Naheed Nenshi, the NDP leader of Alberta’s Opposition, is accusing Premier Danielle Smith of a scheme that could increase power bills for Albertans “so she can build AI data centres for her foreign billionaire friends.” 

The comments come from a news conference organized by the NDP in response to reporting by The Narwhal on a leaked document — labelled a “cabinet report” and bearing the Alberta government logo — that appears to show the provincial government is planning to take control of Alberta’s natural gas pipeline system to increase both supply and demand. 

The document outlines plans to wrest regulatory control over the province’s main natural gas transmission line, called the Nova Gas Transmission pipeline, owned and operated by TC Energy, away from the federal Canada Energy Regulator, and to create two new government-owned corporations. One of those Crown corporations could force companies to build natural gas pipeline expansions based on government priorities, while the other could build and operate the pipelines itself. 

Those moves, according to the document, would raise prices on ordinary Albertans and businesses, but would bring in more royalties for the government. 

“Let me reiterate this: Danielle Smith is rolling out the red carpet for data centres, and that will cause higher electricity prices, and she doesn’t care if it spikes your electricity and your heating bills,” Nenshi said.

Detailed questions were sent to several Alberta ministries prior to publication of the original story, but the government did not respond by publication time. 

Late Friday afternoon, the office of Minister of Energy and Minerals Brian Jean sent a statement to The Narwhal in response to a follow-up email asking for comment on the original story.

“Governments routinely examine a wide range of policy, regulatory and legislative options when considering complex issues, and internal materials do not represent government decisions,” it said.

“An increasing number of project proponents across a variety of industries have raised concerns about accessing industrial quantities of natural gas in several regions of Alberta. We are working with industry, including the natural gas infrastructure owners, to better understand these issues and identify practical solutions that support future growth and investment.”

The document on which the reporting was based was leaked to The Narwhal by a source within the Alberta government, whose identity is being kept confidential due to personal and professional risks stemming from the leak. 

A note on trust, integrity and unnamed sources+

This story uses information from sources The Narwhal has agreed not to name. The Narwhal only agrees to keep names confidential when we believe two things. First, that the person we’re speaking with is putting themselves at genuine risk, either personal or professional, by sharing this information with us. Second, that the information they’re sharing is in the public interest. Our decision to do so is never made lightly. 

There are two types of unnamed sources. A confidential source is someone whose name we know, but aren’t sharing. We make multiple attempts to verify their identity and information with other sources. If we aren’t able to get a second source, we say so. 

An anonymous source is someone whose name we don’t know. It is incredibly rare for The Narwhal to publish a story with a completely anonymous source. In these instances, we don’t publish until we have verified the information shared with us with at least one other source. 

And again, these stories must be in the public interest. 

As Canadian governments become increasingly secretive, the courage of whistleblowers is to be admired. We value them greatly. At the same time, our promise to readers is The Narwhal will always make sure the facts are airtight. 

Have something to share? Send us a story tip.

The moves could cost billions of public dollars if the government builds its own pipelines, according to the document. The document estimates it will cost more than $160 million just to institute the changes and fight anticipated legal battles with companies such as TC Energy, or potentially First Nations. “There may also be litigation risk from Indigenous communities and organizations where they believe that they have not been meaningfully engaged from early on in any proposed projects,” the document reads.

Sturgeon Lake Cree Nation Chief Sheldon Sunshine said his community, which is fighting a massive data centre proposal in northern Alberta led by celebrity investor Kevin O’Leary, is “outraged” by the details outlined in the document, which he says he has independently reviewed.

“For years, our Nation has been fighting for meaningful consultation and effective regulation of hyper-scale data centres — including the massive O’Leary Project,” he said in a statement sent to The Narwhal. Sturgeon Lake Cree Nation is not specifically named in the leaked document.

“Now we find out that the United Conservative Party government is trying to artificially drive up the demand for natural gas to lure even more of these data centres to Alberta — all while knowing that this would trample our Treaty Rights and send electricity prices soaring for all Albertans.”

The document estimates building a pipeline to meet government expectations could cost as much as $6 billion. The capacity from that new pipeline could provide enough gas for six gigawatts of power generation for data centres, according to the document. A recently rejected AI data centre near Olds, Alta., would have required a 1.4-gigawatt power plant and used as much power each day as the City of Edmonton.

According to information on TC Energy’s website, the company has invested approximately $15 billion into the Nova Gas Transmission system since 2015, with double the capacity increases outlined in the document.

The document points to the need to feed natural gas to AI data centres as a primary motivation for the moves, but also highlights desired growth in the oil and gas sector, saying “the Government of Alberta is actively courting hyper-scale data centre capital and other investors.”

Nenshi, who said he has now seen the leaked document himself, was blunt. 

“This report makes it clear that their strategy all along was to do whatever they could to increase natural gas prices, to promote the government’s own bottom line due to their own fiscal mismanagement,” he said. The document suggests the moves could increase royalties to the government while consumers could end up paying higher prices for their natural gas and electricity bills under the proposed plan.

Document leaked by whistleblower for whom Canada affords little protection: expert

According to David Hutton, a senior fellow with the Centre for Free Expression at Toronto Metropolitan University, whistleblowers who leak sensitive information to the media run a considerable risk, from losing their jobs, friendships or families through divorce.

He said Canada is “back of the bus” when it comes to protections.  

“International experts have done surveys of various countries and rated them, and we come out at the bottom,” he said in an interview. The federal government has a whistleblower program, but Hutton said there’s never been compensation awarded through it. 

Provincial laws are similar to the federal protections, including Alberta’s, and “are really not of any value,” he said. 

He stresses how crucial it is for public-interest information to see the light of day. As The Narwhal has reported, this is becoming increasingly difficult in Canada as multiple levels of government tighten freedom of information legislation. 

“Research done over decades now has consistently shown that tips from whistleblowers account for usually more than 40 per cent of all of the frauds that are uncovered [globally],” he said, highlighting one aspect of information that is shared.

There is no indication of fraud in the leaked document in Alberta. 

The plans outlined in the document single out TC Energy, which owns and operates the largest gas pipeline system in the province, as a likely source for legal action pushing back against the plans, due to the impacts on its business. 

The company did not respond to questions for the original article or for this follow up. 

Nenshi said he has not yet spoken with representatives from the company after the revelations were made public, but intends to. 

“To actually say government wants to step in in order to hurt people, and that government is strong-arming a company to make billions of dollars in investments that they don’t want to make, with the threat of competing with them if they don’t?” he said. “That’s textbook bullying behaviour. It’s also bad economics and it’s bad business.”

Document points to constraints imposed by feds, says Alberta seeks to ‘achieve greater control’

The document points the finger not just at TC Energy, but also at constraints imposed by the federal regulation of the natural gas transmission network.

“Federal regulatory oversight … is now compounding Alberta’s gas access challenges,” the document reads, adding this oversight “has caused growing concern about the pace of infrastructure development for the [natural gas transmission network].”

The document suggests moving TC Energy’s Alberta pipelines back under provincial regulatory control and under the authority of one of the new government corporations.

Some pipeline networks within the province are already under provincial jurisdiction, including the ATCO distribution network that interconnects with TC Energy’s system. ATCO operates approximately 8,500 kilometres of pipelines in Alberta, whereas the Nova Gas Transmission pipeline, the province’s main natural gas transmission line operated by TC Energy, is about 25,000 kilometres.

“Without provincial regulatory oversight, the Government of Alberta is limited in its ability to compel federally regulated pipelines to invest in capacity expansions,” reads the document.

“Due to the federally regulated [natural gas transmission line] system being fully subscribed, the province cannot guarantee the timely expansion of gas transmission capacity required to support new demand.”

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Alberta is so determined to usher in a wave of AI data centres and increase oil and gas production that it is considering rewriting legislation and creating government-owned corporations that would force private companies to invest in natural gas pipeline expansions — or allow the government to build and operate those pipelines itself — according to a document leaked to The Narwhal. It’s also willing to pay for any legal challenges that follow. 

The document — labelled a “cabinet report” and bearing the Alberta government logo — contains a broad swath of recommendations it indicates were prepared for the Energy and Minerals Ministry led by Minister Brian Jean, and says it was scheduled to be presented to a high-level cabinet policy committee on Sept. 10.

