Notes From the Archipelago: Coastal Survival

August-September 1999

This is an article from WaveLength Magazine, available in print in North America and globally on the web.

by Alexandra Morton

As we enjoyed the last of Grandma's good cooking in her snug little float house, Cho climbed into my lap and fell asleep. There is nothing better than the feel of a sleeping child nestled against you, except maybe when your mate across the table says "Hey, look-whales". Manners forgotten, I slid Cho into her father's lap and was in my boat before I realized I had failed to even murmur "excuse me".

An easy lift-off with dinner in hand (claws)

Drat". It was almost sunset and the chance of figuring out which whales these were was remote. I stopped and dropped my hydrophone in the hopes they would make some sound so I could at least learn if they were transient or resident. The soft 'Hee-Haww" of transients making a kill came over the headset. Three eagles circled over the whales dipping to the surface. The whales were having dinner - probably a harbour seal, and the eagles were picking up the bits. There were no bits left for me so I don't know for certain what they ate. I shot a miserable roll of tiny dark fins in dark water, hoping that the killer whale expert at the Pacific Biological Station might be able to identify the whales using his negative microscope.

If you shoot pictures of whales in remote areas of the coast and they show the whale's fin dearly from the side, you can send them to Graeme Ellis, Pacific Biological Station, Nanaimo, B.C. V9R 5K6 and when he has a chance, he'll get back to you about who you were with. He just co-authored a fascinating book on the transient whales of this coast and I was desperately leafing through it on my evening cruise with the unidentified whales. Some transient whales are clearly marked with large tears in their fins and you can identify them from a great distance. However, these whales were unscathed and it was dark before I could figure out who they were.

The southern resident whales made their annual pass through northern resident whale territory a few days ago. They have become remarkably consistent about making this trip the past five years. We don't know if we missed this yearly passage previous to the mid-90s or if it is a new phenomena. With salmon shortages on the south coast perhaps the southern residents are checking out neighbouring waters, or perhaps they are wintering farther north and Johnstone Strait is simply the easiest way back to Georgia Strait. Another ten years of observation may shed enough light to warrant taking a guess.

On May 8 Jim Borrowman of Telegraph Cove spotted a fin whale. The huge sleek whale moved too fast for an ID photograph and we thought it would never be seen again. However, on May 30 Jim saw it again, this time in Blackfish Sound. That same day there were humpbacks and Minke whales sighted, as well as a sea otter. All this activity speaks well of the health of the local food chain. It seemed possible the fin whale was sticking around, that it had found enough food to make a living here. Then on June 3rd a cruise ship passed through these waters and when it docked a day later in Vancouver it had a dead fm whale impaled on its bow. No one knows if it was the same whale. No one knows what to say. There really is nothing a person can say, except we are a dangerous species. No more fin whales have been sighted to date in this area.

Three days of warm hot winds jump-started the archipelago into spring. 'Teenage" ravens are shrieking about after their parents, soft-bellied, doe-eyed toads are flopping about everywhere and the no-see-ums are out for blood. Again this spring, as last, I am seeing large schools of young salmon. Flowing in schools of blue/green, the promise held in trust by these little fish is huge. The entire ecosystem depends on the success of their life-mission-to swim around the Pacific gyre and carry the richness of the north Pacific home in their flesh. (I am a little concerned at the large number of sea lice on these tiny salmon. Most schools are full of the parasite and I picked seven lice off a two inch pink salmon. In Ireland, salmon farms enhanced sea lice to the point that wild salmonid runs near farms have been eaten alive towards extinction. Mother mergansers are bobbing along with strings of fluffy-headed chicks behind them and the bears are down on the beaches at every low tide. Everybody is eating.

I phoned the Ministry of Municipal Affairs to ask if a tiny community, such as Echo Bay, could be guaranteed uninterrupted access to food at the beginning of the year 2000. The furor of Y2K has died since the war began in Yugoslavia, but being a mom I'm always thinking of how to put food on the table. The woman who answered my call said she would connect me with the Y2K information systems officer, that woman connected me with the Y2K co-ordinator, who connected me with the Y2K hotline (250-356-9999). The hotline was a recording which said no one was there but to leave a detailed message. So I did, asking that if access to food couldn't be guaranteed, could the community of Echo Bay be granted a tiny bit of land for a community garden. Most of the residents here live on boats and floating houses, where gardening is difficult. Two weeks later I got a message saying my questions were being considered and two more weeks have passed since then with no reply. Clearly, no one is sure about groceries on January 1, 2000.

On this coast protein is readily available, but vegetables are a little harder to come by. So after much thought here is my solution to Y2K anxiety: plant kale. Plant it in empty lots, around your house, fling it from car windows along roads, wherever there is dirt and we will all have the finest source of vitamin C and calcium a body could ask for, no matter what! Planted in July/August, kale readily grows all winter through snow and frost. You can graze on it in winter and then eat the succulent shoots of spring growth in March and April. My family has lived on it for two winters and we seem fit as fiddles! Y2K aside, who needs pesticide coated veggies from southern deserts when the incredible kale family grows vigorously here, untended.

Grandma has decided she is tired of life on the sea and so we have moved out of our house and given it to her. I mention this because now her little house is available for rent if any of you would like to dip your paddle into the Broughton Archipelago for yourself and sleep under a cosy roof at night. If you're interested, call me at 250-949-1664. Bill Proctor also wanted me to mention that he will be giving tours in his speed boat, especially to Bond Sound, the last virgin mainland watershed from here to Mexico. Grizzlies and salmon still mingle there and Billy is really fun to ride with. He is giving tours because he knows every piece of wilderness depends on people falling in love with it. He can be reached at 250-949-1199. Enjoy your summer paddling and plant kale!

Alexandra Morton is a marine mammal researcher and author living in BC's Broughton Archipelago, and a regular Wavelength columnist.
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