Day 5 Tar Sands Canoe Trip

   Saturday  August  10       The belly flop

            The water seems to be getting a lot cleaner as we paddle north; it almost feels like wilderness. However we soon come upon another major site of construction. Heavy machinery is being used to dig out something big. Howie and I stop at the mouth of a small creek just past all the activity. I climb along and up the creek bank, sinking in thigh deep in the mud until I can get above the bank and then I bushwhack through dense dogwood and willows. 

             When I arrive in the open, I see 2 large mechanical shovels and a bulldozer. Three men in hard hats walk over towards me. They yell that I cannot be up here. I ignore that comment as they come over to where I am standing barefoot and in shorts, my legs coated in mud. Within seconds, they drop their officious demeanor and we have a friendly conversation. They are Suncor engineers, two from Alberta and one from Quebec, and are overseeing construction of a “compensation lake”.  According to them, this is the latest decree from the government. Each new project is now required to construct an artificial lake, something like 40 ha in surface area, to compensate for the loss of habitat. I guess that this is a tacit admission by the government and industry that reclamation will not happen.

              Reclamation so far has been certified for 0.15% of area damaged. I doubt it will ever get much higher. The “compensation lake” opens to the Athabasca River so that fish will be able to inhabit the lake, they tell me.

Suncor construction of a "compensation lake" along the shore of the Athabasca River

 

            In total, we see eight bears along shore today and more birds. Yellowlegs, large sandpiper-like birds which come in two species, are fairly common, as are bald eagles, blue jays, and several varieties of woodpeckers. We have also seen a number of sets of moose tracks today. However, I would not say that the area is bursting with wildlife. There is almost no oil in the water now. Still we do not drink the river water or cook with it, having filled up our water containers at the Gregoire Lake campground. I know that the official line is that the water is fine. However, I doubt very much if any of the people saying that would drink this water. Certainly, nobody that we have talked to that lives along the river, does.

            Around lunchtime, we come upon a couple of cabins. We stop, and I go up to them to find a group of more than a dozen people eating lunch outside in front of a shelter between the two cabins. They invite us to come up so we bring our lunches up, sit on the ground or on spare chairs and chat. There are three generations of two families there. They are from Ft McKay and have boated here for the weekend. Among them are Claire McDonald, a sister of Dorothy McDonald, who is the late chief of Ft McKay FN, (and Rod Hyde’s sister-in-law) and her husband. Her husband tells me that he was in the traffic jam on the Bridge to Nowhere two evenings ago and saw us camped nearby. I ask if he was bothered by the traffic delay. He says no, that the company was paying them for that time. I ask how he feels about the tar sands activity. He declines to answer because he “works for them”.  Claire is less reticent. She tells Howie that she is very concerned. She tells him about her new granddaughter: healthy at birth, but after two weeks living in Ft McKay she had already developed asthma. 

            In the afternoon, we arrive at the mouth of the Fire Bag River. Further inland from here is another major tar sands development: the Fire Bag project. Following directions given to us at lunch, we paddle up the Fire Bag  to get to a creek to re-fill our water containers. Meanwhile two canoes explore the woods. We are in the middle of a very large burn: a major forest fire swept through the Athabasca River valley several years earlier. We come back with filled water jugs, a few raspberries, rose hips, mint and high bush-cranberry. The others come back with some more raspberries. As we continue down the river, Howie and I spot a black bear feeding on vegetation near shore. We paddle in closer and watch him for a while. Eventually he ambles on down the river. He had spotted us but does not seem concerned. While we, as well as Kevin and Clifford catch up to the group, we see a motor boat stop beside the other canoes and a conversation ensues. There are three of them in the boat:  Mark L’Hommecourt, from Ft McKay and Ft McMurray, his girlfriend, Amanda, and a visitor, Joe Deranger. They invite us to visit them at their house at Poplar Point, which is a reserve, part of the Athabasca Chipewyan FN of which they are all members. Mark asks us if we want a tow. Since he says that their house is “just over there” we decide to paddle. 

