I have come to have a great deal of respect for the hardiness and ingenuity of the men who worked in the Mascot and Nickel Plate mines in the first half of the last century. The mines were high above Hedley and for those who had a wife and children in town, transportation was a constant challenge. According to historian Doug Cox, miners were allowed to ride in the skips used to transport ore down to the Stamp Mill. Permits were required, though,  and they were limited. Tough and determined, the miners resorted to innovation.

Cox says “some men got around the pass system by hiding near the upper ore bin until the skip had started down. Then they jumped on. The hitch hikers jumped off the skip before it reached the bottom ore bin and kept out of sight of the supervising staff. They skirted around the bluff, then down to the Hedley town site.”

In my opinion, it is the “broom riders” who were the most inventive and enterprising. In a letter to The Western in the June 20, 1990 edition, miner Bob MacRae (now deceased) wrote about placing a broom on one of the ore car rails and riding on it down the mountain. “This ‘broom affair’” he says, “consisted of a piece of rubber belting and a piece of tin channelled to fit the rail. It was nailed to an old house broom.” He wore old rubber boots for brakes and found that if he cut the handle off the broom, he could double his speed.

His record for a trip down the mountain was four and one half minutes, including walking several flat stretches. On one occasion a worker had wiped grease on the rail and Bob’s rubber boot brakes became useless. His speed increased considerably. “I think I probably broke my record,” he says in his letter.

Bob’s sister Effie, a Hedley high school graduate, told me he had a good reason to rush down the mountain after work each day. “Bob had a new English bride from Manchester.” When I asked her if her brother had been a dare devil type, she said, “oh no, he was very cautious.” Possibly there were things about Bob that Effie didn’t know.

In time, others joined Bob in broom riding. Not all copied his more advanced innovation. Some just borrowed a broom and rode down.

Ken Jones, a former miner now living on Old Hedley Road, tried it once, “just for the fun. I couldn’t get the balance or the speed,” he told me. “It wasn’t for me.”

In time, company officials banned broom riding, but this left them short of more than 20 miners due to lack of transportation. To make up the deficiency they brought in a bus, and Bob MacRae was one of 2 drivers assigned to driving duties.

Bob’s description of this assignment suggests the bus ride may have been more dangerous than riding the broom. “Snow, ice, rocks, cows, horses and deer on the road with numerous blind corners made it treacherous driving,” he said. “There was times I wished I was riding carefree down the mountain on my broom.”

I wonder what present day union bosses and the WCB would have to say about this practise. Unfortunately, I have seen no photos of these ingenious, hardy men racing down the mountain on their brooms.

The following account was told to Ruth Woodin of Hedley, by her father-in-law Barry Woodin. He was battling cancer and near the end of his life. He evidently never lost his sense of humour. She says he was more of a father to her than her own father ever was.

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Barry and Jean Woodin were in their early twenties and just married, ready to contend with any challenge life would present to them. Barry applied for a job at the Nickel Plate Mine near the peak of Nickel Plate Mountain. He was hired and they moved into one of the homes on the mine site, about 6,000 feet above sea level.

It was a delight to them when they learned that each Saturday night the mine provided a tram down the mountain to the Hedley town site. Workers and spouses could catch a ride in empty ore

cars. The ore cars were small, not equipped with seats, and not comfortable. It was simply a means of rapidly descending the steep mountain to enjoy an evening of partying in a more civilized setting. The ride down the mountain in what was essentially an open metal box was not for the faint of heart.

On their first Saturday at the mine, Barry burst through the door of their home after work and said, “hurry Jean, I don’t want to miss the tram!” Jean was doing her hair and pampering her face. “Leave me alone Barry,” she said. “I’ll be ready when I’m ready.”

After working in the mine all week, Barry was eager to get away and have some fun. “The tram won’t wait for us,” he told her. “If you aren’t done with your prettyin’ in time, I’m going on my own.”

Maybe she didn’t believe he’d go without her. Or maybe it was a young bride’s way of asserting herself. We can only guess at her reasoning but she wasn’t ready when it was time to leave. Barry had not been bluffing. “Good bye Sweetheart,” he said. See you later.”

