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  • Hercules 3

    Hercules 3

    This will probably be the final post for a while about Hercules.

    The town hall meeting called by Hercules Silver Corp last night in Cambridge was, unexpectedly, packed (I took the photo above before everyone had arrived). Hundreds of people showed up for what was, expectedly, a PR presentation by Chris Paul, CEO, and Chris Longton, VP of Exploration. I recognized many ranchers, teachers, and other community members in the crowd, as well as journalists, representatives from Idaho Wildlife Federation, Idaho Fish & Game, and Backcountry Hunters and Anglers. Judy Boyle, the 7-term District 9 Idaho House Representative from Midvale, began the meeting by introducing Paul and Longton, as well as the Washington County Commissioner for District 3, Gordon Wilkerson. Boyle, as seems to be her trademark in public comments, wasted no time criticizing the federal government, saying that the mining project was the first positive hope for the community since when “we used to manage our own forests, remember that!?” Then she handed the mic to Paul.

    Paul began by calmly saying that he was glad to see so many people come out to learn about the project, and that he decided to call the town hall meeting to respond to lots of rumors he’s heard about what’s going on, one of which is that next year there’ll be 200 miners coming to town. “That’s not going to happen,” he said.

    After Paul gave a long-ish review of the history of mining on this site, and some explanation of their scientific and exploration activities, Longton illustrated the mining process as a whole. He emphasized, repeatedly, that the project is in the exploration stage, the first stage of any mining project, and that it could take up to 13 years before it progressed to the design stage, which could take another 13 years before reaching the construction stage (Stage 3). He elaborated that the design stage (Stage 2) required detailed planning for the reclamation stage (Stage 6), which would remove much of the physical evidence of the mine’s existence. Paul added that present-day mining operations are required to bond for the reclamation stage, which prevents a lack of recourse for communities savaged by mining operations that abandon the mine, which is common historically. It was interesting to see Longton’s demeanor change during his part of the presentation from relatively calm to stressed and labored; I had the distinct sense that he was angry to have to explain all this. Then, during the Q&A afterward, he overdid the friendliness when answering questions. He came across to me as more volatile than I’d expect a geologist to be, which was in direct contrast to Paul, who — dressed to match the local code, in flannel plaid shirt, jeans, and a vest — stayed calm and understated the whole time. Sophisticated.

    All of this talk about mining, of course, has nothing to do with what Hercules is doing, which is trying to find copper and silver so they can sell their rights to an actual mining company. Much of what they shared in their presentation was obviously to allay fears of the negative impacts a future mine would have on the Andrus WMA. During the Q&A that followed their presentation, many questions focused on the impact of a mining operation in the area. Since Hercules isn’t going to be doing any mining, they, understandably, prefaced their answers as purely hypothetical and speculative, but tended to downplay the potential impact. Where would the workers live? (A. They’d hope to hire as many as possible locally, but typically mining operations want miners to live on-site or close by.) What would happen to an already “messed up” Highway 71? (A. No idea at all; that bridge’ll be crossed if and when it’s gotten to.) What would happen to the Snake River? (A. No idea since we don’t know what kind of mine it would be.) Would it be an open pit or an underground mine? (A. We don’t know yet, but that based on how deep the copper is, it would probably be subsurface and therefore have minimal surface disturbance; Paul, who answered this one, of course didn’t say anything about the plethora of environmental and occupational hazards of underground mines.) How would public access to the site be affected? (A. For what Hercules is doing there won’t be any impact or limit on access for recreation, grazing, etc.) I know you can’t say, but what’s your best guess how long the exploration phase you’re doing will take? (A. You’re right, I can’t say, but if you’re gonna press me I’d guess 5 years.) Someone else asked how many drill rigs they’ve had up there, and Paul said they had three this year, and might add a fourth next year.

    In my opinion, based on my extensive hiking up there this fall, Both Paul and Longton significantly minimized the impact on the site that their exploration has already had; Longton, for example, showed a slide of a huge drill rig whose footprint was bigger than Cambridge, and then contrasted it with a photo of their drill rigs, saying they could “probably fit 10 of them in this room.” Maybe not. The drill pads they’ve already made up there are sizeable for the area — at least 50 yards by 50 yards — but they didn’t say anything about the numerous roads they’ve bulldozed between drill rigs and storage areas. The two gated access roads into the site — Camp Creek and Grade Creek — have been noticeably eroded by the machinery traffic in the area, and the runoff and silt will no doubt end up in Brownlee Creek, Brownlee Reservoir, and the Snake River. No discussion of mitigation of this whatsoever.

