It's 7:20 on a dark, especially cold Thursday morning when veteran prospector Don Bragg arrives, ready to begin the trip to a gold claim he has near Egmont, a tiny unincorporated town one hour north of Sechelt.
Bragg's maroon, late-model Chevrolet pickup rumbles and squeals, the din blanketing an otherwise silent East Vancouver street.
"You have gloves?" asks Bragg. "I think it's best you bring some."
When the truck finally ambles away – without the extra pair of gloves, so Bragg's will have to be shared – the conversation begins on a rather ordinary topic: traffic.
It's hardly the stuff of prospecting lore. No wild tales from the woods, no yarns about working the land in search of gold, silver or copper. Just the well-worn frustrations of an ever-chaotic metropolitan commute.
"I tell you, I haven't driven in traffic like that in quite some time," says Bragg, shaking his head. "As soon as there was two car lengths in front of you on the highway, someone was taking it."
Although Bragg, 80, has lived in the Lower Mainland for years, he's never liked the sprawl, never enjoyed the grind.
Clad this day in a blue flannel work jacket, plaid shirt and dark work pants, his white hair peeking out from beneath an oversized black toque, Bragg shows the signs of a life hard-worked. His hands, trapped somewhere between confidence and caution, reveal the wear of years spent in camps, his eyes the mileage of countless sun-up to sundown workdays.
"It's the freedom," says Bragg of prospecting. "I just like the outdoors."
Prospecting for a job
Bragg was born in 1933 in Brooks, Alberta, the elder of two boys. In 1944, the family bought a farm near Enderby, B.C., and went west. Bragg went to high school in Enderby and spent his early adulthood working odd jobs around the Okanagan.
He logged, sold farm equipment and worked as a brakeman on the railroad. He earned good money working the latter gig, he says.
In 1958, when he was 25, Bragg was selling furniture in an Eaton's department store in Vernon – a post, Bragg says, he didn't "particularly like." After work one day, Bragg ambled into a bar where he met Don Davies, a practised prospector. That night, after a lengthy discussion about prospecting, Davies offered him a job. Desperate to leave his position hawking couches, Bragg agreed. Within a week, he was off.
"I just said 'I'm going.'"
Bragg started working on regional greenfield prospecting programs, funded by major mining firms. The impetus for the large programs was simple: a small crew would scour an area defined by the company, looking for mineralization.
If they found something, they'd continue testing the rocks, creeks and soil in the area to try to get a better estimate of what might be in the ground. If the estimate proved worthy, the company would send a larger group to develop the plot further. "It's a basic reconnaissance program," he says. "That's what a prospector does."
It was steady, financed work, far from the norm for today's explorers. But by the mid-1960s, the majors abandoned large-scale exploration initiatives, leaving the work to prospectors and junior companies. Today, that basic structure remains – prospectors do much of the early exploration, hoping to gather enough good samples to convince a junior to come in and oversee a drill program. If the drilling goes well, an interested major with deep pockets, coupled with a strong-enough commodity price, can shepherd the property into production. That process, however, can often take decades to complete.
In 1964, Bragg split from both camps and went it alone, the first step in what's become a nearly five-decade freelance career. Bragg has staked claims across the province from northern B.C. and the Kootenays to Vancouver Island. He's lived in remote camps for months where supplies had to be sent by boat, he's taught prospecting on and off – Bragg spent three years at the University of British Columbia studying geology, but never graduated – and has long been a director of the Association for Mineral Exploration British Columbia, the organization that represents prospectors, geologists and exploration companies in the province.
And he's still at it.
Ground rules
The road into Bragg's Egmont claim – Bragg has four claims on the Sunshine Coast – is rocky, dotted with coloured place-marking flags hanging from the surrounding trees.
The 292-hectare claim caught Bragg's eye about eight years ago, after he read an assessment of the property written in 1985 by a company called Chalice Mining Corp. According to the assessment, the company had recorded 31 samples on the property, 21 of which produced results greater than 0.5 ounces of gold per tonne.
"That's good," says Bragg, nodding his head.
In Bragg's 2012 assessment report of the property, eight of a total 13 samples yielded results more than 0.5 ounces of gold per tonne.
"This is mine possibility," says Bragg, gazing through the windshield of his truck.
But he needs more results.
This fall, Bragg hopes to collect a series of new samples from an area in the centre of the claim called the "DF Zone." The DF Zone features prominently on both the original 1985 Chalice assessment and Bragg's 2012 report.
"I just don't understand all of it yet," says Bragg. "I need to spend some time in there, see what's happening to the geology."
But finding the time and, more importantly, the resources to get the work done might be difficult. Investment in exploration has all but dried up. Among the top 100 junior mining firms listed on the TSX Venture Exchange, cash and short-term investment plummeted $700 million in 2013. Explorers, as a result, cut their capital expenditures by 28%, or $133 million. Not surprisingly, Bragg has suffered financially. This year he says he's made about $15,000 prospecting, less than 25% of what he made last year.
But keeping claims costs money. It costs $5 per hectare to renew a claim with B.C. for the first two years a prospector holds and works on a property. In years three and four, that cost jumps to $10 per hectare. In years five and six, its $15 per hectare and $20 per hectare for each year after that. If a prospector performs no work on a claim, yet wants to retain the property, he or she pays twice the applicable yearly cost.
For Bragg, who has a handful of claims in B.C., that tariff totals about $30,000 annually.
"In a good year, I make enough money to live on."
Modern prospects
The half-empty ferry back to Horseshoe Bay is quiet.
A few travellers line up for food, some for coffee; others flip through the paper in the seating areas. Bragg gets a bowl of clam chowder.
"We're going to need more prospectors," says Bragg, in between spoonfuls. "My ability to get around in the bush because of my age isn't what it used to be."
To him, prospectors are the lifeblood of mining. And we need new mines. But who's going to find them?
The job, while a challenge, has more support than it's ever had, he says. Bragg lauds the reports and detailed data available from the British Columbia Geological Survey, a branch of the Ministry of Energy and Mines, and the extensive geological programs launched by Geoscience BC. Since its inception in 2005, Geoscience BC has launched 11 major projects aimed at gathering and publishing geoscience data to encourage mineral exploration in the province.
"There's fantastic info that comes up there," says Bragg.
And with that, the announcement over the loudspeaker warns travellers the ferry will reach the terminal shortly. The dining room empties promptly and the cars down below fill up. Bragg ambles to his truck. As the gate is lowered, Bragg pushes the gas pedal and the truck proceeds forward slowly.
Into the traffic. Back to the city. Away from the bush.
