MINE IN THE SKY
The Sierra Nevada has long held global economic significance, and you don’t have to look far beyond Bishop to see why.
Over the course of a century, the Pine Creek Mine evolved from a site of geological beauty to one of national economic necessity and a place shaped by human connection and community.
In a recent lecture hosted by the White Mountain Research Center, geologist Joe Kurtak explored this history while discussing his newly reprinted book, “Mine in the Sky: The History of California’s Pine Creek Tungsten Mine and the People Who Were Part of It.”
Kurtak began by tracing the geological origins of the Pine Creek Canyon, which is home to the mine. The canyon itself was formed through tectonic activity, as colliding plates thrust massive rock formations upward and shifted sedimentary layers.
Although tungsten deposits in the area were first documented in the 1870s, it wasn’t until the late 1910s that roads were constructed into the canyon, allowing mules and machinery inside to access and process the mineral.
The mine’s nickname as a “mine in the sky” comes from the unique mining methods that were required to extract its ore. Early operations began with horizontal tunneling into the walls of the canyon and then shifted to mining vertically at very high altitudes. Throughout its decades of operation, production moved deeper into the canyon, descending through lower levels in what became a remarkable engineering feat.
Pine Creek’s importance lies in its deposit of tungsten. Tungsten is an exceptionally durable metal, with a melting point of over 6,000 degrees, the highest of all metals. It is able to keep its integrity at high temperatures and is extremely valuable for military and industrial applications.
During World War I, Germany combined tungsten with other metals to produce munitions, armor, and tools that outperformed those of the Allies. In the United States, as Kurtak puts it, “the hunt was on” for a domestic resource that could match that of the Germans. Production surged during wartime, particularly in World War II, when the federal government purchased large quantities of ore for defense. Over time, the mine’s output closely tracked the nation’s military engagements, like during the Vietnam War, when Pine Creek supplied roughly two thirds of the country’s tungsten.
The mine was operational until the late 1990s. Today, China is the world’s biggest producer of tungsten, and the domestic mining of the mineral is no longer economically viable.
Yet the most compelling part of Kurtak’s talk was not the geology or economics, but the community that was formed because of the mine.
Kurtak shared vivid stories of life there: how a pet deer became the mine’s mascot, the dramatic rescue of a baby trapped in a house after an avalanche, a 24-hour poker game that never seemed to end, and the many winters that were spent exploring and skiing in the surrounding mountains.
Kurtak himself was born to a father who worked in the mines, and grew up near the mine in Rovana (a combination of Round Valley, the location of the mine, and Vanadium Mining Company, the company that owned the mine). He recalled his experience growing up in a diverse community and remembers Pine Creek as a “real melting pot” with Paiute, Hispanic, and Eastern European workers. Kurtak worked there himself during the summer as a college student.
The lecture drew more than 70 people on Zoom, and many of the attendees had personal or family ties to Pine Creek. During the discussion, participants shared their own memories about life working in the mine, recalling events from labor strikes to injuries and other hardships that occurred. The Pine Creek Mine was a major driver of economic prosperity in the Owens Valley and a site of national importance, but it also was a force that shaped a vibrant local world, and as Kurtak put it, was a truly “world–class mineral deposit.”
You can learn more about Pine Creek in Kurtak’s book, now available at Spellbinder Books in Bishop and at Eastern Sierra interpretive centers.
