Andrew S. Wright's Great Bear Expedition: Final Update - Travelling the Proposed Northern Tanker Route

Missed the first four blog postings? Read the first here, the second here, the third here and the fourth here.

The weather report from Environment Canada reveals that the low pressure system is easing and that we will have a brief weather window to escape the Inside Passage and complete our expedition by running up the outer coast along the proposed northern transit route that the oil tankers will take on route to the Far East. The MV Great Bear II grinds north from the inner sanctum of the coastal estuaries and we transit Whale Channel, passing Cetacea Lab and enter Campania Sound.

We overnight in a small pocket estuary on the northwest of Princess Royal Island, barely 500 metres from the low water mark to the edge of the salt water line of the high tide. In the fall the creek that winds through the estuaries heart is so thick with salmon migrating up stream that the copper and green river bed is eclipsed. Several First Nation fish traps are still in situ. At least several centuries old, if not more, the ancient Gitga’at nation built them here, rock by rock, all by hand. Arcing across the emerald-gold estuary, just above the low-tide mark, the wall of rocks form an artificial tide pool that continues to drain as the tide ebbs away. Salmon beguiled by the standing water are trapped and abandoned by the receding tide and are readily harvested. This estuary, like Kyel, the local Gitga’at First Nation’s seaweed harvesting summer retreat, is less than 2 nautical miles from the proposed tanker route.

Photo: Andrew S. Wright

Dawn breaks and we pull anchor and head for the west side of Campania Island and our push north along Principe Passage. Campania is a long thin island rising over 2000 feet and looks like a serrated knife edge that slices the weather as it ravages the coast. The outer coast is substantially different from the lush inner estuaries. The trees, brow beaten by the inexorable storms are stunted and gnarled, more like bonsai trees than the lush cathedral groves of Emily Carr paintings that we are so familiar with. The coast is treacherous with rocky outcrops, islets and reefs. As we head north the wind moderates and conditions are sufficiently good that we can heave too and explore a barren windswept beach where the power of the weather has, over millennia, created pure white sand. It could almost be tropical, except we are bundled against the chill air. The beach is spectacular, tide pools reflect the mountains and trees, clustered at the tree line is a confusion of deer and wolf tracks. Alas, we do not encounter the wolves but Eric the skipper discovers a five gallon pail of used engine oil dumped on the beach. Thankfully, the weather and pounding waves have not yet compromised the container, for its contents would severely damage this pristine beach. We haul the oil back to the Great Bear II, and Eric commits to recycling it in Prince Rupert. Our northerly journey continues.

Photo: Andrew S. Wright

As the day draws to a close we are substantially further north along Principe Channel than planned, because tide and a rising southerly wind have assisted our progress. Our anchorage is nestled deep into the core of a fragmented island. The island is composed of an incredibly intricate network of narrow interlaced tidal passages and lagoons. This island has a finite surface area but an almost infinitely long coastline. Dawn greets us with strong wind and pouring rain, none the less we pull on our wet weather gear and explore the convoluted web of waterways and lagoons. The shoreline is teaming with intertidal life, below the waterline multicoloured sea urchins; starfish, sea cucumber and variety of seaweed thrive, while a few feet above the tide line the forest explodes upwards in a cascade of effervescent green. The rapidly rising tide in Principe Channel generates a powerful tidal surge that floods through the extremely narrow waterways of the archipelago, and the zodiac has to work incredibly hard to make progress. We estimate the surge is easily flooding at 10 nautical miles per hour. Any tanker accident in the main channel just a kilometre away would impact this location in a matter of hours, rendering it utterly fallow.

Photo: Andrew S. Wright

As the MV Great Bear II closes upon the port of Prince Rupert and this expedition draws to a close I get the opportunity to reflect. This trip has been an affirmation rather than a revelation. It is my sixth trip to the central coast, the high degree of biodiversity never fails to amaze me —from the largest marine and terrestrial mega-fauna to the simple sedges and elegant eelgrasses. What has been abundantly clear for the entire trip is the extensive biological interdependency of the entire ecosystem and how susceptible this entire region would be to an oil spill. The Great Bear Rainforest is one of the world’s most important ecosystems for it connects the natural marine and terrestrial environments. Importantly it also supports modernity— much of the regions seafood is harvested here. It is a public trust belonging to the First Nations of the region and indeed all Canadian citizens. It is a region of such global importance that it should be put beyond risk in perpetuity and simply treasured. The declarative fallacies offered by Enbridge that an accident could never happen should be understood as simple fallacies by politicians and citizens alike. The Gulf of Mexico accident is a clear and present reminder that accidents do happen. For me it is imperative that a pipeline from the apocalyptic tar sands of Alberta should not be allowed to proceed through the heart of the Great Bear Rainforest, a living Eden and refuge of global bio-diversity.

In closing this expedition and concluding these rainforest updates I would ask that alternative routes, albeit longer, to the south via existing pipelines should be sought by Enbridge and the B.C. Tanker Moratorium be commuted to irreversible protection by our federal government.