This post is part of the series To slay a king. Read the next. Read from the start.

The shaft itself is scarier than any rappel we've done. The colossal depth (210m) is off-putting, the consequences of failure more severe and the environment less comfortable. Passing the overhanging edge is difficult, even with an etrier (aider), and the stance width is too narrow to allow a proper flip upside down to pass the overhang maneuver. From below the wooden platform appears even more perilous. It's barely balanced, tipping into the top of the shaft. More incredible still are the rotting wooden ladders affixed to the sloping side of the shaft. From the cross section the shaft appears to slope continuously at about 75 degrees. We saw no sign of equipment to mechanically move workers inside the shaft though it may have been stripped at closure of the mine. If indeed the workers traversed the levels via wooden ladders they're totally batshit crazy. There are no signs of cages around the ladders or other fall protection.

Curiously within the shaft, below the platform, exists a wooden bracing with one beam running perpendicular to the slope, and 3 parallel beams that intersect it. Each beam is at least 30x20cm and 4 meters long. I cannot imagine what purpose it might serve, any additional clues to its use are long rotted. One of the beams was dislodged by swaying it back and forth until the nails holding it together fatigued and broke. Rappelling past the beams in their condition is too dangerous. If one were to dislodge and fall on you inside the shaft it's certainly game over. We'll knock the rest out (they're certainly not load bearing) before we fully descend the shaft.

In another part of level 3 we explored an ore chamber linked to what has been fondly named the Treasure Room. Shards of silver-coloured reflective pyrite litter the floor. Thick iron oxide leeches into the water flow creating a crimson pond aptly called the Suicide Pool. This is one of the few places we stopped to take photos, due to the difficulty of lighting anywhere else. It's just too damn massive for the lighting we brought. When Anymouse and Fyrephreak first found the mine they entered an ore chamber so large they believed themselves to have exited the mine. When they realised no stars could be seen they discovered it was just a massive ore chamber in which their flashlights didn't reach the ceiling.

With the day drawing closed we turned the truck back to our nearby lodgings and their glorious hot tubs. Nothing feels so good as soaking weary bones in the steaming water for an hour and talking up the days adventures and scheming for tomorrow.

The day was marred by the loss of a dear companion.The plow was restrained in the upright position by a piece of shit strap to a small rusty piece of shit metal in the rear tyre well. As you can imagine the bumping of the truck on an uneven road put considerable bouncy tension on the plow, the strap and the metal. You can likely see where this is going. The metal busted, the strap detached and the plow gouged into the ground as Angry Truck bounced down the hill. Our carefully crafted angle brackets bent like plastic as the truck lifted high on its back wheels doing a passable impersonation of a wheelstanding Torana. The plow gave way and the truck collapsed to a halt. She'd run 9s I tell ya.



The following day we ventured out to find the level 2 entrance and hopefully further up the glory hole. Level 2 is an even smaller portal than 3, but for a couple of motivated people (we're motivated right?) it would be accessible in under an hour. It's a project for another trip anyways. Hiking further up the mountainside we hit the motherlode. The gloryhole! I'll admit this is the first GH I've seen firsthand and certainly the only one I've seen large enough to rappel into. From here on in I'll refrain from any sexual gloryhole jokes, my superior breeding compels me.



It's an easy scramble into the gloryhole from the Southern end but the small tunnel midway down the opposite side intrigued us. Rope is the only means to further investigate the small cavern isolated upon the wall but no pirate treasure was to be found anywhere. Also, the tunnel goes nowhere.





Inside the gloryhole opens up substantially into a roundish room covered in rocky shards of numerous colours and textures. On our next trip Vgabnd the resident geologist can help us identify them a little better. A four meter diameter chute resides in the back corner which is coated in a slick layer of ice. Sleds anyone? Beside the chute is a convenient anchor - a thick rock column created by the miners. The top section of a large ore chamber (visible in the cross-section linked above) slopes away gently from the gloryhole chamber. We'll definitely follow this up. Another large shaft drops from inside the gloryhole and by throwing rocks down it we estimate it's 50-100m deep. With luck it joins to levels 2 and 3.