            Nine km later we arrive at their house, around 5:30. We haul our gear up the hill to their mowed grass lawn. They are super welcoming. Mark invites some of us to sleep in their house or the old trailer near it. He leads us down a path to see the graveyard. There is a lot of history at Poplar Point and there are 20 or so graves here.  Mark is in his early 40s, powerfully built, with a large belly, a moustache and a big grin. He talks rapidly and about many things: as if he has not spoken to anyone in weeks. Mark has lived here full time for four years and now for half the year while working in the oil patch for the winter (building scaffolding). Amanda (Mark tells me that he counts on three good years with a girlfriend before things sour) is in her 30s, pretty, tall  and solidly built, with long black hair and an easy smile: she is a lot quieter than Mark but she does stand up to him. Joe, who lives  in Ft Mac, is visiting on his way to Ft Chip. Joe takes a lot of good-natured abuse from Mark. He is tall and lean, quiet, thoughtful, and in his 30s. His face tells me that he has had some hard times in the past. There is one other current resident whom we do not see: Roy Ladouceur, whom Mark calls a “medicine man”.  It is overcast and humid and the  mosquitoes are out in force. I race back to change into long pants and it is a big relief.

            After tents are set up (for those of sleeping outside), Amanda offers us fried bannock, moose stew and coffee.  I know I am hungry but this is the best bannock I have ever tasted. The food disappears rapidly, and after supper, the three of them take us down to a creek a few kilometers into the woods in trailers pulled behind their four-wheelers. Clifford, Howie and I walk down and get picked up on the way with Joe’s return on one of the four-wheelers. It is a bumpy ride and at one point, we get out and walk for a while as the road is too sandy and steep and we bog down. When we get there the creek is beautiful and clear, with a sandy bottom. Near it are lots of blueberry bushes. Mark makes some money by picking big bags of berries which he sells $40 a bag to passersby.  It is almost dark by the time Howie, Clifford and I, the last to arrive, get there. Most of the group are in swim suits and are drying by a fire. Mark boasts of  his spectacular belly flops. To demonstrate, he leaps high in the air from a small dock on shore and makes an enormous splash as he touches down, large belly first. After a lot of encouragement, several of us follow his lead. My flop is more of a chest flop and does not hurt.  Clifford follows me. The water is cool but refreshing and waist deep. The only downside is that mosquitoes are having a buffet and our blood is on the menu! For that reason, no one stays in the water or in their swimsuit for long.

                                               

Bathing in a clear creek at Poplar Point  (photo by Brittany)

Mark's famous belly flop (photographed by Brittany)

 Warming, drying, and escaping mosquitoes by the fire after the swim

            Later, a few of us join Mark and Amanda at a table in a screened tent for some tea. They smoke and I give Mark half  my tobacco as he is running short. I brought it for the pipe ceremonies. I normally do not smoke, but I do smoke several of Howie’s cigarettes over the course of the trip.

Day 4 Tar Sands Canoe Trip

Friday August 9            Our group

            We are getting in the routine of leaving in the morning around 9 AM, and stopping to make camp around 5 or 6 PM. It gets dark late: around 10, and light around 5 AM. We have the luxury of abundant daylight. Because the water is low enough at this time of year, we also have the luxury of camping on sand bars. This means lots of space to camp, no concerns about starting a forest fire, and above all, fewer black flies and especially mosquitoes. Even on the beach, once the sun goes down, the mosquitoes are very annoying. However, in the woods, where the humidity is higher,  and there is shade and little wind, hordes of mosquitoes are active for much of the day. People with cabins along the river mow the grass around the cabins: it reduces mosquito activity. 

Bruce's photo of a sunrise on the Athabasca River

 

 

            The group is functioning more and more like a group now. I am not sure if we are an “environmental or other radical group” but that is what our federal Natural Resources Minister, Joe Oliver, has called people who are concerned about the tar sands industry (i.e., see something besides dollars).

L to R standing: Heather, Howie, Kelly, Clifford, Kevin, Tristan, Bruce.
L to R crouching: Alex, me (Eli), Brittany. Lying down: Willow. (Photo courtesy of Curtis Phillips).

            Clifford, Kelly and Kevin, an uncle and two nephews from the Ministikiwan First Nation in Saskatchewan, are here primarily because their reserve faces a new oil development on land adjacent to their Saskatchewan reserve being carried out by the Onion Lake FN. They are concerned by what this will mean to their homeland. They tend to hang out together, although they are open to the group. Kevin, late 30s, is a Cree teacher and grad student in Cree language education. He  is very articulate and level-headed, and has a great sense of humour. He has already been a Band Councillor, and he is a natural leader. Clifford, in his 40s,  is a calming presence and follower of traditional Cree ways, and is conducting pipe and other ceremonies during the trip, which are helpful in dealing with the emotions that the trip is provoking. Kelly, 25, is very helpful and quiet. 

