Today we head to Bisbee, Arizona. It is a small town built on a legacy of copper. The copper queen mine sits just at the edge of town, a reminder of a booming past. The present condition of Bisbee is the opposite of booming. It has seen better days. Still there are antique shops and restaurants to explore. Like much of this part of the state, the local economy seems to depend on tourists. We try to do our part by visiting the local establishments. We have a day to waste. It might as well be here.

The Bisbee museum is a fun diversion. Inside, we learn about the history of Bisbee. There are displays on mining and local life. We also find out that just a few miles down the road, historic Fort Naco was once home to some of the first Black troops.

Intrigued, we decide to drive to Naco. It sits in the shadow of the atrociously ugly border wall. On each side the land looks exactly the same. A giant, artificial, black slash carves up the beautiful valley. A community is separated and the animal corridors destroyed. Humanity can’t seem to figure out a way to get along and everything suffers accordingly. Failure in ugly, ugly steel bars. A prison of our own making.

We drive around for a while before we find a weed covered Fort Naco. It sits behind a chain link fence, forgotten. We are here to remember. Someone said the locals are fighting to preserve these dilapidated barracks. I hope they can.

Life here was never easy. It’s seems man made barriers and the human condition are determined to confront my consciousness. This feeling of heaviness was not on my things to today. But I will sit with it. The uncomfortable realities spur growth and perspective.

On the way back to town we decide to visit the Copper Queen. Luckily, we are able to join the last tour of the day. They give us hard hats and neon vests. We also have a powerful light “just in case“. I didn’t ask “in case of what?”.

We make our way to the mine train that we are riding a mile deep into the mine. We step up and the straddle a bench seat. A few people had to be helped aboard. As soon as the train made it into the mine entrance a lady started screaming to be let off. She was calmly removed from the tour.

John, our tour guide, had worked as a miner here. He knew the ins and outs of the Queen mine. At some point, the train stopped rolling and we walked to see sunken shafts. He showed us the blasting process and let us practice putting (dummy) dynamite in the drill holes.

John told stories of hijinks and pranks. He shared that a miner might accidentally ride an inspectors rail bike into the mine to avoid a long walk. He showed us the “toilet car” that could be moved along the rail line to be emptied. He was highly entertaining. It is good to have loved your work.

I don’t mind being in an old mine, but I am certain I would not have liked a working one. Dust and explosions and jack hammers and endless dark. No thanks. Not for me. I don’t know how my grandfather drove a mine train for all those years. I guess with eight children to feed he was just thankful for the steady work of the Missouri lead mines.

I love the adventure, but am thankful to see the sun. We emerge into the early evening with the sun going down over Bisbee. A quick stop at an overlook allows us to take a good look at just one of the enormous pit mines. Giant holes in the ground are reminders of the raping of the Earth for the left over minerals. Today, there is nothing left. The companies have moved on. I wish there was a better, more sustainable way.

Today I am reminded that history is not pretty. It is hard. There are boom years and lean years. There is prosperity and poverty. People strive for more, often preferring short term gains to longer term growth. There is exploitation and honor. The struggle continues. You see that clearly in Bisbee. The Copper Queen built a community and then drained it dry.