Requiem for East Creek

Summer 2009

How one of Vancouver Island's last pristine watersheds was allowed to quietly slip away

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

To download a pdf copy of the magazine click here: DOWNLOAD

Few places on Vancouver Island can match the formidable presence of Brooks Peninsula. Its snow-capped peaks can be seen in the distance to the right. This photo is taken from Side Bay. The peak to the left is Red Stripe Mountain, a previously logged area. The gap beyond Red Stripe is Klaskino Inlet, another possible point of entry via logging road or a good anchorage for the hardy boaters who pass this stretch of coast. The mouth of Klaskish Inlet, this day's destination, is in the distance between the last headland and the snow-capped peaks.

by John Kimantas

I found myself standing awkwardly in knee-deep water off the beach, hand outheld like some odd parody of the Statue of Liberty. This offered the best reception I could find for the marine weather forecast, which was still fading in and out in a rhythm oddly akin to the nearby waves. Blame the campsite deep in Klaskish Inlet, one I picked for the location directly across from the East Creek estuary. Poor radio reception was an unexpected side-effect of my location within a clustering of adjacent mountains.

East Creek's estuary.

Weather forecasts are a lifeline along this part of northwest Vancouver Island. The next leg of my journey after exploring East Creek was around Brooks Peninsula, the legendary barrier of mountains known for its storms and wind. I was in no hurry to cross it, content to take as long as possible for a weather window, but the typically cryptic Environment Canada weather forecasts had been even more cryptic than usual these past few days, ending with the ominous warning of a coming storm but no details of when.

With arm outheld I was finally able to piece the latest forecast together: winds calm tomorrow morning, rising to 10-20 knots in the afternoon, with an approaching southerly storm front expected to hit the next day. It wasn’t a perfect weather window, but one I was going to have to take. Mornings of calm winds are a rare enough forecast for anywhere on the BC coast in the summer. At Brooks you take such breaks and run with them.

The plan didn’t take long to formulate: a 4 a.m. launch to beat the afternoon winds likely off the most exposed area at Cape Cook. This would get me ideally to a beach campsite on the south end of Brooks Peninsula in the early afternoon, where I could set up to prepare for the onslaught.

My rushed departure meant one unfortunate change of plans. I’d lose a day meant to explore East Creek. When I paddled away the next morning in the pre-dawn black, it was my last visit to this area for many years to come.

That was 2003, when a glimmer of hope remained for the East Creek estuary. At the time it was one of the last remaining unprotected, pristine watersheds on Vancouver Island, a status soon to be lost. LeMare Lake Logging of Port McNeill was granted approval from the province for 480 hectares (1,200 acres) of logging. By building a road they also made it easier for Weyerhaeuser, then-owners of adjacent logging rights, to push through and log farther into the valley.

The logging was protested, but the result was hardly a victory for environmentalists. The Sierra Club led the rally with a Save East Creek campaign. After a short flurry of activity in 2003, interest died. Internet updates end virtually that year. The Save East Creek website is now gone. Interest evaporated and East Creek was forgotten as a cause.

Rainforest at Klaskish Inlet.

For Save East Creek campaign organizer Jill Thompson, it was a bitter outcome. She says the value of the creek was never in question – in fact, Thompson says even the government recognized the values of both East Creek and Klaskish River, known for its salmon, elk, wolf and marbled murrelet. But somehow these areas were left outside the borders of Brooks Peninsula Provincial Park when it was created in 1995.

“Nasparti, Power, Battle, East and Klaskish were like a bite taken out of an otherwise continuous protected area, and they had excellent fish and wildlife values and recreation, for those hardy enough to get there, but MoF (Ministry of Forests) didn’t think there were enough of you to be worth it,” Thompson says.

The Save East Creek campaign ran into barriers as formidable as the environment. Too remote for an active base and with no nearby home community, there was no way to anchor a protest. And financial backers were equally elusive.

“Big funders thought of it as a lost battle, and had moved their money to the more promising Great Bear Rainforest. We connected with some members of the Quatsino First Nation and learned a bit about their history there, but they were similarly overstretched with other demands on their attention and resources,” Thompson says. “In the end, I think we (Sierra Club and the Ministry of Environment) got a few reserves for marbled murrelet established, but it was massively disappointing. By that time, the BC Government had gutted a bunch of the previous conservation tools, and the MoE had no bargaining power whatsoever – basically they got what the companies agreed they could have.”

Kayaking East Creek.

A haven for kayakers exploring north Brooks Peninsula and Side Bay, as well as a few adventurous boaters, the headwaters at Klaskino Inlet captured the attention of BC activist Ingmar Lee. His plan was a reconnaissance of the forests of East Creek and the ancient Klaskish village of Tsowanachs at the mouth of Klaskino. With the blessing of the Quatsino First Nation he searched for culturally modified trees – evidence of the traditional use by First Nations possibly long ago.

“By counting the rings in the calluses that grow across the barkstrip, or planksplit wounds, we can get an idea of when people last lived in these forests and how far and wide they traveled through them. So little is known about this village, and there is a lot to learn from the amazing story that is written in these CMTs,” Lee says.

An unexpected find was what appeared to be an ancient trail near the East Creek estuary. “I’m certain that it’s a human made path because it runs so directly along the easiest route over the lie of the land. The trail has been well maintained by animal traffic judging by the purple piles and all the tracks, since the last human passage, perhaps 200 years ago,” Lee says. It appears to have once connected East Creek to Tsowanachs, with culturally modified trees liberally dotting the trail’s length. The pair measured one ancient red cedar at a 14-foot diameter, making it the eighth largest cedar on the planet. A hollow, burned-out center large enough for 10 people provided shelter for Lee during a blasting storm.

While surrounded by such history, evidence of more modern use is never far away. “Dreadfully, at times we can hear snippets of the rumble and roar of big logging on its way here at the moment,” Lee wrote during his stay.

Brooks Peninsula in April.

A trip to Brooks Peninsula is never easy; getting there involves long miles on land well past the end of the asphalt then more travel on water. You can approach from the south via Fair Harbour in Kyuquot Sound or from the north via convoluted logging roads that lead to either Side Bay or Klaskino Inlet. Five years after my first visit I finally found the time to return, and entered via Side Bay. Snow almost barred our entry as we crossed the pass from Port Alice. A few days earlier and the route wouldn’t have yet been plowed for the spring. We launched with the thermometer barely above the freezing mark – the price to pay for an early April visit. But we gained the advantage of the unusual sight of snow on the Brooks Peninsula peaks.

Thankfully after a portage up the shallows at the mouth of East Creek (we didn’t time our arrival well for the necessary high tide), we found the lower valley largely undisturbed. East Creek can be paddled for about a mile, offering a rare look into the interior of Brooks Peninsula – so long as you don’t look up to the valley-top logging.

For Thompson, it’s a bitter contrast.

“It deserves better,” she says.

Visit Lee's website at ingmarlee.com and his film on East Creek at cathedralgrove.eu