Mine-Finder Believed Deeply in the Yukon

(This piece originally appeared in the Yukoner Magazine, #29, March, 2005.

References: Dr. Aaro Aho's obituary by Anne Tempelman-Kluit, Yukon News,

June 3, 1977; Jane Gaffin's book, Cashing In.)

First and foremost, Aaro Aho was a geologist--a minefinder--who believed

deeply in the Yukon. He was sure as much ore could exist at a thousand

feet below surface as near surface in the Anvil Range and that the ore

potential was limited only by exploration depth and extraction economics.

An extraordinary man endowed with a good mind that he used imaginatively,

he had a knack for seeing invisible things others could not.

Aho was a careful scientist, making his own luck. Ambition and optimism

were his strong points. He thrilled when breaking new ground and

exploring the unknown. He endlessly raked over muskeg and mountains,

searching for what he wanted.

"I was hunting elephants, either a high-grade profitable deposit or a

low-grade of large enough tonnage to be profitable," said Aho, a whiz in

petrology.

Originally, he had planned a career in research. But he thought research

was less exciting than hunting for elephantine mineral deposits in the

Yukon's clean laboratory, a detour that changed the territory's economic

health by opening up the country. Later, he spoke ruefully of his mixed

feelings about the results.

Since the Yukon's mining history was based on high-grade gold and silver

production, he first looked at the Klondike area of 1898 gold-rush fame;

next, he moved into the Keno Hill area where high-grade silver veins were

masked in heavy overburden.

There was no magic formula to lead to a major discovery except Aho's

characteristic of doubling his work load and injecting extra muscle and

brains into his performance. He untiringly promoted his ideas.

Tall and khaki-clad, he had a dark brush cut, tolerance and a benign

disposition. He was a sentimentalist, environmentalist, technician, a

prolific writer, educated gambler and a mentor to many.

To him, enthusiasm ranked as high as experience and he always attracted

the cream of the crop for crews. Summer students who attended Aho's School

of Hard Rocks learned about mineral prospecting, human nature and how to

get along with Yukoners. Many went on to very successful careers in the

mining business.

Aho's unwavering faith in the Yukon was rewarded in 1965. He and a small

exploration contingent had moved into the Anvil Range area and discovered

the mine that spiraled the Yukon into overnight world prominence.

The 70-million-ton, lead-zinc-silver Faro deposit came into production in

1969 and was destined as Canada's largest lead producer. It contributed 50

per cent of the Yukon's economic well-being while directly employing 400

people.

Since only one prospect in 50,000 makes a mine, it is definitely a feat

to find one major mine. Yet Aho gave a repeat performance in 1973 when he

found the Grum zinc-lead-silver deposit, prefaced by the 1970 discovery of

the Sierra Gorda copper-molybdenum deposit in northern Chile.

Aho's bent for the outdoors harkened back to his boyhood when he spent

many happy years exploring Vancouver Island alone. He was born on a farm

near Ladysmith, British Columbia,

on June 20, 1925. Although his parent's small farm was a mile from the

closest neighbors and

playmates, his childhood was normal and happy other than suffering spinal

meningitis in his fifth year. Half his equilibrium mechanism was destroyed

and he had to re-learn to walk. He was left permanently deaf in one ear, a

disability to which he was very sensitive.

He was of Finnish descent and inherited the best qualities from each

parent. His father, Emil Aho, was the builder, and his mother, Alma, had a

good business head. She had moved from Finland via Colorado to British

Columbia at age 17. Born liberated, she was among the first women in the

province to vote and get a driver's license.

To honor his parents, Aho placed a slab of white quartzite from the Keno

Hill area on the top of Aho Mountain, located 100 miles north of the

village of Ross River. The commemorative plaque is inscribed "in

dedication and for inspiration".

The beginning of his 30-year love affair with the Yukon commenced in

1946. He and a friend, Ian Campbell, sailed north on the Princess Louise

in May to Skagway, Alaska. They rode the White Pass train over the 110

miles of narrow-guage track into Whitehorse where they overnighted in the

White Pass Hotel on First Avenue before heading down river for Dawson

City.

