The Good News / Bad News Trip

Exploring Old Goldmines Near Hedley

September 6-7, 1998

Sue and I wanted to go camping before her summer holidays came to an end so I planned a fun exploration trip. Years ago, before she and I began dating, I showed her some photos I had taken at the Mascot goldmine on Nickel Plate Mtn, perched on a cliff hundreds of feet above the tiny village of Hedley, BC. She expressed an interest in the site so I figured, ten years later and now that we're married, maybe I should take her to Mascot. Joining us would be her sister, Vanessa, and my friend, Chris Waterman.

Sunday morning, just before noon, we left White Rock and took Hwy 1 towards Hope. The skies were clear and the weather was wonderfully warm. Chris had the side windows removed on his tall YJ and I had only the bikini top and Duster cover on mine. It was perfect Jeep weather. The drive to Hope, Princeton and then Hedley was uneventful although we were surprised at the number of Jeepers who waved as they passed us on the highway. Most of them came from drivers of modified Jeeps.

The twisty climb up the side of Nickel Plate Mtn

By the time we reached Hedley, it was close to 4pm. Sunset was around 7:30pm so we didn't have a lot of time to explore. The trailhead off the highway was ungated. This was a change from the last time I attempted to go to Nickel Plate Mtn about four years ago so I figured that was a good sign. We took the turn-off and after a brief stop to air down our tires, our Jeeps began chattering their way up the dusty washboard road. After a few minutes, the road began a series of tight turns and switchbacks, We gained altitude quickly and ten minutes later, we were driving along a cliff face hundreds of feet above the highway. Looking over the edge was a great way to induce vertigo so I kept my eyes glued to the road. The temperature in the valley was easily over 30 deg Celsius and it felt even worse as we climbed higher. Chris and Vanessa had an even less enjoyable environment since they were following in our dust trail.

The temperature became more bearable once we got away from the exposed mountainside and into the intermittent tree cover. Some of the terrain was familiar to me although, since the last time I was here was over a decade ago, I wasn't sure how well I could trust my memory.

Water treatment pools

Rounding a corner, we saw a huge flattened area consisting of a series of water treatment pools. While I don't have a problem with resource-based industries, it is rather disheartening to discover forests, hills, and other geographic landmarks replaced by water treatment pools and vast, stepped piles of pulverized rock and earth.

My brother, Bill, used to work in the mining industry so I asked him to confirm what the pools are. His response was: They are either tailings ponds (unlikely) or leaching ponds. Basically, the crushed rock is mixed with some kind of leachant to disolve out the gold. In our mine, we used cyanide but from the open nature of these pits, it was likely some kind of mild acid. Another possibility is that this is waste water from some aspect of the mining process. Usually, ground water contains some concentration of minerals and water mixed with ground up ore has a *lot* of contamination, usually arsenic.

I spotted a road that looked like it would take us to the Mascot mine site so we made the turn and proceeded west. Once again we were travelling along the mountainside. As the road made a sharp right, following a fold in the mountainside, we had an unobstructed view of the area where I thought the mine was located. Thinking that we were on the trail that brought us above the mine, I scanned the area below our altitude. Seeing nothing, I was about to conclude that the mine was around the next bend when I suddenly saw it. It was almost directly across from us but at a slightly higher altitude. It was approximately 1km from our position...if we could fly. We couldn't drive there because the road we were on continued downhill for about 200m before dead ending at a rockslide of biblical proportions, courtesy of the open pit mine above us. I estimated that we'd have to hike 3km to reach the mine.

I knew that this wasn't the route I used to access the mine before so we headed back to the main road. Continuing higher up the main road, we saw the mill where the ore processing took place. This was the Nickel Plate Mining Co.'s site. The gate to the site bore a sign proclaiming, NO PUBLIC VEHICLES BEYOND THIS POINT. As you might have guessed, this was also where the access road used to be. The forest which used to surround it was now a vast pile of crushed rock which towered above us.

