Climbing through the Chains

Tue, 20 Feb 2007 00:17:30 GMT

Climbing Through the Chains

Climbing through the “chains” was not a very good idea, however, Tony S. and I decided that it was the only way to see what was happening. There was no ore in the mill-hole for us to haul away in the ore cars even though the miner in the stope above said that the mill-hole was full. These chains were actually four, parallel, six-foot lengths of linked caterpillar bulldozer tracks with one hundred pound cement blocks attached to the bottom ends. Each chain weighed in at four hundred pounds. The top ends were fastened to the upper timber structure of a chute. The cement blocks were connected to a steel bar that stretched the ends across the bottom of the chute. The chains could be raised or lowered using a hydraulic ram, one end secured to the tunnel roof and the other attached to the steel bar, thus controlling the flow of ore.

The chute was the wood structure that extended from the roof and side of a drift or tunnel. A train of ore cars would roll underneath the chute and be loaded with ore one by one. The ore’s rate of flow into each car was controlled using the hydraulic ram and chains in the chute. The ore came from a stope (man made cavern) on the 750-foot Level, two miles from C-Shaft at Giant Yellowknife Mines, where it was blasted loose and mucked down a “mill-hole” by the stope miner. A mill-hole was a five-foot by eight-foot shaft, extending at a sixty-degree angle, from the floor of the stope down to the chute in the drift at the 950-foot level.

When large chunks of rock are mucked down the mill-hole they can sometimes jam against each other and the sides of the hole causing a “hang-up” anywhere along it’s 200 foot route. If the hang-up remains for a long period the stope miner has no place to muck his ore so he can’t work there until the hang-up is cleared.

We had been blasting this hang-up for two weeks to no avail. We would bundle ten sticks of dynamite onto the end of one by two inch lumber and push it’s length of twelve feet up the mill-hole. We would then attach additional lengths of lumber with nails and continue pushing the bundle until it stopped under the hang-up. The “blast” should knock down the rocks but unfortunately it wasn’t happening.

At the end of each shift our shift boss would ask us if it “came down”. The continuing blockage of the mill-hole was becoming frustrating to all and expensive in lost production. It became one of those “do what you have to do……to get the job done” scenarios.

We brought two “come-a-longs” with us this day. Tony pulled a chain to one side with his come-a-long while I pulled the next chain the other way. We managed to create a space wide enough for a person to squeeze through. I gave Tony a smile as I shimmied through the chains into the mill-hole. I looked up the mill-hole with the beam of light from my miner’s lamp Everything was either black or gray. I could not see the hang-up. Telling Tony I was going on I scrambled up the sixty-degree slope on my hands and feet stopping frequently to look up. I had ventured seventy feet up when I encountered a knuckle in the mill-hole. The mill-hole shaft reversed direction just like a knuckle on my hand. I saw blast marks at the base of the knuckle where we had jammed dynamite thinking it was the hang-up. I turned around and looked up the mill-hole with my light. I stared at a mass of rocks suspended in the shaft thirty feet directly above me. I was barely breathing in fear that even my breath could bring it down on me. If it let go, it would sweep past me and take me crashing into the chute chains and bury me with tons of rock. I became very nervous about my situation so I quickly decided to depart the area. I half sat on the back of my miner’s boots and slid down the mill-hole to the chains. I squeezed out through the chains to see two lights shining in my direction. Tony was standing there with the shift-boss, Don W., who had a shocked look on his face. He stared at me for what seemed a minute then turned on his heels and was gone. There was going to be shit to pay for that little adventure.

I lit up a cigarette and stood talking to Tony as my adrenalin levels subsided. After determining that we were in hot water we decided to finish the job we started. We went and got the dynamite, fuses, wire and lumber and prepared the charge for the blast. With everything ready I passed through the chains again. I scrambled halfway to the knuckle, turned and flashed my light down to the chain and then waited. I soon saw the bundle of dynamite being pushed up towards me. I guided the bundle onward to the knuckle where I redirected it on its reciprocal course upward. By this time I was pushing the bundle upwards while Tony was adding the thirty feet of lumber from the bottom. I was very apprehensive as I pushed the dynamite up against the base of the rock hang-up. We had only one chance at this so it had to be placed very close without disturbing the rocks. I dared not go any farther and waved my light from side to side letting Tony know to stop and secure the lumber. Careful not to hit the string of lumber I again slid down the mill-hole to the chains. Tony was there to help me out. We quickly removed the come-a-longs and jumped down from the chute. We unreeled the blasting wire forty feet from the chute.

“The honour is all yours,” said Tony, in his heavily accented Italian-Canadian voice, as he passed me the wire ends. I smiled and applied the electrical juice to the wires.

“Wham” went the explosion. We stood there holding our breath for five seconds before we heard a “Whumpf” as the force of the rock hit the chains of the chute. We smiled at each other.

It was the end of the shift so we proceeded to the shaft where we were raised to the surface in the “Cage” with the other workers. We got our ID tags out of our pockets to hang on the attendance board at the shift-boss’s workstation. I expected a written reprimand as I hung my tag on its pin. Don W. looked at me and then asked, “Did you get the hang-up down?”

I gave him a big smile and nodded.

“Good,” he said, as he turned away.

To my relief, the incident was closed; no written reprimand was forthcoming.

McSnowWriter's Pamphlet: 2.2 - Climbing Thru Chains

Climbing through the Chains