"Perseverance - A Lesson Learned"

First, I wish you all a happy and healthy New Year!

Young and old, we learn lessons in life throughout our years. This short essay depicts one I have never forgotten, despite the passage of sixty-five years. The photograph was taken of me in the summer of 1960, back when my hair was dark and I could squat. It was taken alongside the South Nahanni River in Canada’s Northwest Territories.

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Sydney M. Williams

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More Essays from Essex

“Perseverance – A Lesson Learned”

January 4, 2025

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“If you’re going through Hell, keep going…Never, never, never give up.”

??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????Winston Churchill (1874-1965)

??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????Speech to the British people, June 18, 1940

The temptation to quit when one is lonely and homesick is common. I know; it happened to me.?

On April 27, 1960 I was offered a job with Fort Reliance Minerals, Ltd. The job entailed being part of a mineral exploration team that would be prospecting along Canada’s Northwest Territories’ South Nahanni River. The previous summer, a “major discovery” of tungsten had been found by the McKensie Syndicate, along the Yukon-Northwest Territories border about 100 miles north and west of where we would be. The job offer came through a family friend and neighbor, Thayer Lindsley, who had mining interests in Canada.

In mid-June, after a series of flights across Canada, I arrived in Fort Nelson, British Columbia. The next day a two-seater pontoon plane flew me the roughly 200 miles to the team’s base camp where I would be the cook’s helper. The camp was located at around 60 degrees N latitude, more than 200 miles from the nearest road. We were nineteen in number: Doug Wilmot, manager; a helicopter pilot and his engineer; fourteen prospectors; the cook and me. The prospectors were divided into seven two-man crews. Each team was helicoptered weekly to a designated site where they prospected up stream beds and along ridges. Communication was via radio. A month in, one of the prospectors – practicing “quick-draw” – shot himself in the leg, so was airlifted out. I, with one college course in geology under my belt, took his place.

The veteran prospector to whom I was assigned was a taciturn recluse who spent summers prospecting and winters trapping. He wasn’t much of a conversationalist. After a day spent collecting rock samples, as we hiked up river beds, crossed alpine tundra, and descended through boreal forests, there was still light to read, write letters, and – more often – to yearn for home and friends.

I had only been with my partner about two weeks when the base camp was to be relocated about 100 miles north, above Virginia Falls which are twice as high as Niagara Falls and about one quarter the width. I told Mr. Wilmot I was homesick and wanted to quit. He said okay, just help us move, which I did and which took about a week. Once the new base camp was established – approximately 300 miles south of the Arctic Circle and about 150 miles east of the closest town, Watson Lake – Mr. Wilmot arranged for his teams to return to the field.

Mr. Wilmot never again mentioned my desire to leave, nor did I. When it came our turn, I boarded the helicopter and set out for another five weeks of prospecting with my dour partner. During this period we crossed glaciers, and saw elk, grizzly bears and mountain goats. It was an experience for which I have always been thankful.

The urge to quit when things aren’t going one’s way is natural. Doug Wilmot did not try to dissuade me. He let me reflect on my choices and allowed me to make the decision by myself. I did. Success, as Winston Churchill once said, includes the “courage to continue.” I am glad I did. Thank you, Mr. Wilmot.