ODDS ‘N’ SODS — On top of the world, Part 1

In 1942, near my little village of Hazelton in northern British Columbia, Cominco was developing the Red Rose tungsten mine atop the Rocher de Boule Mountain in order to supply wartime demand for the metal, which was used in high-stress alloy steel. This was my first venture into mining, and it turned out to be quite an experience.

A rough dirt road had been constructed from the Canadian National Railway line at Kitwanga into the site. A 100-ton-per-day mill was built at the end of this road, at the base of Rocher de Boule. The underground mine was located high on the mountaintop above the plant site. There was no connection to the mine site by road. Instead, several miles of tramline were erected to provide access and service between the mill and mine workings.

Perched on a narrow ridge of solid rock, a meager camp, cookery and shops were constructed to provide support services. The extracted ore would be sent, by tramline, through the tunnels to the mill, several thousand feet below the valley.

The location of the camp was perilous. Buffeted by wind, snow and fog in the winter, the buildings were cable-bolted to solid rock in order to withstand the fierce thrust of gale-force winds. Snow tunnels connected the buildings and the mine workings so that the crew was not exposed to violent winter storms.

The tramline provided the only access to the underground mine. The buckets on an endless cable, which was anchored at both ends, moved the ore from the mine to the mill, and provided a vehicle for the crew, materials, supplies and (occasionally) much-needed water. The trip in the bucket was scary indeed, especially as one rose between towers astride the deep alpine valleys. The view was breathtaking — a view of wild goat herds, wolves and bears set against a panorama of mountain meadows and rushing streams.

I came to the grandeur of this scenic mountain vastness a raw country youth fresh from the farm and eager to earn my pay. My foreman was an experienced old timer named Jack Zucco, and he soon put me to work with a Bull Dog No. 5 muck-stick, digging ditches beside the mine tracks.

There were no empty bunks in the bunkhouse, so I stayed in the furnace room beside the boilers. During the night, I was required to stoke the furnace with cord wood in order to maintain hot water for the cookery and mine dry.

There at the Red Rose, I was soon to learn skills that would serve me throughout my career in mining.

— The author, a retired mining engineer, resides in Vancouver, B.C.