Notes From the Archipelago: Life in Echo Bay

June-July 1999

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

by Alexandra Morton

I carefully slipped the pies into a special pie-carrying box Eric had made for me, bundled young Clio in wool socks, a sweater, coat, scarf and mittens and we headed out into the night.

Snowflakes danced in the beam of the flashlight as we found our way into Eric's little skiff. The water was calm and the snow fell glittering onto the dark water, pin pricked with phosphorescence.

When we got to the community dock in Echo Bay every size and shape of small boat was already tied there. Fish boats, speedboats, rowboats, dories and a kayak were rafted together. Echo Bay is one of the last places on the south coast where liveaboards are welcome and this further attracts boats. We slipped bow-first into the shallows near the ramp. Clio babbled with excitement. Would Lucas and Elena be here? She quickly surveyed the boats and named off their owners. This was the night of the Echo Bay Christmas concert and everyone was here.

The tiny community hall glowed in soft light as we approached and the door opened spilling out the voices of happy children. Roast venison, wild goose, wild salmon, braided bread, sushi already crowded the table as I placed my homegrown pumpkin pies in the desert section. The entire school body this year numbers five, so the teacher was challenged in finding a suitable production for such a small cast.

Every child had a speaking role and soon had their audience roaring with laughter. Santa dropped in while we carolled. I looked around. Echo Bay is a community shrinking so fast it's only a few families away from vanishing, but it was good to see we could still generate a crowd. Clio, only three years old, insisted we stay to the end and finally there was only us. With the other people gone, the magic drained away and the old hall became sombre dark and ancient once again. Only then were able to convince the little reveller to come home with us.

My son came home from high school and I baked, roasted and fried every delicacy I know he loves. In the middle of making gingerbread a call came over the radio. There was a single male orca headed west in Fife Sound. We all hurried down to the boat and soon found the whale. He was travelling slowly along the shore, circling islands and making long dives. Jarret grew up watching whales and he expertly guided the boat gently within photographic range. I snapped a few pictures in the failing winter light and then we drifted and watched him.

There are no fish-eating killer whales that travel alone. When a male resident orca loses his mother, he takes up with a sister, sometimes floating between families. But there are several male mammaleaters, or transients which travel alone. They are occasionally seen with other transient families, but appear to spend considerable time on their own. I couldn't help but wonder about such a solitary existence in a species well-known for an exuberant social life. As the twilight deepened, we turned for home and left the big male to his solitude .

The Pacific white-sided dolphins left the archipelago in late October, earlier every year. The harbour porpoise have vanished too, which is not unusual. I generally see them less often in the winter, although their groups are larger when I do see them. Reports from Beaver Cove on Vancouver Island describe a huge influx of Steller Sea lions. Two hundred of the huge pinnipeds have been counted and they are hauling out in locations never seen before.

Pacific white-sided dolphin jumps for joy.

On approximately November 27, thousands of small silver fish began washing up dead in Beaver Cove. They were pilchard. Soon I began receiving reports of dead pilchard from both sides of Queen Charlotte Strait. Everyone reported fish gasping at the surface, around their floathouses with blood oozing from under their scales and eyes. Native clam diggers found dead ratfish on their clam beds. I asked people to bag and freeze the dying fish and soon I began receive the morbid little baggies: pilchard, shiners, pollock or whiting and rat fish.

Fish farmers are reporting the dead wild fish are shoulder deep in their pens. Hmmm what to do? I called DFO expecting them to know exactly what the fish were dying of, but they seemed unsure and asked me to send samples. Maybe it was Viral Haemorrhagic Septicaemia (VHS), but they didn't know species other than pilchard were dying too. The theory is that pilchard, which just reappeared after a 50 year absence, are at the edge of their range and therefore susceptible to disease in the cold water. But why are other species dying?

The eagles and seagulls don't care why, they are consuming the floundering fish by the thousands. Hopefully the sick fish aren't harmful to the birds, although several reports of dead gulls have filtered in from Beaver Cove and Alert Bay. it is very difficult to understand any of the comings and goings in the ocean. There are so many mysteries in the cold, dark reaches of this coast. But I will let you know the results from the tests as they come in.

My deepest thanks to all of you who contributed to Heart of the Raincoast's, placement on the BC bestseller list. And Happy New Year. My wish for the New Year is a gentling of the human touch on this wondrous and generous planet.

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