Today, the Scandinavian Mountains, in northern Sweden, are a relatively quiet, uninhabited cluster of snow-capped peaks. One of the highest in this range, Mt. Kebnekaise, stands 6962 ft. and is roughly 50 miles west of the small town of Kiruna. Presently, this Swedish town of 18,000, bases much of it's economy on mining iron ore. This, however, was not always the case.
In the late 1800's the mining of lead, and not iron ore, was an extremely profitable endeavor. Lead was used in the manufacturing of many things at this time, especially items that required lead.
In 1898, a large deposit of this mineral was discovered in the foothills below Mt. Kebnekaise, which is 90 miles north of the Arctic Circle. The average December temperature in this harsh climate is 13 degrees F.
Lead, at this time, was so lucrative that scores of people--even with no mining background--would take huge risks in subzero temperatures for the mineral. Countless Swedes, Norwegians, Finns, Germans, English and Scots fled to the area to claim their fortune.
Mixed in with the northern-bound masses was Robert Merriton, a law clerk from Cheshire-on-the-Thames, England. The simple-living man left his wife and four children and a comfortable, low-wage position inside the basement of an English court to take a daring chance at securing the fortune he so desperately wanted for his loved ones.
With his meager savings he managed to establish a small, personal camp and a shallow mine. He was a white collar man in a blue collar world and had difficulty adjusting to the ways of the miner. In the beginning, he often had to learn things the hard way.
One such learning lesson occurred on February 12, 1898. Merriton, described as a "trusting soul," would often go into his mine while leaving piles of lead, unattended, at the entrance. Looking to save money wherever he could, he failed to hire a watchman for his fortune. One thing he did do, however, was place a unique marking on each piece of lead that would identify the large chunks as his own.
Miners from all around knew that Bob, as he preferred to be called, placed this symbol on all of his pieces.
Because of the cold temperatures and snowy conditions, miners often transported their caches by way of wooden sled down gradually descending, switchback-laden trails that, eventually, led to Kiruna.
On this blistery cold February afternoon, Bob emerged from his mine shaft only to discover his two large piles of lead were nowhere to be seen. Lead bandits, or lead looters, as they came to be known, had made off with Bob's future.
As the bandits passed mine after mine with Bob's lead, on their way to Kiruna, workers, roaming about and performing everyday tasks, began to notice the symbols on the sides of each rock. They also knew that Bob handled all of his own transport. He would never, under any circumstances, hire an independent lead transporter like some other miners would.
The whispers began as the bandits passed the neighboring mining camps: "Hey, isn't that Bob's lead?" or "Han's take a look at those shady characters, I think that's Bob's lead they're running." or "Hot damn, that looks like Bob's lead."
The bandits' anxiety began to grow as they sensed trouble, as the mining community was very close, and would often look out for each other. With one quick turn, the bandits began a rapid decent down the adjacent slope to escape the perceived danger.
"Get your sleds boys. Those creeps got Bob's lead ... and we're gonna take it back," shouted one of the miners.
At least fifteen men mounted their rickety, wooden sleds and raced down the hill after the thieves. Miners not intending to go along for the ride helped by pushing the sleds with a running start. The men had never used the sleds before to travel at such high rates of speed down such a steep slope. The fear and uncertainty, however, did not stop them as they knew Bob, a well-liked member of the community, would have done the same for them.
The high speed pursuit took the unsteady sleds past more mining camps downhill, where startled laborers heard constant shouts of, "Bob's lead! Bob's lead! They got Bob's lead!"
The bandits were eventually caught, and later pelted with the very lead they had stolen. But the exhilaration that the miner's experienced going down that hill would be unforgettable. From that day forward, the miners would end each day with a sled run down the hill and, thus, giving birth to a future Olympic sport.
Over time the 'a' was eventually dropped and Bob's lead became bobsled. Today, Olympic bobsledders are forbidden to weigh down their sleds with lead, but will often pay tribute to the sport's history by wearing a small piece as jewelry. And, after each winter games concludes, the sport's governing body, the International Bobsledding Association (IBA), decorates the first place finishers with a medal made from lead at the IBA headquarters in Stockholm.
"It's tradition," said Norwegian bobsledder Bonj Honen. "We remember those brave miners, especially Mr Merriton, every time down the mountain."
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