By Weir Muir
Yes, that’s right – carrying coals FROM Newcastle. The old expression we knew always went this way, “Carrying coals TO Newcastle’ didn’t it? Well read on friends and see why I’ve made
such a change concerning the old coal mine on the island.
After being actively mined for a few years, it was abandoned as other more productive mines were developed elsewhere. As was the custom in those days, the former workings and diggings left piles of debris, discarded sub-quality coal, rock and slag. This practice gave rise to the activities of a few, who saw value in those abandoned heaps and thus the practice of going ‘picking for coal’ began. Good quality coal was often sealed in rocky lumps that could be chopped and picked away from the chaff to provide free fuel for the home fires of ambitious canny Scots. There were many that worked the coal mines in the district. My father, grandfather and uncles were part of that early legion of coal miners, displaced from Scotland and seeking a new and prosperous life in Canada. So it was that the entire Muir family once upon a morning, rowed themselves in shifts across the narrow passage to Newcastle Island. The boat was borrowed from a friend, and its size and dilapidated condition would not permit them to take everyone all in one trip, but Scots zeal prevailed and they shuttled across on one or more trips.
While Grandpa and the boys picked away at the rocky coal lumps, Grandma and the girls enjoyed the outing. Apart from serving the men their picnic lunch, there was little in the way of household chores to dampen salubrious spirits. My father George kept his brothers on track with the work at hand, while Grandpa worked along with them and supervised the day’s operations.
As the sun began its descent in the west behind Mount Benson, the work crew decided it was time to call it a day. It had been a good haul and half dozen sacks of useable coal had been salvaged.
Once again, the group was ferried in trips back to the floating dock at Brechin. The eldest son, George(my dad of the future) was selected to take the empty boat back and load the sacks of coal, returning with only a few inches of freeboard above the vessels’
gunnel. By then it was dark, and the men decided to leave the coal in the boat and return in the morning to carry the sacks the three miles or so to their home in the southend of Nanaimo.
The next morning bright and early, the men rose and trekked to Brechin dock to retrieve the spoils of the precious day. But horror of horrors, the old vessel had decided that it couldn’t carry the load all night, and sank with all hands on deck. The hands of course being the sacks of coal so preciously hoarded the previous day. My Grandpa and the boys must have been in great despair, for the morning high tide made it too deep for them to even attempt a rescue. They forlornly made their way back to 415 Haliburton street to confess the disaster. Yet I suppose it was not all a dead loss, for Grandma and the girls must have had a pleasant carefree day on beautiful Newcastle Island.
Many years later, when George Muir was mayor of Nanaimo, he travelled back to Ottawa and managed to convince the C.P.R. that they should sell Newcastle Island to the City of Nanaimo for one dollar. Subsequently, the city conveyed the land to the National Parks of Canada, and to this day the island is a natural playground and park that belongs to the people. I visited it a number of years ago with my two sons, walking the trail along to Kanaka Bay not far from the diggings where the ‘coal picking’ took place.
Dad,- your leaky rowboat sank,- but beautiful Newcastle Island lives on for all to enjoy – thanks to you!
Weir can be reached at(604)533-1608 or Email 4weir@telus.net