× 1 of 7 Expand Bill Siler 241copperopen Bob Barron steadies the straps before the hauling begins. × 2 of 7 Expand Jim Jackman 241copperlift Bob Barron, discoverer of an enormous copper boulder under Lake Superior along Michigan’s Keweenaw Peninsula, gets a look at his 17-ton baby as it’s brought aboard a U.S. Army Corps of Engineers vessel. × 3 of 7 Expand Jim Jackman 241copperboat Once the copper boulder gets transferred to the dock at Portage Canal North Entry, it’s easy to see how huge the specimen is compared with those helping to move it. × 4 of 7 Expand George W. Robinson 2141coppertopper A variety of copper crystal forms can be found in abundance in the Upper Peninsula, like these twinned tetrahexahedral crystals in the A.E. Seaman Mineral Museum taken from the Central Mine, Keweenaw County. PHOTO BY GEORGE W. ROBINSON × 5 of 7 Expand 241coppermap During the latest heyday of regional copper mining in the Upper Peninsula from 1845 to 1968, more than 11 billion pounds of native copper were extracted, mainly in the Keweenaw and Ontonagon County to the southwest. But copper extraction came with prehistoric people more than 10,000 years ago, including on Isle Royale. The latest "big" find, a 17-ton copper boulder, was discovered under the water just northeast of Eagle River (1). It will be part of the A.E. Seaman Mineral Museum, currently located on the campus of Michigan Technological University in Houghton (2), but the boulder, too large for the current museum, will be displayed in Hancock (3) at the Quincy Mine site. × 6 of 7 Expand John Haro & Joseph Balachowski 241coppermuseum An architect's drawing envisions the new A.E. Seaman Mineral Museum of the future home of the boulder. JOHN HARO & JOSEPH BALACHOWSKI × 7 of 7 Expand John A. Jaszczak 241copperleaves Copper crystals sometimes form beautiful leafy patterns like this 8 centimeter-tall example at the A.E. Seaman museum taken from Phoenix Mine, Keweenaw County. PHOTO BY JOHN A. JASZCZAK Prev Next

By Robert J. Barron

A large group of spectators waited for the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers’ tug and barge at the Lilly Pond dock inside the breakwall of the Portage Canal North Entry in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula.

A flatbed semitrailer truck waited, too, to carry to its new home the spectacular curiosity that the crowd anxiously wanted to see.

No wonder the interest. How often is an almost 20-ton boulder of nearly pure natural copper pulled from the bottom of Lake Superior? Almost never, I can tell you from personal experience. I’m the one who found this copper chunk ... and it took 10 years, a mountain of forms, part of a federal grant and a U.S. Army Corps crew to raise it.

But first I had to find it....

For well over a century, the Keweenaw Peninsula served as home to a multi-billion dollar copper industry. The roots of mining here, though, go back even further, thousands of years. Native people first discovered the nearly pure copper and silver deposited in fissure veins within the local basalt matrix. The malleable copper was easily shaped into valued tools. Along the sparsely vegetated shores of Lake Superior and the inland lakes of the post-glacial period, the ancients mined the red metal - some believe for about 10,000 years - and it was traded in a huge area of North America and perhaps beyond.

As both a diver and an amateur geologist, I always knew I’d have an excellent chance of discovering copper, silver and associated minerals if I could just spend a summer diving on exposed basalt reefs in Lake Superior offshore along the Keweenaw Peninsula. In 1991, I got the chance to test my theory.

Usually, Lake Superior warms enough for wet-suit diving by mid-July, when I had time off. The area that I wanted to cover would be too large to simply swim through. What I needed was a reliable crew member to tow me around the Eagle River Shoals of Great Sand Bay on a 60-foot ski rope behind my little 14-foot open boat. Don Kauppi of Copper Harbor, always interested in trying something new, agreed to team up for the summer.

In theory, we should discover all decent-sized fissure veins of copper as long as we paralleled the shore and the basalt reef. The theory held and within a few hours of “trolling,” I had crossed several veins of copper littered with pieces of native metal. Here was a discovery for which those early native and European prospectors might search their entire lives. I was awed by the knowledge that human hands had never touched these copper specimens.

Each time we went out, we found new copper veins - some with minute attachments of silver. Then one day, Don towed me over a nicely sculpted piece of copper about 6 feet long and 3 feet high. What a beauty! As per my standard procedure, I let go of the tow line and trailed the vein. Loose copper ran richly along its length. As I followed the vein toward open water, I scanned for more metal. There remained only about 50 yards of exposed basalt before the vein would dip into the deeper sands and sediments of the lake bottom and disappear from sight.

Suddenly, I lost sight of the vein under some boulders. Well, that’s the end of that, I thought. Then I noticed the edge of something flat and large, not a normal boulder. It was copper! An enormous hunk of pure metal - well camouflaged by a layer of the brownish organic material covering the lake bottom.

