The Start of Something New

The Start of Something New

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On a regular cold day in early February 2022, I received my graduation papers from UQAC after a brutal year of struggling against an ever-growing series of challenges and absurdities. I was now a double Master of Geology… because of the… two Master’s degrees. More importantly, I could finally apply for a Post-Graduation Work Permit in Canada.

As with most administrative procedures, the process would take a few months. Fortunately, submitting the application was enough to grant me the right to work while my permit was being processed. I wasted no time and immediately began searching for employment.

The Job Hunt Begins

Sadly, due to the pandemic and repeated lockdowns, my professional network remained rather limited. However, I had two major leads to pursue.

The first came through Alexandre. A friend of his from France had already spent some time working in mineral exploration and mentioned a company that he spoke highly of. Given my previous experiences working in Romania, I already knew how important a healthy work environment was for both motivation and sanity. Alexandre put us in touch through Facebook, and before long I had an email address to which I could send my application.

My second lead came through my supervisor and professor at UQAM. Over the years, I had gathered that he was exceptionally well connected not only within academic circles but also throughout the mining and exploration industry. I reached out to him for guidance and quickly received a reply. Before long, he suggested a Quebec-based exploration company operating out of Montreal that happened to be hiring.

Ice breaks up on the Saguenay

Before continuing, I should mention a few important points regarding the way I will write about this period of my life. I will be intentionally omitting company names throughout the remainder of this story. Likewise, the names of colleagues and other individuals involved will be changed or omitted to respect their privacy. Some details may also be kept intentionally vague where appropriate. The events and experiences themselves are real, but protecting the privacy of the people involved is more important than absolute documentary precision.

First Interview

The first company to reply was the one suggested by my former supervisor. The director himself responded with interest in my resume and invited me to a remote interview a few days later. The interview went well. I played my usual cards: motivation, ambition, and a willingness to learn. When asked where I saw myself in five or ten years, I aimed high. He seemed to appreciate that.

The only potential drawback was, once again, the French language. Speaking French was not a strict requirement for the position, but it certainly would have been helpful considering most of the team were francophones. However, he assured me that everyone also spoke English and that the work environment was fairly bilingual. Looking back, it would probably have been a good place to continue improving my French.

A day or so after the interview, I received positive feedback and a promise that a contract offer would arrive the following week. This was on a Thursday.

That same day, I received an email from the other company inviting me to a remote interview on Friday. Even though I already seemed to have a job offer within reach, I accepted. At the very least, I was curious to learn more about them.

Second Interview

The following day, I found myself speaking with one of the company’s young managers. The contrast was immediately noticeable. Whereas the first interview had been conducted by a formal senior director, this one felt much more relaxed and energetic.

We ended up having a great conversation. He explained that the company was headquartered in Western Canada and was in the process of opening a new office in Montreal. That immediately caught my attention. Western company meant that English was the primary work language. Plus I was already dreaming about moving to Montreal.

The company itself was also in a different stage of development. Rather than operating around a long-established project area, they were building a new team, pursuing multiple exploration projects, and expanding their presence in Quebec. It was an interesting comparison between two very different opportunities.

What surprised me most was what seemed to interest them about my application. I had assumed that my lack of direct exploration experience would be the main focus. Instead, they appeared genuinely interested in my diverse work background. While none of it was directly related to mineral exploration, they seemed to value adaptability and the ability to learn quickly in unfamiliar situations.

The manager explained that they intended to take my previous work experience into account and place me slightly above the entry-level junior position.

Two Offers on the Table

Toward the end of our conversation, I explained that another company was already preparing an offer and that I expected to receive it early the following week. If they were seriously interested in bringing me on board, I would need an answer fairly quickly.

He assured me he would discuss the matter with his colleague and get back to me as soon as possible. He was not exaggerating. Only a few hours later, I received another email containing a contract offer. Their response time was lightning fast and left quite an impression.

I was also somewhat taken aback by the situation itself. Barely two weeks after graduating from UQAC, I found myself considering two attractive offers for exploration geologist positions.