The document says private ownership of natural gas transmission pipelines is throttling growth and that “escalatory and direct measures are now required,” especially as “the Government of Alberta is actively courting hyper-scale data centre capital and other investors.”

The document notes Alberta risks losing investment from AI data centre companies if it can’t come up with “speed-to-market” solutions.

According to the document, the government has been in talks with TC Energy, which owns and operates Alberta’s main natural gas pipeline system, since 2024 in an attempt to force the company to invest in new pipeline capacity, but the company refuses to build based on “speculative demand.” TC Energy did not respond to detailed questions.

Talks with the company stalled, according to the document, after the company pitched a plan that would involve the province assuming more financial liability for the pipeline system and forcing higher rates on those who use it. 

“Discussions continued until 2026 and escalated with the premier’s involvement,” reads the document. “Extensive discussions with TC Energy [have] produced no viable solutions to date.”

The document is critical of TC Energy’s track record, saying the company’s “underinvestment in [natural gas] pipeline capacity has caused a market failure in the natural gas sector leaving key growth regions unable to access gas,” calling the result a “dysfunctional natural gas pipeline network.”

The document was leaked to The Narwhal by a government official whose identity is being kept confidential. The Narwhal has verified they are in a position that would likely have access to such a document. The Narwhal has not been able to independently verify the authenticity of the document, but Alberta’s lobbyist registry confirms TC Energy has been in talks with government officials regarding “increased support for gas market access,” as well as discussions on “strategic natural gas initiatives.”

A note on trust, integrity and unnamed sources+

This story uses information from sources The Narwhal has agreed not to name. The Narwhal only agrees to keep names confidential when we believe two things. First, that the person we’re speaking with is putting themselves at genuine risk, either personal or professional, by sharing this information with us. Second, that the information they’re sharing is in the public interest. Our decision to do so is never made lightly. 

There are two types of unnamed sources. A confidential source is someone whose name we know, but aren’t sharing. We make multiple attempts to verify their identity and information with other sources. If we aren’t able to get a second source, we say so. 

An anonymous source is someone whose name we don’t know. It is incredibly rare for The Narwhal to publish a story with a completely anonymous source. In these instances, we don’t publish until we have verified the information shared with us with at least one other source. 

And again, these stories must be in the public interest. 

As Canadian governments become increasingly secretive, the courage of whistleblowers is to be admired. We value them greatly. At the same time, our promise to readers is The Narwhal will always make sure the facts are airtight. 

Have something to share? Send us a story tip.

Detailed questions sent to the premier’s office, including for confirmation of details in the document, were sent to the press secretaries for the premier and the ministers of affordability and utilities, energy and minerals, jobs, economy, trade and immigration, and treasury board and finance. There was no response by publication time. 

There was also no response to an email and phone call to Vitor Marciano, the chief of staff to the energy minister.

According to the document, the full slate of proposals for cabinet consideration include taking regulatory control for the pipeline transmission network operated by TC Energy away from the federal Canada Energy Regulator, creating a Crown corporation that would guide pipeline construction based on government forecasting, and another Crown corporation that would oversee, or build and operate, its own pipelines. 

That would give the government the power to control some private investment decisions, including directing companies to build pipelines, and it could also make the government a direct competitor of companies such as TC Energy. 

The document argues the moves are necessary to rapidly build natural gas pipeline capacity to help increase oil and gas production and spur data centre growth. The government’s data centre strategy explicitly encourages the use of natural gas for power generation. 

Since the release of that strategy, the government has restricted AI data centre access to the provincial grid until 2028 because there is not enough power to fuel demand and keep the lights on. Developers are required to build their own power supply, which is currently restricted to natural gas power plants.

Albertans could be on the hook for hundreds of millions — or billions — to help support power for AI data centres: document

The moves could cost Albertans. 

The document is clear one of the main drivers of the plan, in addition to increasing the province’s oil and gas production, is attracting AI data centres to the province. “Alberta’s ability to attract and retain data centre investment depends on reliable access to natural gas service,” the document says. 

The recommended changes would result in “significant legal and cost impacts for the Government of Alberta,” according to the document, as well as likely result in “increases for utility ratepayers.”

The document notes Albertans may be “sensitive” to what it calls “any change in perceived affordability.”

The preliminary estimated cost of the proposed changes, including the planning and creation of Crown corporations and potential ensuing legal battles, could exceed $162 million, according to estimates in the document, but that does not include possible infrastructure costs.

The document estimates building a pipeline to meet government expectations could cost as much as $6 billion. The capacity from that new pipeline could provide enough gas for six gigawatts of power generation for data centres, according to the document. A recently rejected AI data centre near Olds, Alta., would have required a 1.4-gigawatt power plant and used as much power each day as the City of Edmonton.

The total cost includes anticipated litigation from TC Energy and other companies, including concerns over “significant claims for compensation” for “alleged expropriation of valuable contractual rights.” 

The document warns First Nations could also initiate lawsuits. 

The moves could also make things more expensive for residents and businesses by driving up the price of natural gas, according to the document.

“While low prices benefit customers (Albertans and industrial users), they limit provincial royalty revenues and can discourage natural gas investment by reducing producer revenues,” the document reads. 

“Increased natural gas demand could contribute to higher costs for households, businesses and gas-intensive industries, which could deflect stakeholder support.”

The document also notes “potential disproportionate impacts on seniors and rural residents can be mitigated by monitoring affordability and exploring mitigation measures specific to households and small businesses.”

The government’s aim is to almost double natural gas prices to support and expand production, which would increase the cost of electricity generation by up to 25 per cent, based on calculations in the document. 

It’s unclear exactly what that could mean for Albertans’ power bills, but those costs could be passed down to Albertans, who the document warns could be upset about government spending and increased costs. 

A recent analysis from the Pembina Institute, estimates the recently announced Meta data center near Edmonton could add $270 to $460 to electricity bills each year.

The document suggests government messaging could sell the plan to Albertans to “help strengthen social licence.”

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The Coal Valley mine, nestled in the foothills of Alberta’s Rocky Mountains, is a sprawling 200 square kilometres and has been in operation since 1978. Three hours west of Edmonton, it stretches alongside Highway 40, forming a long, narrow gash that includes large open mine pits as well as areas in the process of being reclaimed. It’s part industrial, part moonscape, part nature. 

It has been closed over the years as markets dip — most recently for three months in 2025 — and it has moved tremendous amounts of earth and coal. Currently only one of its pits is active.

On paper, the mine looks bad. There have been 16 incidents in the past three years, almost all of which were spills into the creeks and rivers in and around the site. That makes it the worst existing mine in Alberta in terms of the number of infractions. But the company behind the mine says numbers don’t tell the whole story.

The mine operates under the name Prairie Mines and Royalty ULC, and is ultimately owned by Denver-based Westmoreland Mining, one of three companies that still operate commercial coal mines in Alberta. It was the only one to respond to questions emailed from The Narwhal for an article about infractions at coal mines. 

“We appreciate your questions and the approach you’re taking with this story,” Jon Heroux, Westmoreland’s director of external affairs, wrote. “I think we can do one better than simply giving you an interview over the phone or by email.”

This is not typical of Alberta’s coal mining companies, many of which seldom, if ever, respond to journalists’ requests.

A little more than a week later, company representatives spent a day driving two journalists from The Narwhal around the site.

Alberta government wants to bring industry back from the brink

Coal was once big business in Alberta. Rich seams were found buried in the mountains and foothills, and the Prairies offered easy access to lower-quality coal that powered local electricity plants for decades. As recently as 2018, coal-fired power was the main source of electricity in Alberta.

The Crowsnest Pass in the southwest boomed (and busted) alongside the black rock at the heart of its economy, bringing wealth but also disparity, which led to strikes and even communist agitation from disgruntled workers.

But the markets changed — changes in demand, swings in prices — and so did government regulations. As the industry waned in the south of the province, the 1970s government of former Progressive Conservative premier Peter Lougheed introduced restrictions aimed at preserving beloved landscapes — and the all-important water that trickles and surges down those rocky slopes.

Three decades later in 2024, the phase-out of coal-fired electricity — a significant source of air pollution and emissions — in Alberta spelled the end of strip mines near electrical power plants, which are now mostly powered by natural gas. But that phase-out still allows for some mining. Alberta produces both thermal coal, which is exported to places that still burn it for electricity or for industrial uses, and metallurgical coal, which is used in steel-making.

