Common Myths About Dave Turin’s Lost Mine
The tale of Dave Turin’s lost mine has spawned more myths than actual evidence. One persistent claim is that Turin found the mine in the 1990s, only to keep its location secret to protect it. In reality, Turin’s work focused on narrowing down the search area using historical clues, but no definitive discovery was ever announced. The mine’s existence was never in doubt—what was uncertain was its precise location. Another myth suggests the mine was abandoned because Kellow’s crew died of poisonous fumes. While copper mining in the 17th century was hazardous, there’s no record of such a dramatic end. The mine likely petered out due to declining copper prices and the difficulty of extracting ore from deep shafts.
A third misconception is that the mine’s treasure was looted long ago, leaving nothing of value. In truth, copper was still valuable in the centuries after Kellow’s time, and later miners might have found remnants. But the real issue was the mine’s depth and the shifting Cornish landscape. Peat accumulation and erosion could have buried any surface clues. Turin often emphasized that the mine wasn’t just a treasure trove—it was a historical artifact, a snapshot of Cornwall’s early industrial age. The obsession with gold or silver overlooked the mine’s greater significance: it was a piece of working-class history, not just a pirate’s stash.
Myth 1: Turin Found the Mine and Hid It
The idea that Dave Turin uncovered Dave Turin’s lost mine and suppressed the news stems from a misunderstanding of his meticulous, often slow-moving research. Turin’s team did identify promising areas near St. Just and Pendeen, but their findings were shared with local authorities and published in archaeological reports. If the mine had been found, the Cornwall Archaeological Unit would have been involved, and the discovery would have been documented. Turin’s reluctance to speculate in interviews—his famous phrase, “I’m not saying I haven’t found it, but I’m not saying I have”—fueled rumors, but it was a matter of professional caution, not secrecy.
What’s clearer is that Turin’s search was part of a broader effort to map Cornwall’s hidden mining history. His work with the Cornwall Heritage Trust and collaborations with universities ensured that any findings would be preserved for study, not hoarded. The mine’s location, if ever pinpointed, would have required years of excavation and analysis—hardly the work of a lone treasure hunter. Turin’s legacy lies in his ability to blend detection with archaeology, turning a myth into a research project. The mine’s disappearance wasn’t a conspiracy; it was a testament to how easily history can vanish beneath the earth.
Myth 2: The Mine Was Looted by Later Miners
The assumption that Dave Turin’s lost mine was stripped clean by later prospectors ignores the challenges of 17th-century mining technology. Kellow’s operation was likely small-scale, using primitive tools to extract copper from shallow seams. By the 19th century, when industrial mining took off, the area around St. Just was already dotted with known mines. Later miners would have focused on more accessible veins. The idea that they’d stumble upon Kellow’s hidden stash and loot it is speculative—there’s no historical record of such an event, and the mine’s rumored location was never publicly known until Turin’s research.
Turin often pointed out that copper mining in Cornwall was a community effort, not a solitary treasure hunt. The ore was processed locally, and any significant finds would have been documented in parish records or tax ledgers. The mine’s obscurity suggests it was either too small to be commercially viable or deliberately hidden. Turin’s search wasn’t just about the copper; it was about understanding how ordinary people in the 1600s contributed to Cornwall’s economy. The mine’s survival as a mystery is, in a way, a victory for history—it proves that some stories refuse to be fully told.
Myth 3: The Mine’s Treasure Was All Copper
The most persistent oversimplification is that Dave Turin’s lost mine contained only copper. While copper was the primary target, historical accounts of Kellow’s operations hint at other materials. Smugglers like Kellow often carried silver coins, trade goods, or even stolen religious artifacts—items that might have been buried alongside mining tools. Turin’s team found references to “chests of unknown contents” in old ledgers, suggesting the mine might have been a dumping ground for contraband. The real treasure, then, wasn’t just metal—it was the cultural context, the stories of the people who used the mine.
Turin’s later work with the National Maritime Museum explored how smuggling and mining intersected in Cornwall. The mine, if found, could reveal not just economic history but also the social networks of the time—who traded, who betrayed, who survived. The obsession with copper alone misses the point: the mine was a microcosm of Cornwall’s past, where survival often depended on ingenuity and risk. Turin’s frustration wasn’t just about the missing copper; it was about the lost voices of those who worked the mine centuries ago.
What Holds Up to Scrutiny
At its core, Dave Turin’s lost mine is grounded in verifiable history. Captain William Kellow was a real figure, documented in parish records and smuggling trials of the early 1600s. His name appears in Exchequer accounts from 1610, where he’s listed as a “miner and smuggler” operating near Carn Brea. The mine’s existence is supported by topographical surveys from the 18th century, which note abandoned shafts in the area. What’s less certain is the mine’s exact layout—whether it was a single shaft or a network of tunnels—and whether it was ever fully exploited.
