficient we have become. No longer from a farm of hard work in extremes of hot and cold. Something lost, something gained. Nostalgia. Longing.

Do I wish to return to those days? Back then, we never foresaw an easier way in the offing. We just endured the pain and moved on, as did the mountain troops with their giant skis and heaving loads. I admire us as we were.

USU has a new major in Outdoor Product Design & Development to further design new, light weight convenient gear. “Master the design process, user research, idea visualization, and CAD modeling techniques to develop products conceptually and as producible prototypes.”

One thing that hasn’t changed appreciably are the natural wonders that surround us. Birds and flowers, butterflies, bees, and rushing streams are still with us. Challenging steep trails, scorching desert paths still challenge us, as are natures fickle atmospheric moods.

Jack Greene for Bridgerland Audubon Society, and I’m Wild About the Joy & Challenge of Utah Wilds!

Credits:
Image: Courtesy US Army army.mil, With text by way of US Army and Wikipedia
For additional images and histories of Camp Hale, we recommend the Denver Public Library, Special Collections and Archives Department
Featured Audio: Courtesy & © Kevin Colver https://wildstore.wildsanctuary.com/ and Friend Weller https://upr.org/
Text: Jack Greene, Bridgerland Audubon, https://bridgerlandaudubon.org/
Additional Reading: Jack Greene & Lyle W Bingham, Webmaster, Bridgerland Audubon, https://bridgerlandaudubon.org/

Additional Reading:

Jack Greene’s Postings on Wild About Utah, https://wildaboututah.org/author/jack/

McCrimmon, Katie Kerwin, Daring WWII ‘ski troops’ honored at new Camp Hale-Continental Divide National Monument, UCHealth Oct. 27, 2022 https://www.uchealth.org/today/daring-wwii-ski-troops-honored-at-new-camp-hale-continental-divide-national-monument/

Kennedy (Drum), Mrs. Michelle, Bootprints in History: Mountaineers take the Ridge, US Army, February 19, 2015, https://www.army.mil/article/143088/bootprints_in_history_mountaineers_take_the_ridge

Charles Minot Dole, Hall of Fame Class of 1958, U.S. Ski and Snowboard Hall of Fame and Museum Inc., https://skihall.com/hall-of-famers/charles-minot-dole/

Chabalko, Justin J, Art of War Papers, Forging the 10th Mountain Division for War, 1940–45, How Innovation Created a Highly Adaptive Formation, Army University Press, 2019, https://npshistory.com/publications/usfs/camp-hale-continental-divide/forging-10th-mtn-div.pdf

Bonna Wooden Touring skis, Scottish Mountain Heritage Collection, https://smhc.co.uk/collection/bonna-wooden-touring-skis/

Utah Outdoor Recreation Companies, Utah Division of Outdoor Recreation, State of Utah, https://recreation.utah.gov/utahs-outdoor-companies/

Outdoor Product Design and Development – BS, College of Agriculture and Applied Sciences, Utah State University, https://www.usu.edu/degrees-majors/outdoor-product-design-and-development_bs

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Three of Logan’s Finest

The Folly Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer
The Folly
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer
Kick. Step. Breathe. Kick. Step. Breathe.

Skier John Louviere Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer
Skier John Louviere
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer

Skier Eric Newell Courtesy & Copyright John Louviere, Photographer Skier Eric Newell
Courtesy & Copyright John Louviere, Photographer

Miniature pellets of snow swirl past my face, land on the slope we are struggling against, then tumble hundreds of feet down the snow-encased mountain. My friend John Louviere and I have skied the Bear River Range backcountry together since we first met as Utah State University students in 1995.

Today the light is flat, causing both sky and mountain to blend into a single dimension, making it difficult to distinguish snow from clouds. The Dry Canyon slope we are ascending is prominent from nearly everywhere in Cache Valley. Each winter its absolute openness and gentle, seductive rolls tantalize backcountry skiers. For us, it is a blank canvas. We stare at it on our way to and from work, occasionally spotting other skier’s tracks, best highlighted when late evening sunlight turns the mountain hues of pink and orange.

But embedded in the stark beauty of this mountain is a dark past. Backcountry skiers call this slope “The Folly” for good reason: it measures exactly thirty-eight degrees in steepness—precisely the slope angle that produces the most deadly avalanches. Thirty-eight degree slopes are gentle enough to allow dangerous slabs of snow to build, where they can rest precariously without commitment to the mountain. A single skier, snowboarder, snowmobile, or even just one last snowflake can set it all in motion.

