Searching for the Paddock Mineshaft - Part 1

Had video of it not existed online I would have considered it the stuff of legends. A tunnel leading hundreds of feet into the mountain, another inaccessible one dropping 50 feet into the earth before disappearing sideways into the darkness. These were mineshafts I'd expect to find in the hills of Arizona, not in our little corner of the country, and I was determined to find them. But other than the video - which smartly kept their location secret - I'd only been able to muster up a single lead, directions to an old mining road in northern New Hampshire where we were to park at a red/white trim cabin, find a trail alongside it, and locate the mineshaft a quarter of the ways up the mountain.

Let's start with the basics - mountains are big, and even finding a giant hole in the earth is daunting when you don't have any idea where you should be looking on one. But deciding that the bigger the reward the bigger the challenge we were willing to undertake, a handful of us made the 2-1/2 hour drive north early one Sunday morning. We found the cabin and trail next to it, but within minutes were hit with our first pickle. The trail branched off, and not just once but several times. Figuring our best odds would be sticking to the main trail, we followed it up as we scoured the mountainside for the opening. Even after well past the quarter-way mark we stuck with it, and the longer we searched the more convinced we became that it was probably back down off one of the side trails. Partly out of frustration and partly to show off that look, I'm not tired, I ran the final portion to the summit. There was nothing even resembling a mineshaft.

With four of us in the group our next idea was to police-sweep the face of the mountain as we worked our way back down. Spreading out to where we could just see one another we bushwhacked through thorns and muck, occasionally calling out in the hopes that something looked promising. Nothing did, and we eventually found ourselves right back on the bottom trail, sweaty and dejected. We'd been at this a couple hours now and decided to start heading home and try our luck another day. My friend Dave had a little more ambition than the rest of us, though, and as we trudged back to the car he made several quick off-trail searches, never giving up. It was on one of these dart-offs that we heard him call out how beautiful it was, and that's how minutes later we found ourselves standing at the entrance to the Paddock mineshaft.

Although we went on to explore the entire tunnel that day, what happened next put an end to my picture taking and turned my beautiful iPhone into a $600 paperweight. As you watch this video listen for my buddy's eerie premonition, as well as my daughter Madison's true priorities at the end when all hell broke loose.

This cesspool sits stagnant for months on end and is home to the digestive tracks of countless frogs and other small animals, and I'd just spent a ten count marinating in it. The gang helped me out and I was able to bypass it and continue into the mine, and although later they wouldn't let me into the truck until I'd taken a water bottle shower, the day was still a great success. So much so that we revisited the site just a few weeks later when I was able to properly document the visit, starting with our extremely careful crossing of the mouth.

For all you arachnophobes out there, the waterhole wasn't the only deathtrap waiting for us at the entrance. We counted probably two-dozen of these spiders along the opening, and each one guarded a white nest that I don't ever want to know what contained. If one of those things had popped open I was ready to jump back into the sinkhole for safety.

Once you're about 50 feet deep the tunnel is mostly dry, and unless your name is Barry you can safely walk along without having to worry about cracking your head.

It doesn't take long before the fading entrance has you feeling completely cut off from the outside world. In addition to arachnophobes and cesspoolophobes, claustrophobes are another group that would do better to stay home the days we go on these expeditions.

Abruptly we reached the end of the tunnel, and it almost hit me as a letdown. There were no ancient treasures, no lost city of gold, just a rock wall where a hundred years ago men had stopped digging and packed up their tools forever.

The Paddock mineshaft was a fascinating discovery, and one that only get's better. After reviewing our pictures that night, Barry noticed differences between the opening of our mineshaft and the opening of the mineshaft on YouTube. We contacted the group who posted that video, and after comparing notes pieced together the fact that these are two completely different shafts about a mile apart. We had found a tunnel they didn't know about, and their tunnel was still waiting in the woods to be explored.

And you know what that meant ... another trip to the Paddock Mines would soon be in the works.