The Majestic Mines

We pile out of the car, stepping onto the side of a small, nondescript country road lined on one side by a thicket of scraggly trees. Brian, our resident expert and guide, walks quickly ahead of the group, carrying boots caked with what looks like dried up orange-ish pasta sauce. My classmates and I follow slowly on a small path, marked only by a sign that reads "Foot Travel Welcome". We quickly come into a small clearing, the ground is covered by a layer of dark gravel that I later learn is leftover coal. Ahead of us is a sprawling patch of orange muck, flanked by a matching orange stream. At the very back of this wasteland is a small spigot that continually spews out what we can only assume is the source of this odd discoloration. Nothing grows in this rust-tinged area, save for a small island of brush that seems to be struggling to survive, but looks ready to give up the fight.

As a few brave souls don their boots and venture out into orange goop, I hang back to try and learn the reason for this strange phenomena. Brian speaks of the area like a close friend who is sick, and whom he is struggling to nurse back to health. He has thick beard and mop of hair that bears a striking resemblance to the color of the tainted earth ahead of us. The Majestic Mine is a former coal mine that was shut down in the 40's, run by a company that no one seems to remember. Ever since its demise, this acid mine drainage, a potent blend of ground water, iron and aluminum from the coal below, has been seeping forth. The nice orange tone is a result of the iron oxidizing in the open air, free from the confines of the mine. For the past few years Brian has been working to solve this problem and reduce the impact that this discolored liquid is having on the environment around it.

Slipping on a pair of boots, and inspired by Brian's dedication, I carefully cross the orange stream on a wobbly plank bridge. In seconds, my feet are sinking into the moist earth on the opposite side. I lean down gingerly, dipping a pH strip into the stream I just crossed. The stench singes my nostrils, but I carry on in the name of science. With my first set of data successfully collected, I trek further towards the pollution spewing spout ahead of me. As I near it, the ground grows even more water logged, creating what seems like a sea of orange-ish quicksand that I must deftly avoid falling prey to. Finally reaching my destination, I dip my final pH strip into the water near the source of this mess. Later as I tally the results of my experiment, it comes as no surprise that this water is far more acidic than it has any right to be.