He found a party and danced well into the night. Then, in the early hours of the morning, the tram rattled noisily back up the steep grade of Nickel Plate mountain, returning the weary but satisfied partyers. When Barry arrived at his front door, he fumbled with the latch. The door seemed stuck. Had he had one drink too many? After fiddling determinedly with the latch, leaning against the door, speaking to it in terms I won’t repeat here, he paused to consider.

After a moment of reflection he understood the problem. Fortunately, even with the cold mountain air nipping at his face and bare hands, he saw the humour in this. “She’s locked me out,” he said with a chuckle. “Well, there’s more than one way to skin a cat.”

He went to the mine workshop and found an axe. Returning to the house, he began chopping at the rear door, which was also locked, until there was a hole large enough for him to squeeze through. Before going to bed he hung a blanket to cover the opening. It would remain in place until he was able to find another door.

In spite of this incident, and probably at least a few more, Barry and Jean remained happily married until his passing at age 52.

When Barry finished telling Ruth this little story he said with a wink, “she was never late again.” According to Ruth, Jean never disputed any of the details of Barry’s story.

July 12. It’s 11:05 in sunny downtown Hedley. 31 degrees on the front walkway, which is in the shade.

At about 8 a.m. Linda and I picked Saskatoons for breakfast. The air was still pleasantly cool when we sat on the side deck having Cheerios topped with slices of banana and Saskatoons. Usually breakfast consists of oatmeal with fruit, but now we choose not to warm the house with cooking.

We feel fortunate in being able to harvest the berries. Angelique bought this lot, which is directly across the street from her home, several years ago. The historic St. John’s church is on this site. Being interested in history, she commissioned our local historian, Jennifer Douglass, to research its past. Much of the lot is used for gardening and I have a pumpkin plant and about 12 potato plants growing on her huglebeet. Last year my pumpkin growing experiment there produced plenty of vines but only 2 pumpkins.

In spite of the Hedley heat, the two Cleopoatras and Miss Lonely Hearts enter the laying box faithfully virtually every morning. I stay away from their little domain until about 9:30 am. If they hear me while they are in the box, they abandon the laying because they think I’m there to give them their treat of dry oatmeal.

The girls are as seriously addicted to the oatmeal as an addict to heroin. The Cleopatras lay first, and while they are in the box, Lonely Hearts stands inside the gate of their fence, insistently calling for me to bring the treat. Then she goes into the box and the Cleopatras begin the vociferous pleading. Because Lonely Hearts is a slow layer, they become quite impatient. Although they have only small mouths, their volume is incredible. If we want to hear the computer, we have to close the rear windows.

Our small garden is doing well. We’ve finished eating the row of radishes. Lately it’s been bokchoy cabbage, spinach, beet leaves, arugula, kale, etc. Linda uses the produce in salads. I frequently snatch a leaf while working on an outdoor project. Marauding cabbage moths are a minor plague this year. Our neighbour Kim said moths and their dog Dixie have destroyed about 80% of their

garden. Last year I found a butterfly net with a long handle at the Princeton Dollar Store to snare the moths. My technique is improving and in spite of their clever evasive tactics, I’m averaging about a dozen kills per day. Of course, within 10 minutes of clearing the garden of them, another squadron swoops over the fence on either side and the destruction of plants continues almost without pause. Linda finds considerable humour in my wild leaping around and waving of the net. Fortunately as yet there is no “Moth Rights Society” here.

Due to the heat, Linda and I have been leaving for our walk at about 9pm. By this time the No See’ims are on the prowl. They must fast all day because they are ravenous. Currently we are experimenting with brown Listerine, rubbed on all exposed parts of the body. It does make a difference for about an hour. If we plan to stay out longer, we’ll have to carry the bottle with us.

I just looked at the thermometer. 37 degrees. A hot day in Hedley. It’s a good time to go to 20 Mile Creek and dangle our feet in the water.

“Meet your Mountie” was definitely a crowd pleaser at the Hedley Canada Day celebration. The event, which took place at the

Hedley Museum, featured gold panning, face painting and a treasure hunt for the children. There was also music that might be described as a combination of old time, folk and blue grass. A hamburger and hot dog barbeque made it a complete day.