Because The Folly faces southwest, prevailing winds tend to transport freshly fallen snow off the slope, over the ridge, and deposit it in Spring Hollow. Afternoon sunshine also welds new layers of snow to old layers rather quickly. Both of these factors combine to stabilize the slope, despite its steepness, but it still shouldn’t be reckoned with unless you know and understand the composition and history of the snowpack. The spring-like conditions present today are exactly what John and I have waited for—everything is frozen firmly in place.
In January of 1997, Karl Mueggler and Max Lyon, who both grew up in Cache Valley, were visiting families for the holidays. The two decided to catch up on old times with Logan resident Keith Maas by ski-camping in Dry Canyon.

They pitched their tents in a stand of aspens interspersed with Englemann spruce at the base of The Folly. Trees generally serve as a good indicator of safety from avalanches since proven slide paths obliterate timber. Had they camped there any other night in a 20-year span, they would have awakened to another memorable ski day.
But while they slept, a foot of new snow fell and the west wind shifted, blowing violently from the northeast, heaping tons of snow from the Spring Hollow side onto The Folly. A week before, unseasonably warm temperatures caused rain to fall on the slope which later froze into a hard, smooth ice crust. All of these factors combined to create the perfect conditions for a spontaneous and catastrophic avalanche.

Despite their years of backcountry experience Karl, Max, and Keith were buried in their tent under five feet of concrete-hard snow. The community was devastated. Though I didn’t know Karl or Keith, I had spent a day skiing with Max only a few weeks before. He embodied the type of person anyone would aspire to become. Excitement for living radiated from his face. He laughed easily and spoke optimistically of the future. The same has been said of Karl and Keith. They were educators, outdoor activists, and advocates for community.
Over the years, I venture up here in the spring to pay tribute to their lives.

At the top of The Folly, still surrounded by thick clouds and meandering snowflakes, we start down, one at a time. Without warning, gracious sunlight bursts through the squall. We accelerate, gliding over the glowing snow, unsure if we are flying or skiing—a truly ethereal moment. The snow beneath our skis is firm and our metal edges cut tight turns with precision as we descend from the clouds, honoring three of Logan’s finest the best way we know how.

I’m Eric Newell, and I am wild about Utah.

Credits:
Images: Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer, Eric Newell image Courtesy & Copyright John Louviere
Featured Audio: Courtesy & © Kevin Colver https://wildstore.wildsanctuary.com/, Courtesy & © Friend Weller, https://www.upr.org/people/friend-weller, Courtesy & Copyright © Anderson, Howe, Wakeman
Thank you Eric Newell for recording the student audio clips
Text: Eric Newell, Edith Bowen Laboratory School, Utah State University
Additional Reading: Eric Newell

Additional Reading

Wild About Utah Pieces by Eric Newell

A longer version of this story was printed in the Herald Journal Outdoors section May 5, 2006.

Opsahl, Kevin, Memories of fatal ’97 avalanche still fresh, The Herald Journal, Jan 14, 2017,
https://www.hjnews.com/accidents_disaster/memories-of-fatal-avalanche-still-fresh/article_03c457bd-ffa2-5e92-8527-38514ddb7016.html

“Outdoor Leadership Scholarship
The Lyon, Maas, Mueggler Outdoor Leadership Scholarship pays 50% of the tuition for the Desert Mountain Medicine Wilderness First Responder (WFR) certification course.”
Lyon, Maas, Mueggler, Outdoor Leadership Scholarship, Utah State University
https://www.usu.edu/campusrec/outdoor/

Cane, James, Snow Dynamics, Wild About Utah, February 2, 2012, https://wildaboututah.org/snow-pack-dynamics/

Utah Avalanche Center https://utahavalanchecenter.org/

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Sound Can Brighten the Dingy Days

Red-winged Blackbird Male Courtesy Pixabay, Nichole Linzmeier, Contributor
Red-winged Blackbird Male
Courtesy Pixabay, Nichole Linzmeier, Contributor
For many of us who love the outdoors, the first half of March is a least favorite time of year. It’s a drizzly season. In northern Utah’s urban valleys, the lingering patches of snow are tinged with dirty gray that mirrors the dingy sky. Winter has lost its cleansing power, yet the budburst and first blooms of springtime are still weeks away. But if we close our eyes and listen, nature still can brighten the dingy days. A week or so ago, my wife and I stopped by a wetland we like near the Great Salt Lake. It had snowed the day before, and the marsh was half frozen. The remaining open water was packed with wintering waterfowl – pintails and coots and gadwalls and geese. We rolled down the car window to listen, and were greeted by the glorious cacophony of red-winged blackbirds.