Today, just three large commercial coal mines are up and running (four if you count Dodd’s, a family operation that mostly serves individuals and farms). Coal Valley is one of two that produces thermal coal mostly used in factories abroad while the third is a metallurgical mine. 

But it’s not the end of the story of coal in Alberta, at least not yet. 

The current provincial government has opened the door to new mines in areas set aside by the Lougheed conservatives in 1976, and a new coal policy — a guide to where and when mining can take place — is expected this year. This follows five years of acrimonious debate and public backlash against opening the Rocky Mountains to new mines.

According to data from the Alberta Energy Regulator, the three existing mines have struggled to keep coal waste and sediment out of the province’s waterways, a key concern for Albertans wondering what will happen to the headwaters for the Canadian Prairies if they’re contaminated.

There have been 42 incidents in the past three years, almost all of which involve water.

Further south of the existing mines clustered in west-central Alberta, new metallurgical coal mines have been pitched for the traditional mining region near Crownest Pass. The water that flows from the rocky slopes there tumbles across an astonishing expanse of prairie clean through to Manitoba, providing habitat and hydration to ecosystems, helping to irrigate crops and slake the thirst of livestock, wildlife and humans alike.

Cavernous pits and tree-lined lakes

Inside the main office at Coal Valley, the smell of coal — like fresh asphalt — permeates the two-storey space, which sits next to workshops designed to handle repairs on towering mine dump trucks. The walls are adorned with colouring sheets showing mine workers, carefully filled in by local young students, some of whom have parents at the mine.

Inside a conference room a map of the mine is displayed under a glass top on the table. Here, Scott Sturm, Westmoreland’s chief operating officer, and Steve Love, the mine’s general manager, talk about operations and reclamation, water and regulations while pointing to areas on the map. Charles Reid, senior legal and government affairs counsel, asks that the conversations not be recorded.

They talk about how the coal on site doesn’t have high levels of selenium, a compound that’s harmful to fish and human health in high quantities and a key concern in the ongoing debate about the future of coal mining in Alberta. The lack of selenium is a simple bit of geochemical luck rather than the product of engineering or human ingenuity, but it helps the company set itself apart when discussing spills. Its claims are backed up by water sampling conducted for the company by an independent contractor. 

Before setting out for a tour of the mine, they talk about the incidents listed by the regulator, including areas where spills have occurred. 

One recent incident dumped sediment in a creek, the result of erosion from a roadway and a collapsed culvert. At the site of the spill, the system designed to contain the sediment is still in place: a floating yellow barrier. Today, it’s closer to shore and smaller in size compared to three months earlier — Sturm pulls out his phone to share a photo from the time of the spill.

Sturm, a white-goateed man who looks somehow built for coal mining, says another incident in April was the result of ice blocking outflow from the mine’s long stretch of ponds. Known as Coal Creek, the long, narrow series of ponds are where debris and contaminants settle as the water slowly moves through them, ultimately discharging into a small waterway. The ice, combined with snowmelt and heavy rain, overwhelmed Coal Creek, and led to the spill.

Those spills involved sediment. And even without some of the chemical pollution concerns experienced by other mines, it can still have an impact. Sediment-laden riverbeds can smother habitat and impact fish and insect reproduction, and there is always the risk of contamination from pollutants including arsenic and heavy metals.

The company is also under investigation by the Alberta Energy Regulator for an incident related to a spill from the same area in 2025, but details have not been released.

In a follow-up email after the tour, Heroux says Westmoreland is working on “permanent engineering improvements” to the facility and says the company measures water quality after a spill. Heroux says conditions remained within regulatory limits following the spill in April and noted the company monitors surface water at 47 locations throughout the mine, as well as groundwater, streamflow and wetland conditions around the site.

“​​We also sample 20 additional locations upstream and downstream of the mine and exceed a number of the minimum monitoring requirements contained in its approvals,” Heroux wrote.

The tour pauses at the cavernous Pit 26, the only area of the mine that is currently active, a deep hole in the earth with a massive digger pulling loads from its lowest depths. There’s also a stop at the storage area where coal is washed prior to shipping to Japan. Further from the active areas, a short walk down a gravel road leads to a lush-looking lake that was once a mining pit — known as an end-pit lake, it’s part of a reclamation process those leading the tour seem particularly proud of and eager to highlight.

That former mining pit, now called Sterling Lake, is open to the public, accessed via a hike and stocked with fish for recreational angling. It has not yet been certified as reclaimed nor has the land officially been passed back to the province.

Love jokes he’s been sampling drinking water for years to ensure it’s clean.

Is a better coal mine … good?

Driving through the mine, Love talks about the grizzly sow, Betty, who dens nearby and passes her unique colouring from one generation of cubs to the next. Out the window, the landscape shifts from areas replanted with fir trees, to deep pits and cuts in the land. Across the valley, clearcuts dot the hillside, which those on the tour are quick to point out are the result of logging operations and not mining — another industry, a separate problem, within view. 

The impacts on the land are clear and immense. The emissions when the product is finally burned, meanwhile, are out of sight.

It’s clear the staff at Coal Valley who spoke with The Narwhal care about the work, the site and the surrounding environment. The willingness of the company to reach out is critical to understand the nuance of its operations and its failures. 

The company is eager to point to how quickly it reports and responds to spills, and explain how those spills aren’t an apocalyptic deluge of wastewater sludge. That may be true, but it’s also clear the mine struggles to contain water not meant to flow into waterways.

The information provided by the Alberta Energy Regulator through its compliance dashboard is often unclear about the impacts of coal mining incidents. There are few details linked to most infractions beyond “sediment runoff and sediment to waterbody,” or a figure on how much sediment was measured on a given month or day. 

The regulator is also sparing in the use of enforcement powers, including fines, to deter violations. Only about $1.1 million in fines has been doled out since 2013 and more than 80 per cent were for one major incident.

Following the mine tour, Heroux said the regulator’s data can be misread. 

“The [Alberta Energy Regulator] compliance dashboard records reportable events and regulatory activity, but it does not necessarily explain why an event occurred, its environmental significance, the company’s response or the outcome of the regulator’s review,” he wrote. “Please remember that those distinctions are important when evaluating the figures.”

Not far from Coal Valley, mine operator CST Coal has been fined $53,000 for spills that took place over the past three years, and for failing to quickly report those infractions to the regulator. In one instance it waited days. The context and the failure to report contributed to the penalties, according to the regulator. 

CST Coal did not respond to questions from The Narwhal.

Driving home from the tour down Highway 40, following the length of the mine site invisible over an adjacent mound, there’s a comfort in knowing that it’s still possible to talk across divides and see firsthand where assumptions fall apart, and where they do not. 

But at the end of the day, there remains a lingering question the industry might not be able to overcome: given the impacts on the land, on water and on emissions that cause air pollution and exacerbate climate change, is it enough that a coal mine is striving to be better than its peers?

Updated on Sept. 3, 2026, at 2:35 p.m. MT: This story has been updated to reflect the fact that coal-fired electricity has been phased out in Alberta, not across all of the Prairies as was implied in a previous version.

Updated on Sept. 4, 2026, at 10:05 a.m. MT: This story has been updated to correct a photo caption that misidentified a plant as a dandelion.

The Narwhal’s reporters are telling environment stories you won’t read about anywhere else. Stay in the loop by signing up for our free weekly dose of independent journalism.

Alberta has introduced new rules that will allow landowners to destroy broad categories of wetlands across the province without seeking government approval. It’s a move the province calls common sense and critics call worrying. 

“What I’m seeing is what I like to refer to as policy-based evidence making,” said Tracy Scott, who recently retired from his role as head of industry and government relations with Ducks Unlimited Canada, a wetland conservation organization.

The changes to the province’s Water Act will allow farmers to remove what are known as temporary and seasonal wetlands on private land to improve crop efficiency. Temporary wetlands are covered by water for a few weeks in spring or after a heavy rainfall, according to the government — they can be dips in the landscape where water naturally pools. Seasonal wetlands hold water for most of the growing season but dry out by the fall.

Previously, landowners had to pay for a detailed assessment of the impacts of such moves, and pay for wetland replacement costs. 

