Mining the Richest Square Mile on Earth

October 25, 2019

In May of 1859 at the height of the Pikes Peak Gold Rush, prospector John H. Gregory discovered a gold-rich ore vein hidden inside the hills of Gregory Gulch in Gilpin County, Colorado. Within weeks the area swelled into a makeshift encampment as thousands of prospectors descended on the area. Eventually, those camps grew into more established settlements known as Central, Black Hawk, and Nevadaville. Millions of dollars worth of gold were extracted out of these hills (in today’s value), and Central, now named Central City, quickly became known as “The Richest Square Miles on Earth.” 

Today, Central City is a vastly different place. 

Like so many other mining boomtowns in Colorado, its population soared from 598 people in 1960 to 3,114 in 1900. By 1920, the influx had all but retreated, and the town reached a new population low of 552 people. Growth has largely remained stagnant, even dwindling to just a few hundred people, until 1990 when gambling was introduced and several casinos were built. As of 2016, 733 people officially call former Central their home. 

And with all the change that has occurred over the 160 years since Gregory’s discovery drew people here, evidence of that fervid surge remains. Rusted iron and disintegrating wood leftover from these former mines crumble alongside sulfur-hued mounds of discarded waste known as tailings. A chimney stack from a building that no longer exists leans amid hunks of old equipment that seem immovable and now part of the landscape.

If you drift a little further off the beaten path and into the ghost towns—there are three nearby—you’ll see the cobble footprint of old foundations sinking into overgrown patches along dusty roads that connect these largely forgotten places. In Nevadaville, a few original buildings still stand, including a City Hall and Fire Department post.

It can be dangerous to explore around here, I learn later, as the land is riddled with sprawling, unmarked, and abandoned tunnels, many of them either partially or wholly collapsed or filled with toxic air. Wandering around an old mine site, for instance, could prove fatal as the instability of the earth beneath can basically suck you into the void beneath.

According to the Colorado Geological Survey, several people are injured or die every year from exploring abandoned mines of which there are estimated to be 23,000 in Colorado.

Fortunately, you don’t have to resort to urban explorer trespassing tactics to venture a look inside one.

Hidee Gold Mine outside Central City is one of a handful of former mining operations open for tours within day-trip driving distance from Denver. And the experience is well worth the $24.95 per person ($14.95 for kids) entry fee. 

During the tour, you’ll go 160 feet below the surface above and into hard rock mine tunnels where you’ll learn about the geology of the area, experience the tight confines the miners worked in and the rugged machinery they used—one of them is called a widow-maker—and you’ll also hear tales of mining lore including the curious superstitions around Tommyknockers. Commonly described as gnome creatures that looked like small men, these creatures were widely thought to be both mischievous in their pranks, often moving the miner’s tools, but also lifesaving in their warning of potential cave-ins, knocking on the walls before a tunnel collapse.

On this roughly one hour tour, guests also mine for samples with a chisel along sections of a five-foot-wide exposed ore vein. Nuggets extracted here are composed of unoxidized sulfide gold ore. In an video piece by Travel Thru History featuring the mine, a mine representative describes that with sulfide gold ore, the pyrite is still chemically bonded to the gold. This makes it far more difficult to separate the gold from the ore once its extracted.

So even though you’re not going to get rich on your visit, hammering into the same spot where so many others have for decades before is a perfect way to experience the legacy of not just mining in Central City but throughout the American West.

And despite Central City never returning the height of its boom time popularity, the town is far from ghosting away. 

During a recent trip (also my first), the historic corridor was packed with visitors, food trucks, vendors, and hot rods—more than I’ve ever seen together or probably ever will. And when I say hot rods, by the way, I don’t mean Mustangs, though there were plenty of those too. Instead, these are the authentic, garage-retooled, custom pre-1955 automobiles that embody the definition of the hot rod aesthetic.

Our burnt orange Honda Element definitely stood out, but not in a cool way.

A celebration of all things hot rod culture, The Hot Rod Hill Climb is now in its 7th year, but the entire effort started in Georgetown two years prior with a different festival honoring a 60th annual event of the same name. The Georgetown Hot Rod Hill Climb was a long-running local favorite, but at one point it was shut down, and the event organizers were determined to bring it back to life.

From several hillside vantage points, spectators park their lawn chairs and coolers, watching as a makeshift pit of 150 pre-qualified and registered participants line up to rumble their rusted rods up a 350-foot climb to the top of Virginia Canyon Road overlooking Central City.

For me, watching so many enthusiasts pack this usually quite casino district is the best part. This area has struggled with transforming its identity for decades. Visiting the ruins of nearby Nevadaville and Russel Gulch, or any other Colorado ghost town for that matter, is a clear reminder of not only how difficult it’s been for these places to thrive but even just survive at all. And Central City is one of those places that absolutely deserves its own revival.