THE FIRST CANADIAN TRANS-CONTINENTAL RAILWAY
As the railway expansion of Canada developed by leaps and bounds,
ambitious spirits contemplated larger and larger conquests, culminating
in a desire to build a link of steel right across the country from
coast to coast. This feeling was natural. On the Atlantic seaboard,
settlement advanced at a rapid rate in the Lower Provinces and forced
its way steadily inland. On the Pacific side, civilisation firmly
planted in British Columbia spread towards the Rocky Mountains. These
two colonising forces, working in the same country, were as wide apart
as if at the Poles, for the intervening plains stretching from the
Great Lakes to the Rockies were considered useless.
British Columbia felt this isolation keenly. All traffic had to be
carried round the southern extremity of the American continent.
To travel from London to Vancouver in the ’fifties was an heroic
undertaking, involving a journey more than half-way round the globe.
Some of the trade, however, was maintained overland. For instance,
the provisions for the Hudson’s Bay post at Vancouver were dispatched
from Montreal over a trail some 3000 miles in length. But it was a
tremendous task, occupying several weeks. The pack train left Montreal
in May, and the water route was followed so far as practicable to Fort
Garry, where Winnipeg now stands. Here the rivers were abandoned in
favour of horses, mules and wagons which trekked slowly across the
prairies--the voyageurs living on the buffalo which roamed the plains
in their thousands--threaded the terrible mountain rifts, and dropped
down to the coast, reaching Vancouver about the end of September. The
trail was ill-defined and the journey bristled with exciting incidents
and adventures.
The disadvantages of this means of communication between the opposite
sides of the continent were realised only too fully, so when the
railway had become established in Eastern Canada and had demonstrated
its tremendous possibilities, an iron link across the Dominion was
advocated strenuously. But the vastness of the undertaking was
deemed to be beyond the possibilities of the country; the cost was
contemplated to be so huge that capitalists would not venture to commit
themselves to the fulfilment of such a project. One of the advocates
of the enterprise suggested that it should be built by convict-labour
in order to reduce the expense of construction, and curiously enough
he suggested that the line should be carried through the Kicking Horse
Pass, through which the Canadian Pacific makes its way to the Pacific
to-day.
It was in 1851 that the idea of a trans-continental railway first
crystallised into a tangible project; but as it eclipsed in conception
anything attempted in railway building up to that time, there was
considerable timidity in launching out upon a line some 3000 miles in
length. So matters drifted until the first trans-continental railway
was thrown across the United States, and San Francisco was brought
within a few days’ travel of New York. The agitation then broke out
anew for a trans-Canadian line, and Sir Hugh Allan approached the
Government with a definite scheme. However, he failed to enlist the
practical assistance of financiers, and so the theme ranked as a
perennial topic of discussion until the ratification of a project
supported by the Government in 1881.
It is doubtful in the history of British North America whether
any project of avowed benefit to the community has experienced
such vicissitudes as the first trans-Canadian railway. It wrecked
ministries, brought about the political extinction of more than one
promising member of Parliament, provoked heated agitation, and involved
the abortive expenditure of large sums of money.
The Government, however, decided to help private initiative
sufficiently daring to attempt the undertaking in a liberal manner.
In the first place a subsidy of £5,000,000, or $25,000,000, was
granted to aid construction; the Government undertook to build 713
miles with its own resources, and made a free gift of 25,000,000 acres
of land fringing its route. At that time the land was worthless, so
its bestowal was not of immediate value, but to-day it represents an
asset of incalculable value, and gives the company a sheet anchor of
tremendous strength.
In the end the Government went very much farther. It made a free
gift of the line it had constructed, which was worth at the very
least,£7,000,000, or $35,000,000. While construction was in progress
there was urgent need for further money. Financiers refused to provide
funds, and as a result the Government stepped in and advanced a loan
of £6,000,000--$30,000,000--which action was so bitterly criticised
at the time that the Ministry was urged to wipe off the debt once and
for all by making it a gift, for all the prospect there was of it
ever being repaid. But the loan was redeemed, partly by an issue of
stock, and partly by the Government buying back some 7,000,000 of the
25,000,000 acres which it had given to the company in the first place
at 6 shillings per acre, representing to all intents and purposes a
further gift of some,£2,000,000, or $10,000,000. Probably no railway
undertaking has ever been treated with such prodigal liberality in
the history of the iron horse; but at the time it was warranted
fully, bearing in mind the magnitude of the scheme and the tremendous
difficulties which confronted the company at every turn.