Hoping that it was possible to skirt around their pit and rejoin the original road, we tried every left turn trail beyond the Nickel Plate mine. With dusk rapidly approaching, we decided to look for Nickel Plate Lake where we would camp for the night. We reasoned that we could always hike into Mascot tomorrow morning even if we never found a way onto the old road. Using the GPS and some good old-fashioned sense from Chris, we followed an obscure trail which brought us to a sandy beach on the lake. We were just in time to see the sun go down. Sue and Vanessa were worried about bears and they made sure that the first thing I did was to load the shotgun. After dinner, we moved the food and garbage 50m from our tents and went to bed. I was mildly annoyed that they were so worried about bears because in all the time I had lived in Princeton (a neighbouring town of Hedley), I rarely ever saw bears in the bush. I thought the women were being overly worried. Oh well. The skies must have been very clear that night because the moon shone so brightly that I was able to see inside the tent without needing a flashlight. For me, that's a rare occurrence. We all remarked at the moon's brilliance.

A bright, morning moon Lars makes breakfast

I slept well that night and was wide awake by 6:30am. Crawling out of the tent, I was delighted to see the moon still shining brightly against the dulled pink and blue hues of the western horizon. I quickly grabbed my camera and took some pictures. As I started cooking breakfast, the others tumbled from their tents with Sue being the last one out by half an hour. A kingfisher provided us with some entertainment as we watched it fish for its breakfast.

By 8:30am we were packed up and rolling. We explored another trail which didn't dead end but went too far north-west to look like it would take us to the Mascot. We turned around once it started heading downhill. We followed the main road back down to the first turn-off we explored yesterday. Just like yesterday, we had to slow down for some grouse which insisted in fleeing from the trucks by running along the road in front of us rather than flying. I know grouse are stupid but these ones were particularly thick headed. I think they must have been trying to protect their nests by luring us away from them.

At the dead end, we parked the Jeeps and loaded our knapsacks with lots of water, flashlights, extra batteries, some snacks, warm tops (mine shafts can be quite cold), and, of course, cameras. Chris and I were contemplating a route which would require us to climb alongside the rockslide. It wasn't very appetizing so it was a great relief to me when Sue pointed out a much better route. It was just as steep but the surface was more stable. Basically, we would be faced with a very, very steep climb (the kind where you have to use your hands half the time) of about 75m and then walk about 125m along a mild grade and then another short climb of 15m before reaching the old access road.

Off we went with Chris in the lead. I immediately started breathing heavily because my aerobic capacity, to be frank, sucks. Vanessa started complaining about the poor traction she was getting from her running shoes so I helpfully informed her that that is why I _always_ wear boots when I'm in the bush. She then started saying that there was no way she was going to make it up this climb. I suggested that she could wait with the Jeeps but she refused the offer. Of

Here's a view of where we parked our Jeeps and where we hiked. If you click on this image, you'll see a larger version with the route traced out

As you might have guessed from the size of the Jeeps, we were a long ways above them

course, that didn't stop her from complaining. Little did I know that, in the parlance of spoiled adults, what she was demonstrating was merely foreplay. Once we started on the steepest part of the climb, she went, to continue the metaphor, "all the way." She pretty much crumpled like a rag doll and started sobbing. Not "depths of despair" sobbing -- more like, "pay attention to me" sobbing. Sue rolled her eyes and gave me her exasperated look. I looked at Sue and gave her my "is your sister on crack?" look. We knew her well enough to know that this wasn't the result of a severe case of vertigo. Rather, she was having a very melodramatic moment and indulging herself. I thought about consoling her but I knew we would not be going to the mine if I decided to try to make her happy. I decided to be firm and told her to grab my hand. I ended up pulling her most of the way up the mountain. At one point, we had to traverse a slope above which lay a rotted log supporting several hundred pounds of rocks. When I saw it, I imagined the tremendous pain that would be in store for us if that log gave way. For one short, sadistic moment, I contemplated pointing out that possibility to Vanessa but I quickly dismissed the idea. She was concentrating her vision on the area directly in front of her feet and never noticed the peril. (On the way back to Vancouver, Sue also mentioned seeing that log and hurried past that section as fast as she could.)

