ODDS ‘N SODS — Aaro Aho the undaunted Finlander

I have met and worked with many geologists during my tenure in mining. These much-respected professionals possess many outstanding characteristics, not the least of which is determination. One geologist whom I knew exuded an outstanding quality of determination, which approached stubbornness.

Aaro Aho was a typical Finlander — born and educated in Canada but nevertheless a Finn in every regard — intelligent, hard-working, rugged, venturesome and determined. In short, Aho was the ideal person for this country’s exploration industry.

I recall in particular one experience with Aho. Encamped at the headwaters of Peso Creek in the heart of the Yukon in the Warnecke Mountains, we were looking for silver ores. The United Keno Hill operations of Falconbridge Ltd. were 40 miles to the east of our site. The rugged Potato Hills surrounded our project, and the helicopter was our sole means of supply and support. We did not experience isolation, however, since we had spacious quarters with a fine cookery, large tents and a commercial radio setup. The village of Mayo was our service centre and 35 miles of swamps, creeks and mountains lay between our camp and Mayo.

The program was progressing well with an underground activity to explore for high-grade silver veins, as bulldozers were stripping moss and overburden. Several diamond drills were active, as well, poking holes into the Keno sediments to unfold the geological story. As often happens in Mayo, a series of late winter storms moved through and we were isolated indeed. The radio was active but useless to transfer confidential information. My partner and I were sound asleep one night when suddenly there was a loud shout at our tent entrance. We awoke abruptly and saw a snow-covered apparition burst through the flaps. He nearly collapsed on our cots. Here was a worn, fatigued, thoroughly drenched Aho.

He had hiked through the night and the storms to reach our site — over mountain ridge, across swamps and had waded Peso Creek several times. He remained undaunted.

After a few shots of hot rum which we kept in our meager supply for emergencies, we suggested to Aho that he have a few hours of rest before morning.

“I have come to look the program over as the consultant for this operation,” Aho said. “I intend to hike back in daylight with all the information available.”

Aho was as good as his word. We roused ourselves and went to alert the cook for an early breakfast. Then we pored over every detail of the maps and plans with Aho. Later, we went underground, walked over the slippery surface trenches and inspected the drill sites.

Aaro, as usual, made a dozen suggestions for every facet of the program, proferred multitudinous queries, assembled copious notes and traced the latest maps.

“The directors have a market to react to,” he said. “Any and all news is welcome.”

Aho left our camp in mid-afternoon, a sturdy but lonely figure of a man. Laden with a backpack, he walked in heavy shoes across the hills on his return to Mayo. His pack was loaded with food and hot coffee in a thermos, along with his gear.

We told the Mayo Radio Station to be on the alert for him. Aho called us after midnight to assure us of his safe arrival. He would, further, proceed directly to another venture that Peso Silver was conducting at the old Moneta Porcupine showing near Mount Freegold to the north of Carmacks. No rest for Aho. He was relentless in his quest for the hidden mineral wealth. Aho gave a full measure of effort for every hour he was on the trail. His life story was short in terms of years, but in terms of accomplishment, that stubbornness and dedication carried him far beyond the crests of normal endeavor.

Those who knew him relish the memories, and consider Aho to be a suitable compatriot to that other Yukon pioneer — G. Warnecke.

— S.J. Hunter, a retired mining engineer, lives in Vancouver.