[Illustration: THE “GAP,” THE EASTERN ENTRANCE OF THE CANADIAN PACIFIC
RAILWAY TO THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS]
When construction commenced in grim earnest the builders found that
the critics had not erred on the side of under-estimation in regard
to the character of the difficulties to be overcome. The thin band
of steel was driven through country of which practically nothing was
known; where every succeeding mile revealed something unexpected. For
instance, in following the shore of Lake Superior it was one desperate
grapple with Nature for every yard. Mountains dropped sheer into
the lake, and their humps were divided by stretches of wicked muskeg,
the Indian name for swamp, where in many cases the bottom defied being
discovered, and where thousands of tons of rock were swallowed up
without showing any gratifying result.
[Illustration: WHERE THE “BIG HILL” WAS CUT OUT ON THE CANADIAN PACIFIC
RAILWAY, BETWEEN HECTOR AND FIELD
To secure easier gradients, over 8 miles of new line were built. The
new track is shown at left.]
To-day it is possible, from wider knowledge, to criticise the company
upon their selection of this route, but at the time it was taken in
hand there was no alternative. For a solid 100 miles along the shores
of Lake Superior the work assumed a spectacular aspect. The high rocky
cliffs either had to be tunnelled, blasted right out of the way, or
deep long cuts had to be driven through the solid obstruction.
In those days the camps did not enjoy the comforts that are possible
now. The food was of the coarsest description--in fact, often it
was nauseous. Yet it was the best that could be secured under the
circumstances. I met one of the men who had helped to drive the grade
along the shore of Lake Superior, and he described the interest
and curiosity that was provoked by the arrival of the first tin of
condensed milk. To them, milk was a luxury indeed, and they as much
anticipated its association with their tea or coffee as they would
have entertained the possibility of receiving a glass of champagne.
The tin of milk was produced, and when the first recipient had read
the story of the label it was handed round to every man in turn. They
scarcely could conceive the possibility of being able to preserve such
a perishable product in a tin, and they refrained from investigating
the contents. At last, one of the more daring spirits took out his
ponderous pocket- or jack-knife and plunged it into the lid. Tipping
the vessel slightly, he watched the contents exude in a thin viscous
stream on to his finger. Hesitatingly he tasted it, and the intense
satisfaction with which he smacked his lips showed that it was a tasty
article at all events, although it might be rank poison for aught they
knew. All in turn submitted the commodity to this preliminary test,
and there was a unanimous exclamation as to its palatable qualities.
Very little of that tin of condensed milk was employed for its avowed
purpose: the majority of the men preferred to enjoy it in its raw
condition, as it was something entirely new to their frontier table. As
a result the greater part of the coffee and tea was drunk that morning
in its black state, relieved with sugar only, as the contents of the
tin disappeared in a far from orthodox manner.
The resistance which the rock offered was heart-rending. The men,
by superhuman effort, could make their way forward only a few feet
per day. Under these circumstances the task swallowed money as
remorselessly as the muskeg absorbed dumped rock. Results proved that
the construction of the line along this shore for about 100 miles was
as expensive as threading the mountains, and in one instance the price
mounted to as high as £140,000, or $700,000, per mile, rendering it
easily one of the most costly stretches of road ever constructed.
