Keystone Tour

Pittsburgh is the Steel City because it's where the coal is. Not just any kind of coal, but the highest quality metallurgical (met) coal in the world. Sarah grew up in the Mount Washington neighborhood of Pittsburgh, which before it rebranded, was known as "Coal Hill".

But the heart of Pennsylvania's coal country is Somerset County, roughly 60 miles southeast of Pittsburgh. I couldn't visit a real working coal mine (most of those are underground in Somerset - and given that the average coal shaft is only 40 inches high, I took a pass). Instead I took advantage of the next best thing - the Quecreek (Q-Creek) Mine Rescue Museum, a few miles north of the county seat of Somerset.

My road to Somerset took me by Frank Lloyd Wright's masterpiece at Fallingwater (definitely worth a visit, I've enjoyed it previously), and then up Indian Creek, using an abandoned rail line converted to bike trail. I was enjoying the quiet beauty and then - the stream was bright orange?! A nearby sign informed me of the damage abandoned coal mines in the area had had on the water system - the mining of the coal leached iron, manganese, and other metals into the water supply. Voila, orange.

I pushed on deeper into the Laurel Highlands region - truly beautiful countryside, filled with streams, creeks, and waterfalls. Working my way up and over the 2700' crest I rolled down into Somerset County. I expected "mines", carved up countryside, nastiness. I found pastureland, cows, streams. I arrived at the museum and learned the Quecreek story:

Disaster hit the Quecreek Mine in 2002 - a faulty survey map led a mining crew to breach into a neighboring abandoned mine that had completely flooded. The water from the flooded mine surged into Quecreek Mine, which had eighteen men underground. The crew of nine that caused the breach were closer to the surface and used the mine phone to warn their friends at a lower level to evacuate - those nine made it out just in time. But the water rushing down to the deeper portions of the mine trapped the original crew of nine, with miles of water between them and the exit. Over the next 3+ days, rescuers first drilled an air shaft and then a 24" wide tube to deploy the 22" diameter rescue cage - through 240 feet of solid rock. The men were hauled up one at a time, all were saved. The story got national coverage as a classic human-interest drama.

The operator of the museum was a local farmer whose farm sat above the mine shaft. Many of the trapped workers were his close friends, so he played an active role in the rescue. I learned so much about life in Somerset - while the traditional small dairy farms are slowly disappearing, taken over by larger corporate operators, the mining industry is going strong. Teenagers with and without high school diplomas can work in the mine, make $70,000 a year, and are driving big pickup trucks pulling bass boats. I commented, "sounds like really good union wages" - no, the mines are all non-union and the workers like it that way. If the operator gets a big, rush order, he will ask the crew if they would like to work twelve-hour shifts for a week at triple pay - they of course say yes, everyone is a winner.

I asked about the miners who had been trapped - several decided never to go back into the mines, but many did. And while his best friend opted out of the mine, his son is a miner - because in Somerset County, that's the obvious path to making a good living. Demand for met coal is strong, and while "it's a shame that it all goes to China these days" - Somerset is a healthy, vibrant community, filled with families of miners. The typical operation is like Quecreek - a couple dozen guys who work together for years, become a "band of brothers" underground, trusting each other to keep everyone safe. "Nothing means more than for a miner to say of another 'He's a good miner'. That means everything in this world."

Quecreek Mine went back into operation after the rescue but closed in 2018. He showed me a map of the area - the mine had extracted coal for roughly 2 miles in every direction - series of parallel trenches, leaving structural support between them. 250 feet beneath us was a honeycomb of mine tunnels - now all flooded with water. He shared, "Our wells all went dry after the mine closed, because the ground water all just ran into the mine shaft. The company had us drill into the mine directly and installed a filtration system - but the water was so brown from iron that my cows wouldn't drink it. So, they paid to tie us into the city water system." Somewhat to my surprise, the fact that his cows couldn't drink the farm water anymore didn't seem to be of any concern.

Sarah and I discussed this over a Pittsburgh Salad lunch (the default in Western PA - salad is served with fries). There is something cultural about living around extractive industry that seems to make most people comfortable with the tradeoffs between prosperity and damaging side effects. And there is a strong sense of community in the Laurel Highlands towns.

Pennsylvania has been the set for many invasions of America. The most famous is Gettysburg, not part of this trip. But I visited the scenes of the first and the most recent invasions. The earliest: Fort Necessity - George Washington's first command. Washington traveled to Pennsylvania as a colonel leading a regiment of Virginia volunteers to repel the French who had built Fort Duquesne on the site of modern Pittsburgh in 1754. The overall mission was a disaster, after the British general was killed Washington took command of the remaining forces, threw up a makeshift fort, and then ultimately surrendered his force to the French, who let him give his parole and withdraw. The French and Indian War began the following year, with Fort Duquesne surrendering three years later, to be replaced by Fort Pitt (making the surrounding town Pittsburgh).

But my primary objective was in Somerset County - in the small town of Shanksville, to the Flight 93 National Memorial. Most of you, like me, vividly remember 9-11. How the crew and passengers of the fourth jet, United 93, fought back against the terrorists and caused them to crash the plane. They were heroes, giving their lives to prevent countless additional fatalities in Washington, DC, where its likely target was the US Capitol where a joint session of Congress was occurring.

The crash site is truly in the middle of nowhere, in a random field several miles from town. I was extremely moved by the Memorial Garden, the Wall of Names (40 columns with the names of the 40 passengers and crew) and the Visitor Center, filled with artifacts from the crash. It was amazing to see the things that survived: the badge of a law officer, some flight cards from the plane, and crucially, a credit card used by a terrorist, which let the FBI "follow the money" to the other terrorists.

It is really hard to capture spirit of the memorial in pictures or even words - it covers a lot of space, I will have to ask you to trust me - it felt very appropriate. I came away with a sense of pride to be an American knowing that forty random people were unexpectedly given a very tough choice chose to sacrifice themselves to save other strangers. They weren't soldiers, they were Americans who fought for all of us. I learned through my announcement note that Mark Bingham, one of the "fighting back" leaders, was a friend of Ivan, one of my sponsors. Mark's Wall of Names column is below. Thank you Ivan for sharing about Mark!

From the first invasion of America to the most recent invasion, and coal country in between - a full day on the road!