Wanted: a sure foot and a keen eye - the packers, freighters and their horses
Hauling a one-ton "sausage" - rawhiding in the high Slocan
Ribbons of Steel in the Wilderness - the Rail War for the Slocan's Wealth

Before the arrival of the railroads in 1895, all freighting and packing work was done using horses and mules. Not only was there ore to be freighted out; but millions of pounds of food, camp supplies, building materials and mining equipment had to be hauled in to meet the needs of the fast-growing community in Carpenter Creek valley. Kaslo was only 20 miles (32.18 km) away, as the raven flies; in actual fact, it was 60 miles (96.54 km) of trail that zig-zagged around obstacles, took wide detours and forded swiftly-running, boulder-strewn streams.

Packing quickly became a vital business. Wagon roads were built, and by 1892 freighting business between Kaslo and Sandon had begun. One year after the initial "Payne" discovery, 16 mines were in production, with six shipping out high-grade ore by horse. With the announced intention of both the K&S syndicate and the CPR to push the rails through, the future of the community was assured. In 1894, 8.8 million pounds (4,082,400 kg) of ore was carried out by horses to K&S railheads at McGuiggan, Zincton, and Whitewater, or to CPR shipping points on Slocan Lake.

On the return trip, the animals were loaded with freight of every description- food for people, feed for animals, mine rails, steel cables, drill steel, coal oil, dynamite, whiskey, wine, rum, beer, tobacco, doors, windows, pipe, picks, shovels, axes, saws, stoves, mine cars, horseshoes, nails, spikes, blacksmith coal, hammers, clothing, blankets- in short, everything the growing city needed. Much of this equipment had to be specially packed, loaded and balanced, and it was a skill the packers and freighters were proud of. Indeed, packers lived by their reputations for getting goods through safely and without damage.

With the arrival of the rail lines in 1895, packing and freighting work increased, as men and as many as 800 horses moved an astonishing 19.2 million pounds (8.7 million kg) of ore from the Sandon area mines to the railways, in sacks weighing 150 to 170 pounds (68 to 77 kg) each. The load for the horse or mule varied, according to the animal, but the average was about 200 pounds (90.72 kg). Because most producing mines were near, or above, the 6,000 foot (1,828.8 metre) level, along thin and treacherous trails, good horses and mules were treasured for their strength and sure-footedness, and more than one horse in the Sandon camp became famous for its abilities.

Of course, sometimes these animals were loaded beyond reasonable limits. One story was told of a 400 pound (181.44 kg) compressor cross-head being loaded on "the best and strongest pack mule in the camp" for a four-mile trip up steep trails from Sandon to the Ivanhoe mine. Four big men were sent along, to take some of the weight off the animal every time it stopped to rest. Finally, after hours of brutal struggle, the men and animal staggered into the compressor house yard, "but before the cross-head could be unloaded, the poor beast collapsed and died". (account from Window in the Rock by Gene Petersen)

In addition, many horses were used to haul the ore-trains underground. Using a primitive system of a candle in a tin can, known as a "bug", hanging around the horse's neck to light the way, the horses pulled trains of loaded ore cars to the mine portals, then hauled the empties back underground. Once again, many stories are told of specific horses in the Slocan camps who demonstrated remarkable skill in their work.

Of all the "horse stories" in Sandon, however, one stands out, as it demonstrates the value the men placed on their horses, as well as the love they felt for them. On the morning of May 3, 1900, when fire swept through Sandon, only one building was left standing in the downtown core the next morning- a large livery barn, filled with horses. Unable to guide the horses out through the raging flames, firemen and miners had fought desperately, side-by-side, in a determined effort to save the animals. Somehow, in the midst of all the devastation, a minor miracle was performed, and not one horse was lost. Many of the horses' rescuers were themselves homeless by morning, but no doubt none of them felt it was a wasted effort.

Gradually, with increased automation and the advent of vehicles, horses were used less in the mines or on the pack trails, and the specific skills required of the animals and men became forgotten. From the 1890s, when four or five pack trains would pass through Sandon daily, the number dwindled until, by the late 1920s, the pack trains were virtually gone. Today, the only reminder of the packers and freighters and the long trains of hardy animals are a few rusty horseshoes still scattered on the high mountain trails.

By a quirk of geological nature, most of the major producing mines in the Slocan are high in the mountains, at or above the 6,000 foot (1,828.8 metre) level. Because of this, transporting the ore down from the mines was a serious challenge for the early mine operators. Some of the larger operations, such as the "Payne" or the "Noble Five", built large tramlines to accomplish this, but for many of the smaller operators such an investment wasn't economical, considering the returns. At the same time, trying to transport the sacked ore down narrow, treacherous trails by horseback in summer was dangerous and slow.

A unique solution was devised, known as "rawhiding". Miners would work at their claims all summer, sorting, grading and sacking the higher-grade ores that were worth shipping. These sacks were stored at the mine site all summer, awaiting the deep blanket of snow that would descend on the Slocan mountains in the winter.

Once the snows were judged deep enough the shipping would begin for the season. The "rawhiding" process consisted of taking the hide of an animal that had been slaughtered- usually a bull or a steer- and placing it, hair side down, onto the snow. The sacked ore would then be loaded onto the hide, usually up to a ton (1.016 tonnes) at a time. The sides of the hide were then drawn up around the stacked ore and laced up through eyelets that had been made along the edges of the hide earlier. In this way, a large "pouch" of sacked ore was created, similar to a sausage. This load was then pulled by a horse along the "rawhide trails" that led down the mountainside to the rail lines at Sandon.

