Chronicle

A pioneering geologist, trailblazing leader and recipient of the Order of Canada, Alice has spent her life not only mapping the Earth’s secrets, but also carving out space for those, particularly women, who were told they did not belong. In a world that often told her “No” because of her gender, her Western roots or her unapologetic nature, Alice refused to simply listen to those who doubted her. Instead, she worked harder, pushed further and staked her own claim, again and again.

Throughout it all, Alice stayed tethered to what mattered most: her friends. Especially the ones she met at Havergal. “Friends you can phone at four in the morning — that is the measure of good friends. And I have lots of them. I am just so thankful.”

From Yellowknife to Havergal: Alice Learns a Different Kind of Prospecting. Born in East Edmonton and raised in a house built in 1912 on six sprawling city lots, Alice had a childhood defined by freedom, fortitude and a father who deeply believed in all she was capable of. Her summers were spent in Yellowknife, where she followed her father, a prospector with a steadfast belief in his daughter’s grit, through the northern bush. By Grade 5, Alice had already decided on her future: she would be a prospector, too.

That vision was not universally embraced. When she told her school guidance counsellor her plans, his response was swift and dismissive: geology was not a profession for women. She should consider becoming a teacher, a nurse or a secretary. Alice replied that if she could not stake claims, she would join the RCMP, instead. At least there, she could ride horses.

That conversation, she admits now, makes her laugh. And having spoken with Alice myself, I can say it captures her perfectly. She is a woman who, to her core, is self-assured and equally certain of the strength and potential of women everywhere.

Defying Expectations in Cowboy Boots. When it came time to choose a high school, following the advice of fellow mining families, Alice’s parents sent her to Havergal College. Alice arrived in cowboy boots and jeans, a self-described “crazy Westerner” who thought the school’s promise of horses meant she would be riding through campus fields. Students who had access to the Toronto Hunt Club did not feel that she necessarily “fit in,” but that also did not bother her.

“The idea was to work hard, do well and get out. I never perceived there was going to be a problem, and if there was, I did not care.”

In her three years at Havergal, Alice condensed the curriculum, took extra math’s and sciences, and finished early. What stayed with her was not only academic discipline, but also the friendships. The kind that last decades. The kind that endure even the roughest consulting jobs, the longest solo summers in the field or the hardest days in male-dominated boardrooms. “Lifelong friends, that is what Havergal gave me. And that is really important in life, to have really good friends.”