This past weekend Rochelle Dale, Jan Zender and other residents of the small town of Big Bay, Michigan hosted a multi-faith fasting and prayer event on the Yellow Dog Plains, “in the shadow of Eagle Rock,” where Rio Tinto plans to open a nickel and copper sulfide mine. Representatives from the Lutheran, Jewish, Buddhist, Anishinaabe, Roman Catholic, United Methodist and Unitarian traditions were present to speak and hold prayer sessions.
For me, the most striking part of the day occurred while Reverend Jon Magnuson, a Lutheran campus pastor, was performing the Eucharist underneath an overhanging made of canvas and maple poles. As a boy of nine, Jeremiah, read through the 23rd Psalm, one line reached out to me that Magnuson repeated and emphasized: “Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies.”
Before Magnuson, himself wearing a white robe, was a table covered in bright red cloth; a Bible, loaf of bread and goblet of wine were on top. As Magnuson spoke, teaching about the Eucharist and its importance in everyday life, rain clouds slowly moved in over nearby Eagle Rock, now fenced-in by Rio Tinto. In the foreground of Eagle Rock was a mine security vehicle, always running, the seated guard monitoring and recording our every move the entire day.
Afterward, Magnuson made it clear that the guard, himself, isn’t the enemy referred to in the 23rd Psalm. Rather, the enemy was “the force” that says, “I will do anything, eat anything for money.” Magnuson related the Rio Tinto mine to BP and the Deepwater Horizon oil spill, suggesting construction of the mine into Eagle Rock, considered sacred to Anishinaabe tribes and opposed by local residents, was symptomatic of widespread greed in society.
When a group of us walked to the fence-line we noticed the company had blocked-off a public access road used to get to other state, public lands. A large earthen berm, ‘no trespassing’ signs and orange construction fencing blocked vehicular traffic. Of course, the Rio Tinto guards, rarely seen outside of their always-idling vehicles, wouldn’t think that a person could actually walk around the twenty-foot length of fencing the company installed on public property.
At the fence-line we wondered, if Rio Tinto has all the permits and hundreds of millions of dollars in funding necessary to begin opening their mine, why are they doing next to nothing at the site? For weeks it seems all the company has done is run test drills into the ore body (as it’s done for years) and harass locals and tourists.
In the shadow of Eagle Rock there was only the distant hum of a drilling rig, the idling of a company security vehicle and a hundred acres or so of bulldozed, bare earth—no blueberries and not much shade on that side of the fence. Our prayer camp was far more inviting, with sounds of wind, light rain on the canvas roofs, laughter and other sounds of prayer and fellowship—a world Rio Tinto is not a part of.
The day left me with a number of questions. A few years down the road, regardless of whether or not the mine opens, what will our community Rio Tinto has so skillfully divided look like? Will tourists still want to visit the Yellow Dog Plains with heavy metals leaching into the rivers and bulldozed and fenced-off public lands swarming with drilling rigs? Will they still take the drive to Big Bay to eat lunch at the Thunder Bay Inn or picnic along the Yellow Dog River, or will the industrial power line, widened roads and increased truck traffic deter them?
And what about locals who hike, camp, hunt, fish and pick blueberries—will they still feel comfortable traversing public land and commercial land open to the public with mine company guards on their tail, monitoring their movements, calling in law enforcement over “trespassing” violations that would have been considered absurd in the area twenty years ago?
One person at the prayer event told me that Rio Tinto security ordered them to leave unfenced state land recently; the guard had told them he was “just doing his job.” A tourist was chased by company security for miles past the proposed mine to where they parked to access the McCormick Wilderness. Similarly, a local resident complained of being tailed by company security in the area. This type of intimidation happens when a company thinks that it is the law and no longer feels compelled to follow the law itself. Problems already, and the mine hasn’t even been opened yet.
Life has been slowly changing throughout the Upper Peninsula. Our elected officials and community leaders are eager for the area to become like everywhere else. Many of them want a freeway, more chain stores and restaurants, industrial zones, development at any cost. . . forgotten is why this place is special and that our heritage of quality, open public lands and clean water is endangered.
Currently, Rio Tinto has access to hundreds of thousands of acres of mineral rights in the Upper Peninsula, many of them leased for pocket change. They say they have big plans for our area. I’m sure we’ll cross paths again as Rio Tinto threatens more public land and water here, as what makes the Upper Peninsula special either slowly erodes away or is vigorously fought for.




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