            Alex, 26, from Edmonton, and Tristan, late 20s, have become a couple recently and are both very dedicated to environmental and social issues. Alex is intense, an artist, and has dedicated a lot of her life to activism and causes. She is very knowledgeable about many issues and activist tactics. Over the trip, she has started to relax a bit with the group. Tristan is from a farm in Virginia, relaxed and open, and is a Rutgers University (New Jersey) grad student, taking a more academic look at how  tar sands activism is taking place. They both have a lot to share with the group. I call Tristan the “foreign terrorist”, with a nod to Joe Oliver. 

            Howie, 60, a former IT specialist and a musician, is a long-time canoeing enthusiast from Toronto and has raised his three daughters to be the same. He is always helping out, always eager, always has a positive word.  Brittany is the big city girl in the crowd although she did some canoeing as a teen. From Toronto and now living in New York, she is a photography grad student. Her inexperience in the bush does not slow her down: she is both refreshingly unself-conscious, as well as being a good sport. Howie, who has been a family friend since Brittany was little, is also watching over her. Heather, in her 50s, an administrator with Catholic Social Services, is easy to get along with and has been plying the group with a seemingly inexhaustible supply of  home-made cookies. Her quest on this trip is to listen to the land and to the river and try to understand what she needs to be doing to effect positive change in this area. 

            Bruce, 59, a Métis actor and teacher, is one of the most outgoing and generous people I know. He has been our social director, organizing  singing and dancing and buffet suppers, and getting us in touch with a person he knows at both ends of the trip. He has seemed a bit “off” on this trip. I imagine it has a lot to do with the major life changes he is going through: splitting up with his wife of 20 years, moving across the country and away from his teenage children and leaving his position with the Canada Council. 

            Then there is my dog, Willow. At almost 12, she has been on more wilderness expeditions than I can count, in all seasons. She is getting arthritic now but I knew she would want to be on this trip: she loves the water and people, and has made friends with everyone. Bruce, whose family took care of her for 8 months last year, is especially close to her. I have had to drag her away from his boat on more than one occasion to get her in my boat. As for me, I am 58, a high school teacher, wilderness guide and former research scientist, in the process of moving to Kamloops and looking for a teaching position. I had a vision last August, while in Colombia, that I needed to make this canoe trip. And so I have. I am filming and photographing the trip and interviewing people along the way. Not sure where this will lead, but I am confident it will become clear.

            We see less tar sands activity today. We do go by several very large pumping stations taking water out of the river. Each tar sands project takes 2-3 barrels of water for every one of the 1.5-2 million barrels of oil being produced in the tar sands every day, leaving it highly polluted. It cannot be returned to the river so instead it is contained in “tailings ponds” which are really toxic lakes. These structures which were never meant to be permanent leak the toxic water  back into the ground water and into the river. The industry states that they recycle water and they do. But they need an additional 3-6 milion barrels of water every day.  That means that 3-6 million barrels of water are being added to the toxic lakes daily.

             Howie and I see a black bear cub running along a beach. At least I think it is one. Howie says it is a dog. We decide to go to shore to find out. The tracks in the sand do not lie: a bear cub. Today we begin to see more wildlife other than beavers: besides the bear, muskrats and an otter. We have also seen very few birds so far: a few songbirds and a few eagles. 

            On tonight’s sand bar we expect to finally get some peace and quiet. However, shortly after setting up camp, machinery and lights start up on another oil sands development about one km downstream. They go all night.

            At tonight’s buffet, I make bannock with chocolate chips for dessert. Unfortunately, my collapsible wood stove has been put together backwards and so the small oven space below the fire is not available. Therefore I improvise, burning the bannock a little. Still, we are camping: it all disappears quickly.

Day 3 Tar Sands Canoe Trip

Thursday August  8       Traffic jam on the Bridge to Nowhere


            Everyone is ready to leave at 9; everyone but me. I have been trying last night and this morning to write up this blog, re-charge computer , cameras, sound recorder and cell phone, and download all my sound and video files to a hard disk as backup. Between the demands of canoeing, paddling, filming, and leading the trip, there just is not time to do everything. I also have to be careful with all my equipment as we are camping on sandbars so there is sand everywhere. Sharing my tent with a dog does not help. I had hoped to upload a blog daily but I have to give up. The blog will be updated to report on the trip after the fact.

