Golden—Pack-horse Difficulties—Camping out—Prospecting in British
Columbia—On an Asphaltum Mine in Texas.
At that time (1894) Golden consisted of three frame hotels, a smelter,
post-office, a sawmill, the usual quota of saloons and dance-halls, and
probably fifteen houses. Still, all the land was staked out into town
lots and streets, and lots were valued at $250 up. I met a friend a
short time ago who had just come from there, and he told me it was now a
city of about 3000 people. It had three churches, a baseball club,
chamber of commerce, mayor, aldermen, and all the appurtenances of
civilisation.
We were met in Golden by Mr. Townsley’s younger brother, who had been
out at the mines overseeing the work. We hired seven horses—four to
ride, and three to pack—and started off. I wanted to take along a rifle
I had borrowed, but was voted down on the ground that if I took the
rifle I should want to hunt, and this was solely a business expedition.
I also wanted to take along a skilled packer to look after the horses,
but I was again voted down, on the score that it was a needless expense,
and that there were enough able-bodied men in the crowd to do all that
was needed. I was completely ignorant about packing, and knew it, but
the rest of the party were blissfully ignorant of even their ignorance.
After this second defeat I swore I would only go along as passenger, and
would not be in any way held responsible for the lack of the necessaries
I had wished to take along, nor would I assist in the packing, all of
which was agreed to; and so the rest of the trip was pure enjoyment to
me, whatever it was to the others.
We arrived at Carbonate landing the first night, over level roads,
without any mishaps, about twenty miles by land, and thirty-two by
water, from Golden. But here we struck off into prospectors’ trails up
the mountains. They adjusted the packs for us at the hotel before we
started, and we all stood around to see how it was done, and thought we
knew all about it and could tie a diamond hitch with any one. The first
afternoon after leaving the landing we saw a bear down in the valley
below us, and there was much regret that we had not brought the rifle.
That night we camped at a deserted hut, and everybody was tired; for
twenty-five miles’ riding behind pack-animals at a walk in the hills is
tiring work. The next morning we repacked and started off, but had not
gone a mile when we saw another bear—and more regrets.
There seemed to be something lacking in our knowledge about packing, for
every few miles the packs would slide round underneath the horses’
bellies. Luckily the horses were quiet, and really seemed quite
accustomed to having packs do this, for they would stop at once and
commence eating till some one came and readjusted the load. The work
fell on the two Townsleys, who were riding one in front and one behind
the pack-animals; and amidst much cussing and reviling of one another,
the horses, the packs, and everything connected with the expedition,
they would get the packs back, and we would travel a few more miles,
when the same scene would be repeated. On one occasion I offered the
suggestion that they should put the pack-saddle on top and hang the
goods underneath, but they seemed to take it too seriously. The job was
not so easy as it looks on paper, as the trail was narrow, and the
cliffs very steep in case a man slipped; so each new halt called forth
choicer language than had been used at the last, and what one could not
think of the other said.
We camped out the second night on a large plateau, but as poor Sayers
could not sleep himself, he annoyed the rest of us by gathering wood all
night and keeping up an enormous fire. The bears and coyotes seemed to
have got on his nerves, also portions of his anatomy had acquired
saddle-galls. The next day we intended making the mine, but it took hard
and late riding to do it, owing to the constant stops to fix packs,
which seemed to be harder to handle each time they were unloaded. The
only thing that disturbed my complete enjoyment was that I could not
enjoy a hearty laugh in peace, as relations were beginning to get
strained. Whenever they had breath left over from cussing the pack and
the horse, they cussed me, simply because I suggested that they should
not undress the pack-animals at night. However, by riding late, we made
the mine-camp that night, and none of us were sorry to reach it.
Next morning, bright and early, we started over to see the mine, which
was about half a mile from the camp. Considerable work had been done.
Two tunnels had been driven at right angles to one another—one about 130
feet long and the other about 50 feet—besides three vertical shafts, or
prospect holes, on different parts of the ledge. About a mile above the
mine site there was a good-sized glacier, from the foot of which ran
quite a respectable stream of water, which could be utilised for
water-power by installing a turbine and dynamo.
