Seattle Times
Cleaning Up the Mess of Archaic Mining Laws, by Mindy Cameron.
From the highest ridges near my home in Idaho I can look east, across
Lake Pend Oreille, beyond steep slopes embracing the small town of
Hope, to Montana and the Cabinet Mountains.
Deep under those snowy peaks are deposits of copper and silver. And so there is controversy.
It's a story as old as the settlement of the West and as fresh as the New Year.
The day after Christmas, officials of the U.S. Forest Service and Montana state approved a plan by Sterling Mining Co. to build Rock Creek mine. It took 14 years to win approval, and the battle is far from over.
It's a battle worth fighting.
Sterling would create a 500-acre industrial site in the midst of Montana's Cabinet Mountain Wilderness. Those who discover it, like Theodore Roosevelt more than a century ago, are awed by its scenic grandeur. This place was among the first 10 areas officially protected as wilderness by action of the U.S. Congress.
That protection, however, does not extend to mineral deposits. Mining laws have changed little since they were passed in 1872. Pubic lands are fair game for miners. They still pay the 1872 price, $5 an acre, for a claim. If the mine proves up, they pay no royalties on minerals removed.
Reform advocates are dead right when they call this privatizing of public land.
Across the West, the story repeats itself. Mines are built; some make money, some don't. Toxic wastes are left behind, waters are polluted, people get sick, communities decline, taxpayers are left paying the bill for cleaning up the mess.
Once, an entire mountain lake disappeared. In 1978, Emma Lake near Silverton, Colo., emptied in one day, filling a mine tunnel far below with mud that took two years to remove. Fortunately, the miners were off that day.
That story is pertinent to the fight over the Rock Creek Mine. Critics say two mountain lakes in the Cabinets are at risk of the same fate if the mine tunnel is drilled, as proposed, three miles under the wilderness.
Perhaps it's unfair to make a villain of mine proponents. A description of a mining site will always lose out when contrasted to nature's exquisite mosaic.
At Rock Creek, Sterling could extract thousands of tons of ore each day for 30 years. Mine tailings could be spread over 324 acres within shouting distance of the Clark Fork River. The Clark Fork is the major source of water for Lake Pend Oreille, Idaho's largest freshwater lake some 25 miles downstream.
And what about the critters? Efforts to restore a healthy population of grizzly bears in the Cabinet Wilderness would be set back. A declining population of bull trout would be further threatened.
But, in this latest stand-down over land use - and abuse - on public land in the West, some are more concerned about who than what.
Can Sterling Mining Co. be trusted to meet state and federal environmental requirements? That's a fair question in a region left holding the bag by one failed mining operation after another.
A closer look at Sterling is not reassuring. It's the latest in a string of mining ventures involving Frank Duval of Spokane. In the '70s, he was one of the founders of a company called Pegasus Gold. After he left, Pegasus went bankrupt, leaving no money for clean-up costs of mines in north-central Montana.
In the late '80s, Duval settled a complaint against him by the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission involving his role in another mine deal.
In 1988, along with others, Duval re-opened the Bunker Hill mine in Idaho's heavily polluted Silver Valley. Less than a year later, the company laid off workers and filed for bankruptcy.
Duval operates Midnite Mine on the Spokane Indian Reservation. In February of 2000, Midnite Mine was listed as a Superfund site.
Under the nation's archaic mining laws, agencies have little leeway in authorizing mining operations on public land, regardless of the applicant. The best they can do to guard against history repeating itself is to require ever-larger reclamation bonds. Sterling will have to post a $77-million bond, the highest yet demanded by Montana, before work begins at Rock Creek.
That's little comfort to people whose lives and livelihoods may be affected if - when? - one more way-out-West mining venture goes bad.
January 14, 2002
Copyright 2002 The Seattle Times Company
Deep under those snowy peaks are deposits of copper and silver. And so there is controversy.
It's a story as old as the settlement of the West and as fresh as the New Year.
The day after Christmas, officials of the U.S. Forest Service and Montana state approved a plan by Sterling Mining Co. to build Rock Creek mine. It took 14 years to win approval, and the battle is far from over.
It's a battle worth fighting.
Sterling would create a 500-acre industrial site in the midst of Montana's Cabinet Mountain Wilderness. Those who discover it, like Theodore Roosevelt more than a century ago, are awed by its scenic grandeur. This place was among the first 10 areas officially protected as wilderness by action of the U.S. Congress.
That protection, however, does not extend to mineral deposits. Mining laws have changed little since they were passed in 1872. Pubic lands are fair game for miners. They still pay the 1872 price, $5 an acre, for a claim. If the mine proves up, they pay no royalties on minerals removed.
Reform advocates are dead right when they call this privatizing of public land.
Across the West, the story repeats itself. Mines are built; some make money, some don't. Toxic wastes are left behind, waters are polluted, people get sick, communities decline, taxpayers are left paying the bill for cleaning up the mess.
Once, an entire mountain lake disappeared. In 1978, Emma Lake near Silverton, Colo., emptied in one day, filling a mine tunnel far below with mud that took two years to remove. Fortunately, the miners were off that day.
That story is pertinent to the fight over the Rock Creek Mine. Critics say two mountain lakes in the Cabinets are at risk of the same fate if the mine tunnel is drilled, as proposed, three miles under the wilderness.
Perhaps it's unfair to make a villain of mine proponents. A description of a mining site will always lose out when contrasted to nature's exquisite mosaic.
At Rock Creek, Sterling could extract thousands of tons of ore each day for 30 years. Mine tailings could be spread over 324 acres within shouting distance of the Clark Fork River. The Clark Fork is the major source of water for Lake Pend Oreille, Idaho's largest freshwater lake some 25 miles downstream.
And what about the critters? Efforts to restore a healthy population of grizzly bears in the Cabinet Wilderness would be set back. A declining population of bull trout would be further threatened.
But, in this latest stand-down over land use - and abuse - on public land in the West, some are more concerned about who than what.
Can Sterling Mining Co. be trusted to meet state and federal environmental requirements? That's a fair question in a region left holding the bag by one failed mining operation after another.
A closer look at Sterling is not reassuring. It's the latest in a string of mining ventures involving Frank Duval of Spokane. In the '70s, he was one of the founders of a company called Pegasus Gold. After he left, Pegasus went bankrupt, leaving no money for clean-up costs of mines in north-central Montana.
In the late '80s, Duval settled a complaint against him by the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission involving his role in another mine deal.
In 1988, along with others, Duval re-opened the Bunker Hill mine in Idaho's heavily polluted Silver Valley. Less than a year later, the company laid off workers and filed for bankruptcy.
Duval operates Midnite Mine on the Spokane Indian Reservation. In February of 2000, Midnite Mine was listed as a Superfund site.
Under the nation's archaic mining laws, agencies have little leeway in authorizing mining operations on public land, regardless of the applicant. The best they can do to guard against history repeating itself is to require ever-larger reclamation bonds. Sterling will have to post a $77-million bond, the highest yet demanded by Montana, before work begins at Rock Creek.
That's little comfort to people whose lives and livelihoods may be affected if - when? - one more way-out-West mining venture goes bad.
January 14, 2002
Copyright 2002 The Seattle Times Company