1885 Vale Tour
A Halifax Herald reporter toured the Vale coal mine in 1885 in the aftermath of an explosion that cost 13 men their lives. His description of the mine contained interesting details about the disaster and how historical coal mines worked.
Historical accidents are a key reason why the modern mining industry is so safety-focussed. Nova Scotia’s mining and quarrying industry has reduced its injury rate by 90% since the Westray inquiry report was released in 1997. We believe the most important thing to come out of a mine is the miner, and our modern safety record reflects this.
The Vale mine, in Thorburn, Pictou County, was 2300 feet deep when methane gas exploded on February 10, 1885. It had a main slope (tunnel) that was seven feet high by nine feet wide. The slope had rail tracks along its length and its roof and sides were lined with timber to support the surrounding rock.
Two parallel slopes, one on each side of the main slope, were used for travelling in and out of the mine. No one was allowed to walk the main slope during normal operations because it was dedicated to the rail haulage system.
Every 500 feet in depth, horizontal tunnels, called levels, were cut into the coal at right angles from the main slope. These side tunnels were also 7x9 feet and could be a half a mile or more in length. They had galleries were driven off them – rooms in which coal was extracted. This system left large blocks of coal in place to support the weight of the mine’s roof (ceiling).
“Thus the whole mine is honeycombed with these dark narrow tunnels. And this process of honeycombing is repeated as each new depth of 500 feet is reached,” wrote the reporter. “It will thus be seen what a complete underground city a coal mine is; and one of its greatest problems is sufficient ventilation. This is accomplished at the Vale mine by a powerful exhaust fan, resembling the wheels of a paddle steamer. Fresh air is drawn down to this underground city through various shafts specially sunk at convenient points, while at the same time all the foul air and gases are completely ‘sucked out’ and carried off. Thus a strong current of air is kept constantly sweeping through the mine. The magnitude of this operation may be realized when it is stated that 15,000 cubic feet of air passes through the mine every minute.”
“All mines make more or less water,” the reporter continued. “This water is collected on the different levels and conducted to the main slope, where it is held in reservoirs cut out of the solid coal. Pumps are placed at these reservoirs, and the water forced to the surface.” The pipes to the surface were in the tunnels than ran parallel to the main slope.
As the reporter started his tour, along with company and government officials, they “surmounted the wreck of wood work at the mouth of the slope, provided ourselves with miners coats and safety lamps, lay flat on our backs on the trollies and slowly descended to this underground city. The current of air was so strong and keen that we were pretty well chilled through before getting down to the 1,300 feet level, which was reached in three minutes.”
The reporter, describing himself as an “overground man,” was afraid that an accident could occur as they descended: “So we ‘laid low’ to prevent our heads coming in contact with the timbers projecting here and there from the roof, a few inches above our noses, and descended into the deepening darkness of the bowels of the earth. All along the narrow track were pieces of timber, the size of sleepers, junks of coal, stone and other debris.”
“It’s easy to talk and write about it, but it was a very difficult thing to navigate our way through the wreckage down that almost perpendicular tunnel with our tiny lights. But we got a hold of the rail on the track and slid down somehow – but how I cannot tell.”
The reporter continued: “Reaching the 1,800 feet level…we found further progress blocked by a heavy fall of roof. The timber work had all been blown down and a large fall of roof came down with it. there was a space at the side large enough to crawl through, but it was very dangerous; and it was folly to even attempt passing it, as we could only get perhaps 200 feet before meeting the water, which owing to the stoppage of the pumps, had accumulated from the level above, and was rapidly filling the pit. Besides, this debris pretty effectually prevented the air from getting down, or the foul gases there being sucked out, and to go beyond where we were was simply to fly in the face of fate. We were within 400 feet of the mine’s bottom, where the explosion occurred and where six men had met instant death.”
The mine's ventilation system, ordinarily so important to keeping the mine safe, created a dilemma for rescuers after the explosion: “Possibly every man was dead and the mine filled with after-damp [carbon monoxide] and on fire. If any men were living, their greatest need was air. To send down more air was only, in case the mine was on fire, to fan the flames into uncontrollable fury. To cut off the air would prevent the rapid spread of the flames, but would mean instant death to any men in the mine who might be yet alive. Those who went down did not know but that at any moment the mine would again explode, or any place they would meet the after-damp and inhale instant death.”
The rescuers decided to run the ventilation system to ensure any survivors had clean air to breathe. They hoped it would not make matters worse by feeding any flames and potentially triggering more explosions.
The decision was the right one. It helped some miners survive long enough to be rescued. However, the ventilation also added to their woes. It was winter air being circulated through the mine and survivors suffered in the cold.
For example, Hugh Lamont, “feeling that something was wrong, lay down on the bottom and attempted to crawl out on his hands and knees. The after-damp, being light, floats on the top and dilutes the air. He soon became unconscious, and when found was sitting on his hands and feet, his hands clutching the rails of the tramway. He had evidently been navigating himself along in this way, being found some 300 yards from where he was working. He was chilled through and through. His teeth rattled, and the rescuers had difficulty in getting him up out of his position. Long after they reached him he continued to chatter, ‘Come on, Dan;’ ‘how’re ye getting on, Dan?’ and similar words of encouragement to the companion whom he believed to be following behind, but who was lying dead in the place in which he had been at work. The injured men suffered terribly from the cold air which was rushing through the mine…It was from four to six and ten hours before they were all rescued, and during the whole of that time they were down in the dark tunnels, half clad, and the chilling air passing over them at the rate of 15,000 cubic feet per minute.”
Another rescued miner was Robert Love, who was trying to escape with Allan McDonald, “but Love fell three times and at the last fall was abandoned by McDonald, and soon became unconscious. It is supposed that he rolled up against his lamp in some way and thereby ignited his clothes, which when it burned him, brought him to consciousness. Then he sat up, quickly unlaced his shoes, took off all his clothes, except his shirt, left it all to burn and moved some little distance away. This was the fire seen by [underground manager Thomas] Turnbull. But Love remembers nothing at all about it. He was so thoroughly exhausted and chilled when found in this naked condition that he could not have survived much longer. He was badly burned about the thighs and hips by his burning pants. Among the rescuers was William Love, a veteran old miner, who appears to have a charmed life, having come safely out of more disasters than any other miner in Pictou County. Robert Love was his adopted son.”
William took his own pants off and put them on Robert before they exited the mine.
On the trip back to surface, the reporter and his guides tried to crawl out through one of the travel tunnels parallel to the main slope. However, it was blocked, and they had to return to the main slope: “Climbing up, however, was a very different matter from sliding down, and what made the matter more difficult was the extinction of my lamp, caused by my falling over some debris. By the time we had got to the spot where we left the trolly we were thoroughly exhausted, and were heartily glad to get railroaded to the surface a few minutes later.”
The last coal mine in Thorburn was the modern Thorburn surface mine which was operated in the late 1990s by Pioneer Coal. The site was reclaimed around 2000 as the company extracted the remaining coal, removed old buildings and equipment, stabilized the land and returned it to nature. “Before and after” pictures of the reclamation are below.
Today, before getting operating permits, mining and quarrying companies must get government approval of reclamation plans and post-reclamation bonds (money in escrow, basically) that ensure funds are available to properly take care of sites. Reclamation is a key part of the mining process in the modern era.
Supervisors and foremen of the Vale mine in 1886. Thomas Turnbull is in the second row, third from left, with the dark beard. Thanks to the Museum of Industry for the photo.
The reclaimed Thorburn mine. (before)
The reclaimed Thorburn mine. (after)