    And, of course, not a word about the principle on which public land is founded: multi-use. Mining rights trump all other rights in Idaho. But part of the site is on Forest Service land, so they were blurry on permitting, as well as the breakdown of state-federal land and the respective regulations. I’d prepared a list of questions, as did Leslie, but it was clear from the outset that Hercules Silver Corp’s objective was to sell their part of the project to the community mainly by emphasizing that they’re not doing much to change anything up there right now; they’re “just looking.” They knew a major hope in the community was jobs the mine might bring (which Boyle alluded to in her introduction), but they immediately downplayed that as an imminent possibility, and as something they wouldn’t be involved in anyway since that would happen only after a mine had been designed and when it was entering Stage 3 (Construction), which could be 20 years off if I understood Longton’s presentation. It struck me as ironic that Judy Boyle introduced the meeting by suggesting how promising this would be economically for “the community” (as if everybody wants the same thing she, and the mining industry, wants: to pull as much money from the ground as possible, regardless of the impact on the land). Of course, she’s just doing her part to smooth the way, which is why Chris Paul has expressed great admiration for Boyle. If I were him, I’d want to be on her good side (full disclosure: I’ve long been bothered by Boyle’s efforts to eliminate federal land in Idaho, the passage of her trespass law in Idaho, and especially her in-person support of Ammon Bundy’s violent takeover of the Malheur Wildlife Refuge in 2016. I’ve witnessed many times her uncivil responses to positions that don’t agree with hers; see, for example, the factually vague, gaslighting rhetoric she uses in a Boise Metro Chamber video dialog titled (ironically) “In Search of Civility” from 2021, especially in contrast with the other guest, Idaho legislator Ilana Rubel).

    I talked with some folks afterward, and most had the same feeling I had: that it’s going to be a while before we know much, or before much changes. Hercules has the rights, and will explore — drilling and other research, including the geophysical stuff that all those high-voltage wires were for, about which at one point either Paul or Longton said, “You didn’t see piles of corpses anywhere near those wires” (I wondered if this was in response to my complaining about it in my previous posts) — for at least another year. One person I talked with, who runs a natural resource business in the area, said that if a mine goes in and they hire locally it will be tough if not impossible for him to hire any employees, as it will for other businesses in the area that can’t pay as much as the mine would. Several people I talked with afterward had the same concern about the non-economic impact on the public land: its importance for big game, upland game, and outdoor recreation. But one thing’s clear: if Hercules finds what mining companies feel is worth digging for, it’s going to happen, and they’ll do whatever necessary to make it happen. Whether the community will benefit in any way is anyone’s guess, but — unless Hercules pulls the plug because there’s not enough there to sell — it’s not an if but a when. Maybe I’ll be gone by then.

    It’s obvious I’m against this project 100%. I know that’s hypocritical in an absolute sense because we all depend on the metals they hope to find here, and they’re apparently in short supply (I’m not sure this is true, but they said so). My defense against my hypocrisy is that not all mining areas are in places that were originally private lands which were purchased and donated to a public entity specifically for wildlife conservation. Elk hunting, for example, is big business in Idaho but also an important part of life and local tradition in the area. The vast majority of elk killed every year nearby spend winters on the Hercules site. Some local hunters (many of whom are ranchers) have expressed concern about the negative impact wolves have had on elk numbers and harvest rates (the science on this is ambivalent at best); but if the Hercules site becomes a mine (even a subsurface one), that winter ground will be unavailable to elk and they will disappear from the area (as will all other access, recreational and cattle-related). No science needed to know that fact.

    Another layer of irony here is that Hercules and its major investor (Barrick Gold) are Canadian companies; Paul said he was from BC and it’s over-explored, and (in the podcast I linked to in Hercules 2) the Canadian government was a pain to deal with, especially compared to Idaho. Idaho prides itself on its natural beauty, but when it comes down to it its legislators will sell it if they can.

  • Hercules 2

    Hercules 2

    Some news about the Hercules Silver project on the Cecil Andrus Wildlife Management Area.

