Urban Exploration - The burning slag heap

We received photos from a traveler and compiled them into a historical summary.

I have wanted to climb this for fifteen years. That is no exaggeration; the idea first took root when we visited the asphalt mine. At the time, it had just closed due to flooding—April 2008. This slag heap is burning, plain and simple. It was ignited by a forest fire, and the residual coal began to smolder from the inside out.

In 2004, a fire in the pine forests swept up the slopes of the spoil tip with incredible power. What is a slag heap exactly? It is a mass of waste rock discarded from a mine. In a coal mine, a considerable volume of shale is extracted for just a small amount of coal. The mixture goes through a sorting and washing plant; the good is kept, and the bad is hauled away. They turned it into a mountain—a testament to the workers' labor. You see, this immense mountain was extracted by hand by men working in low, narrow underground veins. Respect is owed.

The sorting process was far from perfect, and so a bit of coal remained within the waste rock. When the vegetation on the heap caught fire, that residual coal ignited. It was a windfall for disaster: everything was perfectly set for a giant, barely contained, and dangerous barbecue. The fire moved into the heart of the system. A nightmare. The machine became impossible to stop.

Climbing up there—was it a dream or a reckless risk? One must understand what happens in an event like this: the shale becomes scorching hot (I experienced this at Haillicourt in 1996); enormous crevices form; oil-like odors, fumaroles, and plumes of CO2 are released. There is even a risk of methane forming within the heap; with the fire, the risk is that the heap could quite literally explode. And the worst part: it burns from the inside, leaving behind very fine dust where the material has been consumed. Beneath your feet, wicked cracks can open up, and—poof—you are swallowed by the dust.

At the time, it was far from safe; or to be more precise, even the firefighters refused to climb it. The ground temperature was unbearable, and the risk of sinkholes was too great. As the material burns away, it leaves large voids filled with dust. The risk of being engulfed was very real. That is why I waited so long.

Today, the danger has shifted. Much time has passed—and I must admit, I thought about this mountain often. The vegetation has returned, and the heap steams less when it rains. It is almost extinguished. The firefighters had predicted it would last fifteen years; we are now at nearly twenty.

As a precaution, I kept my path within the water gullies whenever possible to ensure firmer footing, though I couldn't do so every step of the way. And so, I invite you to climb with me. You will see the quality of the video: it was not without its difficulties! But at least it is authentic.