The Battle for Bristol Bay - The Ripple Effect: The Fate of Freshwater in the Twenty-First Century - page 263

CHAPTER 26
The Battle for Bristol Bay
Perhaps it was God who put these two great resources right next to each other,
just to see what people would do with them.
—John Shively, CEO of Pebble Ltd. Partnership
A FLASH IN THE PAN
In the fall of 1986 a bush pilot named Tim La Porte picked up a crew of Canadian geolo-
gists from a remote spot between Lake Clark and Lake Iliamna, near Bristol Bay, on the
Alaska Peninsula. As he pushed the throttle forward, his Cessna 206 floatplane lifted off
the water with a roar, and the pilot turned to the lead geologist, Phil St. George , to ask a
fateful question: “Whatcha been lookin' for out here?”
St. George eyed La Porte. Experienced geologists, like experienced fishermen or poker
players, tend to go monosyllabic when asked what they are seeking. But the two had
known each other for years, and St. George eventually offered, “Coloration in the
ground.”
“Like an orangey-green color?”
“Mmm-hmmm.”
“Shoot, I know a place like that right around the corner.” Banking the Cessna around,
La Porte said, “Let me show you. Won't take but a coupla minutes.”
The spot of colored ground La Porte had in mind was only about five miles from the
geologists' camp, near a hilly area between the Koktuli River and Upper Talarik Creek.
It was known as Pebble Beach. A large caribou herd had established itself there, and La
Porte had flown hunters up to Pebble dozens of times. As they drited over Frying Pan
Lake, La Porte pointed of his port wing, where the lower slope of hillside had an orange-
and-green cast. Then he pointed off the starboard wing, where a bigger hill also showed
distinctive streaks of color along its flanks.
“What's it mean?” La Porte asked.
The geologist took in the view, nodded noncommittally, and said, “It means there
could be a mineral deposit under the surface.” Then he stared out the window.