    First, Hercules is hosting a “town hall meeting” about its project this Wednesday evening (Dec. 13) at 7 p.m. in the Cambridge Exhibit Hall (see photo below). If you’ve hunted down there, and can make the meeting, it would be a great opportunity to ask questions or express concern for the future of that area, its wildlife inhabitants, and your rights to use public land in Idaho.

    Click on the picture to go to the Facebook page, and read the extensive comments from readers.

    Second, I’ve gotten a couple responses from organizations in Idaho that monitor mining, particularly Idaho Rivers United. I spoke with a conservation program manager at IRU, which was heartening in that he was motivated to find out more about this little-known project.

    Although the Hercules project is mainly focused on the Andrus WMA, and thus Idaho State land, there are some questions that nobody I’ve talked to (which include USFS managers, F&G managers, and NGO conservation managers) seems to be able to answer, which I hope come up on Wednesday evening in Cambridge:

    1) if the mining project is going full steam ahead because it’s on Idaho land (and not federal, which requires much more in-depth permitting and public comment periods, which are scant or non-existent on Idaho lands when it comes to mining), why were those high-voltage cables Peat and I repeatedly tripped over spread across huge swaths of NFS (federal) land in addition to the Andrus WMA? Did Hercules have to get permits for that? What would have happened if someone got electrocuted or injured by those?

    2) Is it a fact that mining rights on state land supercede designation of a parcel as a “wildlife management area,” which is supposed to be managed by Idaho Fish and Game for wildlife habitat protection, which was the intent of the donation of this specific land by the “Richard King Mellon Foundation… in 1993.”

    There’s also some confusion about mining rights, and what type of mine Hercules is trying to sell to investors. If it owns the mining rights, there’s no economic benefit to the state or local community; they keep all profits. If they’re leasing the rights, the lease agreement benefits taxpayers and the state. It’s unclear which type of mining rights Hercules has here.

    The other question concerns surface rights and subsurface rights; the Fish & Game press release says Hercules has subsurface rights. The Hercules investor information claims they have surface rights. Which is it, and what difference does it make?

    Another question that ranchers might be concerned to ask would be: if the Hercules project turns into its hoped-for open pit mine, what would happen to that significant acreage of public land grazing allotment? Anyone who’s been on that land has noticed cattle on it for at least half the calendar year. Idaho F&G prides itself on how it manages both wildlife and grazing on parcels like this: “Livestock grazing occurs on the WMA and the grazing program demonstrates compatible wildlife and livestock use of rangelands.” I would imagine they would all but eliminate access to that entire side of Highway 71, for miles.

    Here are a couple of background information sources a friend of mine (thanks, Lisa!) dug up on this project. The first is an investor’s analysis of the project:

    This next one is a podcast interview with the CEO of Hercules, Chris Paul, who shares his love of Idaho as an easy place to mine because of the lack of permitting and what he sees as a place where he doesn’t have to deal with the “brain death” of dealing with federal regulations:

    There are of course lots of other questions and concerns I’m not aware of right now. If you can make the meeting this Wednesday, please consider a trip to Cambridge. I’ll try to post a follow-up soon afterward.

  • Climb

    Climb

    I used to be an athlete a long time ago.

    In the summer of 1989, I watched the Boise Twilight Criterium bicycle race as men rode their bikes at lightning fast speed on laps downtown. I was smitten by the action and excitement. That same month on NBC Sports I watched Greg Lemond win the Tour De France (by just 8 seconds, over a Frenchman no less!) and decided at that exact moment that I wanted to race bicycles. Not having any money at the time, I borrowed $275 from my Mom to buy a used road bicycle, and by September of that year I entered my first race, the Bogus Basin Hillclimb, a 16-mile uphill race, and came in 3rd place for women.

    Wanting to get better at bicycle racing, I asked for training advice from a local Boise cycling legend named Bob Hoene who had won the Bogus Basin hillclimb many times. I remember him telling me something like this: “The best way to know just how far to push yourself is to ride up Bogus as hard as you can until you puke. Once that happens you’ll know your limit.” Later that week, I rode up Bogus with him and puked at milepost 1.5.

