THERE WAS A PAUSE, JUST BEFORE THE CAGE DOORS CAME RATTLING CLOSED AND WE BEGAN OUR 15-MINUTE DESCENT 4,850 FEET INTO THE EARTH.
WE WERE PACKED IN TIGHT: a crew of some 30 physicists, engineers, biologists, and—mostly—miners. Ex-miners, actually. This hadn’t been an active mine for 18 years. The guy working the lift let the winch operator above us know that the cab was full, that we were a go. For a brief, delirious moment, suspended at the top of what was once the largest, deepest gold mine in North America, everything went quiet. Somewhere overhead, the frigid South Dakota winds whistled faintly, whipping through the Black Hills on this February day. A reminder of everything, the whole world we were leaving, as we began to drop.
And drop.
And…