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A solid stone staircase with rickety and bent handrails lead down to the second plateau and main processing
areas of the mine.
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Originally called Magpie Mine, the site was active in Victorian times, mining tin
and lead. Tapping into a
rich seam of metals and minerals, it was part of the Old Consuls, a collection
of mines which collectively probably gave Twelveheads its name.
"Magpie Mine was never part of Consolidated Mines (Cosols) I don't think. The Consols
sett only came as far down the valley as Wheal Fortune, (which is the mine with the old chimney
stacks you refer to in the background of one of your photos.)"
"Twelveheads is so named because in the early days of mining it was
where much of the ore was processed: they used machines called stamps to crush the ore, which are
basically heavy wooden or metal rods arranged vertically - a cam lifted them up and then they fell
onto the ore. The rods were called heads, and there were a total of twelve!" - Griffin
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It was formally abandoned in 1938 as the mines became economical. Limited underground exploration continued
up until 1941, but gradually the old workings fell into disuse.
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The ground was littered with twisted metal and rubbish. The main processing building was battered
and punctured. The owners had attemtped some barricades against the curious but it was ultimately
a futile gesture as the number of holes steadily grew.
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At this point, I'd walked around the entire site; it was barren, uncared for, stripped out and
very derelict. The cold winter wind whipped up the valley and rattled the loose corrugated
iron on the buildings. A storm was brewing.
A long steel cable snaked around the site, here making a handy tripwire. It wasn't until later
that I realised this was the original lift cable, used to haul the miners and their ore up the shaft
(you can see it snaking from left to right in the picture below).
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In the distance on the horizon, the towers of a much earlier derelict Victorian mine could be
seen. (Wheal Fortune). Most are now beautified ruins, looked after by The National Trust and other preservationist
bodies. Now that the headgear had been cruelly hacked from Mount Wellington, I
didn't think this mine had much of a chance of surviving much longer.
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