 

            Today is an important day as we will go through the biggest riverfront tar sands installations. When we do finally leave at 10, the first thing  we do is investigate the creek where we had seen the flash flood last night. While the others wait, I hike up the creek bed which is muddy and has very steep banks. At this point, the top land is about 80 m above the river so the creek itself  is quite steep in places but there is little water now.  I follow it up until it veers south, away from the direction of the nearest oil sand project. There is no sign of oil contamination (from a tailings pond) so it would seem that the flash flood was natural or semi-natural: perhaps related to land clearing by a tar sands operation.

The creek that was the scene of a flash flood yesterday

Brittany at our lunch spot. It is not all tar sands. There is mud too.

            After a couple of hours of paddling, we come to an enormous bridge across the river: the Suncor bridge. Beyond it is a Suncor operation on both sides of the river. On the west bank are several enormous metal structures: the heart of the upgrader. Associated with these, are several large smoke stacks emitting billowing clouds, four smaller stacks burning off methane, and several long snakes of large shiny pipes taking water out of the river.

The Suncor bridge and upgrader (above and below)

            At many points so far we have seen oil seeping out of the sands along the banks. However, through this stretch, coincidence or not, there is more oil in the sands and in the water. The noise is loud, and several members of our group are finding the odour of tar difficult and have put on filter face masks. In the distance on both sides on top of the river, where the river banks meet with flat land beyond, instead of trees, we see large expanses of sand: tar sands mining operations have  been through here. We see no wildlife at all today. We do however pass by a couple more industrial buildings along the way: pumping stations to get water to more installations that are further back from the river.

  Top to bottom: Oily water along shore near the upgrader; Water pipelines snaking along the Suncor upgrader; Exhaust stacks of the Suncor upgrader; Alex with air filter mask as we go by the upgrader. Some people get headaches and nausea in the vicinity of upgraders.

Top, L to R: Kelly, Kevin, Clifford and Bruce on the most oil-soaked sandbar we saw, opposite the Suncor upgrader; Bottom: A plume from another upgrader in the distance.

            Three hours and 20 km later, we come to another bridge, known locally as  the “Bridge to Nowhere”. The name comes from the fact that at the time of construction, there was nothing on the other side. Now there are numerous tar sands projects on that side and the bridge is busy: as if it were in the middle of a big city. The bridge is only a few km south of the town of Ft McKay, a town of 1000 people.

            We decide to camp on a sand bar 1 km below the bridge. While we are setting up camp we note that there is a traffic jam heading back to Ft Mac; shift change time but something on the west bank has stopped traffic for about 15 minutes. On the bridge we see buses carrying workers back to Ft Mac as well as pickup trucks, heavy machinery, and semi-trailers. Eventually the traffic is unblocked and the traffic jam disperses but the traffic continues. There is heavy traffic noise all evening and into the night. It feels like we are camping in the midst of a big city.

The Bridge to Nowhere with workers coming off their shift, and going nowhere in a traffic jam. Photo taken from our sandbar campsite

            That evening, a few of us bathe in the river. Afterwards, I notice oil spots all over my lower legs. One of my packs also has many oil spots. It is true that there is oil coming out of the tar sands along the banks, but it does not seem to be enough to produce this much oil. Willow, too, has oil spots on the fur of her paws and up her lower legs.

            At Bruce’s suggestion, we put together a buffet: everyone’s food laid out along an upturned canoe. It works out well and is a lot of fun. We repeat this several times.

Day 2 Tar Sands Canoe Trip

Wednesday August 7       Visit to Ft McKay

            In the morning, and after breakfast, we all get together for a pipe ceremony presided over by Clifford at 8 AM. Both Clifford and I are pipe carriers. His pipe is for males only while mine is for all, so we use mine for the three women. The ceremony is followed by a talking circle. It is a moving way to start the canoe trip.

 

            Brittany and I drive first with Howie and Willow to the Snye where we drop off one canoe and our gear. Howie and Willow will stay here for the morning. Then Brittany and I are off to Ft McKay, as I have arranged to meet with and interview  Dr John O’Connor, the medical director in Ft McKay. Brittany intends to photograph the good doctor . Dr. We drive for about an hour: the traffic is steady. We find the Dorothy McDonald Business Centre, an impressive building which houses the Band Office, the Health Clinic, a variety of other services and the Band’s Group of Companies. We are early and I try to find Dayle Hyde, Rod’s daughter and the Communications Officer for Ft McKay FN. She is around somewhere.

