Two of our state's largest caverns, the Yuhas Feldspar Mines, sit alone and forgotten on a New Hampshire mountainside.
One of these days I'm going to get the hang of seasons. In my last post I told you about an adventure that we first attempted during the winter and failed, then went back to during the summer and succeeded. Now I will tell you about an adventure that I first attempted during the summer and failed, then went back to during the winter and succeeded. This is the story of our hike to the Yuhas Feldspar Mines in western New Hampshire.
First things first though - what in the world is feldspar? Don't worry if you don't know, it wasn't until just last year, my 47th year of age, that I first ever heard of the stuff myself. Feldspar is a mineral found in granite that is used in ceramics and sometimes as a filler for plastics and rubber, providing hardness and durability. And the other word in the title your tongue might have stubbed its toe on, Yuhas, is the name of the mine's founder. Mining at these sites began in 1927 after Hungarian immigrants Joseph and Elizabeth Yuhas purchased 170 acres of property in Sullivan County, then leased the mining rights to the American Mineral Products Company of CT. These mining rights were sold several times over as different companies tried their luck with them, and at some point the sites were abandoned and left as they remain today.
My first expedition to find them was in the summer of 2017, and although locating the first of the two sites was straightforward enough, it quickly turned into a tease when I realized that I could see where I wanted to go, but could not get there. These caverns were made inaccessible by the murky water that has long since flooded the quarry, and I say long since flooded because it was the kind of water where you smelled it before you saw it.
My boss will be the first person to tell you I have a tendency to get excited about something, and when I do - to use one of his favorite phrases - I go off "half-cocked". In other words, I'm not always the best at rationally thinking a situation through. Just keep that in mind as you listen to me speculate about whether I could walk through this cesspool armed with nothing but a pair of waders from Walmart.
Of course, the simpler solution would be to wait six months for the water to freeze over, then waltz right into the cavern. I realized this later that night, and that's just how long I waited before returning to waltz right in there a few weeks ago.
Inside was even more amazing than I'd dared hope. After entering you'll find yourself wandering through this massive chamber, and when you finish admiring all the ice pillars, turn to your left and you'll find a smaller chamber, one which was just big enough for me to crouch inside and leave an offering wedged into the wall.
Now go back to the main chamber and follow to the right for a bit, you'll enter an offshoot that eventually dead ends at a separate section of the mine. The ceiling is full of leaks, so provided you're there in the winter months (and not floating through on a raft in August), you'll pass the largest pillar of the mine, one which stands nearly twice my height.
With Yuhas #1 thoroughly explored, it was now on to the unknown; Yuhas #2. Its location had eluded me during my last search - resulting in two hours spent wandering aimlessly up and down the wrong face of the mountain - but after a recent Friday night party consisting of me, Google Earth, and several IPAs, I thought I might finally have zeroed in on its location.
We backtracked from #1 to climb a more direct route up the mountain, and after a surprisingly quick hike found ourselves stopping to enjoy this wonderful view.
And in the opposite direction was an equally wonderful view, this large cut through the rock that all but promised we had found our spot.
I've learned throughout my adventures that the greater a place is, the harder it is to find words to describe it. In fact, there are times when something is so remarkable I'd do best to just shut my mouth and show you the picture. Our approach to the entrance of Yuhas #2 is one of those times.
If you started tunneling a highway through a mountain but after a hundred yards called it quits, what you'd be left with is something resembling Yuhas #2. This mine starts off with an entrance you could drive an 18-wheeler through, narrows a bit at the halfway point, then after another stretch it abruptly ends, leaving you facing a massive wall of rock. A ledge along the top feels like it might have a little more exploration to offer, but the same ice that makes this place so beautiful also prevented me from climbing up to find out.
From here, a look back toward the entrance shows both my fellow adventurer John and the magnificence of Yuhas #2.
Every adventure we go on is special, but between the size of these mines, the beauty of the ice, and the mystique of them not being well-known of by the general public, this is a trip I'll always look back on with an extra bit of fondness. Which puts me in a dilemma. Shouldn't everyone know a place like this exists and have their own opportunity to stand here and marvel at it? The quick answer is yes, but then I think about all the places that were once special but are now overrun with graffiti and broken bottles (the Odiorne Point bunkers are a great example of this), and it makes me think that maybe some thing are better kept secret. But then I'm reminded of all the places I never would have known about, if not for the generosity of others sharing their own knowledge.
So I feel everyone should at least know of the existence of these places. It may take some work to go out and find them for yourself, but as with any adventure, that really is half the fun.