The difference between the Canadian and European job markets felt almost surreal. Of course, timing played a role as well. The mining and exploration industry is notoriously cyclical, with periods of expansion followed by inevitable slowdowns. In early 2022, the market was clearly in one of its stronger phases, and job seekers generally found themselves in a favorable position.

For someone who had spent the previous year navigating the seven circles of academic hell, it was an exhilarating feeling. More than anything, it felt as though all the effort, frustration, and persistence of the previous year were finally producing results.

It also reinforced my decision to step away from academia rather than continue pursuing a PhD under increasingly uncertain circumstances. For the first time in quite a while, I felt genuinely optimistic about the road ahead.

Decision Time

I waited until Monday to receive the promised offer from the first company. In the meantime, I enthusiastically consulted friends and family, discussing the strengths and weaknesses of each opportunity. When the second offer arrived as promised, I quickly discovered that the decision would be more difficult than I had anticipated.

The compensation structures alone made comparisons challenging. One company offered hourly pay, while the other proposed an annual salary supplemented by various bonuses, including additional compensation for extended periods spent in the field. Estimating what either position might ultimately pay required plenty of assumptions and more than a few calculations.

Still, there was another factor at work. I have to admit that my instincts were quietly nudging me in one particular direction. Whether this was simply my subconscious recognizing details that I had not yet consciously processed, I cannot say. What I do know is that the prospect of joining a young team in the process of building something new felt incredibly appealing.

They spoke about multiple projects, opportunities across different regions, and the possibility of working with a variety of teams and clients. As someone just beginning a career in the industry, that breadth of experience seemed invaluable.

In the end, that became the deciding factor. When I politely declined the first company’s offer, the main reason I provided was simple: I felt the second opportunity would expose me to a wider range of projects and learning experiences at the very start of my career.

What Does an Exploration Geologist Actually Do?

The job of an exploration geologist is a rather adventurous one. It requires spending much of the year working in remote regions—far from major cities, often far from even the smallest settlements, and sometimes seemingly far from everything.

So what exactly do we do out there in the wilderness? In simple terms, we search for mineral resources. Gold, copper, nickel, graphite, rare earth elements… you name it. These are the raw materials that eventually find their way into everything from everyday household items to smartphones, medical equipment, renewable energy technologies, and countless other products that modern society depends on.

A sulfide-rich rock sample that I cut into a weird monolithic shape

Exploration geologists are at the very beginning of that journey. It often starts with boots on the ground. We hike through forests, mountains, and tundra searching for exposed rock outcrops that might tell us something interesting about the geology below. Once promising rocks are found, they are mapped, carefully described, and sampled. Those samples are later analysed to determine their chemical composition and whether they contain economically interesting minerals.

If the initial results look promising, the project moves into more advanced stages of exploration. This is where drilling comes into play.

The Exploration Drilling Stage

Drill holes are carefully planned to intersect the target rock formation at different angles and depths. Each core recovered from underground provides another piece of the geological puzzle, allowing geologists to gradually build a three-dimensional model of what lies beneath the surface.

Of course, finding minerals is only half the battle. The real question is whether enough of them exist, in the right concentrations and under the right conditions, to justify the enormous cost of developing a mine. Most exploration projects never reach that stage. Only a small fraction eventually become producing mines.

Because of this, early-stage exploration is also the riskiest phase for investors. The odds of discovering an economically viable deposit are relatively low, but if a project does prove successful, the rewards can be substantial.

That is also why exploration data is treated as commercially sensitive. Geological interpretations, sampling results, drilling information, and future plans are valuable pieces of information. For that reason, I will deliberately avoid discussing operational details, specific projects, or exploration results throughout these stories.

Technicalities aside, however… It is one of the most adventurous jobs I have ever had.

Heading North

The days flew by, and before I knew it I was boarding a flight to Montreal in transit towards my very first work rotation. The following day, I was booked on a commercial flight to Radisson, a remote town in the James Bay region of northern Quebec that serves as a gateway to many exploration projects in the Canadian north.

It felt good being up in the air and traveling again, even if it was part of work

Before that, however, I had half a day to spend in Montreal. The manager I had spoken to during my interview invited me out for a drink with him and a few of my new colleagues. At that point, there wasn’t technically an office yet. Everyone was still working remotely, so this was the perfect opportunity to meet some of the people I would soon be working alongside.