To get from the camp to the mine we had to cross a ravine filled with
frozen snow with a pitch of about 45°, and across this a narrow path
about 16 inches wide had been cut. Here Sayers baulked, until he found
that there was absolutely no other way to get across, when he gave in.
It turned out that he had one glass eye (which I had not known till
then), and so, being blind in one eye and lame in the other (he wore
glasses), he could not see very well, poor fellow.
Coming back, we decided to go another way to look at a new outcrop that
had been discovered. This brought us above the camp, and we could, by
scrambling down a pretty steep cliff, save a long walk round. We got a
rope round Sayers, which was held by a man above him, and with another
man below to place his feet, we managed to get him down, though he
protested strongly. This was the first and last trip Sayers took with
us, as he decided he was not cut out for mountaineering; and he was at
least convinced that there was a mine, which was all he had come to see.
We stayed about a week; then I collected my samples, and we started back
for Golden. On the second day, as we were coming round a bend, we ran
full into a she-bear and two half-grown cubs. She certainly looked mean
as she barred our way, while the cubs fled up the hillside. I told
Sayers I was going to take a shot at her with my revolver (of which I
had not really the least intention), and he nearly died of fright. I
should not have felt like joking had I not known that the bear would
have to eat Sayers before it could begin on me.
We got down to Carbonate landing without mishap, and there, as we were
all heartily sick of riding Indian file, we sent our horses in with a
man from the hotel, and, getting a boat, we rowed down to Golden,
thirty-two miles, in something like three hours, assisted by a current
like a mill-race. Here I sorted out my samples, and shipping half to
Vancouver for assay, I brought the rest back with me to Toronto for the
same purpose. We had bought the property—part cash and part
time-notes—but, owing to bad management, and, I am afraid, considerable
crooked work, our funds ran out and we could not meet payments. I went
to every friend I had in Guelph and Toronto and tried to borrow money to
tide us over, and Townsley did the same, as we were preparing to float a
company on the good reports of the mining engineers and the different
assays I had had made. But we were a year or two too early, as no one
would touch West Kootenay mines or advance a dollar on them. Later on,
every one was scrambling to buy stock in any hole in the ground up
there, and some of the very men who refused me in 1894 sank thousands in
1895 and 1896 in worthless prospects. The end of it was we lost the
mine, which was afterwards taken up by wealthy Hamilton men, who are
making money out of it to-day. I believe, however, if it had been
decently and honestly managed we might have just scraped through.
I returned to Guelph, broke and disgusted, and tried to get something
to do, but did not succeed that winter. In the spring of 1895 I
received a letter from Bole in New York, saying he was interested in
developing an asphaltum mine in Texas, and if I wished I could get
work there. But I should have to start at the bottom as a labourer and
work my way up, if I had it in me. He was very sore at my not taking
his advice in regard to the mine. My wife’s health needed my remaining
a few weeks longer, if possible, but I was told that I could not
expect the offer to remain open. So, on the 12th of April, with a
heavy heart I started off for Texas to make another effort to recoup
my fortunes and make a living for my family. My friend, Cursin of
Guelph, was just starting on a trip to Mexico, and we decided to
travel together. I arrived in San Antonio, and took my letter of
introduction to the company’s office. There I was duly hired at $1.25
(5s. 2½d.) per day, and told to report to the superintendent at Cline,
118 miles west of San Antonio. Young Cursin wanted to see the mine,
and I got permission for him to go out and stay a couple of days. We
arrived at Cline station, which is seven miles from the mines, but
luckily a freight wagon of the company’s was there, and I got the
Mexicans to take our trunks, while Cursin and I walked. This Kootenay
mine, above mentioned, is an example of the fact that the western
states and provinces of America thrive on our “thousand-pounders.” I
put in £1000, and, as I have said, my English friend Cursin put in
£2270; total, a present of £3270 to the Hamilton men! That is how the
“thousand-pounders” nourish the West. Nor did the experience lead to
much, for we both lost largely in subsequent investments.