         The Dorothy McDonald Business Centre in Ft McKay

The late Dorothy McDonald, former Chief of Fort McKay FN

            John O’Connor texts me to say that he is free so we walk around the corner to the Clinic. He is a small, quiet, friendly man, 60-ish, with a full beard and a slight Irish lilt, who has worked as a family physican in northern Alberta for 20 years. 

            A few years ago, Dr. O’Connor had formal complaints lodged against him to the Alberta College of Physicians by both the Alberta  and Federal governments “for raising undue alarm” because he has called attention to what he saw as an unusually high rate of certain rare cancers and other illnesses in Ft Chip. (He and his wife Charlene live in Edmonton- she works with him in the clinic-  but he is the doctor for both Ft McKay and Ft Chip). Health Canada officials were openly dismissive in their response to community concerns. Some of these cancers have more recently been connected to exposure to certain petroleum products, but this was not known at the time (2006). After charges were dropped by the College, Dr. O’Connor called for a health study. The Alberta government agreed but insisted that the oil companies be involved. The community refused to allow this, citing a conflict of interest. The government responded by cancelling the study. More recently a health study was planned for Ft McKay but after a year of meetings, the Alberta government backed out without explanation. 

 John O'Connor (photo from the internet)

            Dr O’Connor has talked to many of his patients who work in the tar sands industry. He says that they know there are serious problems with the tar sands but they are well paid, have mortgages, families and lots of vehicles, and so they continue until retirement around age 60. Many have serious health complications.

            Just before leaving, I am able to talk to Dayle Hyde. Unfortunately, she is busy with a film crew and many interviews with regard to yesterday’s decision by the Alberta Energy Regulator concerning the Dover Project. I also run into Allan Adam, Athabasca Chipewyan FN Chief, who I will be interviewing in Ft Chip in 10 days or so.

            The drivers of the other three vehicles meet Brittany and me at the Ft McKay Band Office at 1 PM. Brian Durant, a Newfoundlander who is a construction manager for the band, has agreed to drive us back to the Snye in Ft Mac. Brian is 60 and an avid canoeist. 

            As we are loading our canoes back at the Snye in Ft Mac, I interview Rod Hyde who is there to see us off. Some of us are interviewed in turn by CJ Phillips, a local journalist writing for the Ft McKay Connect, a local newspaper. It is late afternoon when we start out in our five canoes.We paddle for only 1.5 hours before setting up camp. It feels like the start of any wilderness canoe trip: boreal forest scenery on a northern river, with a bustling city that we are leaving behind. Ft Mac is situated at almost 57 degrees North latitude. Ft Chip is at almost 59 degrees North, or about 200 km due north. 

Setting up to interview Rod Hyde  (This and following three photos courtesy of CJ Phillips)

Loading canoes at the Snye on the Clearwater River (just before the confluence with the Athabasca River

Ready to go: canoes are full!

And they're off: Heather and I decide to start off backwards.

            That evening  we have a big pickerel fry. Very tasty! Bruce was given the frozen fillets that morning at the campground by an old friend, Sarah Loutitt, who is Métis, and lives with her partner Ron Campbell in Ft Chip. She is taking her daughter down south to attend university. Bruce had met Sarah by chance at the airport in Ft Mac while the rest of us were up in small planes. I do not ask but assume that the fish come from Lake Athabasca.

Our first campsite on the Athabasca River 

            Later that evening, Bruce leads with his harmonica in some improv jazz singing. We create the tune: the Athabasca River blues. This is followed by some Métis square dancing on the beach at our  beach campsite. Following this our group gave ourselves the name, “the Athabasca River Dancers”. During the evening, all of a sudden, there is a flash flood across the river, in a small creek. As it reaches a crescendo, it knocks over a couple of sizeable poplar trees. Within two minutes, things are back to normal. We had experienced only a little rain over the day so this is surprising. Naturally, we wonder if it had anything to do with a mining operation as our maps point to one not far away on that side of the river. 

The Athabasca River Dancers

            There is a family of beavers with a lodge nearby who are out swimming and feeding nearby.