As I hovered over it, I tried to estimate its length. Any diver will tell you that your mask magnifies underwater objects. So this must be smaller than I’d first thought. But a few minutes of examination had me shooting to the surface faster than normal (looking back, I’m glad I was in only 30 feet of water). I shouted excitedly to Don. When he came close enough to decipher my clamoring, Don knew it was something big. But as we headed home for the day, he doubted that my descriptions could be accurate.

The next day we went back, tape measure in hand, and I carefully measured the copper - 19 feet long, more than 8 feet wide and averaging 18 inches thick.

Wow! A copper “nugget” weighing about 20 tons and apparently detached from the vein. Now, could we get it out?

First we needed salvage permits from the Michigan Department of Natural Resources and the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers. Don and I set to work filling out forms. Several weeks and many phone calls later the disappointing decision came through: leave the copper on the bottom as part of a newly enacted underwater preserve meant to protect the few remaining shipwrecks that dot the Keweenaw Peninsula. This great blow killed my hopes to raise my copper treasure.

Five years later, in 1996, I started a new job designing exhibits for the A.E. Seaman Mineral Museum on the campus of Michigan Tech University (MTU) in Houghton. One day I mentioned our copper discovery to Stan Dyl, director of the museum. I asked if I could use the museum as leverage to re-apply for salvage permits.

Stan thought it was an excellent idea. The copper boulder could become part of the museum’s collection, where it would be properly curated and put on display.

Nearly five more years of persistence and processing secured the proper permits. The DNR - the owner of my discovery - agreed to lend the copper, more or less permanently, to the museum.

From the Corps of Engineers I needed more than a permit. The Corps’ barge, frequently at work in our area, could raise the copper’s tonnage.

Now came the fun part: organizing a recovery team and overcoming the hurdle of financing.

Fund raising was (and is) in full swing for the Seaman Museum’s move from the MTU campus to the Quincy Mining Complex on the hill overlooking Hancock. So no money was available to raise the copper boulder until spring 2001, when a $410,000 federal grant awarded for the Quincy project opened the door for us to bring the copper chunk to the museum.

Funding secured, other questions left challenges. Was the boulder attached to the vein or free-standing? Could we raise it in one piece and could we preserve the oxidative state of the surface to show how copper looks in its natural environment?

The Corps, whose help was crucial, agreed to send the barge on July 11, 2001. If the wind were calm, the recovery would take place the next day. Before the barge arrived, we’d have to prepare the boulder to be hoisted up. As we waited anxiously, good ol’ Lake Superior stayed extra cold and windy until four days before the barge’s arrival. That left only a long weekend to lift the boulder with a 20-ton hydraulic jack and to wrap it in two 50-ton nylon straps ... provided the jack worked and the copper wasn’t attached to the bottom.

With perfect weather predicted for July 7 and 8, we tried our luck. We secured the jack under one end of the boulder and began pumping. I felt elated when that baby popped loose. Supporting that end on hardwood blocks, we slipped one strap under it. The next day we slung the other end. Ready to go!

One concern remained. A deep groove crossing the surface of the copper near the heavier end might mean this wonder of Lake Superior would break in two when lifted. Perhaps we should strap it near its center of gravity. Only the lifting would bring the answer.

On Thursday, July 12 at 7 a.m. we gathered at the Corps’ barge with the tug crew. The lake cooperated with perfect calm for the three-hour trip to Great Sand Bay and a welcome chance to relax after a hectic week of preparation. At the site, though, the adrenaline flowed. After 10 years, this was it.

Experienced local wreck divers and photographers Bill Siler and Mark Rowe suited up with me and we plunged into the water. Local dive shop owner Jim Jackman supported with air and equipment. I wore a communication mask to direct the crane operator. Bill and Mark were filming. The crane lowered the hook into position, and I lifted the two straps onto the hook. We swam to the boat. The crane lifted the boulder about three feet before we went back to check it.

Did we strap it well enough and in the right places? Would the copper bend or break? To our delight the copper hung perfectly level, not twisted, bent or scratched. This “hunk of the Keweenaw” was comin’ out!

We raced back to the tug and shrugged out of our dive gear. I jumped over to the barge. By the time I reached the side, the copper had surfaced. My wife, Joanie, greeted me with open arms and a huge kiss. Supportive through everything, she hadn’t seen the copper and was more excited than I was (almost).

The crane lowered the copper carefully onto wooden blocks for the return trip. We tried to guess-timate the copper boulder’s weight until the crane operator came over to inform us that it weighed about 17 tons - close to our calculations. On the way back, a crew member hosed the scum off to reveal the copper’s natural colors. Greens, browns, reds and purples - a piece of natural artwork.

As we headed toward Lilly Pond and the awaiting crowd, I thought about this boulder’s impressive size and colors. It would make a fine - and appropriate - display for the A.E. Seaman Museum. Here indeed was a worthy, graphic reminder of the impressive role that copper played in the Keweenaw’s human history.