Emerald dreams

by jacquie_dealmeida | February 1, 2016 9:00 am

Descending into Colombia’s famed emerald mines

By Cynthia Unninayar

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Early Indian legends offer one explanation for the creation of emeralds. It is embodied in the story of Fura and Tena, two humans created by the god, Ares, to populate the earth. As the story goes, Fura’s disobedience angered Ares and he turned them both into two steep cliffs, said today to stand as symbolic guardians of Colombia’s emerald region. Saddened by what she had done, Fura sobbed uncontrollably, her tears turning into emeralds in the depths of the mountain. Alas, starting with the arrival of the Conquistadores in the 16th century, Fura’s tears were not the only ones shed in Colombia’s turbulent emerald saga. It was a point made clear on a tour of Colombia’s main emerald-producing areas that coincided with last fall’s First International Emerald Symposium.

The Green Wars

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Along with gold, the Spanish coveted emeralds, which had been used for trade and adornment for hundreds of years. They enslaved the local peoples, forcing them to work the mines of Chivor and Muzo. After independence from Spain in 1810, the new government took over the mines in 1871, granting mineral rights to various companies. This ushered in an era of lawless disorder.

The violence plaguing the emerald sector for nearly 100 years caused the government to finally close the mines in 1973. Three years later, private consortia entered the scene, but did little to quell the free-for-all. In the mid-1980s, all-out war erupted between rival groups, provoked by Gonzalo Rodríguez Gacha, a leader of the Medellín drug cartel and partner of the notorious Colombian drug lord, Pablo Escobar. Called the ‘Green Wars’ or ‘Emerald Wars,’ they claimed thousands of lives. In 1991, the Catholic Church brokered a peace that was dominated by Victor Carranza, dubbed the ‘Emerald Czar.’ From an impoverished childhood, he became the most powerful figure on the emerald scene. His ascendancy was not, however, a romantic rags-to-riches tale, but a story of power, violence, and death. These days, Colombia’s turbulent past is in stark contrast with recent strides in its political climate. And as a producer of emeralds, the country is arguably one of the most important sources of the green gem in the world.

Geologically speaking

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Most of Colombia’s emerald deposits are on the eastern ridge of the Andes Mountains, which run northeast-southwest through the country. The three main mining areas are Chivor, in the eastern part of Boyacá Department, and Muzo and Cosquez in the western section. Colombian emeralds are unique, as they are associated with sedimentary rock rather than igneous rock. The tectonic movements that created the Andes forced the elements beryllium, chromium, and vanadium—which give the gem its green colour—into liquid and gaseous states that moved into cracks in the sedimentary material. They eventually cooled and crystallized in veins with hydrothermal brine that washed out the iron and other impurities. Often associated with quartz, pyrite, calcite, albite, and other minerals, the deposits of this vein-type ore are estimated to have been formed 40 million to 65 million years ago. The heavily faulted and folded sedimentary layers are mostly black shale and argillite.

Eastern Boyacá

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Our group of 38 intrepid adventurers left Bogotá at the crack of dawn for the six-hour journey to the small town of Chivor in the eastern part of Boyacá Department. The first Spanish mine in this area dates to 1537. The beautiful green stones were, however, stained with the red blood of the Indian slaves who died by the thousands. When word got back to Pope Clement X about these atrocities, he convinced King Charles II to close the mine. Around 1675, it was sealed and soon lost, with the only clue to its existence the Spanish inscription: “The mines of Chivor are situated on the point of a ridge from which the Llanos (vast grassy plains) of the Orinoco can be seen.” Guided by this description, Pacho Restrepo crisscrossed the steep mountain terrain in eastern Boyacá in 1896, until he finally found the mine. Alas, unable to make it profitable, he was forced to sell.

The mine we visited—Manantial—is about 45 minutes from Chivor at the end of a bumpy dirt road. After suiting up in rubber boots, hardhat, headlamp, and gloves, we followed our guide into the main tunnel. Water draining through the mountains covered the floor, and during the 1.7-km (1-mi.) walk, we sloshed through several centimetres. Ventilation tubes ran along the ceiling of the narrow tunnel, but there were no lights. We preceded single-file in total darkness, with only our headlamps leading the way.

