Mponeng Gold Mine

Today I had one of the most incredible experiences of my life. At around 9 o’clock in the morning, I was on my hands and knees, crawling 2 miles underground in a tunnel in South Africa’s deepest goldmine. Called Mponeng, which means “look at me,” in Zulu, the mine produces about a ton and a half of gold every month. If that sounds like a lot, consider that these miners have to haul out 3.5 tons of rock to generate just one ounce of that gold.

We arrived at 7:30 in the morning, got a short briefing from the director, suited up in overalls, hardhat, and boots, and then plunged downwards in an elevator they call “the cage.” As we traveled, the air got hotter and wetter, and condensation began to drip from the edges of the cage, collecting in little pools on the floor. When the door finally opened at the bottom, we walked out into the intense heat. The rocks down here are hot—more than 120 degrees. The mine itself is cooled by an enormous ice-making plant that pipes cool air down here to sustain life. Just when the heat would seem unbearable, we’d walk into a cool breeze and get some relief. At a certain point, we reached a tunnel that we literally had to crawl into. There was a rope along the wall face that allowed us to pull ourselves into this narrow, underground orifice, where the roof is held up by pilings and stacked pallets. The ground was wet, the air was thick, and I felt this incredible sense that I had to keep it together, that if I had gotten myself into this place then I had to also get out of it. The mine is pretty safe, even though it kills a few people every year; two last week, in fact. Mining accidents don’t kill neatly, either. People get crushed, or they explode when seismic blasts caused by mining-induced earthquakes hit them like bombs. You don’t take dead miners out whole, you scrape them off the walls and carry out the parts.

The mine director, an enormous guy with a booming South African accent stressed that “Mponeng is about people.” It was a typical corporate PR pitch, but you get the sense that the company does try to treat its people well. Most of the folks we saw down there were smiling and courteous. The people who work here come from all over the continent. They speak so many dialects that an actual mining language called Fanigalone (not sure about that spelling) was created out of necessity.

The mining technology is astounding. Down at the mine face, the tunnels seem fairly well organized, even though they’re hot, humid, and claustrophic. Up above, it’s all computers, geologic models, and scientists trying to figure out how they can follow the gold reef down towards the abysmal depths. How far can they go? That all depends on the global price for gold, which is now around 400 bucks an ounce. If the price doubled, then money to follow it even deeper, to three or four miles might be available. But going that far poses huge technical challenges, especially cooling.

As we pulled ourselves out of that narrow orifice back out into one of the main tunnels, I had this huge sense of relief. All I wanted was some water, I felt lighter than air as we walked the quarter mile or so back to our little gathering station, 2 miles underground. We were all red-faced and completely covered in sweat. We then headed back up the cage for a shower, some of that awful finger food that all the scientists give us for lunch, and a tour of the ice making plant.

After lunch, we went off to the Mintek laboratory to talk with scientists trying to expand markets for South African gold. Of the world’s total production, 83% is used for jewelry, 9% is used for electronics, and 8 percent is used for other stuff. The guys we talked to are into using gold for medical applications and catalysts in hydrogen fuel cells.

Back to the Michael Angelo for some more high class glory. We were supposed to go out for dinner and a jazz show, but everyone was totally wiped out. There was a bottle of champagne and a fruit bowl waiting for me in my room. A pair of slippers were placed next to my bed and there was a chocolate on my pillow.