Life Among The Ruins – Mining The Coast Of Cornwall (Cornwall Chronicles #21e)

What is Cornwall without mining? That is what I intended to find out. Beginning in the late 19th century, the mines which primed Cornwall’s economy for centuries began their long, slow decline. By the 21st century, they were at the point of extinction. This has caused a great deal of consternation. Mining was more than just an economic endeavor in Cornwall, it was the way of life. Miners’ lives were proscribed by the bipolarity of their work. Up and down, below and beyond, over and under. Either Cornish miners were toiling away in a suffocating environment, or they were at home resting until their next descent into the underworld.

There were also striking similarities between the surface world and the depths. Day was night and night was night. Much of the time they spent above ground was reserved for the evenings which they spent either in darkness or amid flickering light. The world under the earth was physically different from the one above, but the two were inextricably connected. Their family’s livelihoods were dependent upon the mines. Wives and children shared in the joys and sorrows of the tortuous work that sent their husbands and fathers into the depths and imminent danger. There is no way to think about Cornwall historically without accounting for the mines. Perhaps that is why thinking about present day Cornwall without the mines tends to be extremely difficult.

Closed For Business – The Geevor Tin Mine

I could not go to Cornwall without seeing a mine. That would have been heresy. I did not relish the idea of going underground to get an approximation of what it was like for Cornish miners as they toiled underground. There are opportunities to go into the mines, but that was not what I was looking for. I would be more than pleased to explore the above ground remnants of mines, particularly those found on the coastline, in sight of the ocean. ?The Penwith Peninsula was the best place to do this. It is pockmarked with tin and copper mines. The last of these closed in 1990. A way of life has passed into history, but major efforts have been made to preserve that history. The epicenter of these efforts is the Geevor Tin Mine, which was designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 2006. The Land's End Coaster drops off passengers just outside the entrance road. This is very convenient for a place that even by the standards of Cornwall is remote.

On the day I alighted at the entrance gate, I assumed the mine would be open for visitors since it was Saturday. In my experience, the highest visitation at historic sites during shoulder seasons (spring/autumn) are on weekends. I was shocked to learn that the Geevor Tin Mine Museum was closed. It was only mid-September, but the mine was now off-limits to visitors on Saturdays. This was bizarre. The only person around was a gentleman who was setting up his camera along the entrance road. He had an enormous lens, a tripod, the whole set up. I discerned that he was a top-notch photographer by the care he took while preparing to take a picture. The lack of visitors to the site must have been fine with him. He was here to photograph the striking scenery of mine structures skirting the seaside.

Keeping An Eye Out - A Surreptitious Sense

The grounds were deserted, but the historic structures looked to be in good condition. That disconcerted me. Geevor had that eerie feeling of a modern ghost town, one that had been abandoned in my own lifetime. There is nothing that induces fear quite like being in a place full of buildings where it looks like the inhabitants have suddenly vanished. Such places make me feel intensely alone and like someone is watching me. This kept me from walking anywhere other than the outskirts of Geevor. I did not want to be surreptitiously seen by a pair of eyes peeking out from behind curtains or captured on camera. I am aware that this was an illogical fear, as are all personal outbreaks of paranoia. The Geevor Mine is remote and never would make it on the high priority list of ne’er do wells. On another day, when the site is open to visitors, I am sure it would have felt different. Nonetheless, the site made me feel as though I was trespassing on recent history. I soon turned my attention to the remnants of another mine which I could see looming in the near distance.

I equate old mining sites with ruins. This is a byproduct from my time living in Montana. Like in Cornwall, the heyday of mining in Montana is a thing of the past. One that grows more distant by the day. The old mining towns I have visited in Montana are mostly in ruins. Most of them went bust during the late 19th and early 20th century. During the boom times, Cornish miners emigrated to Montana where their expertise was greatly valued. Thousands of them made Montana their permanent home. The first time I ever heard of the pasty, Cornwall’s most famous culinary gift, was in Butte, Montana. The Cornish legacy is alive and well across the western part of the state despite the decline of mining. That decline is highly visible in the structures and equipment slowly degrading at historic mining sites. Like Cornwall, there was copper beneath the earth in Montana, along with many other valuable minerals. Excavating these was no easy task. Large pieces of industrial detritus covered in rust lie scattered around the old mines. Warped wooden structures and crumbling brick edifices can be found abandoned deep in the woods. The sites are now silent, but if you study them long enough, they have a story to tell.

Born Again - Life After Death

I was now halfway across the world and over a decade removed from my days delving into Montana’s mining heritage. The memories came flooding back on the coast of Cornwall when I spied a tall chimney stack rising above the landscape at what was left of the Levant Mine. I felt the same urge that I did in Montana. Dilapidation has a romance all its own. Seeing ruined buildings from a mine long after they have outlived their usefulness gives the strange sensation that there really is life after death. As I began walking towards the Levant Mine, I wanted to see if life still existed among the ruins. I was pretty sure it did.