The Mascot Mine

I had wanted to visit…. scratch that…. explore the Mascot Mine for as long as I can remember. Its remains sit perched precariously on the side of a rock faced mountain a thousand meters above the village of Hedley in the Valley below. It is as if someone grabbed a handful of history, threw it at the side of a mountain, and it just stuck like pasta to a wall. Ore was pulled from the Mascot Mine from 1936 until 1939, and in all over 7 tons of gold was removed by the miners that lived and worked on the side of a vertical mountainside. Once the ore was removed from mountain, it demanded to be transported down to the town of Hedley (one full kilometer below) for processing. An ingenious, if not somewhat unbelievable, method of moving the ore was devised. An aerial tram line was strung from the mine all the way down to the valley floor below, and ore was moved in giant buckets attached to steel cables. Occasionally, miners would also hitch a ride up or down in these suspended ore carts…..though the practice was frowned upon by the mine owners. Imagine that exhilarating journey, sitting in a metal bucket strung to a cable being transported into the clouds and beyond……..a true magic carpet ride if there ever was one.

For years I drove through Hedley heading to points beyond, but as always my eyes and thoughts we pulled upwards focusing the mine as it taunted my desires. One day, I thought, one day I will have to find a way to satisfy both my curiosity and appease that sickness and find the means to make my way up to the ruins of the Mascot Mine.

During my late teens or early twenties (my failing memory fails me at the most inopportune time) a cousin and I concocted a hair-brained scheme to scale that imposing mountain and explore once and for all the skeleton of what was once one of the highest producing gold mines in this Country. Sir Edmond Hillary had nothing on the ambition of two young men it seems, yearning to explore the unknown. We went so far in our plot as to attend a rock climbing course on more than one occasion. You see, we were most certain we would require these lifesaving and worthwhile skills if our dreams of ascent and exploration were to come to fruition. As with many well laid plans that flow from the minds of young men, we never saw our scheme through to completion. My cousin was unceremoniously recalled from his “unauthorized leave” of the military and I returned to my continued relationship of worshiping the Mascot from afar.

Fast forward one life chapter later; I met Tracy as we were both walking through the exit doors of failed relationships. We “clicked” right away and I realized that she was truly the partner in crime I had been waiting for all these desperate years. She was looking for the opportunity to experience life, and I was all too willing to drag her, kicking and screaming if need be, into my quest to search for the unexpected.

Coincidentally, the local First Nations Band was taking it upon themselves to diligently resurrect the long since abandoned Mascot Mine to her former glory. Their plan was to restore the site and offer limited groups guided access to the mine camp, buildings, and even into the mine shafts as well. A jackpot, if there ever was one for the likes of me, was won for the paltry admission price of thirty five dollars, a 45 minute ride in an off-road bus with my Wife in tow, and a hike down the infamous 600 steps to the Mascot Mine.

Exploring the Mascot was equal to strolling into the shallow end of the community swimming pool for the first time. It offered us the chance to see, touch, smell, and experience the working of an actual piece of mining history without offering up our safety and/or well-being as collateral. I spent the next two hours in an unadulterated mining heaven, soaking up the history and stories as they were relayed by our most knowledgeable tour guide. The climax of our trip and experience lay inside the mountain herself. We were led into the frigid hard rock via a mine tunnel, where we were given an example of the conditions miners tolled in, as they tried to eek out a living wage. A new uber-version of “dark” was learned that day, as the guide flicked the switch and we stood there…. stood there in 110% complete darkness, void of any light whatsoever. A candle was then lit, a solitary flickering flame, to illustrate the meek luminescence that would have existed inside a working mine shaft many years ago.

As we were led out of the shaft, and away from the Mascot Mine I was both grateful and thankful for the experience. Grateful to the Upper Similkameen Indian Band for providing this once in a lifetime peek into a forgotten part of our history. And thankful to my Wife, my willing companion, in this introductory foray into my search for the unexpected. (If she only knew what lay around the corner…….)