"It was squeegee, with holes under the doors," Aho recalled. "The doors

had no locks. It was the same in Dawson. Nobody locked anything. They gave

liberal credit. They knew you couldn't get out of the country."

In Dawson, it was easy to land laboring jobs for 87 cents an hour

stripping overburden for Yukon Consolidated Gold Corporation or

longshoring for the sternwheelers. At one point, Aho assisted Mike Winage,

who died a few months before Aho in early 1977. Black Mike, as he was

called, was already as old as the pyramids at the relevant time and was a

"good businessman" with gimmicks to make a house-levelling job last.

The pair jacked up and leveled Clear Creek Placer Mines' offices, then

visited the Pearl Harbor Hotel where they splashed back a round of double

overproof rums and returned to unlevel the foundation. The crooked job had

to be redone.

It was fun until the stark reality of mounting bills interrupted

pleasure. Aho worked, saved and settled his debts, boarded the

sternwheeler Whitehorse and left Dawson City while he could. His friend

Campbell didn't get out for three years.

After hitchhiking the Alaska Highway from Whitehorse, Aho reached

Vancouver with $131 to continue his education. He entered university

unsure of a specific field. But geology's combination of science and the

outdoors was a natural magnet.

The next summer he worked for the Geological Survey of Canada. The 1947

field season was his favorite, spent with mountaineering expert, Dr. John

Wheeler. The following summer, spent with Dr. Hugh Bostock (Honour Roll),

the grandfather of Yukon geology, was the most influential.

"It was Dr. Bostock's empathy for the Yukon, its people, the little

animals and the environment which inspired me," Aho said. "He was the most

eloquent of persons."

Aho went on to earn a double degree in applied sciences and arts from the

University of British Columbia in 1949 and a doctorate degree from the

University of California at Berkeley, before teaching a year at Oregon

State University.

By 1953, Aho was back North in an exciting job as exploration manager for

British Yukon Exploration, a newly-formed arm of the White Pass and Yukon

Corporation. He was to find mineral deposits in the proximity of the

railroad to support the operation.

Three years hence, an expanded budget unleashed him to roam the territory

at will. He found a few small deposits and inconsequential showings. By

1957, White Pass curtailed the mineral-hunting program. The company opted

to be a cheerleader rather than participate directly in mineral

development.

Aho was thrown into the arena as a free agent when most geological

consultants were older and more experienced. He soon found out why. "For

two years, I didn't qualify for an income tax

bracket" he reminisced. "Some clients were reputable. Others were strictly

promoters. If I wrote

an adverse report, many times I didn't get paid. In other cases, I was

paid in stock or commodity instead of consulting fees. That's why I

decided, instead of looking and losing on others' projects, I'd start my

own."

His experience and persistence eventually paid off with the magnificent

Faro discovery. Initially, the mine was operated by Anvil Mining

Corporation, a partnership between Cyprus Mines of Los Angeles and Dynasty

Explorations, a syndicate formed by Aho.

But the companies he created tended to run him rather than him running

himself. "That's not the best way for an individualist," he added.

In March of 1973, he resigned as Dynasty's president and went back into

the geological arena where he preferred to work on mine-finding projects.

The first thing he did was start another company. AEX '73 was formed to

prospect for mineralization in various parts of the Yukon.

He still viewed the Anvil Range as "elephant country". Recycling old

ideas and untangling an ownership mess, he concluded an option on Kerr

Addison's Vangorda, Swim and Grum properties.

Aho and his second wife, Silvia, a social worker from Chile, moved into

the condemned Faro Hotel in August and used the restaurant to spread out

maps to compare and color. He gathered and assembled information,

correlated and sifted through every bit of research material. Closing his

eyes, he mentally pictured the data.

"It's the creative process, based on intuition, above-normal incentives,

some bullheadedness and a lot of data," he explained in a 1976 interview

from his Vancouver office. "I may not know exactly why I want to drill in

a certain place, but I'm drawn to it. My idea may--or may not--work.

That's trial and error, like research. When the circuits are lit, I'll

borrow from the bank to keep a program going because there is no question

in my mind."

The first drill hole intersected low-grade mineralization. The next two

holes were duds and Aho vowed to put up the money himself if he had to.

