Amethyst Trip; A Mining Hat Lost

Sarra Hajjaj
Sep 12, 2019
3 min read

Updated: Jul 19, 2022

Crystals and gems have always fascinated me. Many believe they possess healing powers and can bring luck, love, and success. There’s something magical about these once liquid now sparkling colors of quartzite that’s enchanting to the human eye.

When a friend diviner recommended that I seek the rock to heal my past, I became obsessed with the idea of mining for Amethyst. I researched how, when, and where. I bought tools, a plane ticket, and an Airbnb for Thunder Bay, Ontario, where the largest mine of Amethyst resides. I was so excited about this part of my healing journey.

Canada’s welcome and generosity was evident at the airport. Delicious complimentary refreshments were served and staff were beamish. When I got to the Canadian Border however, I was surprised at how wary the attractive guard was of my stay. The unyielding bullet-proof-vest-wearing officer drilled me about my visit. By the end of the interrogation she knew more about me than my Facebook friends! She was also a shrewd researcher. As I explained to her the purpose of my visit she was typing away and looking at her computer screen. She quickly informed me that the expensive 12 lbs. Geo Paleo Pick I purchased won’t be needed. The Mine I planned to visit prohibits the use of hammers. I said, well where were you when I was planning this trip? Do you want to be my travel buddy? By the end of the questioning I felt like I made a friend and I wished to meet this clever officer again in the future.

The first night at Thunder Bay I slept like I had never before. Ontario’s atmosphere is most curative. The air is pure and the absence of sound is soothing. I longed for a vacation home by Lake Superior where I could retreat to quiet and heal my soul from everyday debris.

The drive to the mine was absolutely breathtaking. Highway 11, also known as King’s Highway, was vast and empty. The giant tamaracks, black spruce, and tulip trees filled the expansive scenery and washed my soul as I sped through the infinite roadway. It was quite grand to experience this highway alone. I felt like a free bird who owned the way. I was queen of Highway Eleven.

Off of the highway and into the land is a different story. It’s primitive and bumpy; a country road without pavement. It’s beautiful because it’s natural, the earthly colors of dirt surpass the dark grey asphalt we’ve chocked our earth with. I’d drive through clay and all its brownish hues any day. In fact, I’d get on a horse and gallop my way there. This was a glimpse at the country side living I’ve always dreamed of, and for a moment I was fulfilled.

The mine was managed by a kind and knowledgeable woman. She knew everything about Amethyst. She gave a tour and explained the history of the mine and gave us brief descriptions of the amethysts displayed. Here’s a recording of it, if you don’t mind the wind being part of the conversation.

Amethystos is Greek for “not drunk.” Ancient Greeks believed it prevented its wearer from getting intoxicated. Others thought it allowed for the ability to stay calm and collected during stressful situations. In the Old World, before discovering the Americas, Amethyst was considered a precious gem above all others, just as diamonds were, and still are. Now it is abundantly available in Brazil, as well as North America.

When I picked North America as my destination for this explorative journey, I envisioned the archeologist in me searching, digging, hammering, then elated by a surprising discovery. What actually took place was far from what I imagined. The fun part had been done by big machinery. Rubbles of rocks were thrown in a field for me to sift through like a beggar filtering through a super market dumpster. I didn’t want to accept this, so I took a walk far away in hopes of encountering something, anything. Nothing. Just the silence of the forest.

When I came in terms with reality, I went back to the piles, picked the darkest purples, washed them, then brought them to be weighed.