Being a mining engineer isn't as glamorous as it sounds. Sure, there are the shiny, pretty rocks and easy access to serious explosives, but beneath the veneer of your typical mining engineering student lies an ugly truth: Mines are dirty. Really, really dirty.
The San Xavier Mines just south of Tucson, for example, are typical of your average mines, at least at first glance. They are fairly chilly, made of rocks, contain things like tracks (for mine carts), shovels (for digging), pneumatic drills (for embarrassing tiny Wildcat columnists) and dirt. That's where the "dirty" part comes in.
During my outing to San Xavier, the mines had a group of mining enthusiasts gearing up for the mining engineering department's annual drilling contest on Feb. 27. Basically, a bunch of students (anyone who wants to participate) get together and drill holes in the giant rock in front of Old Main.
"It's a way to get attention and to let people know there's a department," said mining engineering senior David Vatterrodt, who is also the operations foreman at San Xavier. "You have two minutes to set up your drill and go as deep (into the rock) as you can. Winner gets thrown in the fountain."
Hot damn. Sign me up.
Apparently the idea has mass appeal. Patrick Leonatti, a history senior, read about the competition and "immediately ran" to the Mines and Metallurgy building to sign up.
"Who is not going to want to go down in a mine and drill a hole for no reason?" said Leonatti.
I was there to learn how to harness the fury of the pneumatic drill.
Vatterrodt and John Featherston, a civil engineering junior bearing a conspicuous resemblance to a pre-arachnid Tobey Maguire, led the way down. By the end of the descent, we were about 150 feet below the surface. As alien as the place seemed, Vatterrodt and Featherston seemed to think of it as a second home.
"Sometimes Dave and I will stay down here all day," said Featherstone. "We'll bring our lunch and just drill and work."
Some would say that people who spend this much time in a dark, subterranean labyrinth must have issues. I would say these guys just like drills. A lot. I mean really, really like them. Especially Vatterrodt.
Initially, Vatterrodt seemed like sort of a straight-laced guy with the air of a specialist talking to a bunch of novices. Not condescending per se, but his words carried an authority that, at least while in the presence of dynamite, had some weight. Suffice it to say he takes his job seriously.
But put a pneumatic drill in this guy's hands and his eyes light up like Woody Harrelson in Amsterdam.
The drill seemed pretty simple. I mean, sure, it weighs only 4 pounds less than I do, but it had a big, metal support attached to it. So I figured I was fine. It also seemed pretty easy to manipulate. One knob controls the height of the drill, another the speed of the bit. And the thing is pneumatic, for God's sake.
"The drill does all the work for you," Vatterrodt assured me. Great.
Of course not just anyone can pick up one of these drills. In fact, I literally could not lift the thing without help. But with help, I placed the end of bit against the wall of the mine and cranked the thing up to full speed.
I felt like a puppy holding a fire hose as I wrestled with the thing. One of the novel features of the pneumatic drill is the stream of water it employs to clean out the hole as it is being drilled. The upshot of this is a blast of mud that drenches clumsy miners. I was consequently coated with a thin layer of what was formerly part of a wall.
Vatterrodt eventually took pity on me and helped me pull the stuck bit out of the crude nook I had fashioned. He gave me the obligatory "nice try" look and handed the drill to Featherston, who, despite his bookish looks and mannerisms, is way stronger than I am.
Coated in mud, cold and still shaken by the drill, I returned to the surface. Up top, there were other mining engineering students smoking cigars, grilling up brats and drilling into the side of a hill like it was made of marshmallow.
I suppose I'm not cut out to be a mining engineer, but at least I found out before I got too attached to the idea. And while I may have come off looking "incompetent" or "girlishly frail," I feel I'm a changed man. New pants, new shoes, new jacket.
Thanks, San Xavier Mines.