A Day In the Life...

For those of you who have been wondering what preparations are needed for our big mining adventure, I thought I would update you on the goings-on of the last couple weeks and give you a glimpse into a day in the life of mining preparation.  Dave has managed to squeeze in countless phone calls and write many detailed emails to all involved in the Dempsey Mining business.  He has also single-handedly compiled binder after binder of data sheets and checklists, all of which are to ensure organization and promote a "safety first" attitude.  It has become clear to all of us that awareness and attention to detail are going to be valuable assets in the success of our mine.  MSHA (Mine Safety and Health Administration) can visit us at any time to make sure that we are complying with regulations.  For those mines that are not abiding by rules, hefty fines and even entire shut-downs can be enforced.  Obviously, this is something that Dempsey Mining would like to avoid.

Among other tasks, Dave's sister, Danielle, has the job of MSHA officer for our camp.  Dave has dubbed her "Little General." She will be inspecting mining equipment everyday and making sure that it fulfills safety requirements. If something is not up to snuff, then Little General gets to alert the maintenance team (Dan, Dave, Daniel, Uncle Mike) and they get to diagnose the problem and decide the fate of the trommel, shaker table, or what have you.  But if the equipment looks good, then she gets to check that off on one of Dave's handy-dandy checklists.  God bless Dave's OCD.  He loves lists.  And I love his organization.

Another recent development has been the purchase of our fifth-wheel.  After weeks of searching on Craigslist, Dave sent me a link to the '91 Aluma Lite Free Spirit that was for sale by a family in mid-town Anchorage.  The Aluma Lite was a beauty in it's advertisement but I decided to see if she also represented well in person.  Dave's Aunt Lisa was nice enough to accompany me and serve as my advisor as she has experience in buying and selling campers. I was happy that she did, especially since she knew all of the right questions to ask and pointed out the flaws that my inexperienced eyes tend to overlook.  She asked the seller why he was selling it.  He said that his family outgrew it.  She pointed out the bald tire.  He said he might consider changing it out.  She noticed the hard wood floor and pointed out that it would be much easier than carpet to clean in the muddy Mineral Creek camp.  All of these were things that I hadn't even considered. Thank you Aunt Lisa!

Dylan checks out our home away from home.

After the Free Spirit tour was complete and Lisa and I were able to sneak away for a private pow-wow, she advised me that it was a good deal and to make my offer if I liked it.  I did like it.  So I made my offer, and with my badass negotiating skills, I also had him throw in the sliding hitch for less than the asking price.  The deal was complete and by 7 o'clock that evening, the Free Spirit sat in our driveway.

In other mining news, Dave's parents are the first to complete the MSHA training.  And three days of sitting in class listening to endless safety procedures and watching dry mining videos is no easy task.  It is especially no fun on one's birthday.  Rita, you are a champ for sticking it out.  And happy birthday!  

In the meantime, Dan has also made significant progress on the building of the trommel.  The "beast", as Dave calls it, is something to behold indeed.  It rotates and growls with ease and looks like it was built by a pro.  Well, it was built by a pro.  We don't call him Dr. Dan for nothing.  If I was ever stranded on a desert island, I would want Dr. Dan there, because he would design a life raft out of leaves, bamboo, and the chewing gum in his pocket, and make sure we got home.  Seriously. No exaggeration.  Dan is our own MacGyver and we can't wait to see what other tricks he has up his sleeve this summer!

In the last 24 hours, Dave flew home from the slope, we had a business lunch with the mine claim owner, Daniel and Danielle have bought a camper trailer, Dave has bought a fuel tank, and I have poured myself into a rigorous craigslist search for kitchenware, coffee pots, or anything we might need in our new home-away-from-home, the FreeSpirit.  We have much left to do in the next few weeks:  Make the trip to Glennallen so Dave can help Dan with equipment maintenance, begin hauling equipment to Valdez, and complete MSHA training in Fairbanks on June 5-7th.  These are only a few things from our "to-do" list, but we are all looking forward to getting closer to the actual mining operation.  Can't wait to share it with you all! In the meantime, please stay tuned for more updates and other writings from Jolene Dempsey, AKA Camp Mom and Blogger. 

Update on Copper Center Lodge

My friend, Aftan Huddleston, just informed me that they have plans to serve a small menu out of the "Club 96" building on the Copper Center Lodge property for the summer.  So for all of you that are passing through that area, stop by and have a bite and a look at the museum.  I know I will be!

From my Besinii sister...

The Spirit of The Copper Center Lodge

Yesterday morning I received a sad phone call from my mother.  As I poured my first cup of coffee, she gently broke the news that our favorite restaurant, the historic Copper Center Lodge, had burned to the ground just hours before.  As soon as she confirmed to me that there was no one inside and that my friend's family (the lodge's owner's) were okay, we began to discuss the finer points of the beautiful Alaskan landmark that no longer was.