The following day we went in search of the level 9 portal. From the cross-section you can see it's on the other side of the freaking mountain. We used the aerial maps as a guide and google earth provided the gps coordinates (hint: slag piles near mine portals are easy to spot on GE). The original mining road to the portals is more overgrown than the roads we cleared, according to Anymouse there are 50 year old trees growing in the road's middle. It's little more than a deer trail. According to the aerial photos/maps a forestry road runs past the slag pile, on the opposite side of the creek. To save a big hike we decided we'd just ford the creek. How fucking smart we think we are.

Spring is the snow melt season so we totally underestimated the waterflow and shrunken sack factor of the river. The river is fast flowing and approximately 20m across. In our brilliance we conceived 2 excellent plans for this:

1. Cut down a large enough tree to create a bridge. Everyone cross.
2. One person don a harness and ford the raging river, tie rope to tree and make a highline.



Weazel brandished the chainsaw and got to work. Our plan (having never felled a tree) went thusly:
Firstly, cut a large wedge 2/3 of the way through the tree on the side we wished the tree to fall. Then cut a steeply angled slice into the tree upon the opposite site, starting a foot above the wedge and ending in the wedge. Weazl cut the wedge then handed me the chainsaw for the finale. I was determined to get some experience as a Canadian Lumberjack. Halfway into slicing it the tree creaked then moaned and began to tip. It fell away from me, in the direction we hoped! Mmm they'll make a lumberjack out of me yet! I mounted the stump, lifted the chainsaw above my head and did a passable impression of Ash from Evil Dead 3. The cheering lasted for 2.3 seconds, until the tree impacted the other side, broke into 2 massive sections and rushed away down the river. Plan 1 verdict: Fail.

Plan 2 involved fording the raging river, raising a rope and creating a highline to haul ourselves across. Weazl and I donned the boardshorts (hint: Arcteryx make some wicked quick drying synthetic shorts) and harnesses, tied the rope and waded into the water. As you're probably becoming familiar with water, anywhere in Canada under any conditions is fucking cold. Damn snow melt. The water surged against my body, pushing me wherever it saw fit. I'd work my way out 3-4m then be pushed back towards the riverbank. The water reached my nipples and as I lifted each foot it was pushed way back behind me. From my short way out the closeness of the opposite back was merely an illusion. We'd never reach it like this. Plan 2 verdict: Fail.

Anymouse volunteered for the hike while the river forders warmed themselves and gathered nice dry clothes. From the last bridge crossing the river he hacked his way through the scrub and undergrowth and within half an hour appeared upon the opposite bank. In the interim we'd created a weighted shot from 2 plastic bottles (one full of water, and empty for flotation) which we used to launch a thin line across the water. Anymouse retrieved it, hauled across the steel cable and attached it to a big ass tree. A highline was constructed so we crossed the river in style.



The level nine area is a mess of slag piles and debris. An old rail bridge lies in a haphazard heap of lumber at the slope that leads to up to the level nine landing. The old mine cart tracks have escaped the rusty bindings and arc through the air like a drunken ribbon dancer. The mine portal itself has caved in somewhat but nothing we couldn't dig out with a few people and a few hours.



Skaught attempted to plow a large tree off the road, it popped over the hood and slammed into the windscreen. Not content, and now with less to lose, Skaught tried it again. He's pretty stubborn! In all we killed a windscreen and a window but can't make an omelette without breaking some eggs right?



The truck's all fixed, the front 4WD all replaced and the most importantly the road is cleared. Over the past 2 months we've spent 3 weekends at the mine working our asses off filling trenches, cutting down trees, digging out snow and most of all pushing the boundaries of what we thought was possible.

After all this I doubt there's anything we can't do. Fuck overpaid motivational speakers and their shitty seminars. Give me a rope, a shovel and mineshaft. Over the coming week we'll spend four days in the mine - enter through the gloryhole and exit at level 9. Total vertical distance 400m. See you in a week, dsankt. -dsankt, 2007

Gimme the next part already!