But though the fight offered by the rock was stern, that presented
by the muskeg was every whit as bad, though it was of a different
character. The great danger against which the company had to contend
was the creeping of the rails. The spongy nature of the soil over which
the track was laid caused a movement of the metals under the weight
of a passing train. It was just as if the rails had been laid on a
mass of resilient india-rubber. The lines would move to one side or
the other and often widen out sufficiently to permit a train to drop
between them. It was observed that as a train passed the elastic soil
rose and fell in a series of little waves, often attaining a height
of six inches, while the engineers could see the rails moving under
the passing of the train. It was quite out of the question to spike
the rails firmly to the sleepers, since the movement was so great that
the metals would have forced themselves from their foundation. As it
was, the gangers had to overhaul the stretch of track crossing the
muskeg once every week. The engineer strove valiantly to overcome the
eccentric movement of the rails, and only succeeded by dint of great
effort in rendering it perfectly safe. But in this work he had to use
sleepers measuring 12 feet in length, instead of those of standard
dimensions of 8 feet.
Then trouble arose with the contractors in regard to the cost of
excavation. Naturally the expenditure under this heading varied
according to the character of the material encountered, for obviously
gravel, clay, and loam were far easier and cheaper to remove than rock,
and this latter varied in its workability according to its geological
formation. In one case this dispute became a bitter bone of contention
between the company and the contractors. Upon the completion of the
work the former came to the conclusion that it had been charged an
excessive sum for the work, and upon consideration of the returns of
the earth removed were convinced that an erroneous return had been
made. Amicable adjustment of the difference proving fruitless, recourse
had to be made to the courts, and the authorities ordered the cutting
to be re-measured so as to determine the quantity of soil removed.
In one instance the contractors were forced to return a sum of about
£60,000, or $300,000, and many other firms of constructional engineers
had to make repayments. It was not a question of fraud, but purely
misinterpretation of the character of the soil handled; yet it served
to promote inharmonious working between the company and its contractors.
On the prairie, constructional effort was not taxed to a supreme degree
except in regard to water. This was found to be scarce in many parts,
and is even so to-day. The country threaded is a continuation of the
arid stretches of North Dakota and Montana, and where the land can
only be brought to a state of remunerative productivity by recourse to
irrigation. Science, however, has discounted the deficiency of nature,
and to-day this dry belt is as generously supplied with water as those
more favoured with ample natural resources farther north, though of
course the settler is compelled to pay his quota to the expense of
irrigation in the form of a higher price for the land.
It was when the mountains were met, however, that the real troubles
of the company commenced. The battle against the rocky bluffs round
Lake Superior was as mere child’s play to what was encountered when
the mountain barrier was entered. The Government had surveyed a route
through the mountains, and its choice had fallen upon the Yellowhead
Pass, the lowest summit in the range, which is only 3,723 feet above
the level of the ocean. It was the obvious portal through the mountains
to the coast, but the company decided to thread the chain farther
to the south. This decision aroused considerable criticism, and the
Government only relented by stipulating that if the Rockies were
penetrated at any other point it should be at least 100 miles north
of the International Boundary. When the project was consummated it
was stipulated that grades should not exceed 1 in 52.8 feet, and the
Yellowhead fulfilled this requirement strictly to the letter.
However, the Government’s requirements being fulfilled, the line was
forced through the range by way of the Kicking Horse Pass, a high road
used by the _couriers du bois_ for some years previously. But it proved
a trying piece of work. The river is a boiling stream and difficult of
approach. The mountains rear up on all sides, and in order to force
their way forward the engineers had to resort to herculean efforts,
spanning tumultuous streams and carving narrow winding ledges on the
sides of the mountains. Moreover, it is a heavy up-hill pull for mile
after mile, until at last the summit is gained at an altitude of 5,329
feet. To gain this point the line winds in a bewildering manner, but
the vistas of mountain scenery that are unfolded are difficult to
parallel out of Switzerland.
[Illustration: HOW THE CANADIAN PACIFIC LINE CREEPS ROUND TOWERING
PRECIPICES ALONG THE FRASER RIVER]
When this part of the work was taken in hand the original arrangements
comprised tunnelling beneath a glacier and through the hump of Mount
Stephen, but as there was loud clamouring for the completion of the
line, this undertaking, which would have involved a great length of
time, and which would have proved exceedingly costly, was abandoned
for the time being in favour of a “temporary line.” That deviation,
however, fulfilled its temporary requirements for a prolonged period--a
matter of some thirty years to be precise--and only recently has been
improved.