When Constable Anthony Pankratz of the Princeton RCMP Detachment agreed to pose for photos with celebration attendees, the response was enthusiastic. At 6 feet, 8 inches, he towered above those standing next to him for a picture. One enraptured lady looked up into his face and exclaimed, “oh, he’s cute!”

Later, in an interview with the festivities MC, he regaled the crowd with his impressions of life as a Mountie in the Similkameen Valley. He said “the biggest challenge that comes with being a police officer in a small town is that I know a lot of the people I have a responsibility to deal with.”

Just before the singing of “O Canada” at noon, Bill Day, a former Citizenship Judge, addressed the audience. The essence of his message was that, “ Canada has done many things right, but we have been very wrong in the way we have dealt with First Nations people.”

The musicians, Colleen Cox and George Huber are popular entertainers on the Blue Grass circuit. From 11 am to 2 pm, with a couple of intermissions, they sang and played such favourites as “You are my Sunshine” and “Country Roads.” George and Colleen’s passion for music and love of people, plus their engaging personalities held the attention of the crowd to the end. For the last few tunes they were joined on stage by talented local musician Eric Lance. Ben Murbach provided a delightful impromptu flute solo during one intermission.

Prior to the formal program, local historian Jennifer Douglass conducted a guided tour of Hedley. She has published articles on the area and provided little known insights into Hedley’s past.

The barbeque grill was ably tended by veteran hotel chef and camp cook, Jim Gray. With his stetson and massive greying beard, Jim could be mistaken for a cowboy philosopher. He is currently providing meals at the museum from 10 am to 4 pm. every day except Tuesday. Salads, pickles, tomatoes, watermelon slices and Canada Day cupcakes were provided by town ladies. Five cent ice cream cones were again a popular item.

Comments at the end suggested that everyone went home well fed and happy.

Like every other day of the week, Linda and I began today with stretches and exercises. I was up earlier than usual and Linda doesn’t go to the Senior Centre for coffee Sunday morning, so we started at 6:45 am. Unlike every other day, I took half an anacin this morning. My body isn’t as limber as in the past and I’ve often considered anacin to make the workout easier. Until this morning, I’ve always resisted the temptation. I’m learning that holding age at bay requires a good deal of will and focus.

By 8 am the sun had popped over the mountain to the east and Linda asked if I wanted to have breakfast on the patio. We carried out our bowls of porridge, laden with Saskatoon berries and basked in the warmth of the sun. Clean air, birds chirping happily, the girls clucking after receiving their treat, mountains surrounding us. We have reason to be content and grateful.

At 9:15 we set out for the little church on Ellis Street. A 5 minute walk. Several people were away so, counting children, there were 17 in attendance. Pastor Graham entitled his message “The Scarlet Rope”. It was about Rahab, the woman who protected 2 Israeli spies and helped them escape from the city of Jericho. He emphasized that God can use us for a good purpose in spite of our past.

After the service most people stayed for coffee and cookies. I noticed little Evangeline, about age 3, tiptoe past me daintily holding the 2 halves of an Oreo cookie. She was licking the icing off the centres. A little later she came to me and offered me one well licked half. I accepted it but when she saw that I was just holding it in my hand, she said “eat it.”

For lunch we went to the Hedley Heritage Museum. Jim Gray serves food in the Tea Room from Friday to Sunday. Beryl joined us and we each had a very satisfying sandwich. We learned that Beryl and Bruce spent three and a half months in India some years ago. In addition to extensive travelling about the country, she volunteered in a Mother Teresa orphanage and fell in love with the children. I’m often surprised at what some people have done. Most of us probably need to take a few more risks to enliven our existence.

Usually we walk along 20 Mile Creek to the Big Rock which is at the far end of the meadow (actually what is left of a tailings pond from gold mining days). Today Linda suggested a hike along the Similkameen River. We saw some Saskatoon bushes with nearly ripe berries. Doesn’t look like it will be a bumper crop though. When we returned home Linda prepared dinner while I began writing this post.

It wasn’t an exciting Sunday. Most Hedley Sundays are not. A few people in town may have gotten aroused by the soccer games being played in Brazil. Probably not many though. Haven’t heard any talk about it. I suppose we prefer to live our own lives rather than sit in front of a television, watching others live theirs. For Linda and me, it was a satisfying day.