When I hung up the phone, my heart was heavy and I cried for the better part of an hour.  I was a bit surprised at my strong reaction to the news and I began to wonder why or how I could become so attached to a place.  How can we fall so in love with a building or a piece of land, that it's memory or it's mere absence can make us nostalgic, homesick, and even make us weep when it seems like we will never see that place again?

But as I recall the history behind that building, the time spent there with loved ones, I am reminded that a place can possess more than just the physical materials that we often tend to hold so dear.  It wasn't the tables where we sat, the beautiful artwork on the walls, or the artifacts on display that I was crying over.  Nor was it the hotel rooms or rustic Alaskan decor. It wasn't even their amazing food I was crying over.  (Although my heart did sink a little when I thought about the delicious sourdough starter that they've used for over one hundred years to make the best pancakes in the state.)

My Grandpa, Chief Harry Johns

No, my tears came from a deeper place; a place that absence, nor age, not even fire can destroy.  I'm talking about the human spirit, the soul within us all, the place that connects us and makes us the same and plants our roots so deep into this earth that it becomes apart of us.  And Copper Center Lodge had become apart of me very much the same way.  My roots are there; in that valley, in that tiny Alaskan village, and, yes, even in that restaurant.

The original lodge was built in 1896 for the gold miners passing through that needed a warm overnight stay and a hot meal.  Years later, my grandfather, the late Chief Harry Johns, lost his mother to the 1918 flu.  He was only 9 years old.  Shortly after, Mrs. Barnes of Copper Center Lodge took him under her wing and hired him to do odd jobs.  I believe he recalled that time as an enriching learning experience and thought of Mrs. Barnes as a mother figure.

My great-grandfather,
Estaco Ewan (top-middle)

Then the original structure was lost in a fire and rebuilt in 1928.  My great-grandfather (my late grandmother, Ruth Johns, father), Estaco Ewan, carved the diamond willow banister that decorated the lodge's stairs.  It was beautiful and full of thick, knotty diamonds and remained apart of the stairwell until yesterday.  In 1948, the Huddleston family took over the lodge and hosted many guests and many family gatherings.  My own family celebrated my Aunt Patsy's wedding there and, throughout the years, Copper Center Lodge became the place to eat, to visit, and to celebrate.  And that is exactly how I spent my time there.

Diamond willow banister

I didn't go there much as a child, at least not that I can recall.  But when my husband, Dave, and I decided to marry, we were only 18 and fresh out of high school.  When we broke the news to our parents they were apprehensive at first, but supported us in our decision and joined us for our big day.  After saying our vows at the Glennallen courthouse, we celebrated at the Copper Center Lodge with our family and close friends.

Unbeknownst to us, two of our friends were lurking outside, tying soda cans to our car and painting, "Just Married" on it's back window.  Dave and I said a teary goodbye to everyone as we departed for our new life in Anchorage.  We drove away in our decorated car, honked our horn, and left our family, friends, and the Copper Center Lodge in our rearview. What a beautiful, exciting day. I'll never forget it.

Our wedding day  celebration at CCL, August 21, 2000

The lodge continued to be my family's "first choice" for dining out.  My niece, Amanda, recalls those next two years and how my Dad (her Grandpa) would often take her and her siblings there for breakfast.  This was a special treat and is now a cherished memory for her ever since his sudden passing in 2002.  And as my husband and I moved and traveled about the state and the country, the lodge became a staple for us to visit when we traveled back to Glennallen.  We sampled their pancakes, their burgers, their yummy homemade dinners.  We ate and visited with Dave's parents and my Mom.  We observed the beautiful watercolor by Jean Rene on the walls and we said hello to the "regulars" as they sipped cup after cup of their never-ending coffee.  And we were always greeted by the owners, the Huddleston's.  I often got to catch up with their daughter, my friend, Aftan.

When Dave was working on the North Slope and I was living at the cabin, I could always count on my Mom to join me for a meal at the lodge when I was craving some good food and my "Momma time."  We spent so many breakfasts and dinners there, I can't even count.  Sometimes, I would wake up on a cold morning at the cabin after letting the fire go out.  I would reluctantly get out of bed and shiver and shuffle about as I tried to find food and make coffee.  Then my stomach would growl, I'd think of sourdough pancakes, and before I knew it, I'd be dialing my Mom.