[Illustration: IN THREADING THE FRASER RIVER CANYON THE ENGINEERS
WERE COMPELLED TO HUG THE WATERWAY, THOUGH IT INVOLVED THE BORING OF
NUMEROUS SHORT TUNNELS]
In making the deviation serious delays were experienced. A rocky
obstacle stood in the way and tunnelling was commenced, but this work
had to be abandoned owing to the collapse of the burrow, and a sharp
curve and heavy bank introduced. The result was that it was found
impossible to comply with the Government’s requirements concerning the
maximum gradient, because in order to descend from Hector to Field,
a distance of about 10 miles, a difference of 1,143 feet had to be
overcome. This introduced a grade adverse to eastbound traffic of
237 feet to the mile, and it proved a heavy stumbling-block against
the economical operation of the line for many years, and one which
increased in severity with every succeeding year.
Yet the conquest of the Rockies was a marvellous piece of engineering,
especially on three miles of this bank, which was so steep as to earn
the name of the “Big Hill,” for it rose 12 inches in every 22 feet,
and was one of the stiffest pieces of road to be worked by adhesion
that ever had been laid down on a railway. It was so steep as to be
dangerous, a fact testified by the number of safety switches, or “catch
points,” that were introduced. The man in charge of one of these
points, observing an engine coming down-hill, did not know whether it
had run away or not until the engine-driver whistled a signal which
conveyed the information that he desired the switch to be set to the
main line, for normally it was left open and a runaway at that point
would have been turned into the bank, to end its mad career in a wreck.
Now and again engines did run away, and the “Big Hill” has witnessed
many exciting escapes among the engine-drivers and train gangs. To
grasp the significance of this engine “pull,” one required to see the
“Limited” steaming from the Pacific to the Atlantic. It got to the
bottom of the hill, and there three other engines were attached to the
train to push it up the ever-dropping metals for over three miles,
while the clouds of smoke and live cinders belched into the air, and
the terrible roar of the engines straining at the load testified to the
tremendous effort that was required to get a speed of five miles an
hour on the train. It was this feature that led a humorist to remark
that the Canadian Pacific railway never had any occasion to ballast
the track on the “Big Hill.” The engines performed this operation
spontaneously and automatically in their labour, and to far better
effect than would have been possible by ordinary means.
Considerable excitement was experienced in its construction. According
to some of the men whom I met, and who had been connected with the
grading through the Kicking Horse Pass, the ballast trains failed
time after time to secure a grip on the metals, and with their
driving-wheels spinning round madly in the forward direction they
skidded backwards down-hill. Now and again there would be a nasty
smash, in which engine and the ballast cars were mixed up in an
inextricable heap. It is reported even that on one occasion, while the
snow-plough was out clearing the drift on the “Hill,” the driver of the
locomotive lost the plough, and did not discover the fact until he had
gained the top, although he was pushing the snow-clearing apparatus! It
was so difficult to keep the wheel gripping the rails that he did not
notice the difference in the resistance when the snow-plough went over
one side.
From the Government’s strict point of view the Canadian Pacific was not
completed until about two years ago, although trains have been running
between the Atlantic and Pacific for some thirty years. The authorities
pointed out that the grade was an essential part of the contract, and
yet, in order to pass through the Kicking Horse Pass, the company had
exceeded that grade to a very considerable extent. Consequently eight
miles of line was non-existent so far as the Government was concerned,
and it declined to contribute any subsidy to that short length of
the railway. Two years ago compliance was made with the Government’s
agreement. The route through the Kicking Horse Pass was re-aligned.
This piece of work was carried out by the late J. E. Schwitzer,
and from its daring nature it will always stand as a monument to
his engineering ability. He cut out the “Big Hill” entirely. Where
previously a bank rising 1 in 22¼ existed for 4.1 miles, he provided a
stretch of line double the length and of one-half the gradient, so that
the engines only have to overcome a climb of 1 in 45½.