“Farmers should not have to spend thousands of dollars and wait on government approval to carry out routine work on their own land,” Grant Hunter, the minister of environment and protected areas, said in a news release. “We are restoring private property rights and getting government out of the way where it doesn’t need to be.”

That sort of language irks Kennedy Halvorson, a conservation specialist at the Alberta Wilderness Association.

“It’s a bit of deceptive messaging, kind of depicting these wetlands as if they have no value, they’re just a hindrance for our producers,” she said. 

“The reality is that these wetlands have a lot of ecological value. They’re basically the only other sort of water bodies that exist other than the rivers.”

Halvorson said there is plenty of scientific research to show wetlands help retain water in dry years, help prevent flooding, filter things like pesticides and herbicides, recharge groundwater and provide habitat. 

She says the changes put the vast majority of the remaining prairie wetlands at risk — approximately 94 per cent.

Wetland ‘benefits accrue to society’

Wetlands are among the most diverse ecosystems on the planet. They’re home to countless species of birds, bugs and animals. But rapid human development, including agriculture, has ravaged many wetlands.

Globally, experts estimate more than half the world’s wetlands are gone. In Canada, approximately 70 per cent of historic wetlands have been degraded or dried up. Three-quarters of what are known as prairie pothole wetlands have been lost to agricultural developments and some areas have lost 90 per cent of their wetland cover.

Alberta’s changes apply to a broad swath of wetlands classified as “non-permanent.”

“Whether wetlands are large or small, temporary or permanent, they all make a positive difference,” reads Alberta’s landowner guide to wetland policy. 

And they can be a nuisance for farmers trying to operate large machinery and increase crop yields.

“The changes will make it easier for farmers to cultivate, seed, spray, ditch, drain and infill on their own cropland without going through an unnecessary approval process,” the government said in a press release.

These types of wetlands cause “production inefficiencies,” Sarah Weigum, the chair of Alberta British Columbia Seed Growers Association, said in the government’s press release announcing the changes. “By managing these short-lived wet areas and reducing their impacts earlier in the season, it allows farmers to have greater efficiency in the field.” 

Scott, a farmer himself near Camrose, Alta., says working around wetlands is “not fun,” and he can understand some of the frustration for landowners. 

“The challenge here is that the benefits accrue to society, by and large,” he says. “The landowners bear the cost.”

Wetlands do provide agricultural benefits, too: they provide habitat for pollinators, nutrients for crops, pest control and contaminant filtering. They store carbon and help manage water flow during droughts and floods. Healthy wetlands absorb phosphorus and nitrogen, helping manage explosions of algal blooms.

In the past, provincial governments relied heavily on research and consultation to develop policy to protect wetlands, something Scott said this government has turned away from. 

“We do have a policy that I was heavily involved in, in 2013, that involved extensive consultation as well as review of the available science, of which there is a lot,” Scott said. 

“This change is, in my opinion, based on political favour.”

The office of the minister of Environment and Protected Areas and the office of the minister of Agriculture and Irrigation did not respond to questions from The Narwhal by publication time.

Halvorson said another element of the changes may mean wetlands that were established as part of the province’s wetland replacement program, which forced landowners or companies who wanted to destroy a wetland to pay to construct a new wetland in another location, could also now be destroyed without penalty.

“How do we ensure that those wetlands that have been funded to be restored or replaced aren’t now just also at risk of being lost or degraded?” she wonders. 

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Records from the Alberta Energy Regulator show coal mines struggle to prevent discharges of potentially harmful sediments into waterways, raising questions about impacts on water and wildlife as the Alberta government pushes to open more land to coal mining along the Rockies.

The Narwhal analyzed data from the regulator from the past three years and found there have been 42 incidents since 2023 tied to existing coal mines located in west-central Alberta, along the foothills and eastern slopes of the Rocky Mountains. All of those incidents are related to impacts on water. Many of the incidents were related to the release of sediment into nearby lakes and streams, which can be toxic for fish and other aquatic wildlife.

Of the 42 incidents, only six — 14 per cent — resulted in enforcement actions by the provincial regulator.

Going back to 2013, there have been 23 provincial enforcement actions levied against coal mines in the province, with total fines of just under $1.1 million. 

Almost all of the fines were tied to one incident, the Obed mine disaster, which dumped 670 million litres of wastewater into the Athabasca River about an hour east of Jasper, Alta. The mine’s owner was ordered to pay $925,000 in provincial fines (and $3.5 million in federal penalties), and the mine is no longer operating. 

Of the existing mines, Coal Valley, owned by Westmoreland Coal, is tied to the most incidents — 16 in total — in the past three years. The Coal Valley mine, near Hinton, Alta., produces thermal coal, used to create electricity and primarily burned in Japanese factories. But the mine’s owners say numbers alone do not tell the whole story. 

“One should consider the number of reportable events alongside their causes, environmental significance, the company’s monitoring and reporting practices, its co-operation with regulators and the corrective actions taken,” a spokesperson said in response to questions from The Narwhal. “This provides a better context for what is really happening at our mine sites.”

Coal Valley does not produce high levels of selenium

Westmoreland was the only company to respond to questions about regulatory compliance in Alberta. It also invited The Narwhal to tour the Coal Valley mine to provide more context for some of the incidents.

A significant distinction the company was eager to highlight was the fact the coal produced at its mine does not contain high levels of selenium — a claim backed up by independent environmental assessments commissioned by the company and submitted to the regulator. Selenium is a key chemical pollutant concern for most existing and potential mines along the rocky spine of the province. 

Coal mining can produce selenium, which is harmful to human and fish health if it accumulates in high quantities, as well as toxins such as arsenic, a key concern in the ongoing debate about opening new mines in the headwaters that feed rivers, lakes and streams across Alberta, Saskatchewan and into Manitoba. 

Groundwater and surface water assessments submitted to the regulator appear to show most water at Coal Valley is within guidelines for a host of contaminants, including selenium. 

Almost all of the incidents tied to Coal Valley are for exceedances of “total suspended solids” — an overabundance of debris and sediment — including one infraction in April in which the company was almost triple the allowable limit. 

The company said it was hit with heavy snow-melt that overwhelmed its systems. It also said it conducts extensive testing to evaluate potential effects and that those results “remained within applicable regulatory parameters following the event.”

The regulator, in response to questions from The Narwhal, says it will conduct its own testing “when required for enforcement activities.”

Climate change could exacerbate run-off and have significant impacts: retired government scientists

The Alberta government has waffled on its coal policy since first reopening Alberta’s Rocky Mountains to coal mining in 2020, prompting immense public backlash. It has since reinstated the earlier ban, but not before some exploration projects were approved, then it suspended those approvals and finally rescinded those suspensions to allow them to go forward as it prepares a new coal policy — anticipated this fall. A committee sought input from Albertans on a new policy in 2021.

As part of that process, some experts rang alarm bells related to heavy snow-melt akin to that experienced at Coal Valley.

Weather events overwhelming mine infrastructure is something a group of retired provincial government scientists warned about in a submission to Alberta’s coal committee.

“High snowfall run-off and major rainfall events have happened on a regular basis, often causing flows that were well above the levels that regulatory agencies and companies anticipated, included in modelling and for which infrastructure was designed and built,” wrote the five scientists. “This will be exacerbated by climate change making historic rainfall, snowfall and streamflow data increasingly out of date for planning and engineering purposes.”

Those same scientists warn that sediment and the chemicals used to treat waste “can be toxic to fish.” Sediment-laden waterbodies can also impact fish spawning and rearing, as well as aquatic insect production — food for fish. 

Katie Morrison, the executive director of the Canadian Parks and Wilderness Society in southern Alberta, says there’s a lot of focus on selenium because it has such a big impact and because no mine has ever successfully prevented it from entering waterbodies. 

“I don’t think there’s too much focus on selenium, but I do think the fact that there are many other contaminants that are released is sort of lost in that conversation a little bit,” she says. 

Westmoreland says it “conducts approximately 8,000 surface-water sampling events” each year at 47 different locations around the sprawling mine, as well as groundwater, wetland and biological health monitoring. 

“We also sample 20 additional locations upstream and downstream of the mine and exceed a number of the minimum monitoring requirements contained in approvals,” the company wrote after a tour of the mine site.

Coal Valley is not alone in releasing sediment into Alberta waterways. 