After our relaxed social gathering, I returned to the hotel for a good night’s sleep. It was time to start preparing for early mornings, long working days, and three weeks filled with new experiences and challenges. The following morning, I arrived at the airport ready to check in for my flight north. I was about to head somewhere that relatively few people ever visit: Canada’s true north, in the middle of winter.

Airport Shenanigans

At the manager’s recommendation, I had bought a pair of enormous steel-toed winter boots that looked like they belonged to a science-fiction power armor suit. Despite their size, they were surprisingly light thanks to their composite construction. Graceful, however, they were not. I was incredibly excited about what lay ahead.

Then the Air Inuit employee asked me a simple question. “Do you have your PCR test?” For those who have thankfully forgotten, PCR tests were one of the COVID-19 requirements still floating around at the time. Nobody had mentioned anything about needing one. She asked what kind of work I was travelling north for. “Geologist in Mineral Exploration” I replied. Judging by her expression, that answer didn’t really help. She simply responded that everyone travelling north needed a PCR test. And just like that… the troubles began.

I immediately called one of the company managers and explained the situation. He was just as surprised as I was. Up until then, none of their employees had needed PCR tests for this type of travel. We quickly discussed our options. One possibility was finding a testing center in Montreal, keeping me there for an extra day, and trying again on the following morning’s flight. Then he asked whether testing might be available at the airport itself.

While he rushed off to deal with the logistical headache this situation had suddenly created, I hurried off to investigate my options.

COVID Chaos

I scrambled to the airport information desk hoping to find out whether I could still get tested. I had already accepted that I would almost certainly miss my scheduled flight, but there was another one leaving a few hours later that I might still be able to catch.

After some waiting, I ended up speaking with a different employee and had to explain the entire situation all over again. By this point, I was becoming both anxious and increasingly frustrated. They listened carefully before asking once more: “So… what exactly do you work again?” “I’m a Geologist,” I replied again, before adding, “…in the mining sector.”

That finally clicked. They asked whether I would be working directly with Air Inuit personnel or with local First Nations communities. “No” I said. “Oh… then you don’t need a PCR test” he replied.

…What? After all that?

That was peak COVID bureaucracy. Rules changed constantly, different people interpreted them differently, and by early 2022 it felt like just about everyone was fed up with the whole situation.

Finally, I was allowed through to the check-in counter. I immediately phoned the manager to let him know the good news. His reply? “…Ah, crap. I just cancelled your ticket.”

Oof. I stayed on the phone with him while asking the airline staff whether it was still possible to buy another ticket. Thankfully, it was. I even offered to pay for it myself just to simplify matters, knowing the company could reimburse me later. Meanwhile, the manager rushed off once again to let everyone at the project know that, after all, I was actually coming.

The Domino Effect

What I didn’t discover until I reached the project was just how many moving parts my little airport adventure had set into motion.

Radisson was still over 400 kilometres from camp, so someone had to drive out to meet every incoming flight. By the time news reached camp that I supposedly wasn’t arriving that day, the driver—let’s call him Bob—had already left.

Unable to reach him by radio or any other means, the team made the decision to send the helicopter after him to signal that he should turn around instead of wasting an entire day’s drive. However, when it turned out that I was, in fact, still coming after all, another message had to be rushed through telling everyone to call the helicopter back.

Somewhere in the frozen north of Quebec

As funny as the story is now, it also illustrates how quickly small logistical changes can snowball into much bigger ones when you’re operating hundreds of kilometers from the nearest town. Every last-minute adjustment costs time and money, especially when helicopters become involved.

Fortunately, the helicopter hadn’t taken off yet, and the replacement airline ticket ended up costing exactly the same as the original one. In the end, no real harm was done. Just a healthy dose of unnecessary stress before my first official day on the job.

Looking back, it was a rather fitting introduction to life in mineral exploration. In remote field operations, even the smallest hiccup can ripple through an entire chain of carefully coordinated logistics. As I would discover, adapting to the unexpected was simply part of the job.


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Odyssian

An adventurous soul in a never ending quest to find home.

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