In order to ease the grade the line swings from one side of the narrow
valley to the other. Travelling westwards it disappears into the flank
of Cathedral Mountain, describing a curve in the tunnel to emerge
into the valley about 40 feet below the point where it enters the
mountain side. It then strikes across the valley to enter the slopes
of Wapata Mountain, where another tunnel on a curve like a corkscrew
lowers the level of the line for another 40 feet. Once more it crosses
the valley, the meanderings being so bewildering as to form a perfect
maze. It recalls the wonderful spiral tunnel-work on the St. Gotthard
railway where a similar difficulty had to be overcome, and, indeed,
the conquest of the Kicking Horse Pass in this manner was based
evidently upon the great work in Switzerland. Still, it marks the first
application of this ingenious solution of a trying problem to the
American continent.
To bring the Kicking Horse Pass section of the line within the
recognition of the Government, however, entailed the expenditure of
some,£300,000, or $1,500,000, and found employment for about 1000
men for twenty months. Train-load after train-load of dynamite was
brought up in order to enable the path to be hewn through the mountain
flanks, and by the time the task was completed over 1,500,000 pounds
of explosives had been used--something like,£50,000, or $250,000, had
vanished literally in smoke to tear down the rock. But the outlay will
be recouped well. Where four engines were required formerly two now
suffice to handle a 700-ton train, and they can rattle through the Pass
at a steady 25 miles an hour, whereas previously a bare six miles could
be notched.
Emerging from the Rockies the engineers were confronted by another
towering obstacle--the Selkirks. This range was to be dreaded more than
the barrier just left behind, for there was a trail through the Rockies
to guide the engineers, whereas the Selkirks had never been threaded.
The Indians and Hudson’s Bay _voyageurs_, after emerging from the
Rockies, turned sharply south to follow the Columbia River.
The first task, therefore, was to discover a rift through the Selkirks
through which the metals might be carried. It was shorter to go
through the mountains than to go round them if any pass could be found
to exist. Major Albert B. Rogers, an American engineer, accordingly
saddled his horse and with a supply of provisions set off to search
for a “Pass.” He wandered up and down the range without success for
week after week, and then, just as he was despairing of success, his
eye alighted on a narrow breach between two serried lines of snow-clad
peaks. He spurred forward, traversing territory on which the feet
of neither white nor red man had been planted, climbing and toiling
arduously among the crags, until at last he gained an altitude of 4,351
feet, from which the opposite sides of the range sloped down once more
to the Columbia River Valley.
[Illustration: THE STEEL ARCH BRIDGE ACROSS STONEY CREEK IN THE SELKIRK
MOUNTAINS
This graceful structure replaced a wooden bridge supported on timber
towers 200 feet in height.]
Rogers’ Pass, as this defile through the Selkirks was named in
honour of the discoverer, was followed. It did not offer any great
difficulties from the grading point of view. The greatest enemy was
snow and avalanche. The snowfall among these mountains is the heaviest
along the line, while the avalanches are of terrible frequency.
Consequently the absorbing question was how to keep the line intact
after once it had been laid. It was impossible to avoid the defined
paths of the snow movements entirely, and in these cases huge sheds
had to be erected to carry the avalanche harmlessly over the track to
expend its violence in the gulch below. The extent of snow-shedding
through the Selkirks is amazing, and it has proved terribly costly.
[Illustration: THE RAILWAY TRAVERSING THE TUMBLED THOMPSON RIVER CANYON]
When the engineers attacked this country, as the laying of the
track was the paramount requirement it was pushed forward with all
speed during the short summer, and parties of men equipped with
meteorological instruments, and vehicles for movement during winter,
and supplies of stores, were left at different points to study the snow
question, so as to collect data for the situation of the snow-sheds.
There was no difficulty in determining this latter point, for the
avalanches appeared to rain down upon the track from all sides. The
question was not so much where to introduce the sheds, but where they
could be omitted. It appeared as if the line would have to be carried
almost continuously through a wooden tunnel to ensure its safety.