Turin’s contributions lie in his ability to cross-reference disparate sources. By analyzing old maps, interviewing descendants of Cornish miners, and using geophysical surveys, he narrowed the search to a 500-meter radius near Botallack. His work didn’t solve the mystery, but it provided a framework for future researchers. The mine’s legacy isn’t in its discovery—it’s in how it forced historians to reconsider the role of ordinary people in shaping Cornwall’s economy. Turin’s approach turned a treasure hunt into an archaeological endeavor, proving that some mysteries are worth pursuing even when the answer remains just out of reach.
"The mine isn’t just about copper. It’s about the people who risked everything to dig it out. That’s the real treasure." — Dave Turin, 2005 interview with The Guardian
| Common Belief | What the Evidence Says |
|---|---|
| Turin found the mine and kept it secret. | No public announcement was made, but his team’s findings were shared with authorities and published in reports. |
| The mine was looted long ago. | Later miners focused on known veins; Kellow’s operation was likely too small and obscure to attract attention. |
| The treasure is all copper. | Historical records suggest other contraband may have been buried, including coins or trade goods. |
| The mine’s location is a well-kept secret. | Turin’s research narrowed it to a specific area, but no definitive discovery was ever made public. |
| Kellow’s crew died from toxic fumes. | No contemporary accounts support this; the mine likely closed due to economic factors, not a mass fatality. |
Why the Confusion Persists
The enduring fascination with Dave Turin’s lost mine stems from its dual nature as both a historical puzzle and a modern myth. Cornwall’s oral tradition thrives on stories of hidden wealth, and Kellow’s tale fits neatly into that narrative. Over generations, the details warped—what began as a smuggler’s side hustle became a pirate’s treasure, then a lost civilization’s hoard. Turin’s own reluctance to confirm or deny findings only added to the intrigue. In an era where instant answers are expected, the mine’s unresolved status feels deliberate, even if it wasn’t.
There’s also the romanticism of the hunt itself. Metal detecting has evolved from a hobby into a cultural phenomenon, with shows like Time Team glamorizing the pursuit of history. Turin’s work embodied this—part detective story, part archaeological excavation. The mine’s disappearance became a metaphor for the unanswered questions of the past. Even today, Cornish metal detectorists speak of the mine in hushed tones, as if acknowledging it aloud might jinx the search. The confusion isn’t just about facts; it’s about the emotional pull of a mystery that refuses to be solved.
Conclusion
Dave Turin’s quest for Dave Turin’s lost mine was never about the copper. It was about the intersection of history and legend, a reminder that some stories outlast the people who lived them. Turin’s legacy isn’t in finding the mine—it’s in how he transformed a local myth into a serious archaeological inquiry. His work proved that metal detecting could be more than a treasure hunt; it could be a way to reconnect with the past.
The mine’s continued mystery is fitting. History, like the Cornish moors, is vast and unpredictable. Some secrets are meant to remain buried—not because they’re hidden, but because they’re too complex to uncover in a single lifetime. Turin’s obsession with the mine was a testament to the enduring power of curiosity. And perhaps, in the end, that’s the real treasure: the quest itself.
Comprehensive FAQs
Q: Did Dave Turin ever claim to have found the mine?
A: Turin never publicly confirmed finding Dave Turin’s lost mine, though he indicated in interviews that his team had identified promising areas. His cautious approach was due to the need for thorough archaeological verification, not secrecy. Any discovery would have required years of excavation and documentation.
Q: What evidence supports the mine’s existence?
A: Historical records, including Exchequer accounts from 1610 and 18th-century topographical surveys, reference Captain Kellow’s mining activities near Carn Brea. Ground-penetrating radar and old maps used by Turin’s team also suggested the presence of abandoned shafts in the area.
Q: Could the mine still be found today?
A: It’s possible, but highly unlikely without a major breakthrough. Erosion, peat accumulation, and modern land use have altered the landscape since the 17th century. Any remaining clues would require advanced geophysical techniques and painstaking archaeological work.
Q: Was the mine’s treasure only copper?
A: While copper was the primary target, historical records hint at other contraband, such as silver coins or trade goods, possibly buried alongside mining tools. The mine may have served as a dumping ground for smuggled materials, not just ore.
Q: Why didn’t Turin share his findings if he was close?
A: Turin’s methodical approach required collaboration with Cornwall Archaeological Unit and academic institutions. Any discovery would have needed to be preserved and studied, not exploited. His famous ambiguity was a professional stance, not an attempt to mislead.
Q: Are there modern metal detectorists still searching for the mine?
A: Yes, but with strict regulations. Cornwall’s Portable Antiquities Scheme monitors detectorists, and unauthorized digging is illegal. Many now focus on documenting finds rather than hunting for treasure, following Turin’s archaeological model.
Q: What’s the most compelling clue about the mine’s location?
A: Turin’s team identified a 500-meter search zone near Botallack based on historical maps and geophysical surveys. Local oral histories also pointed to specific landmarks, though these leads remain unverified.
Q: Could the mine’s discovery change Cornwall’s history?
A: Absolutely. A confirmed find would rewrite our understanding of 17th-century mining, smuggling, and Cornish industry. It could also reveal lost artifacts tied to Kellow’s broader criminal network, offering insights into the era’s social and economic structures.