The last time I went to Copper Center Lodge was a couple months ago.  There was still snow on the ground and the cold morning beckoned for something heavy and homemade.  My Mom and I split an order of eggs and bacon, and an order of their biscuits and gravy.  Oh man, the indulgence, the decadence of their food!  So good for the tummy!  Even better for the soul.  Aftan came to our table to say hello and scooped up my son in her arms to get her "baby-fix."  She carried him about the lodge, showing him off to her mom and other customers, and gave me a bit of a break so that I could enjoy my meal without interruption.  My Mom and I left there with full stomachs and happy hearts.  It was the same as so many other times at the lodge.  It was perfect.  It was just as it should be.

So, when my Mom called me yesterday, I was saddened by the news and I couldn't help but wish that I had gone there on my most recent visit to Glennallen and had just one last meal; one last hello to the "regulars", and one last look at those old log walls, perhaps even my photo taken by the diamond willow banister that my great-grandfather carved.  But I didn't.  Like every other day, we just never imagine that these things will disappear.

I spoke to my husband late last night and cried yet again when I told him the news.  He was understanding and, in his warm way, he wanted to brighten my spirits.  So he looked up the event on ADN and read the article out-loud to me.  It spoke of the lodge's history and how it was called the "jewel of the roadhouses".  It spoke of the people it kept fed and warm and how the lodge has meant so much to the community for over a century.  As he continued to read, my heavy heart began to lift.  Particularly when he got to the following excerpt:

A sourdough starter used to make locally-beloved pancakes was destroyed, but neighbors had some to spare.  "The pancakes will be coming back," Huddleston said....The couple plans to rebuild the lodge.  "The building is gone but the history is still there," he said. (ADN, May 20th 2012)

I was surprised, yet delighted to hear that they have plans to rebuild.  Of course, nothing will be exactly as it was, but Huddleston is right.  The history, the spirit of the place will still be there.  And my roots will be too.  The Copper River Valley is as much apart of me as my limbs are.  I am grown from it's soil.  So was the lodge.  And the spirit of a place can live on this earth, long after it's structure is gone.

Loaders! And Trommels! And Gold! Oh my!

Gold mining is the new crab fishing.  Or at least that is what I've read.  I'm sure we have all witnessed the rise of Alaska-based reality shows on television in recent years.  Homegrown Alaskans have especially noticed it.  Some of it, we have found obnoxious, staged, and a vast misrepresentation of our daily life.  Most of it, however, we have watched and welcomed with the rest of the country.  Tuning in to Survivor-like episodes and watching groups of Cheechakos attempt to "make it" in the harsh Alaska wilderness with nothing but a map, a .22, and a camera crew is laughable, yet entertaining.  Watching old crusty fisherman bust their asses in the Bering Sea for a seasonal crab quota?  Awesome.  In my opinion, it's the best reality show on television. And let's not forget the Tweto's.  Flying Wild Alaska is a close second to Deadliest Catch.  It has humor, excitement, and the quirky and adorable Ariel Tweto.  What's not to love?  We Alaskans are drawn to such adventure.

Nevertheless, the aforementioned Cheechako's can be as annoying as they are entertaining.  My husband, Dave, is usually the first to point out these annoying characters and their scripted "reality."  So when I saw that Discovery had a new series that depicted a group of Oregon men mining for Alaska gold, I wasn't all that impressed.  Just from the series trailer, I could tell that Gold Rush Alaska was going to be full of drama.  Indeed these men were mining for gold, but they were also fighting like high school girls.  Apparently, it is not unlike gold miners to be moody, catty, even teary at times.  This is great for reality television but cheesy to the average homegrown Alaskan.  I dismissed the show immediately.  But to my surprise, my husband was sucked in.

Dempsey's trommel and excavator at Mineral Creek, 1980's

Every Friday night Dave tuned in to see what was going on with the Hoffman's, the Oregon family with the gold rush dream.  And when season two rolled around, he tuned in again.  I remained skeptical, but I sat through a few.  I must admit that the addition of the Schnabel family was a good call on the producer's part.  I am a sucker for the story of a family business and how it has changed with each subsequent generation.  So as long as the Schnabel's were on, I was able to tolerate my husband's intrigue with the show.

However, his intrigue quickly turned into a fixation, and, within weeks, into an obsession.  He recorded and watched, talked about it, re-watched it, and talked about it some more.  Every Friday night was Gold Rush night and each following day was discussion day.  I tried to remain tolerant and thought to myself that maybe this was just his version of my own obsession for vampire shows.  For the last few years I had become enamored with anything vampire-related; television shows, books, movies, etc.  I have entire "girl nights" that are dedicated to that very subject.  Twilight; True Blood; Anne Rice; If it had vampires, my girl-friends and I were fascinated, if not obsessed.

