Tag: mining in Idaho

  • 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.

  • Hercules

    Hercules

    Hunted an old favorite yesterday, and I’m not hiding the location because I’m afraid it’s not long for this world.

    Peat and I went out for a rare solo hunt (Leslie and Bloom are nursing hurt wheels). The rationale was that the forecast was for nicer-than-normal weather with no precip, with an atmospheric river heading our way for the next week. We like to take advantage of windows. We headed out into torrential rain and wind, which I thought must be some kind of cosmic error that would soon be corrected. Instead, the rain continued for quite a while, then turned to fog so dense I couldn’t see Peat 20 yards in front of me. Finally, after a couple of hours, it got gorgeous, and stayed so.

    An abundance of birds and views, and important winter home for deer and elk
    Fog lifting. What a reveal!

    We saw a lot of chukar, and Peat pointed almost all of them we saw. Unfortunately, despite the fact that he held the birds for up to 10 minutes (some of his points were a couple hundred yards up steep hills), they all busted before I got to within 50 yards. No shots on those. Overall, it was a great hunt — by far my longest of the season (8.6 miles) and the second longest of my entire chukar hunting history, with the second most elevation gain ever for me (2800 feet). Peat ran 25 miles and did about 7,500 feet of elevation gain. He’s a bit sore today (as am I). One chukar in the bag, though, after all that doesn’t pencil out on a caloric replacement scale.

    Peat’s Strava on yesterday’s hunt

    Two things must be shared about this spot: first, it’s apparently being liked too much by hunters (I don’t know of an area in Hells Canyon that gets more pressure). Ben Jonson’s suggestion that what we love we might want not to like too much seems worth reflecting on.

    Second, it looks as though it’s about to become a huge open-pit silver and copper mine. Most of the land sits on more than one-third of the Cecil Andrus Wildlife Management Area, on land owned by the state of Idaho (and thus, you and me, right?). A Canadian mining company called Hercules Silver Corp acquired the mineral rites in 2021 and has been conducting exploratory drilling and geophysical tests since then, with a massive expansion of the project in 2023. Their investor presentation hawks the project as “Located in the state of Idaho, with a pro-mining congressional delegation, governor and state legislature, and local political support for the project.” And, “Long established mining history with streamlined permitting…” I know nothing about mining, which allows me to be flabbergasted by the Hercules’ investor newsletters bragging about finding 2.6 grams of silver per ton (I do know that there are 454 grams in a pound). It seems like not a lot of silver in a ton of excavated earth. I’m probably missing something.

    Hercules home page features a drone video of the gorgeous terrain on the Andrus WMA they’re hoping to turn into an open-pit mine

    It does seems strange that all this is happening on public land, but apparently it’s all legal and relatively easy in the state of Idaho, which is apparently populated by dupes, if I take Hercules’ implication correctly. I’ve been unable to find any reporting on this project in the press, and it doesn’t show up in a search on the Idaho Conservation League’s or Idaho Wildlife Federation’s websites; I contacted both organizations about Hercules several weeks ago and haven’t gotten a reply. Unlike federally owned BLM and Forest Service land, Idaho state land apparently doesn’t require a public comment period for projects impacting the environment. But the fact that Hercules has brought a massive amount of heavy machinery and pallets of 5-gallon buckets of chemicals related to the drilling operation up these tiny gravel roads and been running high-voltage electrical cable and high-pressure 1″ air hoses across the entire area, which covers about 10,000 acres, makes me wonder. Yesterday, Peat pointed a covey of chukar about 30 yards from heavy equipment and excavation activity; if I’d shot I’d have peppered the workers. While we searched a thicket near a pond for a grouse, a truck drove up and the driver got out and powered up a nearby high-powered air compressor. The gates to get into these areas have small handmade signs announcing the high voltage wires with “DO NOT TOUCH WIRES.” The wires are everywhere, and hard to see, only about 1/16″ of an inch thick. Peat and I tripped on them numerous times. I’m assuming we were just lucky they weren’t energized. I wonder.

    I’m trying to find out more about this situation, and will share what I discover. This was one of my all-time favorite places to hunt, so I’m part of the “liking-it-to-death” factor (although this was the first time I’d hunted there in three years; I won’t be back). I know others who love this spot, not just for birds but for big game. It’s important wintering ground for elk and deer which, unlike chukar, are endemic. But still, it makes me sad to see it getting ripped up. And it won’t get put back or made right again. Ironic that it’s happening on the Cecil Andrus Wildlife Management area, which is managed by Idaho Fish & Game. It makes me think of one of my favorite passages in literature, the last paragraph of Cormac McCarthy’s post-apocalyptic novel The Road.

    “Once there were brook trout in the streams in the mountains. You could see them standing in the amber current where the white edges of their fins wimpled softly in the flow. They smelled of moss in your hand. Polished and muscular and torsional. On their backs were vermiculate patterns that were maps of the world in its becoming. Maps and mazes. Of a thing which could not be put back. Not be made right again. In the deep glens where they lived all things were older than man and they hummed of mystery.”

    400psi air hoses run across much of the 10,000 acre site