Peace River

In a motel in Prince George - the 'Navel of BC' as it was recently referred to. Hm. So we are now back to where I felt our trip into the north began.

Yesterday we drove from Fort Nelson to Hudson's Hope, going from an oil, gas, timber frontier town down to Fort Saint John and then into the northern Peace. It was blowing snow in Ft. Nelson and by the time we dropped down into the Peace River valley it seemed as if we had been given a respite from winter and were given a brief gift of mild autumn weather. It was beautiful and a great contrast.

Today we woke up to find winter had caught up to us in the night. We dined on cold pizza and hot coffee and drove the 20 km up to the W.A.C. Bennett hydroelectric dam. The road was covered in packed snow and with the wind chill out on the dam there was a frost bite danger it was so cold. The dam wasn't the curved concrete structure I'd expected, instead it was a wall of rock and earth with the sides sloping away on either side at an incline which it would have been possible to walk down.

The green British Columbia historical plaque at the visitor center recalled the exploits of Alexander Mackenzie who had portaged around the Peace River canyon in his transcontinental crossing of North America. Now the canyon is the site of this huge hydroelectric project. The Tsay Keh Dene and the Kwadacha First Nation were both recently compensated for damages they incurred because of the dam and the creation of the Williston Reservoir which displaced the Tsay Keh Dene.

I shivered in the icy wind coming off the reservoir and thought of the huge pressure pushing the water into the turbines beneath me, the power they created and wondered what had to change so that we didn't use so much and that what we did use didn't modify natural ecosystems to such an incredible extent.

On the road again we were loaded and cocked, cameras ready, watching for wildlife, when we came around a sharp turn to see an overturned semi truck on it's side, it's load of lumber spread out over the highway. We braked and pulled in behind two other vehicles. The semi's wheels were still turning and smoke appeared to be rising from the sideways cab. I ran back to stop traffic coming around the corner and Chris ran forward to the truck to help there. The driver emerged from the cab, covered in blood but able to walk. As I stepped around the underside of the truck I noticed that fuel was pouring out of the tank. The lights were still on in the vehicle, which I thought was risky, although I guess diesel doesn't ignite as easily as gasoline.

A few kilometers further down the road we saw a long freight train carrying lumber, grain and fuels, among other things. Three engines pulled more than a hundred loaded cars through the mountains. I wondered how one truck could compete. Apparently there are economic reasons which keep businesses using trucks but it seems that from an environmental perspective it would make more sense to use trains when ever possible.

A few evenings ago, over a few beer, a fellow I had just met, who had imbibed a few more than myself, informed me that I was an environmentalist and we environmentalists were all the same. I denied it. Now I wonder if he was right. If questioning whether there might be a better way of extracting and using resources makes me an environmentalist than I am one.