From: ifversen@fnalo.fnal.gov (King Under the Mountain)
Subject: Spagthorpe Bloodhound (long)
Organization: Fermi National Accelerator Lab
Date: Wed, 2 Sep 1992 15:45:50 GMT
X-Posted-From: fnalo.fnal.gov
X-Posted-Through: sol.ctr.columbia.edu

In message <4677@prcrs.prc.com>, Terry Cunningham talks about the Spagthorpe
Bulldog that possibly ended up underground.  This reminds me of a similar
incident.  First, some background...

   I went to college at Michigan Tech University, in Houghton Michigan.
Houghton is located in the heart of the Keewenaw penninsula, that little
"nubbin" of land that sticks out into Lake Superior from Michigan's Upper
Penninsula.  Very beautiful and rugged country, sometimes called "The Last
Frontier" by the residents.  This area is also known as the Copper Country.
The copper mining industry was very big there before WW2 -- there are something
like 2500 known mine openings in the Keewenaw, and countless unknown or "lost"
mineshafts, ventshafts, and sinkholes.  (I have been told that a person could
walk from one end of the Keewenaw to the other underground).  Winters in the
Keewenaw have to be experienced to be believed.  Temperatures can get down to
-40 degrees F, and snow accumulations of 400+ inches a year are not unheard of.

   A friend (he's a mining engineer) has the keys to the Quincy Mine Shaft
House.  A bunch of us "borrowed" his keys one night, and went exploring in
the old mine.  We were crawling around in a stope on one of the upper levels
(the mine has over 90 levels, anything below level 21 is flooded), and we
came upon the remains of an old rockslide.  Rockslides are common in the
mines, and if the copper had already been taken out, nobody bothered to
clean them up unless a main shaft or tunnel was blocked.  While climbing
over part of the slide, my foot slipped, dislodging a rock.  Things got
*real* interesting for a while, as rocks slid and bounced off of the pileup.
When the dust settled, we noticed that an old "drift" tunnel had been
partially uncovered.  The tunnel roof didn't look too bad (it didn't look
too good, either :-) ), so we entered the drift to see what was back there.
Our dim lights reflected off of a badly tarnished piece of metal -- the
Spagthorpe crest, located on the fuel tank of one of the most unusual
motorcycles we had ever seen - the legendary Spagthorpe Bloodhound.

   Only 4 Bloodhounds were ever built, to the specifications of the Quincy
Mining Company All Volunteer Fire Department and Amateur Detective Agency.
The Bloodhound was designed to run through the worst that Mother Nature could
dish out, and come back for more.  The engine was of the experimental "bent
pitchfork" design; 3 cylinders, 180 cubic inches, one cylinder angled forward
30 degrees, one cylinder straight up, and one angled back 30 degrees.  The
engine was said to produce tons of low end torque, and could burn gasoline,
kerosene, alcohol, or even, (in a pinch), coal dust.  The engine did have a
tendency to backfire if substandard fuel was used.  There was no fuel pump
for the fuel injection system.  Instead, the fuel tank was pressurized by a
bellows-type pump arrangement, driven from the saddle suspension.  Every time
the motorcycle went over a bump, more air was pumped into the tank.  Since
Houghton roads and trails were famous for ruts and potholes, excess air
pressure in the tank could be used to power the steam locomotive whistle that
the Bloodhound had in place of a horn.  The engine was coupled to a 7 speed
transmission (featuring low, super-low, and ultra-granny-low gears), which
transmitted power to the rear wheel through a 6 inch wide *leather* belt.
The standard rear wheel was equipped with a cleated rubber tire, and the front
wheel could be replaced by a single ski.  The *dual* carbide headlamps had an
experimental reflector and lens assembly that could throw a beam of light
almost one mile.  Waste heat from the headlamps was vented up behind the
windscreen to help keep the operator warm, and to serve as a windscreen
defroster (an important consideration for the Houghton winters).  There was no
electric or kick starter.  The Bloodhound used an earlier version of the
Bulldog spring starter.  The operator used a handcrank to put tension on the
spring for starting.

   The Bloodhound quickly developed quite a reputation in the north country
for durability and endurance, and the operators (through dogged persistence)
gained a reputation as one of the finest detective forces around.  Other
police departments would call on the Bloodhounds for their most difficult
cases.  (In fact, in a rare show of international cooperation, the Bloodhounds
helped out the RCMP on some tracking cases.  They came through with flying
colors, helping the Mounties earn their reputation for "always getting their
man" :-) ).

   Unfortunately, 3 of the 4 Bloodhounds were on loan to the Ironwood Sheriff
when the Ironwood Mine Disaster occurred.  The top 5 levels of the mine
collapsed.  The town was built on top of the mine, so it ended up in the
sinkhole.  The Bloodhounds were never recovered.  The 4th Bloodhound
disappeared while chasing a bandit who robbed the Quincy Mine Payroll Office.
It was this motorcycle that we had discovered in the old Quincy Mine.  The
mummified remains of the operator were still seated in the saddle, and our
dim lights revealed the remains of the bandit, further along the dead-end
drift.  As near as we could figure, the engine backfired, bringing the
tunnel mouth down, trapping the two men.

   I quickly took a picture of the Spagthorpe Bloodhound, and we crawled
back out of the tunnel.  We lost no time in returning to town for ropes,
block and tackle, and other recovery gear, however, upon our return, we
discovered that a massive rockslide had altered the topography of the mine.
We had no clue as to where anything was anymore!  After several hours of
fruitless searching, we gave up and went home.  Unfortunately, when I
snapped the picture of the Bloodhound, my foot must have slipped.  When the
pictures returned from the photo lab, all that was visible was an old
narrow guage mine locomotive and some rusted ore cars.

   If you are ever in Houghton, visit the Quincy Shaft House and Steam Hoist
(it's a museum now), but remember that somewhere below your feet is one of
the most strange pieces of motorcycling history ever recorded.

-- 

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David J. (djinn) Ifversen              |
FermiLab RD/SOD?/Operations            |  My employer doesn't care about my
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'83 750 Maxim          DoD #0662       |
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