I was somewhat grateful for Vanessa's "episode" because it gave me a reason to climb extra slowly so I wasn't gasping for breath on the way up. When we finally reached level ground, I wasn't too exhausted. We took a short break while Vanessa proclaimed that we would have to find a 4x4 trail to this spot because she refused to climb down the trail on the

This is the closest view we were able to get from the mines. Ken let us walk out onto an ore chute to take some pictures

way back. Oddly enough, it didn't seem beyond the realm of possibility because Chris told us that when he first reached the level ground, he saw a blue pickup truck head towards the mine on the old access road. That meant that there must be vehicle access. The question is, was it public or private? I wondered if it was a mine employee going to visit the mine or if it was simply someone like us who had managed to find a way to reach the road. We dusted ourselves off and started the hike to the mine. About 50m from the staircase which would take us down to the mine, we saw a couple of signs on the road declaring that this area was off limits to the public. After the trouble we went through to climb up to this road, I was determined that we were going to see the mine even if the road was closed. The others were in agreement so we continued on for another few metres before we saw the pickup truck. It was parked and the driver started walking towards us. "Didn't you see the signs?" he asked in a stern tone of voice. I looked kind of sheepish and admitted that we had, indeed seen the signs (no point in lying). I thought he was going to give us a hard time but to my surprise, he understood our desire to see the mine. Rather than simply telling us to leave, he told us about the recent problems they've been having with

From the ore chute, we were also able to see the village of Hedley

the mine with regards to vandalism and theft and how he had been hired as a watchman to reduce the problems. He told us of the plans for the mine's eventual re-opening to the public (possibly by 1999) and also gave us some pamphlets and suggested that we visit the museum in Hedley for more information. He introduced himself as Ken. He felt badly about having to turn away so many people, in particular, a large group of people the day before which included some seniors who made the hike up the mountain. If you were still wondering about the title of this story, this was the BAD NEWS part. We weren't able to visit the Mascot mine. We were only able to take a few pictures from a distance. The GOOD NEWS part is that Ken gave me some GPS co-ordinates for other mines in the area, along with directions on how to get there. One intriguing option was the French Mines which featured a series of adits (adit: a nearly horizontal passage from the surface into a mine) which we could explore. He warned us to stay away from the left-most opening since a spore grew in it which would also grow in our lungs if we went in there. "What could possibly be more enticing than that?" I thought. Ken also gave Vanessa directions back to the main road which would let her avoid climbing down the mountainside. We thanked Ken for his time and left. Just as we were leaving, other hikers whom had also ignored the signs, arrived and I could see Ken getting ready to repeat everything he just told to us. I felt sorry for Ken, having to continually explain why visitors couldn't enter the Mascot mine site.

Following Ken's directions, we headed back through the Nickel Plate Mining Co.'s property and then split up once we knew where we were. Sue and Vanessa continued on the mine's road while Chris and I headed downhill, along a powerline towards the trail which would take us to the Jeeps. It was a steep descent and my knees were swelling with pain by the time we finally reached the Jeeps.

French Mines

After picking up the girls at the main road, we headed downhill for a few kilometres before taking the turn-off to the French Mines. Along the way, Sue and I spotted a young black bear which was just about to cross the road. I guess Sue was right about the presence of bears. The French Mines' road was a narrow shelf road which was cut into a very steep slope. It was one of those trail sections where you can't resist imagining what would happen if your steering linkage broke and you drove over the side. After about 2km, we reached the end of the road and the French Mines. We were still on a shelf road but it was wide enough to turn the Jeeps around. To our left was a tall, wooden, hexagonal tower-like structure where I suppose the ore was dumped and held for transfer into wagons or some other form of transportation. Above that was another shelf trail barely wide enough for a person to walk on. It was the walkway to the adit entrances.

Again, I asked my brother to confirm the tower's function: I think you are right about it being a storage bin for ore. The shape makes sense if you assume that they only had timbers of a certain uniform size (an octogon is bigger than a square. A decagon would be even bigger but would be more complicated to build).

