It's a hard day's night at Greens Creek

No one shows up late to work at Greens Creek mine. That's because all the employees are in the same boat, from underground miners to top managers - literally. The ferry leaves Juneau's Auke Bay at 5 a.m. and 5 p.m. every day for the 35-minute trip to Admiralty Island, taking the day and night crews back and forth. That doesn't leave a lot of time between shifts before you're back on the boat again, no matter what the weather.

"We don't consider the ride rough until the seats begin folding up underneath you," Ron Plantz, Greens Creek's affable human resources and community relations manager told me. He recalls the boat being cancelled just once in the past 12 years. The mine's contract with Juneau tour operator Four Seasons Marine has helped that company to build up its business.

Although in winter the underground miners are unlikely to see sunlight at all during their working periods - about four days and then a break - they feel more than adequately compensated. On the bus journey from the dock to the mine, a miner called Tony told me that he earns $25.50 an hour. Tony comes from Juneau and has a degree in political science from the University of Idaho. He used to work on the boat, but eight years ago he switched to being a janitor at the mine and later became trained as a miner. He doesn't mind being underground: "It's like a Disney ride." Physically it isn't too demanding, except when he has to move huge electric cables, Tony said.

"At Greens Creek we hire a lot of people who don't necessarily have mining experience, but they have translatable skills, like operating heavy machinery," Plantz said. "Mining offers a professionally rewarding career, and an opportunity to generate true wealth for Alaska - usable, tangible products that enrich people's lives. The salaries are a strong incentive, too," he added.

Loader belt completely enclosed

The first, dramatic sign of the polymetallic mine that employees and visitors see on arrival at the island is also the last piece of the mining process at this Southeast Alaska operation. The concentrate ship-loader is a completely enclosed conveyor belt, a long arm rising majestically over the bay, with a snorkel at the end for ships to move under, so that no fugitive dust can escape. The ships come about 18 times a year to take the concentrate to smelters in Japan, Korea, Canada, Mexico and Italy.

Greens Creek's biggest trucks can carry up to 50 tons of concentrate from the mine down the 13-mile winding road to the dock. There it is stored inside a huge building in grey piles that are virtually indistinguishable to the eye, but are in fact three different types of concentrate: zinc, lead and bulk. Bulk concentrate is a mix of zinc and lead, and also contains most of the mine's gold and silver. As a polymetallic mine, Greens Creek is better equipped than most to weather economic storms, although it did have to close between 1993 and 1996 because of low metal prices.

The mine's tailings are stored in a dry-stack facility, part-way up the road. In the midst of the spectacular Tongass National Forest, with tall spruce and hemlock trees on one side and snow-covered mountains looming up on the other, the road was built with the help of heavy-lift helicopters, dropping equipment at various points along the way.

The ore body here was discovered in 1975 and exploration drilling began in 1978. In the same year, President Jimmy Carter declared Admiralty Island a national monument, but he allowed the mine to be developed because the mining claims predated his decision.

Mine has small footprint

On this 1,500-square mile island, the mine takes up less than half a square mile.

There is one village on Admiralty Island, Angoon, about 35 miles to the south, which is not connected to the mine by road.

"We provide some employment for Angoon and we talk to the city council, the Native elders and the tribal corporation, we give them updates," Plantz said.

In addition to subsistence activities, the island is a popular destination for ecotourism, hiking, sport fishing and viewing some of the 1,700 brown bears that live here. However, the mine is not allowed to stage hunting or fishing on its property.

Miners go directly to work, carrying their food for the day with them, but visitors can stop at the camp for a cooked breakfast, or fruit and cereal.

The camp, where some of the mine's employees live, consists of a neat row of wooden buildings that used to belong to a cannery. All the trash from the camp is either incinerated or eaten by the camp dog, Elsie, a German shepherd, so that it won't attract bears.

"We see bears about two or three times a week," Plantz said, "but we last shot one 10 years ago."

Bears and deer are also drawn to the road in the spring, when mine employees do hydroseeding, spraying a native flora and seed combination - mostly grass - to prevent sediment from running off the soil. So there is an opportunity for good wildlife viewing on the bus rides. Another aspect of the mine's wide-ranging environmental work is the use of divers to examine clams for contamination by heavy metals. Clams give a better indication of pollution levels than fish because fish could have come from a long way away.

When environmental groups expressed concern about Kennecott's Eagle nickel and copper project in Michigan, the company flew some of their representatives to Greens Creek to show them how a mine can operate safely in a sensitive ecosystem, Plantz said. "They were impressed by our water treatment, our ISO certificate and the mine's small footprint," he told me.

A trip underground

"Miners have no originality about naming things," Plantz said on the drive from the camp to the mine, pointing to the "860" safety building, which is 860 feet above sea level.

The entrance to the mine itself is at 920 feet above, and the tunnels descend to 200 feet below sea level. To take a tour underground, visitors must wear the same gear as the miners, including boots, gloves, a hard hat with a lamp and a belt with a compact "self-rescuer" device attached, which can be clipped onto the nose and inserted in the mouth during an emergency, to convert carbon monoxide into carbon dioxide.