"There's an advantage if you are in a position to keep drilling and get

conclusive results one way or the other before having to stop."

The fourth hole of high-grade zinc-lead-silver sections was the pay off.

Aho had found another large deposit.

"Searching is a helluva risk, and people are negative about what they

can't see. If there's overburden and no sign of mineralization, an

unexplored area is often assumed to have nothing." The Grum was a prime

example. The Faro mine road was built overtop the Grum ore body. Traffic

had to be diverted because of two drill rigs beside the road, he added.

To possess the power to be able to do things, you need money, said Aho.

"I wanted to make my own mistakes rather than someone else making them for

me. My objective was not to get rich. My objective was to create

something. Find mineral resources. Build something for the North.

"I wanted to contribute something to the progress, whatever the destiny

of mankind might be. I'm a part of it. I'm here for a purpose. I'm here to

create things, to make my contribution somehow.

"Then I look at the way resources are squandered. Everything has to be

obsolete in a few years so you can market more. This has to be turned into

a more realistic approach. The energy crunch may do it."

The Grum deposit was rolled into his company Canadian Natural Resources

which had the potential to put the Yukon over the financial hump. "But it

depends on whether the federal government keeps milking us with taxes.

There's hardly any incentives left to be able to do the sort of things

that have been done in the past."

At every opportunity, he warned the politicians and bureaucrats the

increasing cost of exploration is risky and returns restricted and that

Canada doesn't have a monopoly on resources.

Exploration companies could go offshore. And the first place that would go

down the drain would be the Yukon.

Aho often was a speaker at a Northern Resources Conference, which he

founded in 1963 to be held in Whitehorse every three years.

While he advocated effective mining and environmental laws, unreasonable

government restrictions were the strongest deterrent to the high-risk

exploration business. He expressed dismay with the enormity of

unnecessary government control and regulation introduced after the Faro's

development. One reason excellent projects could be brought to fruition

was due to the ability to operate with a minimum of red tape.

When Anvil Mining Corporation was reorganized into Cyprus Anvil Mining

Corporation about 1973, Aho relinguished the vice-president's position in

favor of a director's position and as company consultant.

About 1975, he relinguished the presidency of Canadian Natural Resources

also for a directorship. He was shedding administrative burdens to spend

more time in the bush and on a farm he planned to buy soon.

Just about anything other than looking for mines, which was both a career

and a hobby, was considered a dreadful waste of time by Aho....except

agriculture. His keenness for farming was a carry over from boyhood. It

prompted him to acquire land in partnership with a beef cattle expert in

March, 1976.

The land was on the opposite side of the mountain from where he grew up

near Ladysmith that Aaro Aho, the man who more than any other had brought

modern exploration techniques to the Yukon, spent the last 14 months of

his life. He was killed on May 27, 1977, when the tractor he was driving

rolled on him. He would have been 52 years old come June.

A 1978 Northern Resources Conference was dedicated to the eminent

geological engineer who had died the year before. Excess revenues from 362

registrants' fees went toward a $500 grant. It was named the Aaro E. Aho

Northern Resources Scholarship and was awarded annually to a Yukon college

or technical school student who was majoring in resource-related studies.

Despite the tragic deaths of Aho and some of his associates, these men

remain immortal within the Yukon mining fraternity. Their geologic

theories, ideas and boundless energies helped discover millions of tons of

open-pit ore that sparked a base-metal rush and hurled the Yukon into

world prominence.

But it is unfair to identify any one person as a hero when so many people

contributed in varying and meaningful degrees. In the Anvil district, Paul

Sterriah, an old Indian,

initially brought the Vangorda area to the attention of prospector Al

Kulan who found the

outcrop (Yukoner Magazine #14). He and lodge-owner Bert Law staked the

original Wynne and Elle May discovery claims.

Geologist Ted Chisholm interested the Prospectors Airways exploration

company in optioning the showing, which eventually led Chisholm, Kulan and

Aho to other mineral deposits.

Promoters raised capital; developers proved an ore body; the government

provided the services.

So, who does get the credit?

In Aho's opinion, "The driller on shift."

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