We climbed up to the narrow shelf and stood before the closest adit. It appeared to be the rightmost entrance. The cool air blowing out of the opening was a welcome change from the oppressive, dry heat which was getting worse as the day went on. The airflow meant that there must be an inflow opening somewhere else, most likely higher in altitude. This seemed like a great tunnel to explore. We donned sweaters and jackets, got our flashlights ready, and walked into the darkness. If you've never been in a mine tunnel before, I've got to tell you that it's a very memorable experience. The thought of thousands of tons of rock above your head, immense darkness and the damp air conspire to keep the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. We were all

The "chipmunk"

murmuring about how cool this was. After a hundred metres, we came to a fork. To the right was a partially collapsed tunnel from which the airflow was originating. To the left was a tunnel in much better condition, with many sections of its ore car tracks still intact. We went left. After another hundred metres, it ended. Heading back to the fork, I saw a shadowy movement on the right wall ahead of us. At first, I thought it was a bat but when it continued to run, I thought it was a chipmunk. But then I thought to myself, "what would a chipmunk be doing this far into the mine?" Then I thought, it must be a -- it stopped long enough for me to shine my light on it -- two beady RAT eyes stared back at me. Yup, it was a rat, barely one metre from my face.

When we got back to the fork, the girls had enough tunnel walking so they went back to the opening while Chris and I took the unexplored passage. Nickel Plate Mountain consists of lots of solid rock, resulting in shafts and adits which required little shoring from wood supports. Consequently, I felt nervous when we had to cross under some shoring made up of wet, rotting lumber. A chute was protruding through one wall so I presume the support was required because of the chute weakening one of the walls. After another few minutes of walking, we entered into a large chamber. There were passages branching left and right, with an upper level accessible by ladder to our left. The passage to the right wasn't an option for us because it required wading through a deep pool of water. We took the left branch and followed it for several metres until it dead ended. Returning back to the chamber, we tried to determine where the airflow was coming from but we couldn't feel it anymore. I think the chamber's large volume reduced the flow and the only way it was noticeable was when we were in a restricted space like the narrow adit. Chris decided to go up the ladder. It took us to the upper level which had another series of ladders going even higher into a crevice near the ceiling. The climb to the crevice looked kind of risky and we were running out of time (I had to be back home at a certain time). We descended the ladder and started for the exit. On the way out, Chris managed to ram his head into one of the support beams. It must've hurt, I examined the beam and noticed he broke some wood off the edge. Ouch.

Pondering the stability of the supports	The pool	Chris contemplates a higher path
Chris examines a ladder	We figured the ladders were strong enough so we started climbing	Here's a picture of me just to prove that I was in there. As you can see, there were red markings in the adits, indicating that prospectors have been examining the mine

A southerly view of the Similkameen valley

Before heading back down to the Jeeps, we had a quick look at the other mine entrances. One of them didn't go very far. Getting to the third one involved a scary crossing over a sheer drop-off. Chris was ahead of me and started calling to me when he reached the third opening. He was quite excited about his find. He had every right to feel that way. We stood before a large cavern with several smaller openings within its maw. In the ceiling was a near perfectly circular opening allowing a shaft of sunlight to illuminate the interior. The inner floor was bulged in the middle, dropping into crevices and hidey-holes at its edges. Ladders going up and down were placed in various locations like a Snakes and Ladders game board (or Loderunner if you remember the early microcomputer days). We made a brief foray into one of the more promising tunnels but soon turned around when it became apparent that ropes and much more time would be required to do this cavern justice. We vowed to return to do it right. Back at the Jeeps, I told Sue about the cavern. She wanted to see it so Chris took her back up while I organized my Jeep's load for the long drive home.

Here you can see one of the "sun roofs" in the ceiling of the cavern

Two of the tunnels in the cavern

Chris returns from one of the tunnels

Heading back along Hwy 3, we stopped for a very brief dip in the impossibly cold Similkameen river and then for a treat at the Dairy Queen in Princeton.

While we never achieved the primary goal of visiting the Mascot mine, we did find a way into it. So in that sense, the trip was a partial success. Finding the French Mines and exploring its much longer mine adits turned our trip into an overwhelming success. You can bet that we'll be visiting Nickel Plate Mountain again.

...lars