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.