The Town That Moved (and Mountains Moved) - June 2026

When our friends Ted and Nell suggested a short camping trip to northern Minnesota, we jumped at the chance. For several reasons, we have not been on the road for some months, and a long-term trip is not on the near horizon. But we miss being on the road, and the trip sounded interesting.

Ted has a membership in a local organization which runs a combination campground, retreat and event center, the Mesaba Co-op. Founded in 1928 by Finnish immigrants, the co-op still adheres to the principles of its progressive founders. There were times when local residents were afraid to come to the grounds for fear of being labeled traitors, due to their active participation in the labor movement and the Communist party membership of some. In its heyday, the park provided venue space for many organizations of Finnish and other working-class sympathizers. There were parties, plays, sports events and dances, and also a summer camp program for children. The park still hosts a summer kids’ arts camp.  The colorful sign in the photo above was made during that program.  

The park comprises 160 acres, which are kept in a natural state. There are really no amenities now for campers except electrical hookups. This would not have been an issue, except that our freshwater tank apparently has a leak and was completely empty. We found a water faucet and filled our trusty 3-gallon spigot container, which sits neatly over the sink in the Bigfoot. It’s passable but still not ideal, especially for a longer trip.

The Co-op has a small lake and an old house that sits on the shore. It has a large second floor and is still used for an event space. In fact, we only had two nights reserved, because there was a wedding scheduled for the following day. We met a man driving around the property, whose daughter was the bride about to be married. He told us he was a folk musician, writing protest songs in the style of Bob Dylan. (Dylan is a favorite son of Hibbing – it is his home town. His boyhood home is preserved there, but is not open to the public.)

In the evening after we arrived, we were treated to dinner by Ted and Nell – veggie burgers and roasted corn on the cob. We were the only people on the place at that time, which gave a feeling of peace and privacy. Ted’s Tab trailer is about the same size as our Bigfoot, allowing just enough room for the four of us to enjoy dinner.

Our destination was the Mesabi range, one of four iron-bearing ranges in northern Minnesota, which the native Ojibwe people collectively call “Giant Mountain.” These ranges bear iron-rich ore close to the surface, allowing open-pit mining as well as underground mining. The Hull-Rust-Mahoning Open Pit Mine, sometimes called the “Grand Canyon of the North,” has been a working mine for over 125 years. It was declared a National Historic Landmark in 1966. It is a tourist attraction, and is still a working mine as well. The mine is three miles long and two miles wide, and more than 500 feet deep.

During the early 1900s the mine was a major source of hematite ore, such that much of the steel used in the automotive industry, past and present, has its origin in this mine. It was a major supplier to the government of iron for the manufacture of planes, ships, tanks etc. for WWI and WWII. It was one of the first mechanized open-pit mines.

The mine saw much labor unrest. There were several major strikes, with the mining companies fighting back with violence, intimidation including spy networks and blacklisting, and stoking ethnic tensions between various immigrant groups. The result, however, was eventual unionization. To this day, unions are active in the Mesabi mines.

The town of Hibbing, Minnesota grew up as a result of the mine. The mine expanded until the northern part of town was surrounded by the mine on three sides. The Oliver mining company wanted to access the land underneath the fourth side. In 1918 that portion of the town was moved two miles to the south, at the direction of the company. About 200 buildings, homes and businesses, were put on log rollers and moved using horses, farm tractors and steam equipment from the mining company. Thus Hibbing became known as The Town That Moved. The move took two years. The company also funded new buildings and services in town, such as a hotel, city hall, a high school, and electrical and sewer lines. In 1935 an additional section of the town was not moved but was torn down, with the owners receiving a fraction of their property’s value. Even the visitors’ center we saw was moved as recently as 2017, because it was found to be feasible to mine the land underneath it.

Whatever an individual observer may think of the open-pit method of mining, which makes an undeniable and arguably ugly permanent change in the landscape, the steel made from the mine’s production has affected everyone in the industrialized world in one way or another. Much of today’s mining technology was invented or adapted here. Great strides have been made through the labor movement, with strikes and settlements working in small increments and sometimes in great danger to make the lives of the workers better. The story of Hibbing is therefore both a sobering reminder of what can be done in the name of greed, and what can be done when people stand up for their rights. In both cases, mountains can be moved.

The overlook to the mine is accessed by a walkway and the visitors’ center has various vantage points to view the mine. From that perch, you can see far down into the pit, where tiny trucks are moving, as the mine is still functioning. (It now produces taconite ore, which is less rich in iron than hematite and requires processing into pellets before it can be shipped to steel mills.) Near the visitors’ center, there is a self-guided paved trail with various huge pieces of machinery, demonstrating the true size of the tiny trucks seen from this height. The visitors’ center has museum exhibits detailing the history of the mine and Hibbing, and a gift shop. There was even a barbecue food truck in the parking lot when we were there, blasting country music, emitting wonderful aromas, and generally giving the place a community gathering feel.

There are other open-pit and underground mines in the area. Some have been converted to housing or parks, and some are still working, at reduced capacity. The current capacity of the Hull-Rust-Mahoning mine is about half of what it was in its heyday.

The Minnesota Discovery Center is close by, so we checked out this museum complex on the advice of locals. We were taken to the main museum building on a golf cart, one of the few perks of reduced mobility for some members of our party! We just saw the main building, but there are several others. The exhibits showed the history of how a mining town would grow, as rowdy and wild as anything in the American West.

A particularly interesting exhibit concerned local activity during Prohibition. Besides the wild atmosphere of a mining town, there was a large immigrant population from a variety of countries, bringing long-standing cultural traditions of brewing and drinking. A huge complex on a local farm was raided by the government, disclosing an enormous operation with several stills, producing hundreds of thousands of gallons of moonshine. When caught, the property owner claimed he had rented out the farm and had no idea what his tenants were doing on the land! Speakeasies were run by gangs and organized crime, but there was also a thriving business in alcohol made by and sold to ordinary citizens. Alcohol was an important feature of the local economy. “Never Dry” was their slogan. There were temperance societies, too, of course, some run by Finnish immigrants who attempted to persuade young people that if they were going to succeed in assimilating into this new country, heavy drinking was not the way to do it.

Although Prohibition eventually ended, the illegal distillation and consumption of “Minnesota 13” (so named for a strain of seed commonly used in the mash) never completely disappeared.

There were also extensive exhibits at the museum about the mining industry, including equipment and clothing used by the miners, and mock-ups of the mines. One exhibit had an eerie sound track. You could hear the bang of picks and shovels, the creaking of the huge wooden support beams, and the miners shouting in the background. Danger and death were never far away in the mines. This particular exhibit concerned the underground mines, which were prone to collapse and explosions. Also on display were tales of the hundreds of miners who died over the years. Not just numbers in a list, these men were shown as people with lives and families, and hopes for a better life.

The overall impression of this portion of the museum was exhausting – tales of danger and terror, yet of perseverance and eventual triumph in the form of a living wage and improved safety conditions in the mines.

We were scheduled to leave the following day. Ted and Nell had an engagement in Chicago in a couple of days. We had planned to stay in the northern Minnesota area for the following week, but found we felt uneasy about the water tank leak. We headed back to Chicago to have it fixed before we venture out again.