Posted 2007-06-15. Tags: angry truck, canada, mines, srt.

Angry Truck roared, dropped its mighty plow and charged at the dirt mound. They clashed in a fury of dirt and grinding tyres. Piles of dirt and rock momentarily resisted, then faltered and collapsed into the gaping vehicle trap. Over and over the truck slammed into the dirt mounds obliterating what remained of the trap, turning the 8ft wide, 6ft deep ditch into a nice level road the average city worker would be proud of.

Eight of us (Skaught, Fyrephreak, Vgabnd, Laura, Wendy, Weazl, Gremlin and dsankt) had put 3 hours of labour into the trap: clearing the massive rocks, laying the palettes and breaking up the rocky soil enough for the plow to be effective. Gremlin, Laura and Wendy proved they'd work as hard as the guys. In fact I'd wager Laura, ex-competitive weightlifter, is stronger than any of us. Skaught eased Angry Truck gingerly across the trap, palettes creaking and soil compacting. Our workmanship held and we all cheered. The final vehicle trap had fallen, the road to the mine would be ours! The sleepycity readers doubted the Angry Plow, tsk tsk do not misjudge the DIY power. We returned to Calgary and waited 2 weeks for the snow to melt.

As mentioned in part 4 a number of small avalanches blocked our progress to the portal. In two weeks much of the snow had vanished but the trail was far from passable. We took to our shovels and began digging. Avalanche snow is hard packed and full of debris. Trees, rocks and whatever else the rushing snow can grab surging down the mountain makes digging a real chore. The 2 avalanches occurred near a switchback, doubling the workload as we cleared both the upper and lower road of snow. I've never been particularly fond of intense physical labour (that's what machinery is for) but we took to digging like madmen; anything goes for the mine. The avalanches parted for us in a fashion that would make Moses jealous and all that remained were trees big enough to scare Ents. The largest bore a circumference as large as my arm span.


Weazl took to the trees with el cheapo Home Depot chainsaw and it's surprisingly powerful. Skaught was almost pummeled by a large tree which, as we cut away the lower section over the trail, slid down into the opposite road shoulder with devastating force, at the point Skaught was previously standing. With the vehicle traps, trees and avalanches behind us we rolled onto the barren, windswept south-eastern side of the mountain. Here the trees are thinner, the rock more exposed and the trail narrower and less forgiving. The road bifurcates with the main strand continuing down slightly to level 3. It's in much better condition so we followed its lead.

Outside the level 3 portal is a small landing where the ore-carts would deposit their contents onto the tramway, which delivered the ore to the processing mill at level 7. We pulled up on this landing to stand victorious at the level 3 portal. The three weekends of work had given me sore muscles in places I've never even used but our superb vantage point overpowered it all. You've probably heard me harp about the bootiful Canadian scenery eh, here's another picture.


Upon closure of the mine the portals were sealed by simply cramming them full of rock and mine paraphernalia. With time the rocks, ore carts, rail tracks, sheet metal and lumber have settled to create a neat little fox hole where a busy industrial thoroughfare once was. Frigid air gushes through the hole, supporting evidence for more portals. Skaught suggested it may be cold air descending into the glory hole and exiting here. Entering the mine is an arousing sensory experience. The rusty metal is sharp and damp while the rotting timber gives off a delicious decaying odour which is quickly carried away by the chilling air. The rock blasted walls are even colder. Unadjusted eyes peer pitifully into the meek light of your headlamp against the oppressive gloom. Once past the bottleneck of the foxhole it's strangely quiet. I'd offer you an idea of the taste but I refrained from licking anything.


Inside the tunnel itself we encountered something for which we'd not planned, lots of water. Nobody has explored the mine in spring, only in summer after the snow melt and in winter when all is frozen. Usually the mine is dry. "Usually" is a word I've been hearing a lot lately, I'm beginning to think I'm bad luck. An icy crust covered the ankle deep water in many parts, in others small ice chunks bobbed gently. We possessed no waders or uberboots and the water formed a neat lake across the tunnel's entire width and extended 50m (150ft) down the tunnel. I loathed to spend hours exploring the mine with wet feet so removed the shoes and daintily dipped a toe into the water. Holy Raptor Jesus I've never felt water so cold.

The thin ice cracked away and to the ankle I plunged my foot. Cold like I'd never felt stung my feet and slow enough to dodge the rusty nails and sharp rocks I tiptoed like a cartoon villain down the tunnel. Each step bestowed a short reprieve above the water at the expense of the other foot below the water. You lose either way. We ran aground, yanked our jewel sacks free from their toasty lodgings inside teh buttcracks and marched on.

The interior feels exactly how I somehow, intrinsically, know a mine should feel. Rail tracks vanish into seemingly haphazardly oriented tunnels. Hardwood ore slides descend diagonally into the tunnels, braced by wooden frameworks which encircle the tunnel. Each slide ends in a rugged chute with a device for dumping batches of ore into the awaiting carts. The rock cut jagged tunnels intersect with massive excavated ore chambers. Sometimes at the top, sometimes at the bottom but usually in the middle of a 200ft tall chasm. It's difficult to estimate the size of the chambers, there is nothing easily identifiable against which to scale the spaces. Literally the mountain is hollow.


One such space is the main shaft which connects levels 3 through 7. According to the cross section Kowalski scanned at the mine archive it's over 210m deep. A number of items were thrown down the shaft in a blatant display of unethical behaviour. Tsk tsk what juveniles. Having purged that from our system ropes were rigged, checked, double checked and triple checked. On 30m of rope we hardly expected to find anything but the exercise was good practise in rigging and safety for everyone involved. Skaught dropped over the precariously balanced wooden platform into the tunnel.

To be continued...

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