"I'd Never Do It Again" - Mike Rowe on the Most Dangerous Job in the World

Just in terms of danger, there were 350 jobs. There's one that I would never do again. What's that? Opal mining. Opal mining? Opal mining in the Australian outback. They drill prospect shafts for opals and they lower you into this hole and you get down 30 or 40 feet, you know, and you got your flashlight, you got your little miner helmet and you're looking around and you're in a grave. When you dig these shafts, they don't filament. There are thousands of these prospect shafts that have been dug over the years and none of them are filled in. Next to them are these big giant piles of dirt. It's like an insane groundhog ran amok. And as Pilot tells me a couple weeks earlier, Found it, fella. Down there at the bottom of the shaft. Oh, ----. Yeah. So I got a hot question for you. All right. We had Claude, since we're on AI and dirty jobs, we had Claude dig through everything out there on micro and dirty jobs to find the most viral directions we could take and then narrow it down to one hot question. And here's what it came up with. Mike, I want to get into the most dangerous jobs on earth. In Vietnam, we had a job called tunnel rats. One guy stripped down to a pistol and a flashlight, crawling head first and alone into pitch black VC tunnels, barely wider than her shoulders. And the Viet Cong built those tunnels to break you. Trip wires that dropped baskets of scorpions, plungy stakes they'd urinate on first, so even a scratch turned septic. And the worst one, while they hit a guy, they'd leave him alive down there just so his buddies up top could hear him screaming and feel like they had to send more men down after him. Centipedes, fire ants, snakes, and maybe a guy waiting in the dark with a blade. That's the job. You've personally done over 300 jobs. So across everything, what do you think is the single deadliest, most dangerous job in the world? Ah, it's tough to beat. Harry Bosch. I don't know if you ever saw the show, Bosch. He was a tunnel rat. He writes a lot about that. Connelly does in the early books. Well, statistically, just in terms of danger, and, you know, they kind of go in and out. I mean, deadliest catch. Crab fishing is still up there. Commercial fishing. Logging, certainly. I mean, the whole confined space world, like that deserves a riff on confined spaces. In fact, we did two specials on dirty jobs over the years called Really Tight Spaces because people, the viewers love the really high, crazy stuff like top of radio towers and like window washing from Boson chairs, five, 600 feet in the air. That's a good one. But they also love super, super, super tight, claustrophobic spaces. They hate it, but they love to watch it. I remember shooting a buoy tube with the Coast Guard. These buoy tenders, you know, they bring up the buoys that are out in the channel and they're filled with barnacles and stuff and they clean them and refurbish them before they put them back in. But there's a tube in the middle, it's hollow. It's about the size of your shoulders. And you shimmy up there and scrape the crap out. And I did that with a GoPro because a cameraman couldn't get a camera up there. And like, there's so many moments of claustrophobia on that show that are really, I mean, what can I say to a tunnel rat? Oh, okay. There were 350 jobs. There's one that I would never do again. What's that one? Opal mining. Opal mining? Yep. Opal mining in the Australian outback in a little town called Cooper Pedy. It was 129 degrees when I was there that day. This is the opal capital of the world. And Cooper Pedy is like if you, in Australian terms, if Adelaide is like Houston, Cooper Pedy is north about three hours in the middle of the outback. The city itself is underground. It's too hot to live above. But in the outback above, they drill prospect shafts for opals. And the way you look for opals is you take a Caldwell bit and you start digging these shafts about 60 feet deep. And then they got a rig over top and they put you in a Boson's chair and they lower you into this hole. And you get down 30 or 40 feet, you know, you got your flashlight, you got your little miner helmet, and you're looking around and you're in a grave, dude, you know. And what you're looking for are trace elements of sandstone or soapstone. They run in veins. And if you find them in between that vein, oftentimes is opal. So then you deal another prospect shaft in the same basic trajectory as the vein. And if you confirm the vein, you dig another one. And after three, if you know you're onto good opal, you bring in the heavy equipment and dig out the hillside and you create a cavern. You go into the cavern and you chip out the opal. Opal capital of the world, huge industry. The opal miners, on the other hand, are kind of like crab fishermen in the desert and on steroids because there's no OSHA in this part of the world, right? There's no, like I've been in every kind of mine there is, anthracite, bituminous, coal, copper, borax, all of them. When you dig these shafts, they don't fill them in. So the night before we get to Coober Pedy and I want to look at the opal fields because we're going to be working there all next day. And I'm a little worried because these guys are cowboys for real. And they fly me over the fields. And when you look down, there are thousands of these prospect shafts that have been dug over the years and none of them are filled in. Next to them are these big giant piles of dirt. It's like an insane groundhog ran amok, right? Millions of them. And what's left are these 60 foot shafts with these giant piles of dirt next to them. And there are thousands of them. And as I'm flying, the pilot's like, yeah, it's a hell of a thing because there's a lot of wildlife out here. There's emu, there's some ostrich, kangaroo. And there are hundreds of them at the bottom of these shafts. They fall in all the time. And they die down there. And I said, well, that's terrible. He goes, ah, you know what's really terrible? He said, you know, Mike, what's really terrible is the tourists. I'm like, what, what, what? And he's like, every year, never fails. Some tourists, there's an underground hotel in Coober Pedy that's kind of famous because it's underground. Tourists come. And then the sunsets are incredible in the outback. And they go out in the opal fields and they're taking these pictures of the sunsets. And as pilot tells me a couple of weeks earlier, they found a guy. Found a fella down there at the bottom of the shaft. Yeah. They figure he was down there for two and a half days before he died. And he was getting a picture. He's backed up by himself. He trips, falls head first. 60 feet down, like a pinball all the way down. Lands on the bottom. His head, you know, twists his neck, obviously shatters his clavicle and his shoulder. Now he's upside down. And the bottom of a 60 foot shaft for two days. Looking up at the inky dark sky go soft and purple and then red and then it's day and then it's blue and then it's dark again. Now, I'm not claustrophobic in general, but I'm hearing this story. And the night before, I know we're going to dig a shaft and I'm going to go in. And we do. And on the one hand, I was happy to go in because it was so hot and you go down six, seven feet and the flies, man, you're just covered with flies when you're topside, but you get six, seven, eight feet down and it gets cooler and you get 20 or 30 feet down. And it's pleasant, except for the fact that there's dirt all around you and dirt's falling on your helmet. And then you get 40 feet down and there's the sandstone and no opal, bummer. But because it's TV and because your crew's funny and because the guys are knuckleheads, they send you to the bottom just so you can get a sense of what it's like to stand at the bottom of a 60 foot tube and look up. And it's not all it's cracked up to be. You stand there and, you know, the Aussies, you know, they sprinkle water on you and pretend to pee on you because they're Aussies, it's terribly funny. And you just stand down there, like dirt on all sides. And it's like, imagine being like three or four millimeters tall in the bottom of a, like a liter Coke bottle and just looking up, it's 60 feet, six stories. And anyway, they winched me up and it was just an extraordinary experience. And three days later, there was an earthquake in Coober Pedy, a mild one, but strong enough to collapse hundreds of shafts. Yeah, so for years, you know, that was my dream was that tourist in the bottom of the Opal mine. Damn. So mining is kind of an answer. I can riff on crab fishing, dude. Those stories to this day haunt me and they changed TV too. No matter where you're watching the Sean Ryan show from, if you get anything out of this at all, anything, please like, comment, and subscribe. And most importantly, share this everywhere you possibly can. And if you're feeling extra generous, head to Apple Podcasts and Spotify and leave us a review.