The end is near; let's sell while we can

It's hard to be associated with the mining industry in Alaska at this point in history and not be euphoric about the price of gold.

At this writing, gold has broken through $1,900 per Troy ounce and is still headed north at a rapid clip.

The diverse factors that reflect on this development are imponderable.

Just a few would include the fact that Congress is on vacation; the President checked his leadership credentials at his campaign headquarters and headed for the beach; a Republican candidate for the nation's highest office has implied that any expansion of the money supply would be treasonous; there is no significant relief for record unemployment or burdensome taxation or the promulgation of job-stifling regulatory initiatives on the horizon; central banks are building their gold holdings; etc.

And that is not to mention increased gold hoarding in India and China, while the European Economic Union is getting ready to implode and the southern and eastern rims of the Mediterranean Sea are moving in lockstep from despotism to anarchy.

Meanwhile, we, in Alaska, sit quietly on the sidelines with our little mines blasting away at the gold-bearing stone. With Fort Knox and Pogo and Kensington and Nixon Fork all dumping product into the till, there is some certain comfort just to be alive here and now. And of course, there is Donlin Creek and Rock Creek and the Pebble Project all chafing to play a role. Mom and Pop placer mines across the state undoubtedly are best characterized, I suspect, as being all "asses and elbows."

Pebble, for instance, is a wonderful case study. Literally, millions of ounces of gold are thought to reside just below the tundra in a deposit that is at least a mile deep. The people who live in the Lake and Peninsula Borough have determined to vote on whether there should be any large-scale mines in the Bristol Bay drainage, as if to imply that this ginormous treasure trove is going to just sit there for all time. I was napping the last time the price of salmon, by comparison, trebled.

To be sure, this steep increase in the price of gold is a "bubble" like the high-tech bubble and the real estate bubble, and everyone who is at the table is going to lose their shirt - just as soon as the hoarders and bankers decide there is a more attractive place to put their money. After all, gold in and of itself has no significant value. It is too heavy to carry around in significant quantities. It is too soft to make anything out of, except a few false teeth or the odd electronic connection. On the other hand, I suppose, it is rather pretty to look at.

So all you speculators and chartists, be fairly warned. Sell before it is too late. Europe will get its act together. The President will find his groove. Congress will join hands and sing "Kumbaya." There will be good, reasonably-regulated jobs for everyone; and paradise is just over the next ridgeline. In the meantime, of course, with cheap natural gas available globally and a worn-out oil pipeline, Alaska will have to be content wending its way into a golden sunset, and Alaskans of all stripes and convictions will feast on inexpensive (but not too inexpensive) salmon harvested from the world's greatest fishery.

The world is a complicated place. As the saying goes, if all the economists in the world were laid out end to end you would never reach a conclusion. All that I can say is that it is truly good to know that those in charge of forecasting climate change are students of a much more reliable discipline. Could you imagine how awful it would be if all the predictions of doom that we regularly face were the precursors of a new ice age? Let's sell, while we can.