I went underground on the back of a tractor driven by miner Alan Shumway.

It was one of the smaller vehicles in the tunnels, and we had to do some deft maneuvering into dark alcoves to avoid the heavy equipment we encountered from time to time.

Miners quickly learn their way around, Shumway said, but it's possible to get lost for hours when you're new.

The way to navigate is by the depth signs.

In places where there is drilling going on, miners need to wear ear plugs, but there are also parts of the tunnels that are dead silent.

Then it can feel like a prehistoric cave, particularly when you come across a yawning hole, apparently bottomless, separated from the road by a rope with a warning sign hanging on it.

If anything does go wrong, miners can go into a refuge station that looks like a giant crate, and is outfitted with survival gear for them to use while they wait for help to arrive. Accidents happen when people go places where they shouldn't be, the miners said. Interfere with someone else's work and you could cause serious trouble.

Miners have to enjoy their own company. Higher up, some of them work alone all day with a machine, drilling bolts into the sides and roof of the tunnels to prevent a collapse. Water sometimes gushes out, but this mine is comparatively dry, Shumway said. When he worked in Nevada he often found himself sloshing around in several feet of water. What is the appeal of this kind of work, apart from the money? Miners told me they like being in a temperature-controlled environment - it is comfortably warm in the tunnels, except near the mine entrance - without having to deal with extremes of weather.

Back on the surface, it is important to wash in the correct bathroom. Plantz once hosted an old couple, George and Marcia Juneau, on a visit to commemorate the achievements of their relative, Joe Juneau. Marcia asked to see as much equipment as possible, expressing an interest because she had spent much of her life on a farm. Plantz gave her directions to the women's bathroom, but she was a little hard of hearing and walked into the men's instead, where she was treated to a view of several miners taking a shower. George followed, put his arm round her, and announced, "Now you've seen all the equipment the miners use, Marcia!"

Mill an automated system

The next stop is the mill, where an automated system separates the metals from the tailings. Everything that is happening can be seen on a computer console, metallurgist Shawn Chen explained. Unfortunately nothing was happening on the day of my visit, as the mill had been shut down for 35 hours because of a broken part on the tailings thickener. This was a very unusual occurrence at the mill, which is supposed to have one scheduled 16-hour shutdown every 30 days, but on the positive side, it meant I could hear everything Chen was saying without him having to shout.

Chen is from China and he worked at two mines there before taking a metallurgy degree at the University of Alaska Fairbanks and then moving to Greens Creek. "The difference is the technology, and the safety here is much, much better," Chen said. He showed me around the labyrinth of metal stairways, pointing out the SAG grinding mill, which resembles an Apollo space capsule, past a maze of pipes to the rows of flotation devices, like yellow saucepan lids.

"Not many people like to buy bulk concentrate, so we have to play the balance, because if we make lead concentrate we don't get paid for any zinc that's in it, and if we make zinc concentrate we don't get paid for any lead that's in it," Chen said. There has been a decline in the bulk market recently, so the mine has scaled down its production of bulk concentrate. The mill also produces silver and gold doré which is marketed to a precious metal refiner. Greens Creek has its own souvenir silver coins with a bear, fish mountains and mining symbols on one side and an outline of Alaska on the other.

Focus on safety

After giving me the tour, Chen joined the other mill workers for an hour-long safety meeting. The mill manager is Geraldine Lyons, 29, from England, who with her slim build and correct manner of speaking looks a little incongruous among the burly group she manages, but she is in no way intimidated. "You're not listening!" she admonished more than one man when they had difficulty answering questions about emergency procedures. Greens Creek received the ISO 14001 certificate for its environmental management practices last December, and now employees are required to familiarize themselves with the new regulations, for example on cleaning up spills.

Lyons did a degree in mineral engineering at Leeds University and then joined Rio Tinto's graduate scheme. She was based in Bristol, England, for a year, then went to work at a uranium mine in Namibia. There Lyons was a metallurgist, an operator and a shift boss. After returning to Bristol for another year, she came to Alaska three years ago and has been mill manager since last October. "People are real self-thinkers here, they're bright and pro-active and they can identify the hazards," she said of her Alaskan colleagues.

"Safety comes ahead of production, nobody should be rushing around," Lyons told the mill employees.

Greens Creek has been hammering home the safety message for a long time.

On arrival at Admiralty Island the miners are greeted by a billboard advising them to "Think Safety!" In 2003 the mine won the U.S. Department of Labor's Sentinels of Safety award.

Lyons handed out several pages of instructions with diagrams on how to avoid everyday accidents.

A woman who works at the mill had tripped over a hose that day and hurt her hand.

Plantz sent her back to Juneau on a Ward Air floatplane in the afternoon so that she could go to the hospital.

I went with her.

Half of a miner's shift is a long day for the rest of us.