Not sure if it was posted, but this is the full article from thestar.com.

Aerial view of the Ring of Fire which is 5,120 square km of pristine lakes and rivers 500km northeast of Thunder Bay, Ontario, on Marten Falls First Nation and Webequie First Nation land which both sit on a "world class" deposit of chromite. (March 18, 2010)

TANYA TALAGA/TORONTO STAR

ARTEN FALLS FIRST NATION, ONT.–Children sprint into the school gym to feast on the grapes, apples and oranges laid out on long tables – the first fresh fruit they've seen in months.

The fruit, all 90 kilos of it, is a gift to the 300 people living in this impoverished, fly-in-only reserve from Northern Development Minister Michael Gravelle.

He's flown to Marten Falls, where the water is not clean enough to drink, on a diplomatic mission to soothe tensions among the Indians, government and mining companies over the proposed development of the Ring of Fire.

The Ring is a massive, 5,120-square-kilometre area of pristine wilderness that happens to be on Marten Falls' traditional land and is said to hold one of the richest ore deposits in the world.

The buzz around the potential jackpot has prospectors jockeying for position as everyone lines up to stake their claim in this modern-day gold rush.

Premier Dalton McGuinty is eyeing the haul as a way to lift Ontario's lagging economy and historic $21.3-billion deficit. In fact, this week's budget signalled that Queen's Park will appoint a Ring of Fire co-ordinator.

Mining giants are so ecstatic over initial exploration results that they have staked out nearly 31,000 claims in the past seven or so years.

First Nations see development as their gateway to real jobs and money, but they have serious qualms about whether they'll get the benefits they desire.

And environmentalists fear ecological disaster in Ontario's remote north.

Gravelle's task is daunting – to bring all the competing interests to the negotiation table.

His first stop last week was the struggling Marten Falls community, 500 kilometres northeast of Thunder Bay, where nearly everyone is unemployed.

There, he met with Chief Elijah Moonias, to exchange gifts and partake in a moose stew feast before hopping into a chartered Cessna for a trip 150 kilometres north to the equally impoverished Webequie First Nation, a reserve of 700 people, to talk to Chief Cornelius Wabasse. About 80 per cent of families in Webequie subsist on welfare, and there was a problem with teen suicides a few years ago.

If Gravelle fails to convince Moonias and Wabasse to let planes land on the airstrips so the mining companies can move in, the entire scheme falls apart. For two months this winter, the angry chiefs blockaded the icy runways on their traditional lands.

Moonias is not anti-development; he just wants to make sure Marten Falls benefits from the development.

Mining the vast wetlands sprinkled with rivers, lakes and at-risk wildlife could bring thousands of jobs and opportunities to a place that has none.

If speculators are correct, there is enough chromite, a rarely found mineral used to make stainless steel, to mine steadily for the next 100 years.

The spin-offs to digging are potentially enormous.

A railway nearly 350 kilometres long would be constructed from the Ring to Nakina in the south and would join the existing rail line.

A processing plant would be needed.

Supporting businesses would be created; proper airports and roads built.

Thunder Bay would boom like Sudbury did when nickel was discovered.

There could be jobs for First Nations people for generations to come.

After talking for an hour, Moonias and Gravelle stand in front of the assembled community members waiting to begin the moose feast.

They have an agreement.

The blockade will end for six months. In exchange, Moonias and Wabasse will get to sit down with the government to negotiate a set of demands.

"There have been some real lessons learned here," Gravelle says. "There is a great need to develop a relationship of trust. I'm hopeful we can move from this place to even better discussions."

But if at the end of six months the Indians fail to get what they want – ownership of a revamped airport, environmental-impact studies, an improved memorandum of understanding with the government, winter road extensions, and a guarantee of training and jobs – the blockade goes back up.

"I told the minister," Moonias says quietly, "all of us have to put better on the table."

The two men shake hands and exchange presents.

Gravelle gives Moonias a few books for the library, a grey golf shirt with the Ontario logo and a matching toque.

Moonias gives Gravelle a beautifully beaded pair of deerskin mittens and beaded crafts for his ministry entourage.

As Gravelle, ministry officials and Marten Falls Indians sit down to their feast, a handful of young people walk in silently carrying homemade placards.

Their small protest creates a modest stir but nothing more.

A young teen in a black baseball cap, peak turned to the side, holds up a sign in front of Gravelle that reads: "This land is our land."

No one kneW there was chromite beneath the swampy muskeg in the James Bay lowlands, north of the Precambrian shield.Most chromite, an iron chromium oxide mineral that takes 3 billion years to form, comes from South Africa or Finland.

What was found four years ago in the wet earth near Marten Falls and McFaulds Lake was discovered by accident. Prospectors were looking for diamonds. Instead they found a massive deposit of copper, nickel and platinum.

The then-president of Noront Resources Inc., the company that found the motherlode, was a Johnny Cash fan who liked to dress in black. He christened the district the Ring of Fire.

Prospectors flocked to the area in search of their own bonanza.

But instead, those at Freewest Resources Canada Inc. stumbled upon an even more plentiful material, chromite, on a 3-square-kilometre piece of land smack in the middle of wetlands and bush.

It was a eureka moment, says Don Hoy, Freewest's vice-president of exploration. One U.S. investment report values Freewest's chromite discovery to be worth nearly $30 billion in situ, or in the ground.

"This can be once-in-a-lifetime," Hoy says. "Things blossomed quickly after that."

The bulk of the chromite deposit begins at the location of Freewest's claim and weaves through the earth to property staked out by KWG Resources Inc. before springing up in land held by Noront.

In true prospecting fashion, a fight for ownership began.

Noront tried to take over Freewest.

