The Lessons Life Teaches, A Collection of Short Stories.

The Right Place

In the summer of 1980, I had the privilege of being one of four geologists to evaluate a mineral property south of the arctic circle in the Yukon Territory of Canada. The property was extremely remote. It was 100 air-miles northeast of the tiny community of Ross River. The nearest dirt road to the property was about 20 miles away at the unmaintained dirt airstrip of MacMillan Pass. To get to the property we flew to the town of Whitehorse. From there we flew 230 miles in a Twin Otter plane to MacMillan Pass. From there by helicopter to the property.

Two of the geologists, Bob (the project manager) and Tom (an exploration geologist) travelled first to finalize arrangements with the expeditor company to set up and supply the camp and provide a camp cook. They also made the final arrangements with the core drilling company to supply the drill and crew. A couple of weeks later, I arrived after the expeditor had set up the camp. The camp consisted of three tents. One for two geologists, a larger tent for the two drillers and two helpers and the cook tent. Shortly after I arrived, Bob departed leaving the three months of field work to Tom and I. The colorful cook arrived shortly thereafter. She was a professional camp cook, who called herself the "Happy Cooker". I recall that as long as you followed all the rules of the cook tent, she was friendly and a good addition to the camp.

We began by surveying and making a contour and geologic map of the deposit area to be drilled. Our company had supplied us with an ancient transit, steel tape and stadia rod to survey the deposit. So, this part of the project went slower than hoped. Then we began to build the drill pads with a shovel for the drill to set on. We had just barely completed the first couple of pads when the drill and crew arrived. The lead driller was "Black Pete" and the other driller was "Jack". Black Pete, was not black. He had received his name from drilling most of his early career in Africa. I don't recall the helpers' names as they came and went on a continual basis throughout the project. Due to a short weather window, we drilled the property 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. As geologists, we chose the hole locations, built the drill pads, monitored the drilling, logged and split the core (half being stored and half sent off for analysis), drew the cross sections, and when the opportunity permitted mapped the geology in the region around the mineral deposit.

One of the more memorable events was after about a week on the property a couple of large caribou arrived across a small ravine and spent the day watching us drill. Then a few days later a few more came. By the end of the project, we had about a dozen or more caribou, with their family and babies coming nearly every day to watch us. They never came into camp but the babies would play with each other for hours each day with the older members patiently watching us.

Another memorable occasion occurred when we moved the drill from one site to another. The drill was on large steel skids. It was an all-hands-on deck project. We moved it from pad to pad by breaking the drill down into manageable pieces and then picking them up with the helicopter and moving them from pad to pad. On one such occasion the helicopter was hovering a few feet above the drill. I was hooking the drill head assembly to the helicopter with a large heavy steel ring. The new drill helper was away from the helicopter giving the pilot hand signals to go up and down. For some reason the helper took his hand and waved some mosquitos away from his face. He did it in such a manner that the pilot thought he was to release the landing ring, which dropped a few feet and hit me right on the nose. It was not only a very bloody deal but I was dazed. I immediately put my hand over my nose and stumbled to camp. Black Pete, who was at the other pad ready to receive the drill parts, followed me to the camp. He was very kind, understanding, and patient. Finally, he said why don't you take your hand down and let me see your nose. By that time the bleeding had slowed so I did as he suggested. When I took my hand down and he finished examining it, I asked him how it looked. He said well the top of your nose is a little flatter, it might have broken the top of your nose. But the good news is it is straight. Then he said do you want the helicopter to take you to the hospital in Whitehorse. I said what are they going to do put a cast on it. He laughed and that put me at ease. I said as long as it is straight and I can still breath let's just let it go. I took some Tylenol for the throbbing headache, washed off my face and changed my shirt and we went back to moving the drill. The top of my nose, to this day, is still a little flat but it is not that noticeable.

After about two months, Tom had to return home to take care of a family emergency and he was replaced for the remainder of the project by Ray, his boss. Our long days of sunlight were now being replaced with much shorter days and longer colder nights. Just as we completed the last hole the snow started falling. With the help of everyone, including the expediters, we removed all the drilling equipment and the expediters took down and removed the camp. We left one very cold, snowy morning by helicopter. For me, I was at the project for all three months without ever leaving the camp. We went to MacMillan Pass and from there to Whitehorse by the Twin Otter. I remember the clouds had come in and we ended up flying though the valleys, below the clouds, for a good distance. The pilot was incredible but it was still nerve racking until we got out of the mountains and the clouds lifted.

From there, my memory is a little fuzzy but I recall that management was in a hurry to get the results of the project. So, I ended up going to the main office in Houston and met with Don, a draftsman, who drafted all the sections and maps while I calculated to orebody resources and grade and designed the pit to determine the stripping ratio and wrote the project report. It was an incredible deposit but its remoteness and environmental concerns worked against it. When I finished the hand written report (no personal computers back then) I usually typed it myself. But to be nice, the exploration manager said to have the typing pool type it. When I got the report back all the words "in-place" referring to the in-place tonnages of ore and waste were changed to "emplace". Being young and not burned by experience, I thought that the typist just changed "in-place" with a more appropriate word. The report finished and the sections and map complete, I left and went back to Nevada. The management then read the final report and worked through the economics and elected not to proceed with the project. Looking at Google Earth I see that the deposit remains unmined.

The final memory, and the reason for this story, was that after all the work and time spent on the project, I ended up being chastised by management for the grammar error of using "emplace" rather than "in-place" in the final report that went to upper management. I recall that no one ever thanked me for all the time, effort, and work spent evaluating the project. Instead, they laser focused and dwelled on the mistake. I never told them that the typing pool had made the change because I figured it was my error for not knowing the difference in the meanings of the words. It was a great lesson to learn. Not only to be more concerned to check for spelling and grammar errors but also to remember to be kinder and more thoughtful to people when I evaluated their work. It has been 40 years since I completed this project and yes, I am still embarrassed and a bit traumatized by the errors in the final report. But I am now getting past it all and instead am able to enjoy the memories of the caribou, Black Pete, the Happy Cooker and the rest of the crew. I was indeed privileged to be part of the project.