Wolves in the Ocean (yes), Tankers in the Rainforest (no)
The rainforest is a magical place, where edible plants, fish from the ocean, and tiny creatures in the soil are all connected in a web of life. Wolf pups play with ravens on the beach. Spirit bears roam the forest, their white fur standing out against the many shades of green. Moss grows thick on tree branches, where seabirds have their nests. Ancient trees depend on slugs and bugs. Salmon travel up the rivers and streams from the ocean into the heart of the rainforest. In a good year, grizzly bears will eat so many salmon that their full bellies drag on the ground.
What is happening in the Great Bear Rainforest is a model for land conservation. But there is something missing. Nutrients from salmon are found in the trees, bears eat barnacles, and wolves swim through open ocean to hunt seals on small rocky islets.
For these reasons and so many more, the health and integrity of the Great Bear Rainforest intimately depend on what happens in the ocean. The map below makes this quite clear:
We have protected habitat for grizzly bears. But the bears won’t survive unless the salmon keep returning to the rivers, year after year. We have protected many of the ancient trees that grow along river valleys. But we are learning that trees grow slower in years without big salmon runs, since the salmon bring a source of nitrogen that fertilizes the trees. As this map clearly demonstrates, there is more work to be done. There are almost no protected areas in the ocean. To maintain the health of the Great Bear Rainforest, we need to designate some parts of the ocean off-limits to commercial fishing and industrial activity.
We also need to make careful choices about what happens in the ocean, from the perspective of what activities will sustain communities and ecosystems. This week, tankers are on my mind.
It was twenty-one years ago this week that the Exxon Valdez hit a reef in Alaska as a result of human error. We all know what happened then, despite a massive clean-up effort – dead otters, dead birds, dead whales, contaminated herring and salmon, fisheries closed, jobs lost. Four years ago, the Queen of the North hit an island and sank. The heroes of the rescue, the Gitga’at First Nation, now live with the legacy of that sunken ferry – dead birds, contaminated shellfish, and an ongoing seepage of fuel. They know what an oil spill smells like.
The point is, accidents happen on the coast. Sending oil tankers as long as 3 football fields up and down the narrow fjords of BC’s north coast, the chance of an accident is not so much a matter of “if” but rather “when.” And when it happens, an oil spill from a tanker in the Great Bear Rainforest would jeopardize the health of coastal communities, wildlife and the very rainforest itself.
Sometimes there is a place for compromise. But sometimes when the risk is too great we just need to say no. For me, tankers are the line in the sand. For the rich and humbling ecosystem we call a rainforest, for the coastal First Nations communities whose very livelihoods are at stake, and for all of us downstream, we can’t let tankers into the rainforest. It’s time to say no.
Footnote: The First Nations who live in the Great Bear Rainforest are saying no to tankers. Sierra Club BC stands in solidarity with the Coastal First Nations Great Bear Initiative in their opposition to tankers.