‘Enforcement action may not be required’

In 2023, CST Canada Coal Ltd., which operates the Grande Cache coal mine, released wastewater into the Smoky River for 17 hours and was ultimately fined $10,000 by the provincial regulator for the release and for failure to report it for more than seven hours. 

Again, the issue was total suspended solids, but the regulator makes it clear in its report about the incident that it’s not just a question of murky water. 

The run-off can release harmful chemicals even as it settles, and fine sediment can harm fish through gill abrasion and behavioural changes.

CST was also fined $23,000 in 2024 for dumping mine wastewater into the Smoky River after a sensor malfunctioned when a pond overflowed. The company did not report the incident for five days. 

The same company was fined $20,000 by the regulator in July for another incident in 2024, which dumped at least 1 million kilograms of sediment into Sheep Creek, although the exact quantity is not known. The total suspended solids were 1,920 times the regulatory limit on the day of the release. According to the regulator, the company didn’t report the incident for more than 22 hours and when it did, it withheld important details. 

The causes of the spill included high rainfall and “known drainage problems” at the mine. 

An inspection by the regulator showed “elevated levels of metals and polycyclic aromatic hydrocarbons” with potential risks to bull trout spawning habitat, although that risk was listed as “unlikely.” 

The Alberta Energy Regulator, in response to questions emailed by The Narwhal, said it takes into account several factors when determining whether to fine a coal company for violations. 

“If the operator is compliant and responsive in early stages to mitigate and address incidents, further action may not be required,” wrote an unnamed spokesperson. “Also, if there is no emergency phase and little or no impact to waterbodies or wildlife, enforcement action may not be required.”

The regulator will issue orders to companies to fix an existing issue or try to mitigate impacts, issue warning letters to force compliance or, as in one case involving the Obed mine disaster, prosecute a company in court. 

“The tools we use depend on the significance of the noncompliance,” the spokesperson wrote. “We keep a record of every company’s compliance and enforcement history. If a company purposely (or repeatedly) fails to follow the rules, our enforcement actions will escalate, and the consequences will become more severe.”

Morrison says it’s not about simply punishing companies for non-compliance. 

“I don’t think we’re saying, ‘Hey, we need to immediately close down the operating mines,’ but we do need to still hold those operating mines to standards,” she says, adding there also has to be a clear path from an incident to enforcement. 

“But I think more than that, we don’t want to just penalize companies for infractions, we want to prevent those things in the first place.”

The chemistry of coal

James C. Hower has been studying coal for more than 50 years and is a research professor at the University of Kentucky. He says there’s a lot to consider when assessing the impact of coal mining on the environment, including the type and grade of coal, as well as individual companies and the regulations in place. 

“We’ve got plenty of examples in the Appalachians of people who have mining companies that, in general, are good operators and seem to be doing things the right way, and then something goes wrong,” he says. 

He cites flooding as a major risk to a well-ordered mine operation. And while he doesn’t study Alberta in particular, he says concerns over water quality are legitimate, particularly for ranchers in the south of the province, where new mines are being proposed. 

A key factor, he says, is ensuring contamination does not get out of control so that reclamation is possible.

“If it’s done wrong in the first place and things get out of hand, you got a big problem,” Hower says.

Land-use planning is supposed to precede new coal policy: conservation advocate

The province is expected to unveil its new coal policy this fall, outlining new rules for where and when a new coal mine can operate. The policy is the outcome of years of on-again off-again restrictions on coal mining in the Rockies, particularly in sensitive areas to the south. 

The policy follows public consultations by a government commission that made numerous recommendations including the need for robust land-use planning, which considers cumulative impacts from other industries and users, ahead of any coal policy that could allow new mines to operate. 

“That hasn’t happened,” Morrison says. “So they are already going ahead with a coal policy without that land-use planning.”

She says the risks to the landscape, the environment and even to coal companies, is too great to allow new mines in the province. 

“It also doesn’t make sense from a company side to say to companies, ‘Yes, you can come and pitch a project here,’ knowing that it’s actually not going to be compatible down the road if our regulatory system was working as it should be.”

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Alberta can issue grid alerts when electricity demand threatens to outstrip supply — i.e. there’s risk of a blackout. This can happen for a number of reasons. 

A warming planet, with warmer summer months, can have you reaching for the AC remote. Our phones need charging and fridges need to stay plugged in. Add to the grid the data centres Alberta wants to build so we can ask our AI agent of choice to respond to our emails. The list goes on and on. 

And as much as the province would like to say it’s because of renewable energy projects, the data tells a different story. Prairies reporter Drew Anderson breaks it down in our latest video.

Want to make sure you don’t miss our latest work? Subscribe to our channel on YouTube and follow us on TikTok.

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Editor’s note: After The Narwhal published a piece about Alberta wildland firefighters forming a peer-support network, we received an email from Matthew Brackenreed. “I’ve been meaning to send this out for a while now — the recent article gave me the courage,” Matthew wrote. Below is what he shared with us.

I spent nearly two decades serving as an Alberta wildland firefighter, responding to some of the most challenging and dangerous situations our province faces.

I am writing because I believe there is an important conversation that needs to happen about occupational post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), cumulative trauma and the realities many firefighters and first responders face after their careers are affected by psychological injuries.

For years, I did what many firefighters do. I showed up for work, responded to emergencies and pushed through difficult experiences without fully understanding the impact they were having on me. Like many in emergency services, I believed I could handle it. Looking back, I now realize that the effects of repeated exposure to trauma were building for years.

Yet despite responding to emergencies and protecting communities from wildfire, provincial wildland firefighters do not receive all of the same legal recognition and presumptive protections afforded to some other first responders in Alberta. It is a distinction I never expected would become so important to me until I became injured myself.

While wildland firefighters can still have occupational psychological injury claims accepted, we do not fall under the same statutory definition of “first responder” used to provide certain presumptive workers’ compensation protections to municipal firefighters, police officers and paramedics. For someone already struggling with the effects of a psychological injury, that distinction can add another layer of difficulty to an already challenging process.

Today, I live with severe PTSD resulting from prolonged exposure to traumatic events throughout my career fighting fires.

PTSD is often associated with a single catastrophic event, but that is not always how it develops. For many firefighters and first responders, trauma can accumulate over years of service. The effects may remain hidden for a long time before eventually becoming overwhelming.

The injury is often invisible to others.

People may see someone who looks physically healthy while not realizing they are struggling with anxiety, panic, nightmares, hypervigilance, memory difficulties, emotional exhaustion and significant disruptions to daily life. Relationships, careers, finances and personal identity can all be affected.

One of the challenges I have encountered is that many systems were originally designed around physical injuries or isolated incidents. Occupational PTSD, especially when caused by years of cumulative exposure, does not always fit neatly into those models.

My concern extends beyond my own situation.

I worry about the many firefighters, first responders and workers who may be experiencing similar struggles but are hesitant to come forward. The culture of emergency services often encourages resilience and perseverance, which are important qualities, but those same qualities can sometimes cause people to delay seeking help until their symptoms become severe.

By the time many firefighters finally ask for support, they may already be facing significant challenges in their personal and professional lives.

I am grateful for the health care professionals, family members and supporters who have helped me through this journey. Their support has been essential. At the same time, my experience has shown me how important it is that we continue improving awareness, education and support for occupational PTSD.

As wildfire seasons grow longer and more demanding, the mental health impacts on those who respond to these emergencies deserve greater attention. Protecting communities is vital, but we must also ensure that the people who dedicate their lives to that work are not forgotten when they are injured.

I am sharing my story because I believe occupational PTSD deserves greater public understanding and because I hope it encourages meaningful discussion about how we support those who serve in high-trauma professions.

What is almost as devastating as the injury itself is the lack of meaningful support available once a worker’s life begins to fall apart. On paper, there are programs and systems meant to help, but in reality I have found myself and my family trapped in a maze of delays, bureaucracy and uncertainty while my health has continued to decline. 

We have spent countless hours fighting for answers, advocating for basic needs and trying to navigate a system that often feels more focused on process than people. When someone is suffering from a psychological workplace injury, they shouldn’t have to fight another battle just to access support. No family should be left feeling isolated, exhausted and without a clear path forward while trying to survive the consequences of an injury sustained in service to their community.