    I never amounted to be much of a climber and preferred racing on flatter ground doing time trials or criteriums. In the 1990s, before the promoters of the Twilight Criterium decided to include a separate women’s race, I competed with the men. I loved every adrenaline rush minute of it and even crashed out once. Just like in chukar hunting, I wasn’t intimidated being in a sport mostly dominated by men.

    Twilight Crit start; that’s me in the center with the red helmet.

    I didn’t purposely seek out or want a dog that covered a lot of ground, but yesterday Bloom went on point 256 yards straight above me. I cursed when my Garmin alerted me to this. Every 20 steep steps or so, I stopped, caught my breath and pulled down my fogged-up glasses, checking the Garmin every few seconds hoping he wasn’t on point anymore. But he was. I kept going and felt light-headed and was on the verge of vomiting. My thoughts on the climb up to Bloom made me think about Bob Hoene and my ride up Bogus Basin with him 34 years before. It probably took me another 10 more minutes to reach a place on the climb where I could see Bloom but he was still 75 torturous yards away. After all these years, I still hate climbing but I couldn’t stop because one must always honor the point.

    I hadn’t thought about Bob Hoene for years but now wonder what happened to him? I hope he’s still racing bicycles. Sometimes, I wonder what will become of me.

    My nemesis climb. Bogus Basin prologue start for the International Women’s Challenge stage race, 1993
    Powerbar Women’s Challenge, 1994
    Meeting the great Greg LeMond
  • December Chukar Hills

    December Chukar Hills

    The two years we lived in Washington, as I’ve said here before, were not the easiest two years for us. We missed the chukar hills, empathized with our dogs’ longings for open hills of bunchgrass and sage, and just simply were unable to ignore the call to the hills. Local surrogates paled in comparison. When we returned to those hills last February, they were buried in snow. So we had to wait. Now that the snow’s here again, we’re recalling the patience required but it’s easier being here, no longer two days’ drive away. I’m busy trying to gainfully employ myself, and I’m liking the challenge and channeling some of that into the new blog/website. But the industry’s hurting, I’ve yet to land a client, and so am doing what I do (when I’m not hunting): reading and writing on topic. Here’s my latest:

    I did get out with Peat into the chukar hills for a long hunt yesterday. December 5th. T-shirt weather in the midst of lots of precipitation. Gorgeous. Not as much action as we’ve typically seen in this above-average bird year, but enough. Bizarrely, even though I filled my 100-ounce Cambelbak bladder, I ran out of water (three miles from the truck). A first for December. Still, stellar day.

  • Legend

    Legend

    50 miles from home, I realized that I forgot to pack my extra shells for our hunting and camping trip. I sat there for a few minutes in the passenger seat in silence and mad at myself at my unthinkable mistake and embarrassed to say anything to Bob. I wanted to run off and hide.

    It wasn’t totally unthinkable. It wasn’t like we forgot the shotguns or our boots this time. A couple of years ago, heading down the road for an out-of-town hunting trip we were about 45 minutes from home when I realized that both of our hunting boots were still on the boot warmers in the garage. We immediately turned around and went back to get the boots which made for a very uncomfortable and quiet detour back home. We swore from that moment on that we’d always have a check-off list for packing.

    I fessed up about my stupid forgetfulness just before crossing the border into Oregon and the big to city to us, Ontario. We exited into the parking lot of the Walmart, parked and headed into the far back corner of the store to shop for shells and to also look for a cheap dog-proof cooler (or in our case Peat proof cooler without zippers like the soft sided ones have). The Walmart Superstore wasn’t so super when we discovered they didn’t sell ammo anymore and the cooler selection wasn’t very impressive. We left empty handed.

    We then drove all the way across town to a couple of other stores that were open but their selection of 20 gauge shells for upland was pretty dismal or non-existent, focusing mostly on waterfowl shot. On the bright side, at least we found a small Igloo Playmate plastic cooler at Bi-Mart and were fairly confident Peat shouldn’t be able to figure out how to open it.

    We forged ahead and originally wanted to stop for a quick hunt somewhere in the desert along the way but it started snowing sideways and then it rained. Not the best hunting weather for us or the dogs. Once we headed south the clouds opened up and we could see blue skies.

