The mines are closing. The stories aren’t  —  Get Frank’s monthly letter →
Frank Schlichting
Films & Archive

Two channels. One life in wild country.

More than 500 films and counting — BC most of all, with expeditions to the USA, Mexico, Australia and the Antarctic.

The feature
Frank Schlichting standing high on the timbers of an old headframe against a blue sky, rope coiled over his shoulder.
Feature documentary · Telus STORYHIVE

UNDERMINE — Phoenix, Anyox, and the mines they left behind

Two towns the century abandoned — and the man who went back down.  Watch it now →

Frank Schlichting, shirtless in harness and helmet, ascending a rope out of a tight winze with a yellow rope ascender.
The short · Why he does it

Probably Mental

“A lot of people think there’s nothing down there. They just assume everything’s all wiped out.” It isn’t.  Watch it now →

Do not do what Frank does

“First of all: you should never go into a mine.” That is Frank’s own first rule, and he means it. He has spent more than a decade underground — trained, equipped, and working with people who know what they are doing — and he is still at risk every time he goes in. Nothing you see in his films is safe. It is survivable, on a good day, by a man who has spent years learning how.

What Frank does is extremely dangerous. Abandoned mines kill: bad air that gives no warning, rotten timber, hidden shafts under loose ground, rock that fails without a sound. His rule of threes underground — three minutes without air, three days without water, three weeks without food, and three months without hope. Alone down there, no one finds you in time. The films exist so that no one else ever has to go.

And one rule as firm as the first: these places, and everything left in them, are history. Take nothing, damage nothing, leave every site exactly as you found it. What truly must come out before the mountain takes it is museum work — documented, and kept in public trust at the Yankee Boy Mine Museum. History belongs in a museum, not on a souvenir shelf.

Frank Schlichting standing on the collapsed timbers of an ore bin high above a valley, snowy mountain behind.

“…so future generations can look at a video and say: this is what Phoenix looked like. We’d like to document these things while we still can.”

— Frank, from UNDERMINE

Every British Columbia
mine gets its record.

The story, the numbers, the photographs, and the government’s own pages — made to be printed and kept. Phoenix is No. 1 in the series.

The mine records →
Letters from a Retired Madman
Come along. One photograph. One story. Once a month.

That’s the whole deal. Frank picks one photograph out of the archive, tells you the story of the day it was taken, and signs off until next month. A short P.S. points to whatever’s new — films, mine pages, the museum — and that’s it.

Leave anytime.

Great! You’ve successfully signed up.

Welcome back! You've successfully signed in.

You've successfully subscribed to Frank Schlichting.

Success! Check your email for magic link to sign-in.

Success! Your billing info has been updated.

Your billing was not updated.