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The price tag to clean up orphan oil and gas wells in Alberta increased by nearly 50 per cent since last year, bringing the estimated total to $1.66 billion, according to the latest annual report from the Orphan Well Association.

The report, released last month, attributes the increase to an “influx” of orphan wells from a company called Long Run Exploration Ltd. The price tag to clean up the thousands of orphan sites left behind by the company is estimated by the association to be $500 million.

“A surge in inventory is not new for the [Orphan Well Association]. … These struggling companies are on our radar for a long time,” the annual report reads. 

“We know the assets will eventually come our way, and plan in advance with the [Alberta Energy Regulator] to ensure we are ready to tackle the challenge.”

Alberta’s Orphan Well Association is a not-for-profit organization launched in 2002 that acts as a backstop when delinquent oil and gas companies leave behind inactive wells that need to be cleaned up. It was designed to be funded by industry in the form of an annual levy, but has received government grants in the past and gets an annual interest-free loan from taxpayers. 

In response to questions from The Narwhal, Lars De Pauw, the president of the Orphan Well Association, said by email, “The pace of closure will depend on future orphan levies which have not yet been determined.”

All companies pay into an orphan well fund, to make a pool of money available for when companies go bankrupt, or otherwise walk away from their liabilities. Last year, the orphan well levy added up to $144.45 million. This year, after a seven per cent increase set by the Alberta Energy Regulator, it increased to $154.6 million.

Last year, the association safely sealed 721 wells, according to the annual report, and received reclamation certificates for another 850. The report says this is the equivalent of “over 15 square kilometres of land returned to Albertans, an area equivalent to 2,100 [Canadian Football League] football fields (including end zones!).”

That’s not enough to make up for the decades-long backlog of orphan wells, according to public interest lawyer Drew Yewchuk.

“The bottom line is that Alberta’s orphan problem continues to grow,” Yewchuk wrote in a University of Calgary Public Interest Law Clinic blog post about the latest annual report. “All signs point to an orphan well problem that will become too big to solve so that a large share of the costs will be socialized, with taxpayers left to pay the bill for closure work.”

Yewchuk cautions the amount taxpayers could be on the hook remains to be seen. “This is not an all or nothing question of whether costs are passed to the public. Both the federal and provincial governments have already paid some costs for the closure of oil sites, but the amounts are small compared to the total cost,” he told The Narwhal by email. “The thing to watch is how much of the cost gets passed to the public.” 

Alberta’s orphan well problem grows year after year

According to the Government of Alberta, there are an estimated 466,000 oil and gas wells in the province. More than half of those are no longer producing, some of which have been properly plugged, while others are in a state of temporary suspension. And some are orphans: a well that no longer has a legal or financial owner. 

The most common cause is an insolvent or bankrupt oil and gas company that has left behind a long list of wells that were never properly decommissioned or cleaned up. Those wells, pipelines or other related facilities then become “orphans.” 

But they still need to be properly plugged and reclaimed, according to provincial rules. That falls to the Orphan Well Association.

The association’s inventory currently lists 7,382 wells that need to be decommissioned — as in, safely sealed — and 9,148 sites that need to be reclaimed, which means restored to what’s known as “equivalent land capability” to get back to the ecological, agricultural or other pre-drilling state of the land.

These numbers have increased substantially. As of the end of March, the Orphan Well Association reported its inventory included 4,200 orphan wells that needed to be safely sealed and more than 8,000 sites that needed to be reclaimed.

For comparison, in 2013, the Orphan Well Association had just 387 orphans in its inventory of sites that needed to be reclaimed.

The total price tag to clean up wells the association is responsible for has also increased. According to Yewchuk’s analysis, “the total amount owed has increased for five of the last six years and has more than doubled from 2021 to July 2026.”

Thousand of wells were orphaned in April

The thousands of new wells from Long Run Exploration Ltd. that landed on the Orphan Well Association’s books this spring ended up as orphans after a 2024 deal with a Chinese company fell through. That deal would have seen all of Long Run’s shares purchased for $22 million.

In April, the Alberta Energy Regulator announced the company’s wells were officially orphans. That meant 4,031 wells, 383 facilities and 2,121 pipeline segments previously owned by Long Run Exploration Ltd. were transferred to the Orphan Well Association. 

The association reported updated numbers after verifying the status of each site: 2,980 wells and associated facilities and pipelines need to be decommissioned and 938 sites have already been sealed.

The association’s annual report is optimistic the sites do not pose any extraordinary risks.

“Given the nature of the Long Run assets, we do not foresee any of the sites posing a high risk to public safety or the environment,” it said in its annual report.

De Pauw, the president of the Orphan Well Association, said by email, “We have incorporated the Long Run wells into our overall program. We don’t see them any differently as other orphan assets and will continue to prioritize sites based on risk and those on private land while ensuring efficient operations. ” 

Cleaning up one orphan well involved demolishing homes

According to the association, the average cost to safely seal each well is $28,800 and the average cost to reclaim the site is $27,000, though actual costs can vary widely depending on the complexity of the cleanup. 

In its annual report, the association cites an example in Bonnyville, Alta., where a 1950s-era orphan well was found to be leaking methane into a home. Two houses and a duplex were purchased and demolished, and the well was safely sealed — a complicated and expensive endeavour. “The homeowners were disappointed, of course,” Cliff Pybus, land and stakeholder coordinator at the Orphan Well Association, said in the annual report. “But also relieved that the [association] was taking charge and fixing the situation.”

In theory, the levies collected from industry should be enough money to fund orphan well cleanup in the province. But as clean-up bills have ballooned, the auditor general and other critics have warned this may not be the reality.

“In recent years, levy revenues have not been enough to keep pace with the increasing number of orphan sites being transferred to the [Orphan Well Association],” the auditor general wrote in 2023. Back then, the total price tag of cleaning up orphan wells was a little more than half what it is today.

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Assar Grinde is the kind of man whose calm is infectious, even as he rattles off an encyclopedic knowledge of facts about drought, water and the impacts of fracking on the region he calls home. A cattle rancher by trade who studied geology at the University of Alberta, you get the sense he’d rather be tending his herd than fighting with regulators and oil and gas companies.

But on a Sunday in early July after a morning on the ranch, he sits in the back of his friend Daniel Iseli-Otto’s truck, sporting a sweater knit by Iseli-Otto’s mom, and talks about the reasons he can’t just walk away.

It started three years ago when Lloyd Creek — a tributary of the Blindman River, which runs through the land Grinde’s family has ranched for generations — dried up. It was something he’d never seen before and he says the oil and gas companies were still pulling water from the river.

“We wanted to make sure that the river didn’t dry up because we thought that was crazy,” Grinde says.

He and Iseli-Otto helped found the Blindman River Watershed Society and dove into the labyrinth of data used by the Alberta Energy Regulator and the equally bewildering bureaucratic divisions of the provincial government.

It’s a funny time to be talking about the stress on the Blindman River watershed and the concerns he and Iseli-Otto have when it comes to the vast quantities of fresh water being used by oil and gas companies for hydraulic fracturing, or fracking.

The fields around Rimbey, Alta., about 200 kilometres north of Calgary, are saturated in surreal hues of green, stark against the grey skies of an abnormally wet July that has brought much-needed rain.

It’s a far cry from the drought-like conditions of May and June, conditions that have become all too common in a region suffering through a decade-long dry spell.

But the sudden rush of water isn’t enough to quell the concerns of area ranchers and residents who watched that creek run dry and their drinking wells drop. They say the rain isn’t enough to make up for how much has been lost from the aquifers — the deep underground natural reservoirs that feed those wells.

And then there’s the issue of oil and gas companies using billions of litres of water to crack open the earth beneath those green fields and exploit one of the hottest gas fields going, the Duvernay. They take surface water when there isn’t any to spare, and a fleeting moment of plenty might only make it worse, according to landowners who met with The Narwhal.

Grinde says promises were made by those companies, but rarely kept.

“ ‘We’re going to be taking the water at high flows when there’s too much of it, and we’ll store it and then use it when we need it.’ That was the industry’s sales pitch,” he says, driving through the region southwest of Edmonton along with Iseli-Otto. “But then we’ve been in a drought eight of the last 10 years, and they are still pulling water down.”

Dana Kreil, the chair of the nearby Medicine River Watershed Society, and a councillor for Lacombe County, says there’s no trust in the province to monitor the water and to intervene. Her society has bought its own monitoring equipment and is pressuring the government for solutions.