    Arriving to the campground in the late afternoon we set up camp. I pulled out my pack from the pickup and opened up the shell pouch to see what exactly was in there and analyzed the situation in my head. Okay, I rarely shoot more than once on a covey and I’ve got 12 shells so that would last maybe four hunts if I only shot three times per hunt. Of those shells three of them were Angus shells that Bob hand-loaded four years ago and they’re filled with some ashes from our Brittany named Angus who died four years ago. I’ve been carrying them around for good luck ever since.

    Good luck Angus shells.

    It wasn’t going to be the end of the world to only have 12 shells but I’d definitely have to be discretionary in my shooting and not waste any shots unless it seemed like it was a sure thing which in the chukar hunting world is totally laughable.

    Just before dinner, we met a fellow hunter in the campground who had been out the previous two days and according to him, the hunting was terrible and he hadn’t seen many birds. It was ridiculous but I was actually relieved to think that chances of shooting would be limited.

    The opposite turned out on our first two days of hunting. It was really good, and the dogs found plenty of birds. We were pleased. Thrilled.

    On our third day of hunting we found an area to hunt that looked good on the maps but in person it wasn’t very promising and no visible water sources were nearby for miles even though the map showed what looked like a small pond which was now drier than a bone.

    Bob and I decided to stay together since I was down to my last three shells, all of which were Angus shells. Not very long after we started our hike from the pickup the dogs started finding birds but I couldn’t get a good shot and passed on ones that were borderline too far away. Towards the end of the day the dogs found and pointed one last covey of chukar up in the rocks above us. Bob got up to them first and they erupted and flew downhill towards me. I quickly mounted my gun, shot, and hit one on a crossing overhead shot. Bloom hauled down the hill past me to retrieve it and beat Peat to it. On the way up heading towards me with the chukar in his mouth, Peat snatched it away from him and continued to run past me taking my chukar to Bob as if I didn’t exist.

    The only other times (yes, plural) Peat stole a bird from another dog was back in 2015 when he was eight months old. Instead of simply attempting to retrieve them, he watched Angus do all the work of finding, pointing, and holding the birds and then would take the bird Bob shot from Angus’s mouth on the retrieve and go off and eat it. He did this for the first 6 birds Bob shot that season. Angus, gentlemanly at the wrong time, didn’t put up much of a fight. Bloom, like his blood relative Angus, didn’t either.

    Peat’s first season was frustrating, legendary, but epic in its own twisted way. Luckily after the sixth time stealing a bird from Angus, a switch turned off or maybe on in his brain and he started retrieving them directly to us and didn’t stop to eat them.

    On the morning of what would have been our fourth hunt in Oregon, we woke up early and noticed a flat tire on the pickup. It was no surprise with all the rocky backroads we’d been driving on the day before. It was 10 degrees outside but at least it we were parked on a flat piece of ground and not pulled off on a shoulder of a busy highway. Bob changed it but now without a spare tire and with the nearest tire repair shop 60 miles away we decided pack up instead of hunting and head home rather than risk being stranded out on some remote rocky and gravel road without cell phone coverage.

    A couple of days after arriving home and anxious to head out again, I went for a solo hunt with Bloom at a place where I’d been before. 20 minutes into the hunt Bloom went on point below me and held them until I arrived. The covey of maybe 15 birds busted and flew downhill. I shot one chukar, it tumbled to the earth, and Bloom retrieved it right to my hand. I was elated! I searched around and found my bright yellow shell on the ground and picked it up and looked at Angus’s name on it. It was an emotional moment. The place where this happened was almost the exact spot where I shot my first chukar back in 2016 that was pointed and retrieved by Angus.

    Divine Intervention?

    Bloom with his super sensitive nose is still figuring out this game but with each hunt he’s getting better. Yesterday, hunting solo with him in a new spot, I thought it would be too windy to find anything but I remembered my friend and longtime hunter Sam telling me years ago, “Birds are on the ground and their world is much calmer; it’s not as windy down there.” Bloom tracked down birds just below tops of ridges in the frigid and howling wind and went on point on at least 6 different coveys and a couple of solos. I didn’t think that I would be able to shoot with my fingers being bitter cold to the bone but it’s funny how you forget the coldness when your dog goes on point.

    Bloom has a lot to live up to with his legendary genetics and with our high expectations but after the last few hunts and seeing him work, he’s going to be fine.

    My first chukar (2017), compliments of Angus (and Peat)
    Bloom pointing a covey of chukar yesterday.