At the beginning of winter, while the trails were still covered by deep snow, the horses had to work harder to pull their loads; but by mid-winter there had been so many tons of ore pulled over these trails that they resembled bobsled runs. By then, the hardest task was not to get the load moving, but rather to keep it from running out of control. A rough-lock chain, specially built for use with the rawhides, was designed to act as a brake on the steep grades, and usually worked. It was not all that unusual, however, to see a horse coming into town on the dead run, trying to stay ahead of a run-away rawhide load.

There are even stories of some of the smarter horses who supposedly learned to lean back on the rawhide when it began sliding, thereby "tobogganing" down the slope, sitting on the load of ore. While this is not impossible, it is more likely that the accelerating rawhide would catch the horse by surprise, hitting him on the back of the legs and putting him back on his haunches in a manner resembling a "toboggan-slide" ride.

Rawhiding became so popular that the local slaughterhouse was soon unable to meet the demand, and whole rail car shipments of hides were brought in. As with packing and freighting, however, the modern world caught up with the Slocan, and technology gradually took over from the horses. Today, only a handful of early residents remember the practice, and the only trace of the old rawhide trails are in a few surviving photographs, such as those displayed here.

Because the Slocan district held so many different varieties and grades of ores, smelting them was a difficult process. As a result, many of these ores had to be transported to smelters at Trail, or even further afield in Washington state. By 1892, over 750 claims had been staked in the area, and an economical means of transporting these ores to the distant smelters, as well as bringing men and supplies in, became a pressing concern.

With the prize of the richest silver-mining district in Canada hanging in the balance, Sandon became the focus of an all-out race between two of the largest railroad companies on the continent: the Canadian Pacific Railway and the American-owned Great Northern Railway. By 1892, the CPR had leased the rights to the Nakusp & Slocan (N&S) Railway, while the Great Northern was acting under a charter it had received for its subsidiary, the Kaslo & Slocan (K&S) Railway.

The CPR's original plan was to connect its main line at Revelstoke with the N&S line, which was to extend only as far as Three Forks. In this way, the CPR hoped to avoid building a line up the steep and treacherous grade to Sandon, by making the mine owners transport their ore downhill to Three Forks. By the autumn of 1894, the N&S line had reached Three Forks, but meanwhile the GNR had not been idle. Working west from Kaslo along the Valley of the Ghosts, the GNR had been busy pushing through the K&S Railway as fast as it could.

The K&S line followed much the same route as the present-day highway, climbing steadily uphill as far as Fish Lake. At that point, it followed a level grade around Payne Mountain as the floor of Seaton Creek valley dropped rapidly below. At Payne Bluff, a dizzying 1,000 feet above the current highway, the K&S line turned south and continued on to Sandon. When the CPR realized it had been outmaneuvered by the GNR, it was forced to extend its line to Sandon along what was, at that point, the steepest grade on any rail line anywhere in the world. By 1895 the K&S line had reached Sandon, with the CPR extension following in a matter of weeks. Later, the K&S added a spur line to service the mines around Cody.

In an attempt to keep costs down, the GNR had built the K&S line with second-hand three-foot narrow-gauge equipment imported from the southern United States. Because it was a narrow-gauge track, the line was able to navigate much sharper curves than the CPR's four-foot standard-gauge track. Crossing more than 30 trestle bridges between Kaslo and Sandon, the K&S line was an engineering feat that still provokes admiration from railroad buffs to this day.

As it turned out, the rich silver mines held enough galena ore to keep both rail lines busy. With sternwheeler connections to the railroads at both Rosebery and Kaslo, the ore was shipped out to a variety of American and Canadian smelters. In addition, the two lines were vital for other freight and passenger traffic between Sandon and the outside world. The K&S was justifiably proud that it was able to offer service between Spokane, Washington and Sandon in less than 12 hours, a fact that made delicacies such as oysters a possibility in remote and rugged Sandon.

Despite the ingenuity of its builders, however, the K&S line was beset with problems and plagued by disaster. Increased American tariffs gradually made the Slocan ore unprofitable for most American smelters, and the CPR's purchase of the Trail smelter soon undercut the competitive advantage of the K&S. As well, the K&S was forced to transfer ore from its narrow-gauge cars to standard-gauge cars at Kuskonook, thus further increasing its costs.

Added to this, throughout its history, the K&S Railway had to contend with near-constant washouts, snowslides and avalanches that wreaked havoc on its line and its network of bridges. Increasing maintenance costs, falling metal prices and a devastating forest fire in 1910 left the K&S Railway bankrupt. By 1912 the GNR was forced to admit defeat, and the K&S line was sold to the CPR. Within the year the line was rebuilt and converted to standard-gauge track.

The eventual fate of the old K&S locomotives is uncertain, although it is likely they were scrapped to meet the demand for steel during World War I. The K&S station in Sandon stood until it was destroyed by fire in the 1980s. A reconstruction of this building has been erected by the Friends of the K&S, a group of railroad enthusiasts. Today, the only original K&S buildings which remain are an old liquor storage warehouse in Sandon, and the old station house in Cody.

The CPR continued to provide service for Sandon's mines and dwindling population until 1955, when Sandon's main street flume plugged and burst its seams. Wreckage from the flume and various buildings was swept down Carpenter Creek, which caused repeated washouts on the CPR line along the way. In a 13-kilometre stretch between Sandon and New Denver, a total of 28 different wash-outs were caused by this disaster. This was to prove too great a catastrophe to overcome, and after 60 tumultuous years the historic rail line was finally abandoned.