So I thought, Twilight: Gold Rush Alaska.  Woman: Man.  Potato: Potahto.  To each his own.  Besides, gold mining is just  a curiosity to Dave, a fascination at best, right?  Wrong.  So wrong.  Dave began to talk about finding a gold claim to mine.... like a genuine gold claim... for us... to mine... literally.  It was then that I began to panic.  I mean come on!  Edward Cullen and Dracula and Vampire Bill aren't real!  I have accepted that.  And to be honest, gold-mining seemed just as far-fetched, just as fantastical to me.

"You mean... us?!"  I'm not sure if the phrase was ever uttered or if it merely bounced around my brain each time the subject was brought up.  But I was concerned.  Dave would enthusiastically talk about his mining dreams, telling me that the gold prices were great right now, that he'd been looking at equipment on craigslist and that he'd spoken to his Dad about building a trommel.  He could go on and on about loaders, tromells, loader and tromell parts, gold prices in the 80's versus gold prices now, and how this summer would be a great time to start our mining adventure.  I'm pretty sure each time the conversation steered that direction, I broke into a sweat.  These speeches continued for months and I admit that I listened half-heartedly, secretly hoping that this was just a phase and that he was merely talking.  I can handle talking.

But then he went ahead and did it.  He tugged at my heart strings.  He just had to do it.  He knew exactly what to say, too.  He brought up his own mining story, his family history in the gold mining business.  He brought up "Dempsey Mining and Construction", circa 1986-1991.  Now I was hooked.  (Damn those Schnabel's and their adorable grandfather/grandson relationship!) Like I said, I'm a sucker for the Alaska family business story.

Dave at Mineral Creek, 1986?

Dave's parents were gold miners in Valdez in the 80's.  And some of Dave's first memories are of that mine.  He had spent many of his days on the Mineral Creek claim amongst loaders, excavators, trommels, and that good old Alaskan gold fever.  He recounted story after story;  How he had taken his Tonka trucks up there and built his own little mini-mines; how his Dad gave him rides on the excavator; and how some of the wildlife, such as mountain goats, would appear at their camp from time to time.  His parents found enough gold to raise their family on and to employ his Uncle Jeff.  It was hard work, but it was enough of an adventure to leave a lasting impression on a young boy.  Dave smiled every time he told these stories.  I couldn't help but smile with him.  I began to wonder if gold fever was contagious.

Dave and Dani at Mineral Creek, 1988 or 89??

Then Dave would say, "I can't wait for Dylan to have similar memories."  Oof!  Straight to the heart!  How do I argue with that?!  It was then that I knew that this was no phase.  This was going to happen.  And when I let myself think about it, I became nervous.  My heart rate quickened and my mind flooded with questions.  Where? When? How much money?  Much to my surprise, Dave had an answer for all of them.  Mineral Creek.  Preparation begins now.  Mining begins in July.  A few large purchases right away, then it's cost of operation once we get started.  Once these questions were answered, other questions came to my mind.  But these, I could easily answer on my own.

Who am I to deny Dave his gold mining dreams and Dylan his Tonka truck memories?  What is life if not an adventure?    Didn't Dave support me through every dream, every whim that I've ever had?  When I wanted to buy a cabin in the woods to live in every summer; when I wanted to sell our house and move to Portland and go to school in the winters; when I wanted to return to Alaska to raise a family; all of these times, every time, Dave said yes without question.

And yet I still wonder... gold mining?  Really?  But then I think of the adventure, the gold, the fever, the adrenaline of the find (the gold rush, if you will).  I think of the little boy at his Daddy's mine, the Tonka's, the mountain goats, the history, the dirt, the rain, and the sunshine!  That glorious midnight sun!  I think of the family business, the family time.  Isn't that what it's all about?  Spending time together, learning, growing, living this adventure together, come rain or shine, hell or high water?

Who knows, we may hate mining.  We may sell everything in the fall and never return to Valdez again.  It may simply not be for us.  But how will we know if we don't try it out?  So to that, I can only say, Sure!  Why the hell not?  Mining is in Dave's blood.  He's got the fever.  He's no Sourdough...but at least he's no damn Cheechako.

And months later, here I sit. We have purchased a loader, a water pump, and spent countless hours making plans.  Dave's Dad, Dan Dempsey, has been working on the trommel.  I am waking up every morning and searching for travel trailers on craigslist.  Dave's mom, Rita, sister Dani, brother-in-law Daniel, Uncle Mike, and Aunt Peggy have also signed on for the expedition.  We are all signed up for our MSHA classes (Mine Safety and Health Administration).  We will begin the road to the mine in June, then the operation begins shortly after that.  We will probably wrap things up by the end of September.  Until then, I will try to keep you all posted on our gold mining expedition on this blog.  I hope you keep reading, I look forward to many more posts!  Cheers to another Dempsey adventure!

"Ah mush on dogs! / There's gold up in those streams / Shining bright and haunting all my dreams." ~Hobo Jim "Miner's Dream"~