ODDS’N’SODS — Conditioning comes in handy

Late on a December evening in 1946, while I was deeply involved in study in the basement of our house, I received a phone call from H.L. Batten, managing director of Canadian Exploration Ltd.

Batten advised me: “The old man — Charlie Banks — has just made a deal with the federal government for Iron Mountain, located east of Salmo, B.C., which contains the Emerald tungsten mine. He intends to put it back into production. Could you join us in the spring? And, meantime, keep this under your hat.”

I replied somewhat optimistically: “If Harry Warren allows me to pass the Christmas exams in geology — and he said he is making them extremely difficult in order to weed out the slackers — I would be pleased and proud to join you.”

And join them I did. Batten assembled a motley crew including Jack MacKenzie, Hal Powell, Harold Lakes, Bill Grimwood, Bill Burton, Jim Magee, Lou Stark, Joe Adie, Brun Murphy, Harvey Cohen, John Rokosh, Bob Brassington, Doug Little and Al Lonergan — many of whom were to provide the subsequent core of Placer Development’s elite force.

Little and I drew the not-unhappy assignment of survey control both on surface and underground. We roamed the mountains, valleys, Salmon River and the underground mine to establish legal maps and work plans to facilitate the revamping of the former wartime producer.

The weather was glorious. We enjoyed fresh mountain air, strenuous exercise, wonderful meals in the cookery run by Ivor Phipps, and soon we were bronzed and fit following our winter of study and confinement.

The mill was connected to the Emerald mine by a tramline constructed by Cominco during the Second World War, and designed and constructed under the capable engineering direction of Pat Stewart and E. Mason. The only weak point of the installation was the break-over tower at the crest of the summit and directly above the mill, situated in the valley of the Salmon River. Loaded buckets frequently broke loose at this section, and hurtled down the mountain side in a 1,000-ft. drop to the valley below.

One day, Little and I were summoned and instructed to establish and rerun the centre line of the tramline, and to note any irregularities in the towers or unusual actions of the standing and running lines of cables. We set out about our task, with Little plumbing the towers and recording deflections and all such details as we could gather — starting at the loading end of the mine. It was an interesting situation, and took time and patience as we hiked uphill and down the valley. (We also enjoyed the luscious blueberries and huckleberries that festooned the mountain slopes, and observed, as well, the wildlife in the area.)

Eventually, we reached the break-over, or “abortion” tower as we called it; Little was in the lead and I was several hundred feet behind him with the transit. I lost sight of my companion for a moment and then I heard a shout of warning. I glanced up, and there was Little hurtling toward me; and behind him, two small cubs were scooting up a tree. Most alarming, however, was the fact that a female bear was charging angrily towards us.

Little gasped as we passed: “Drop the transit and beat it.” I needed no further urging. I dropped the transit into a nearby bush and tore after Little.

We needed that excellent conditioning as we raced up the trail, barely keeping ahead of the enraged bear. Strangely, she stopped to sniff and cuff the transit and this was our saving grace as we beat a hasty retreat. We had many adventures that summer season at the Emerald mine, but that event was the highlight and we boast, even to this day, that we could have outpaced either Jesse Owens or Ben Johnson that fine summer morning as we traversed Iron Mountain, pursued by one snarling quadruped.

— S.J. Hunter, a retired mining engineer and regular contributor, resides in Vancouver, B.C.