ODDS’N’SODS — Not-so-deluxe quarters

I have slept in many strange rooms over the years. However, my sleeping quarters in the mill building at the Granduc mine in British Columbia proved to be an experience to cherish.

Development work on the mine, mill and plant had reached its apex, so that bunkhouse accommodation was available only at a premium for all the various contractors, miners and staff personnel.

Nick Gritzuk solved the problem by opening up a section of the mill building adjacent to the enclosed office area. The new section was to be “secluded and exclusive” quarters for a select few staff members.

Peter Spada and Jimmy Greer had rooms adjacent to me. The walls of the cubicles were built of meagre buffalo board and there were no ceilings. A small side table, a single steel bed cot and a clothes closet constituted the furnishings.

Both Peter and Jimmy were sound sleepers — and notorious snorers, so that the whole captive community fell privy to the nighttime “duet,” which was far from harmonious.

When the lads journeyed to Hyder on a Saturday evening for a period of brief levity, they would return with a few litres of U.S. over-proof rum to help in the staging of an early-morning singsong in our “secluded” quarters. The whole mill building rocked to the music and all its inmates were forced to join in the festivities — even the innocent bystanders who had to work the following day. It was, however, a sociable group whose members were devoted to the program, so that, in the final analysis, all was forgiven and forgotten.

There was “no sleeping in.” The main office was a few metres away, behind another thin wall, and Ken Wilson, the mine manager, was in the habit of an early start each day. Everyone was up and about at the crack of the first alarm clock.

Then came the grand finale to our strange encampment. The mill and plant were nearing completion and the mine was fast approaching production shipments through the 10 miles of tunnel to the mill site.

Management decided upon a test period and a “dry-run” on an ore package through the mill for the purpose of breaking in the “drying plant” in the mill building. We arose as usual that day and were well-informed of the program. Then, following a hearty breakfast in the cafeteria, we proceeded unsuspectingly to our daily chores.

At day’s end, we returned to sombre managers and a decidedly noxious atmosphere. I soon learned why. Upon opening the door of my room, I found the entire cubicle was deep in dust from the dryer plant. Our rooms were in shambles.

Mine Manager Wilson came in to attempt to moderate our reactions and assured us that the dryer ventilation system had not performed, but that there would be no further tests while we were resident in the mill.

We were not satisfied, to say the least, and persuaded the mine manager to move us, bag and baggage, to lodgings in either Stewart or Hyder, preferably the latter. In the end, we were sent to spare accommodations in the Tide Lake camp once a tunnel contractor had completed his project and moved out his crew.

Ever since this experience, I have been wary of “mill accommodations.” To this day, whenever I arrive at a camp, my first priority is to ensure that I will enjoy a comfortable evening’s rest in a “dust-free” room. — S.J. Hunter, a retired mining engineer and regular contributor, resides in Vancouver.