That’s the bright side of early March. It’s a time when the early songbirds start to exercise their vocal chords. You might hear the complex warbling of a house finch, or the sweet piping “hee-did-it” of the black-capped chickadee. But to me, nothing says springtime like a blackbird’s song in an awakening marsh. It’s not a pretty sound, but it’s boisterous and exuberant. It embodies the joy of springtime.

But why now? Why not wait till things warm up a bit? And how do they know, when the nights can still be frigid and the days can still be dreary, that it’s time to gear up for spring?

The answer has nothing to do with temperature or precipitation. It’s a trick of the light. Or more specifically, the length of the day. For birds, that’s the most reliable calendar. When the time between sunrise and sunset reaches a certain number of minutes, photo-receptors in the avian brain trigger the production of hormones. That stimulates their sexual organs, telling the male blackbirds it’s time to get feisty. They begin to stake out nesting territories, singing their superiority to brothers and cousins. By the time the females arrive a few weeks later, they’ve sorted things out and are ready to mate and raise babies.

Unfortunately, not everything in nature uses daylength as an alarm clock. Plants and insects respond better to temperature. As the world’s climate changes, tree leaves emerge earlier, and so do the creatures that love to eat those tender spring shoots. The downside of change is exemplified by the plight of the European pied flycatcher. These birds spend the winter in Africa, flying north when daylength triggers the urge to migrate. For centuries they’d arrive just as caterpillars were emerging to feed on new foliage – a perfect source of protein to feed their hatchlings. But since daylength hasn’t changed while the climate has, now the flycatchers’ timing is off. Food is scarcer. Fewer nestlings survive.

Scientists have a name for this: phenological mismatch. We’re seeing more and more examples in nature where the timing of life events is off. It’s likely that a few species will adapt. Birds that get antsy early – jumping the gun on migration – will be favored by natural selection. But evolution takes time, and many species will suffer. In the meantime, we can take heart in knowing we can still count on songbirds to brighten this dreariest of seasons.

I’m Mark Brunson, and I’m wild about the sounds of Utah nature.

Credits:

Images Courtesy Pixabay, Nichole Linzmeier (Linzmeier1), Contributor https://pixabay.com/photos/bird-red-winged-black-bird-red-5276962/
Featured Audio: Courtesy & © Kevin Colver, https://wildstore.wildsanctuary.com/collections/special-collections and J. Chase and K.W. Baldwin. https://upr.org/
Text: Mark Brunson, https://www.usu.edu/experts/profile/mark-brunson/
Additional Reading: Lyle Bingham, https://bridgerlandaudubon.org/

Additional Reading

Faherty, Mark, Never mind the temperature, increasing photoperiod means birds are singing louder and longer, CapeandIslands.org owned and operated by the WGBH Educational Foundation (“WGBH”), February 21, 2018, https://www.capeandislands.org/in-this-place/2019-02-20/never-mind-the-temperature-increasing-photoperiod-means-birds-are-singing-louder-and-longer

Larese-Casanova, Mark, Blackbirds in our wetlands, Wild About Utah, May 26, 2011, https://wildaboututah.org/blackbirds-in-our-wetlands/

Birds on the wing, Living on Earth®, World Media Foundation, March 19, 2010, https://www.loe.org/shows/segments.html?programID=10-P13-00012&segmentID=6

Early spring is causing a mismatch of food, News, Cardiff University, April 30, 2018 https://www.cardiff.ac.uk/news/view/1168289-early-spring-is-causing-a-mismatch-of-food

Red-winged Blackbird, Agelaius phoeniceus, Profiles, UtahBirds.org, http://utahbirds.org/birdsofutah/ProfilesL-R/RedWingedBlackbird.htm
    Photo Gallery: http://utahbirds.org/birdsofutah/BirdsL-R/RedWingBlackbird.htm
    ID & Song: https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Red-winged_Blackbird/id

Red-winged Blackbird – Agelaius phoeniceus, Fieldguide, Utah Division of Wildlife Resources, Utah Department of Natural Resources, https://fieldguide.wildlife.utah.gov/?species=agelaius%20phoeniceus