You Won’t Believe What This Crypto Miner Left Behind in Pennsylvania 😳🏚️

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Seems a gang called Diversified Energy, sly as a fox caught stealing chickens, tiptoed out of Elk County, Pennsylvania. They’d been grinding away at a little ol’ natural gas pad, cooking up crypto with none but the hum of on-site generators and the faint scent of regulatory mischief hanging in the air.

Longhorn Pad A sat quiet for ages, gathering dust, until Diversified waltzed in back in 2022, as if dust was valuable and all you had to do was shake it off to find Bitcoin underneath. But the miners? They forgot—or plain neglected—to ask the Department of Environmental Protection if it was alright to toss a party for their computers. Permits? Old news. We’re talking air quality, but apparently, they thought fresh mountain air was a given with the price of admission.

By Christmas 2023, they were handed the coveted permit. “Be lawful and prosper,” said the DEP, probably. But just three months later, the only things left were empty iron sheds and ghosts of machines gone. The DEP showed up, probably expecting at least some warm cookies or a live miner, and instead left behind a little love note: a formal violation for abandoning wells. Diversified, quick on their feet, assures everyone, “We’re not done yet!” Maybe they’re just trying out the minimalist look.

But folks from DEP and the tree-hugging crowd—bless their hearts—aren’t buying it. The company promised, way back in 2021, to plug Longhorn A and thirteen other sleepy wells like tucking in toddlers after a sugar rush. Well, apparently bedtime stories are still on hold and so is the plugging.

CryptoMoon tried knocking, but all they got was the echo of unreturned calls.

Diversified under scrutiny over business model

Now, these environmentalists, who’d sniff out a leaky faucet from a mile away, have long side-eyed Diversified for scooping up weary old wells like bargain bins at a yard sale. Their business plan? Squeeze every last drop, then whistle their way out of town before someone hands them the bill for cleanup. Plugging a well can run over $100,000; chump change if you’re a crypto miner, but it’s chicken feed when you’re trying to buy the whole farm.

Pennsylvania already has 350,000 orphaned and abandoned wells. That’s damn near enough to start a collection and trade with your neighbors. A 2022 report called Diversified’s plan “built to fail Appalachia”—because it turns out, the folks holding the mop at the end are usually the taxpayers.

Diversified tried to sound responsible—just last year, they agreed to plug 3,000 more wells by 2034. Plenty of time to knit a sweater or invent a new coin by then. Meanwhile, the suits in DC are poking their noses around with yet another investigation.

The local folks in Horton Township? Supervisor PJ Piccirillo says the equipment vanished overnight. No notes, no cookies, no nothing. “All we know is that the property seems to have been abandoned,” Piccirillo said, probably with a shrug and a long stare at a fading “No Trespassing” sign.

US cities confront crypto mining

Turns out folks everywhere are getting tired of digital prospectors. On April 25, Vilonia, Arkansas planners shot down a crypto mining proposal after residents hollered loud enough. Earlier, Arkansas lawmakers dreamed up a bill to keep crypto outfits at least 30 miles away from military bases—because nothing says “national security” like keeping Bitcoin at bay.

It’s a wave—Texas folks sued a mining outfit for making more racket than a Sunday revival. From Pennsylvania to Texas, everyone’s wondering if maybe, just maybe, the real gold rush was the friends we made—and the wells we never plugged—along the way. 🙃

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2025-05-07 17:01