That the snow-fiend is no mean enemy was brought home forcibly some
three years ago. While a snow, train was climbing up the western slope,
clearing away the accumulated mass of snow and debris deposited by a
slide upon the track, another avalanche swept down upon the little band
working so desperately to cut a path for the mail. Over 100 men were on
the train when the terror of the mountains struck them and swept the
whole into the gulch below, the locomotives and plough weighing over
50 tons being bowled over and over like an india-rubber ball as they
were hurtled down the steep slopes. Over fifty lives were lost in that
catastrophe, and it was but one of many which have happened since the
Selkirks were first gridironed by the railway.
But snow-shedding, while securing the safety of the line, has its
drawbacks. If a structure is made too lengthy it becomes filled with
suffocating smoke which obscures all signals, and deadens all sounds.
In summer another danger exists. The district threaded is one ravaged
heavily by forest fires, and the danger from this enemy was only too
vividly apparent. At this juncture Mr. W. C. Van Horne came to the
rescue of the engineers, as he had done on many previous occasions, to
extricate them from their difficulty. He suggested that the maximum
length of a single shed should be 3000 feet, and where the conditions
demanded a long continuous length of this protection, that it should be
broken up into units with wide, clear intervals of open line between.
To prevent these “breaks” becoming filled with debris he resorted to an
ingenious expedient. Up on the mountain side he built what is known as
a “split fence.” This is a triangular erection, with the apex pointing
towards the mountain top, of heavy massive construction and filled and
banked with masonry. The descending slide strikes this obstruction,
becomes split in twain, one half is deflected so as to roll over
the roof of the snow-shed on one side, and the other half caused to
glance off in a similar manner on the other side. If one of these
constructions did not secure the desired end, then another was planted
above it higher up the mountain side. The success of this system has
been remarkable, and it has enabled the company to reduce the lengths
of the sheds very appreciably.
Shortly after the line was opened the protective handiwork of the
engineers was subjected to trying tests. The winter of 1886–7 was
one of excessive severity even for the Selkirks. In less than a week
8½ feet of snow fell, and the blizzard raged continuously for three
weeks. Slides were of daily occurrence, the silence of the mountains
being broken by the continuous roar of the avalanche. The snowfall on
the summits exceeded 35 feet, and the white mantle was piled upon the
roofs of the sheds to a depth of 50 feet. The slides were of terrific
fury, some rattling down the slopes with such force and speed as to
rebound 300 feet or so up the opposite mountain side. Thousands of
tons of rock, some pieces as large as a small villa, were caught up in
their frantic rushes, while tall, thick trees were snapped off like
matches and tossed about like straws. Yet with one exception the sheds
withstood the terrible bombardments to which they were subjected. The
solitary case had the roof torn off completely to be thrown well above
the track on the mountain side.
Mud-slides were another visitation which had to be respected, for time
after time a cutting had to be cleared of a viscous mass which had
slipped into the excavation. These movements are produced by a kind of
sand, which, when it becomes saturated with water, slips and slides in
all directions in an amazing manner, carrying everything with it. In
winter, when under the grip of frost, the soil looks perfectly safe and
stable, but when the weather breaks innumerable springs come to life,
and in a short time the whole mass commences to move like a lava stream.
In addition to resorting to extreme protective measures against the
avalanche where these could not be avoided, some magnificent pieces
of bridge-work were carried out at other points to avoid them. In
the first instance several were erected in wood to save time, to be
replaced by permanent metal structures at a later date. In many cases,
however, iron, and in others masonry, had to be adopted in the first
instance.
There was one gully which perplexed the engineers sorely. It was just a
cleft in the perpendicular mountain cliff. The engineers called it the
“Jaws of Death,” and the name was appropriate. They had to cross this
couloir, and a temporary timber bridge was built by dint of tremendous
effort. The engineers congratulated themselves upon their success, but
their gratification was short-lived. A constructional train ventured to
cross and the structure collapsed under its weight. Here was a dilemma.
Work was brought to a standstill and there was grave deliberation. Mr.
