Barkerville at Dawn: Ghost town of the Motherlode
Do you like ghost stories? I would like to share one of my own. Several years ago I visited the village of Barkerville, an old mining community in the Cariboo mountains of British Columbia that had fallen into disrepair and was eventually re-created as a tourist attraction. In the Cariboo Gold Rush of the 1850s, a miner named Billy Barker actually found the Motherlode, the kind of vast and incredible jackpot that all prospectors over the ages have dreamed about. Overnight Billy Barker became one of the richest men in the world.
I booked a room in a bed and breakfast inside the village and set my alarm for dawn. The gates were not open until 8 a.m. so I had hours to myself to explore the ghost town without a single soul around. I tiptoed through the muddy streets, shooting images in the dark. I peered into the windows, looking for ghosts. Soon I realized I could shoot photos of the reflections in the windows. Everything looked backwards, ghostly. I even shot photos of the reflections of buildings reflected in mud puddles. Then daylight arrived and the dream faded, but I still have the photos that will eventually appear in my book about Billy Barker and the Motherlode. Here’s a taste of the introduction….
Dawn comes early in the summer months of the northern regions of British Columbia. In the Cariboo Mountains it doesn’t “creep in on little cat feet,” like the fog in the famous poem about San Francisco. Mornings are cold and often wet in August at 1,500 metres (4,000 feet) in the mountains, as it is this morning when I shut off my alarm clock at 5.45 a.m. so as to not wake the other guests. I draw back the blinds on my second floor bedroom of Kelly House Bed and Breakfast in Barkerville. The view is to the west and there is no sign of the sun but the first glimmer of dawn suddenly creeps over the village like a soft soggy blanket being slowly lifted from an old musty bed. Mist hangs deeply in the air. I quickly get dressed, silently descend the stairs, put on my shoes, coat and hat, fasten my camera strap around my neck and quickly step outside. Kelly House may be a bed and breakfast, but breakfast will be a long time coming at this early hour. There is not a soul about, a magic moment to be savoured.
The front of the cottage has a wide front deck with four white wooden lawn chairs on which to sit, and five stairs down to the “lawn,” which is merely a rough ramble of green plants and bushes leading to a gravel walkway. Today the stairs are slippery wet and I grab the handrail for support, carefully easing myself into the start of the day. No doubt there is a doctor on call somewhere in the village or in nearby Wells, but it is doubtful anyone other than myself is awake at this early hour, and a slip or fall would be most inconvenient. It appears I am the only person awake in Barkerville at this hour. It’s like a ghost town, which at one time it once was. I don’t want to become one of the ghosts myself so I watch it.
The front gates to the village will open to the public at 8 a.m., very early for the casual visitor to this National Historic Site but still giving me a few hours to wander the streets completely alone. That was my plan. When I first came to Barkerville twenty years ago I don’t remember there being any place in the village to sleep. The only accommodations were camping and a decrepit motel where we stayed overnight so as to avail ourselves to the warmth of a heated room instead of a tent. These days there are two bed and breakfasts from which to choose, the Kelly House B&B and the King House B&B, both restored old cottages, giving the village a grand total of 6 rooms in which the visitor can stay. As soon as I learned that fact I made a reservation. In the summer the Historic Site is swarmed with tourists but I wanted to experience it completely empty. I expected to see some staff at work very early, but I was the only soul about, aside from any ghosts that might make themselves available.
According to a website of the weird (which includes ghosts, of course) called DogBrindle.com, Barkerville is a famous ghost town with not one but many ghosts. Barkerville at one time was the largest city north of San Francisco and west of Chicago. It was named after an Englishman named Billy Barker, who jumped ship one day and headed inland. He followed his dream of striking it rich panning for gold in the nearby Cariboo Mountains. Out of the thousands of men that struggled and never found the mother lode, Billy Barker actually did, making him a rich man, claiming 1,065 kg/2,350 lbs. of pure 99 percent gold. Barkerville prospered and grew overnight. The town was named after him.
By 1860, Barkerville boasted a population of 5,000. There was a barbershop, restaurant, boarding houses, a church, a school, a drugstore and several general stores, a theatre (the Royal), and a literary society. It was an upcoming booming and bustling place in the middle of the British Columbia wilderness. In 1868, the town burnt to the ground and within 6 weeks was rebuilt, but eventually the gold dried up and depression hit. The town died a slow death as people moved away and by 1958 the last resident gave up the ghost and moved. Someone came up with the idea to renovate what was left of the town and turn it into a tourist attraction. Judging by the number of people from around the world who drive all the way out here to visit, camp out and explore, there are a great many people interested in the Gold Rush, the Wild West or ghost towns.
The village is known to enjoy several ghostly spirits. The story goes there were two men named Moses Wellington and James Berry who were partners in a gold mine claim. A man named Morgan Blessing, a barber, who had a shop on Main Street, was preparing to shave Wellington Moses one morning. He put a warm towel around Moses’s face as his customer laid back in the chair. They knew each other and exchanged a few words. As Morgan was honing the razor on the strap he turned to look over at Wellington and noticed the towel was becoming saturated with blood. Then Wellington disappeared into thin air. The towel lay soaking in blood on the chair. The barber was stunned.
Soon after, Wellington’s partner Berry rode into town, claiming he had struck the mother lode. He said he was a rich man now. He claimed Wellington, his partner, must have been eaten by bears because he was nowhere to be found. His body was discovered with one bullet hole in the back of the head and James Berry was hanged for murder.
Other ghosts are said to roam and haunt the town. A local brothel owner Madame Fannie has been seen peering out an upstairs window of the saloon she once owned. The Royal Theatre is haunted by strange sounds and footsteps of someone crossing the stage at all hours. People have suddenly appeared and then disappeared on stage, especially at stage left. There are pockets of cold spots. People have seen an apparition of a man dressed in turn of the century clothing, referring to him as a “dandy.” There’s a ghost that plays the piano who has been witnessed numerous times. Of all the ghost towns in British Columbia, Barkerville is the most ghost prolific….
My photobook of Barkerville — and the town’s importance in creating the Province of British Columbia - is a work in process.