Odds ‘n’ sods: Making the best of a turndown

In the family room, cocktail hour was sliding into high gear. The telephone rang. My wife answered it and handed me the receiver. “It’s for you.”

On the line was a mining guy calling from Vancouver. He was responding to a mineral property proposal that I had sent to an international mining company with headquarters in Europe. Headquarters had then sent along the package to the company’s Vancouver, B. C., office.

The subject property consisted of 10 claims with uranium-gold potential in northern Ontario, with 35 soil samples assayed on overburden covering a radon gas anomaly. Some of the soil assays had shown interesting values. The proposal was that the company provide $50,000 for a small drill program totest the anomaly in exchange for a percentage of the property.

The mining guy explained he had been away for a few weeks on business south of the border and was now following up on the submission. He was amiable and chatty and tried hard to put me at ease. It took him a few minutes to let me know his company was not interested in the property. He did his best to do it humanely, but after a minute or two I sensed what was coming: the turndown. The mining guy was apologetic. He thought my concept of the property made perfect sense but he explained that his company was big and really, the property was too early stage for it. It was a matter of company policy to seldom get involved early in a project (and how can one dispute this policy since the company was immensely successful). They preferred advanced, big projects — grassroots stuff really was not their bag. The focus in Canada right now was Saskatchewan and the Northwest Territories. The historical grade in the area of my claims just did not cut it when compared with the grades in the Athabasca basin — all very true.

Once the bad news was out that my proposal had failed to ignite the company’s interest, I fell back to Plan B. That was to obtain as much information from the mining guy as I could. He was helpful and suggested that perhaps a junior company might be interested. We talked a bit more and said goodbye on good terms. I was disappointed, but tried not to let on. Sort of like when you buy a lottery ticket and it’s only one digit off the winning number. At that moment the reaction is, “This is the last lottery ticket I will ever buy.” Until the next day, that is. It is hard to cure optimism. Especially if one is in the prospecting game.

So let’s see — can we stumble across a junior right now, with deep pockets and disappointing exploration results in, say, the Athabasca basin, Thelon basin or Namibia? Or perhaps one that’s mired in the politics of Venezuela or Ecuador? There must be a few of these junior guys around, licking their wounds and looking to make a comeback — somehow, anywhere, anyplace. How about Ontario? It doesn’t look so bad after all. Just think of all that money that was made in the glory days of Elliot Lake!

“Hey junior, how ya doin’?” I would say. “Sorry about those blank holes up there in the basin! Hear it’s real expensive to drill there! Yeah — it looked like a sure thing too! Your stock really took a hit — don’t worry though, there is always next time. In fact, boy oh boy, have I got a deal for you. It’s a once in a lifetime, a sure thing — another Hemlo maybe, or a Wawa, a Timmins, or even a Kirkland Lake! So junior, the train is leaving the station any minute now — better get onboard –hallelujah.”

–The author is based in Toronto, Ont.