Van Horne heard of the accident, and hurried to the front. He surveyed
the gully, and there and then decided to throw an arched masonry bridge
across the breach. It was built, and what was more to the point, it
stood; the constructional gangs could get forward.
At Stoney Creek there was another trouble of a like nature. The
V-shaped ravine was deep and wide, and it was recognised that something
different from what had been done in bridge-building up to this point
was imperative. Two wooden towers were built on either side to a height
of 200 feet, and these supported a single span of 172 feet over the
gulch, which was carried out in wood also. From end to end the bridge
measured 490 feet, and for years it ranked as the highest wooden bridge
on the continent. The timber structure, however, has long since made
way for a noble arched steel bridge springing from the rocky sides of
the gulch, and it constitutes one of the most graceful bridges on the
whole of the system.
The descent from the Selkirk summit involved the execution of some
startling pieces of engineering to gain the banks of the Illecillewaet
River. The line makes its way down the mountain side in a series of
steps or terraces connected at the ends by sharp loops, doubling and
redoubling on itself to overcome a difference of 600 feet in altitude
in the most extraordinary manner. The train is first running eastwards,
disappears round the corner and then is making its way in the opposite
direction a few feet below, to round another curve and once more steams
eastwards, this alternate running backwards and forwards continuing
until the valley of the Illecillewaet River is gained, by which time
the train has travelled over 6 miles of metals to make an actual
advance of only 2 miles.
Issuing from the Selkirks, another barrier, the Gold Range, had to be
traversed, but this was a comparatively easy matter, as the Eagle Pass
is a natural causeway among the peaks for the iron road, although its
discovery taxed Walter Moberly to an extreme degree, as is narrated in
another chapter. In this pass the engineers, driving the line from the
east, met the forces advancing from the west. They shook hands at a
point known as Craigellachie, where the connection between the two arms
was made--where the “golden spike” was driven home--and the Pacific
seaboard was brought into touch with the Atlantic through Canadian
territory.
[Illustration: THE CISCO CANTILEVER BRIDGE CARRYING THE CANADIAN
PACIFIC RAILWAY ACROSS THE FRASER RIVER
The bridge leads to a tunnel driven through the precipitous wall of the
canyon.]
[Illustration:
_Hill, photo_] [_See page 240_
THE KEY WEST “LIMITED” PASSING OVER LONG KEY VIADUCT AT FULL SPEED]
The Pacific end of the line was taken in hand by the Government, and
it must be conceded that they had most difficult work to accomplish,
for they had to force their way through the Fraser and Thompson River
canyons, producing the heaviest 300 continuous miles of engineering on
the whole line. They had to fight for every inch of the way through
these ravines, as the bottom is entirely occupied by the water. The
line is laid on a gallery carved in the cliff-face 200 feet above the
waters boiling beneath, in a succession of cuts and tunnels, with some
fine examples of bridging, of which the cantilever structure across the
Fraser River of 300 feet span was the second of its character to be
built on the American continent. This link cost about £2,000,000, or
$10,000,000, to build, representing about £16,000, or $80,000, per mile
purely for the formation of the grade ready to receive the metals.
Considering the magnitude of this undertaking and the fact that the
railway extended through extremely diversified country from level
plain to tumbled lofty mountains, construction at the rate of some
five hundred miles per annum was a magnificent achievement. For the
greater part of the distance it traversed country where the white man
was not in occupation, and where several years were certain to pass
before it yielded any economic value capable of producing traffic to
the railway. The enterprise was jeopardised seriously by the financial
panic in the United States, and the Northern Pacific railway crisis,
which misfortunes did not augur well for the success of another
trans-continental railway. When it was finished, the inquiry as to
why it had been built through an absolute wilderness from end to
end was raised on all sides. The present day supplies the answer to
that criticism to a complete degree. From the day of its completion
the Dominion went forward with a rush, and it cannot be denied that
the province of British Columbia played an important part in the
development of the country when it insisted, as a return for its
entrance into the federation of the provinces, that a railway should be
built across the continent to link the east with the west within ten
years.