A counter offer was made by Cliffs Natural Resources Inc., the largest supplier of iron ore to North America. Cliffs won. U.S.-based Cliffs also owns part of KWG Resources Inc.

For now, the Cliffs/KWG operation is run out of a cramped Thunder Bay office in an industrial mall. M.J. "Moe" Lavigne is KWG's vice-president of exploration and development.

The chromite found in the Ring of Fire runs 40 metres thick in spots and appears to be deep, Lavigne says. KWG calls its claim the "Big Daddy."

In comparison, South Africa's chromite deposit runs in a small seam in the earth about 1 to 2 metres thick.

"This is a world-class deposit," Lavigne says, leaning back in his chair.

But if you go to the Ring, he says, there still isn't much activity. Why? "Collapse of the international markets," says Lavigne, "and you could spend a lot of money and you risk getting nothing."

Political instability with the First Nations blockade and negative press also keep other players away, he adds.

For two months, exploration of the area came to a complete halt due to the blockades of the landing strips of Koper and McFaulds Lakes. The blockade ended eight days ago.

Lavigne believes the protestors mostly hurt themselves. KWG had to let go nine First Nations employees due to the work stoppage.

"The First Nations think they own the land," he said. "They are very much caught up in their own history of disappointments."

They wrongly use the Ring of Fire as a political football to air their grievances with the government, he says. "The stakes have now been raised because someone has actually discovered something."

What is happening now in Ontario's far north is like a scene from the Wild West, say members of the Wildlands League, a chapter of the Canadian Parks and Wilderness Society.

Drilling, staking and clearance of vegetation in the pristine, carbon-rich ecosystems is an environmental disaster waiting to happen, warns Wildlands' Anna Baggio. "Mining activities are superseding the protection of ecological and cultural values. There is very little government oversight, no environmental assessment process and no mechanism for First Nation control."

Unchecked mining exploration has already left its mark, she adds.

In order to drill, mining platforms have to be built.

She contends waste management is already inadequate, and there have been fuel spills, pollution of nearby lakes and wetlands, and harm to at-risk species such as the woodland caribou.

Environmentalists fear if clearer land use rules are not made, what is happening now will leave a lasting legacy of environmental degradation.

And, when the mining begins it will be open pit.

It could be up to the First Nations to hold the line and set the parameters for land use and protection.

But Wildlands' John Cutfeet isn't confident that the First Nations people will be able to come out on top.

"When I hear discussions are happening over a six-month period, as they talk, the exploration development continues to happen," he says in an interview from Thunder Bay. "So who benefits? Not the community."

The Crown has an obligation to consult and accommodate in a meaningful way, he says.

That did not happen in the Platinex dispute. Late last year, the Ontario government had to pay $5 million to settle a lawsuit from Platinex Inc. over a failed project at Big Trout Lake.

Platinex sued Ontario and the Kitchenuhmaykoosib Inninuwug First Nation because KI was allegedly preventing Platinex from accessing its claims on the land. The platinum exploration company said the province failed to properly consult the players, and the development collapsed.

"You have a right to defend your land, your food supply and water," Cutfeet says. "Our elders have always told us those treaties were not land surrenders. We were supposed to benefit along with the newcomers – equally."

Gravelle's time at Webequie First Nation is going to be tight. It's mid-afternoon and his tiny Cessna needs to be in the air before sunset.

This is also a fly-in-only community, under a boil-water order. Seventy to 80 families are waiting for housing.

After a private meeting with the chief and band council, Gravelle heads to a large community meeting and another planned feast, this time of pickerel.

The minister is seated at the front of the school gym in front of a microphone. He is to answer questions from the community.

Roy Spence, a band council member, is one of the first to speak. "Our issues are not properly addressed," he says. "We have 13 family hunting grounds out there – half are impacted by mining exploration," he says. "Those families want to get compensated."

"We cannot wait another six months. Nothing is happening. We just have meetings."

Gravelle responds in a measured tone. "I hear your words. I understand them. This is all about building trust and a relationship. It is important to me, to our government."

Travis Spence is next to take the mike. The 21-year-old is the only one at the meeting dressed in a suit. He wants Gravelle to guarantee a future for the youth at Webequie, who face a nearly 100-per-cent unemployment rate.

One week a couple of years ago things were so bad, he says, that three youths committed suicide. Spence lost his best friend, David Shewaybick, 17. He hanged himself in the penalty box at the outdoor rink.

"The youth need to see a future for them, they seek escape in unhealthy ways," he tells Gravelle.

Even though Webequie kids love to play hockey, they do so on an outdoor rink that has seen better days. Webequie has requested funding for a full-sized arena for years, he says. "The youth need engagement and support, employment opportunities now and in the future."

Spence then politely thanked the ministry officials for letting him know how to submit funding applications.

"What you say about hope," says Gravelle, "is so important. All of us deserve to have hope."

After a couple more speakers, Gravelle says he has to leave.

Outside, in the school bus arranged to take him to his plane, Gravelle laments missing the feast but he's optimistic about what he's accomplished today at Webequie and Marten Falls.

Freewest's Don Hoy laughs when it's suggested that what's happening in the Ring of Fire is a new gold rush.

"There are a lot of twists and turns, lots of characters," he says. "But it is kind of typical of the industry."

The key is that everything now is still speculative, he continues. It will be years down the road before the action heats up.

And who knows what the world economy and demand for raw materials will be like then.

"This doesn't happen overnight," says Hoy. "The railway will take some time. The mine itself needs to be built, a smelter. In order to build, it'll take a lot of money and time."

First Nations people can play a big role, Hoy contends. They know the land, they can supply logistics to the camp, food, fuel – the potential for jobs is endless.

Hoy says his company isn't fazed about having lost explorative drilling time this winter because of the blockade.

Freewest begins drilling again in June.