Black Diamond Mines Regional Preserve: My Experience
Written by Kieran Brown ‘27
Contra Costa County’s Black Diamond Mines Regional Preserve, a striking Emerald in the North Bay, is a must-hike for anyone interested in history. When looking for places to hike, this park stood out to me; I decided it was worth visiting. From photos online, I was mesmerized by the rolling verdant hills and emerald pastures. It looked picturesque in the spring, and that beauty implanted in me the firmest conviction that I had to see it for myself. Despite my excitement about the trip, there were some things I needed to research before I could go.
Black Diamond Mines is nearly 60 years old as a park, but the area it’s in is much older than that. In the middle of the 19th century, before America’s heyday, there were several cities in these serene valleys. Looking through all the greyscale photos and seeing the saloons and homes carved into the mountain made my mind spin with anticipation. Before my mind could truly embark on this journey, we had to leave for the park.
On the ride there I breathed in the crisp, solemn morning air and thought about all the history that place held. After a rather long journey on some small roads in Antioch, we were at the park’s entrance. Normally there is a fee for entering, but the stand was closed and entry was free. Even in our journey’s very infancy I already noticed one thing: the park’s beauty. The tall rolling hills with gorgeous flowers in all hues of azure, topaz, and amethyst stuck out to me like a red flag to a bull; I was mesmerized.
As we drove down this picturesque and yet terrifying hill road, I looked around and was amazed by the sheer variety of terrain. The park varied from sandy hills to swamps circumambulated by cattails to rocky slopes and caves of brobdingnagian proportions. After our perilous drive down the thin road, we reached the vacant visitor center and disembarked the vehicle. Once we got out, one thing immediately caught my eye: a cave in the slope to our left. While berating my father to hurry up, I practically leaped out of the car and grabbed my hike bag to begin my journey.
I had hoped that my father would follow me up the slope with our dog but he (correctly) assumed that the trail would lead where I was headed anyway. The slope was an arduous climb but thanks to my excess of experience and my being a rather shrewd explorer I managed it. The caves were atop a grassy hillside from which I could see the entire valley. The valley, illuminated by the harsh morning light, was gorgeous and bright against a cloud-covered sky. I continued my climb and eventually reached a point near the crest of the hill I was on only to find I was several steps behind my father who had started later than me. With that disheartening news in my mind, we began the journey back down.
On our way, my father pointed out two school buses full of kids from the Antioch school district. Once we were back at the bottom we ate a short lunch and read several pamphlets on the park. The two towns in the region were Somersville and Nortonville; both towns were founded during the Mt. Diablo coal boom in the 1800s. When coal mining in the bay collapsed shortly after 1900 the towns slowly fell silent and disappeared. With nothing left but dust and echoes the canyons had regrown and all signs of civilization were engulfed except one: Rose Hill Cemetery.
This one bastion of a time long forgotten had been vandalized, destroyed, and defaced over the years. In recent times, however, there has been a significant restoration effort and many of the graves have been put back into order. The climb up to the cemetery wasn’t easy and the several rush-infested and rank ponds we passed along the way made it even more perilous. By the time we finally reached the cemetery, the noises of children playing in the background had faded and all that was left was crickets and our thoughts.
As I walked solemnly through the gravestones, reading each one, a sense not of fear but of awe overcame me. Amidst the few deaths of elders, there were many, many dead infants. Thinking back to all those sad lost lives made me contemplate my life and what I’ve been blessed with. The disparity between these forever silent children and the mirth-drunk ones below us on the slope made me think about how much the world has changed. Looking at each of their graves and desperately lacking their stories was a sorrowful sight but one that I would recommend to anyone.
After our quiet walk in the immortal glade, we returned down the slope and eventually to the car. On my drive home, I was left with a revelation: the trip had changed me and I was better for it. As we passed the site of Port Chicago on our way home, I thought about humanity and how all of our stories, no matter how great, would fade in time; humanity is, by definition, impermanent.
Before I recommend any of you travel to Black Diamond Mines, I decided I’d ask my hiking partner. My father, who went with me, had this to say: “I recommend people travel there because of the history. You walk around and there’s no trace of Somersville, even though you’re standing right on it. It reminds you of the vanity of human ambition.” With his recommendation as another visitor, I cannot exaggerate how incredible this park was.
To conclude and answer the initial question is easy. I recommend visiting Black Diamond Mines Regional Park to anyone. The park is gorgeous and diverse, and because of its expansive valleys, it never gets bland. Black Diamond Mines allows dogs and is inexpensive to enter. These factors and the journey I went on in the cemetery assured me of my verdict. Black Diamond Mines is undeniably one of the best hikes in the Bay Area. Every nook and cranny was chock full of culture, you could taste it.