The shale walls were wet and powdery; merely touching them left thick black powder on our gloves. The tunnel followed veins of calcite, some containing quartz and pyrite. Stalactite-like formations hung from the ceiling, made of calcium salts deposited by the dripping water.

Finally, the tunnels diverge and one leads to an active face containing emeralds. The miners use hand picks to carefully remove the calcite from the wall without damaging the gems. The Chivor area produces emeralds bluish-green in colour compared to the deep-green stones found in Muzo.

Western Boyacá

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The next morning, we departed early for an 11-hour ride to western Boyacá. Hours were spent on deeply rutted roads zigzagging along the spectacular steep mountains and deep valleys blanketed by lush rainforest.

Our destination was the high-producing Cunas Mine, near Muzo. During our walk through the 800-m (0.5-mile) main tunnel, we came to an area with no forced-air ventilation. “Hurry through this section,” we were told, to avoid breathing too much of the built-up carbon dioxide. It makes one wonder about the early miners who didn’t have the luxury of clean air pumped in.

Arriving at an impressively large circular shaft, a ‘lift’ took us down 100 m (328 ft). Torrents of water rushed at us in a secondary tunnel, giving pause as to what would happen if the pumps should fail. Despite the cool water at our feet and dripping on our heads, the mineshaft was like a sauna, with temperatures reaching 40 C (104 F). Finally, we reached the active face. Under the watchful eye of a closed-circuit monitor, a small crew carefully removed the gems from the calcite vein and placed them in a locked pouch. At the end of each shift, the supervisor takes it to the surface.

The Muzo Mine

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The next morning, we headed for the famed Muzo Mine. Much ink has flowed about the storied past of this mine and its former owner, Victor Carranza. At one point he controlled 40 per cent of the nation’s emerald production, including the 500-year-old Muzo Mine his company, Tecminas, obtained in 1977.

In a way, the story of Muzo is representative of the changes occurring in Colombia. Near the mine are the remnants of entire mountains that have been sliced away by bulldozers at the hands of miners seeking the elusive gems. To protect the environment, all mining today is underground.

In 2009, with production falling, Carranza realized he needed to modernize Muzo. He sold half to a U.S.-based investment company, which formed Minería Texas Colombia (MTC) to exploit the mine. As he neared death in 2013 from cancer, Carranza sold the remaining 50 per cent to MTC.

About this same time, Colombia’s government saw the need to transform its mining sector, which was largely run by non-regulated and non-taxpaying companies. It let it be known large foreign players were welcome, now and in the future. In addition to MTC, mining company Gemfields PLC entered Colombia with its purchase of 70 per cent of the Cosquez emerald mine and other mining rights in the area.

MTC’s injection of capital and technology modernized production at Muzo and helped establish a cutting and grading facility in Bogotá, thus ensuring transparency of its emeralds from mine to market. Workers are given fair wages, social benefits, and safer working conditions. MTC also has implemented various social initiatives to help the local community.

While violence in the mining area has diminished overall, Muzo has been attacked twice in the past two years, the latest incident in May 2015. From 1000 to 3000 people stormed the mine for two days until the police gained control. Industry watchers speculate losses ranged from $12 million U.S. to $42 million U.S.

We entered the Muzo mine area under the watchful eye of armed guards, with rows of barbed wire surrounding the various entrances. Inside the mine, we walked through a long ventilated tunnel to an impressive central shaft, Clavada, which descends 286 m (938 ft). The lift took us down 140 m (459 ft) to another tunnel and then to a 10-m (33-ft) descent down a steep rebar ladder that led to an area seemingly already mined out.

After lunch with the miners, we travelled five hours back to Bogotá, with most of the 100-km (62-mi.) trip spent slowly zigzagging among the steep cliffs on rough dirt roads. The tour was informative and a great way to learn about Colombia’s ‘Emerald Dreams.’

A 20-year veteran of the jewellery and watch industry, Cynthia Unninayar travels the world reporting on the latest trends, promising new designers, global brands, and market conditions. Her interviews with some of the industry’s top players offer insight into what’s new and what’s happening on the global jewellery stage.

Source URL: https://www.jewellerybusiness.com/features/emerald-dreams/

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