“You can’t fool the locals,” she says, making it clear she’s speaking for the watershed society and not the county. “There are people telling me the top of their runners wouldn’t get wet in that river. So you can’t tell me that those are acceptable levels for pumping from there.”

‘You only get conflict when there’s scarcity’

The Blindman River, as well as the Medicine, aren’t among the great waterways of the world. With enough momentum, it wouldn’t be hard to leap from one bank to the other. They are slow and meandering, but they are critical to ranchers and farmers.

They are also tenuous.

Neither river is fed by the mountain glaciers to the west. They rely instead on spring runoff and underground aquifers to keep water flowing. This year’s early-summer drenching is an indication of the feast and famine cycles expected to be the norm as the climate shifts — droughts with sudden onslaughts of rain. Grinde says his ranch received almost as much rain in June as it did the entire year previous.

For decades, fracking companies here have been injecting water deep into the ground to break up rock holding gaseous wealth in tight crevasses. That water, vast quantities of it, is almost entirely permanently lost to the water cycle as it remains trapped in the reservoirs that previously held gas. The practice was largely accepted by area landowners, but then water became scarce and drilling activity increased.

“We haven’t had to care about fresh water because we never had this issue before,” Grinde says. “You only get conflict when there’s scarcity, and you have that imbalance between supply and demand, and that’s really what’s happened in the last few years.”

Once Grinde and others started paying attention, they discovered a system of what they say is weak oversight, weak data and regulatory capitulation.

Water use is overseen by both Alberta’s Environment Ministry and the energy regulator — depending on who’s using the resource — and Grinde says it leads to a lot of plausible deniability. Water monitoring in the area is based on a federal government sensor 50 kilometres away in Blackfalds, Alta., but Grinde says it doesn’t actually measure the flow of the river, just the water pressure. Even if it did, Grinde thinks the minimum flows established by the province to determine when a company can pull river water for fracking are too low.

The Alberta Energy Regulator did not answer a question about the monitoring situation on Blindman River, but said monitoring is used to inform when a company can divert water. It noted that monitoring can be seen on the Alberta Rivers site.

The regulator says companies are responsible for measuring flow if there is no station nearby.

“So then that kind of led us down this path of trying to figure out: ‘Do you guys have rules around it?’ ” asked Grinde.

For some in the area, the answer is more uncertain than they’re comfortable with.

Company wants to pull billions of litres from critical freshwater aquifer

In March, Spartan Delta, a fracking company operating in the area, applied for a water licence to pump a maximum of 475 million litres of water per year — about 2.4 million bathtubs’ worth — from the Paskapoo Formation, a vast underground freshwater reservoir that stretches south past Calgary and north past the Athabasca River near Fox Creek.

That raised red flags for those in the region already worried about a strained system.

Grinde wants the government to prevent oil and gas companies from accessing shallow fresh groundwater for fracking, implementing a ban now so that it doesn’t have to draft new rules in the midst of a full-blown crisis.

“Right now [the companies] say, ‘Well, we don’t have any more surface water available to get licensed, we’re just going to start drilling shallow groundwater wells,’ which is really concerning because we don’t know enough about the groundwater, and it’s so vital to everybody who’s living here,” he says.

Tens of thousands of wells tap into the aquifer for drinking water, as do towns across Alberta. According to a report by the federal government, the Paskapoo “supports more groundwater wells than any other aquifer system in the Canadian Prairies,” making it “the most significant supply of groundwater” in the whole region.

That same federal report — published almost 20 years ago — also cautioned the aquifer is slow to recharge and the amount of water that can be pulled from the aquifer might be limited and may have already been exceeded in 2008.

Spartan Delta already pumps water from the Medicine River, with hoses stretching along ditches and culverts throughout the region pulling water into massive reservoirs. It also uses recycled water from its operations, but that only accounts for approximately 10 per cent of its use.

In 2024, the latest year of data from the Alberta Energy Regulator, Spartan Delta used approximately 171 million litres of fresh water for fracking. Its latest application shows the company estimates it will need much more than this, around 1.5 billion litres per year for the next 10 years.

The company did not answer emailed questions but sent a statement instead, saying it is focused on “responsible, sustainable development of oil and gas.”

Spartan Delta said it adheres to all rules and regulations set out by the regulator, Alberta’s Environment Ministry and local bylaws.

“All of our water use is determined by Alberta Environment,” reads a portion of its statement. “The company receives temporary diversion approvals, term licences and has undergone several audits to validate we are in compliance with all of the terms of the water approvals. All resident concerns are evaluated by the appropriate regulating body of our activities during the approval process.”

The regulator also did not directly answer questions emailed by The Narwhal, but did provide information on water use. An unidentified spokesperson said the regulator reviews all water licence applications and considers risks to individuals and the environment. The spokesperson added there are restrictions on water use if levels drop below prescribed thresholds and that restrictions can also be implemented in response to “landowner concerns.”

Analysis on aquifers is conducted by hydrogeology experts, the email said.

Though landowners are concerned about Spartan Delta’s water use, the company is a small player compared to others.

Parallax Energy Operations used almost one billion litres in 2024, while Canadian Natural Resources Ltd., one of the largest oil and gas companies in Canada, used 2.9 billion litres of fresh water for operations across the province. Overall, fracking consumed 20 billion litres of fresh water in 2024, up sharply from the seven billion litres consumed in 2013.

Grinde’s goal is to prove to the province and the regulator that the aquifer is dropping, realizing that officials could just turn around and say, well, it’s a drought.

“But even if it is a drought, the volume of water that the companies are using for fracking is accelerating that,” he says. “It could be that if there’s only a certain amount of water, you have to justify the use for certain things, right? So maybe you have to talk about hierarchy of use.”

Time and again, Grinde, Kreil and Iseli-Otto talk about the amount of work required to collect information, to get in touch with provincial officials, to make someone listen. Without decades of data, the response from officials and companies is: prove it.

“It’s the province’s job,” Kreil says. “It’s not the watershed society’s job. We’re volunteers.”

The provincial government did not respond to questions emailed by The Narwhal.

Alberta ranchers say their bison herd collapsed when a fracking company moved in

It’s easy to look out across the fields and patches of trees and imagine the landscape in central Alberta is largely unchanged, but Iseli-Otto, who works as a carpenter and has lived here his whole life, looks out his truck window and remembers bush where fields now stretch — a child’s wilderness transformed into cropland. It’s a reminder of how quickly things can change. How the immutable becomes a memory.

The change can be slow, or it can come on in a relative blink.

Tucked into a secluded corner of the countryside, is the home of Butch and Nicole Smith, two bison ranchers who have lived and worked in the area for decades, with the dream — shared by one of their daughters — of passing their ranch to the next generation.

Inside the home, a stuffed cougar looks down from its final perch above the kitchen, and the walls are covered in framed rodeo photos showing the victories of the family’s horses. Tail Light was the “team roping heading horse of the year.” Hickory, the “2011 pole bending horse of the year.” Their daughters have won an astonishing number of championship rodeo belts and saddles, all of which are on display.

A hint of the Smiths’ directness, and their frustration, comes in the form of a small sign by the kitchen table: “What (and I can’t stress this enough) the f*ck,” it reads.

Over bison burgers and sausages, the Smiths talk about how Spartan Delta cleared the land across from their feedlot and built two massive reservoirs two years ago to store the vast quantities of water the company pumps. They talk about how construction and pumping for the reservoirs, which bisect a wetland, led to startling changes in their bison herd.

“We started seeing the wildest behaviour from them,” Nicole says. “They’re very habitual animals.”

The herd was refusing to move to the areas they usually feed, and there was a sudden drop in their herd.

Nicole says they had 240 pregnant cows in the fall of 2024, but only 194 live births.

“We had many dead calves, aborted calves and calves that starved as stressed mothers produce not enough milk,” she says.

The Smiths blame the stress of the industrial activity and the disruption to stubborn routines.

The Smiths, however, aren’t the types to sit back and watch. They say they’ve spoken with their MLA, Jason Nixon, with the premier, with two environment ministers — Rebecca Schulz and RJ Sigurdson — and Energy Minister Brian Jean. They are working with Ecojustice, an environmental legal outfit, and were invited by the Alberta NDP to sit in the legislature last spring after speaking with MLA Nagwan Al-Guneid.

Now, after two years of fighting, they’re losing faith and plan to move.

“Neither one of us is a — how do I say it — a sitter arounder. I’m not gonna sit here and be miserable. I can’t even walk anymore because both ways just reminds you of all of it,” Nicole says.

“I’m raging when I hit the end of my driveway — every single time.”

‘There’s very little oversight right now’

Tensions are high in the region where fracking butts up against homes and ranches. In early July, a rumour spread that some of the hoses that pump water from ponds and rivers were shot at, but the Alberta RCMP said there were no reports of an incident on that day. Perhaps most telling was that none of the people who spoke with The Narwhal seemed surprised, although no one supported the idea and warned of the danger of puncturing the high-pressure lines.

There is a real sense that landowners have been abandoned in favour of oil and gas.

Kreil, whose society includes representatives from eight municipalities, including Red Deer, Lacombe County and Sylvan Lake, said the group recently met with the minister of Environment and Protected Areas and the CEO of the Alberta Energy Regulator to talk about the stress on the watershed. In its presentation, the society noted more than half of all fresh water in their watershed is allocated for oil and gas. Temporary water licences are almost entirely for fracking.

She says the minister told them to write a resolution calling for policy changes through the Rural Municipalities of Alberta — an organization which represents towns and districts across the province.

“I think he felt that he had dealt with us enough to say: ‘Write a resolution,’ ” she says.

Kreil stresses she’s not opposed to oil and gas, or to fracking in particular, but there has to be a balance.

“When we went to the minister, we said we want some solutions,” she says. “We’re not just coming here to bellyache and complain.”

Her organization wants to see more wastewater treated and reused, including municipal wastewater, to reduce or eliminate fresh water use. It wants better data on the state of the watersheds and a better understanding of drought and its impacts. And it wants new regulations governing use by agriculture, oil and gas and municipalities.

But those critical of the way fracking companies are operating all point their finger at the regulator when asked what the biggest problem is. The rules are weak and out of touch, responsibility is passed on and there’s no enforcement, they say.

“The problem with the Alberta Energy Regulator is there’s very little oversight right now,” Kreil says.

Iseli-Otto says he tried alerting a contact at the regulator about companies pumping from the Blindman River in May when the water levels were worryingly low, but nothing came of it.

Two days later, he was driving home and the pumps were running.

“So I texted him and I said, ‘Hey man, pumps are running, what’s going on? Why is this happening?,’ ” he says. In screenshots of the text messages shared with The Narwhal, Iseli-Otto then asks if someone from the regulator had checked to see if the pumps had stopped.

“That’s the point at which I got the automated text message saying this number is not monitored.”

Alberta pushes to double production, build pipelines

The regulator is an arms-length government body, but that doesn’t mean it’s entirely independent. The government sets the overall policy direction for the regulator to follow, for example, and the government appoints the regulator’s board of directors.

Recently, it appointed David Yager to the board, a long-time friend of Premier Danielle Smith who also acts as one of her special advisors, and tasked him with overseeing a revamp of the organization.

There have also been revelations of direct intervention from the provincial government into regulatory decisions.

And the direction from the government is clear: it wants to double oil and gas production and it’s willing to incentivize companies to do so, even as it helps finance a new pipeline to the West Coast.

With the push for more production and without more stringent rules on water use, the problems in the area are likely to continue, or increase.

“We’ve had companies tell us ‘We’re not doing anything differently until the government tells us to,’ because it’s a competitive industry,” Grinde says.

“We said to the minister, as long as this is free, they will never change,” Kreil adds.

But in the end, something has to give, she says.

“You can’t be running the people out of water for oil.”

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“What are you going to do about wildland firefighter mental health?”

The question came to Jim Johansson — a former wildland firefighter and assistant professor in the faculty of nursing at the University of Alberta — from a student in December 2023. Canada had just experienced its deadliest wildfire season on record.

Eight wildland firefighting personnel died in 2023 in Western Canada and the Northwest Territories, prompting scrutiny of the profession’s hidden costs: chronic fatigue, physical and mental burnout and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Now, the 2026 fire season has made one thing unmistakingly clear: the psychological toll of wildland firefighting in North America has reached new levels. In June, two wildland firefighters and a bush pilot died in a plane crash near Fort Simpson, N.W.T. Several days later, three firefighters were fatally burnt while working on a wildfire along the Utah-Colorado border, while a fourth died on July 24 from injuries he sustained. 

Kylie Foisy, the nursing student who sent the email about mental health to Johansson back in 2023, had just wrapped up her rookie season as an initial attack crew member in northwestern Alberta. Initial attack crews are the first on the scene of new blazes, tasked with quickly extinguishing them. On her second day on the job in May 2023, Foisy’s crew was dispatched to a 5,000-hectare wildfire. “It was so crazy,” she says. “But so fun.”

She loved the intensity of the work and the strong bonds she developed with her crew, but the summer unfolded with more sobering events, including a fatal helicopter crash in her district. For Foisy’s crew it was “business as usual” the next day, she says. For the duration of the season she felt the impacts wearing on her mental well-being, and could see others were also struggling.

For Johansson, Foisy’s email was a call to action. And it was the very start of what is now Canada’s first wildland firefighter peer-support network. Johansson has assembled a team of veteran wildland firefighters, occupational health therapists, psychologists and climate specialists to co-create and launch a new peer-support network in Alberta “by wildland firefighters, for wildland firefighters” — the first of its kind in Canada.

Johansson hopes to apply what he’s learned over the past decade as a mental health nurse to bolster support for those on the frontlines of wildfire. A year after Foisy’s email landed in his inbox, he hired her as a research assistant. Together, they’re undertaking a qualitative research project to examine the mental health challenges related to wildland firefighting and climate change in Alberta.Already, they’ve heard stories from those who have experienced or witnessed crew members escape near-death scenarios, including close calls with fallen trees or vehicle collisions. Others were impacted by fatal tragedies, like in August 2024, when 24-year-old firefighter Morgan Kitchen was killed by a fallen tree while working on the Jasper wildfire. Last week, as the two-year anniversary of Kitchen’s death approached, six workplace safety charges were laid against Alberta’s Ministry of Forestry and Parks in relation to it, for failing to take measures to assess and control hazards related to dangerous trees — along with failing to adequately train firefighters to identify hazardous trees. The first court appearance is scheduled for this September, in Jasper.

Wildfire fighters lack the supports of municipal firefighters

Despite working on the frontlines of some of Canada’s most intense climate-related disasters, most wildland firefighters are classified as forestry workers — not first responders — under Canada’s national occupational classification system. They also often lack the wages, pensions and benefits afforded to municipal firefighters. 

Johansson was all too familiar with the working conditions on the frontlines of wildfires. He had worked as an initial attack firefighter in Alberta from 2001 to 2009, then taught up-and-coming crew members and leaders at the Hinton Training Centre until 2013. Johansson led an initial attack crew from 2005 to 2009, working 12- to 16-hour days over three-week shifts, hauling hose through muskeg and pumping water from swamps to extinguish wildfires.

Despite the low pay, the camaraderie and joy of spending days in the bush “got into his blood,” Johansson says. “There’s a culture of wildland firefighting that I felt so happy in, and that didn’t really exist anywhere else,” he says.

Yet, there were psychological hazards, too. In 2007, a helicopter carrying an initial attack crew crashed near Fort McMurray, killing 22-year-old Patrick Dominic Watters-Michaud. After the news arrived, Johansson had to “jump in a helicopter and go day-base that day,” he says. Day-basing involves relocating crews to high-risk wildfire areas to increase their chances of extinguishing the fires when they’re still small. The next day, wildland firefighters informally banded together, lowering the flags at bases across the province, “mourning the loss of one of our people,” Johansson recalls.

Alberta Wildfire managers raised the flags, citing that the firefighter did not meet the criteria of their flag-lowering policy. The policy changed in 2008 after crew leaders filed formal complaints. Alberta Wildfire did not respond to questions from The Narwhal about this incident or any other questions.

The incident opened Johansson’s eyes to the “legitimate danger” of wildland firefighting, and he became increasingly anxious to fly on helicopter patrols — a routine part of firefighting work where crew members survey the landscape for new ignitions. But it also shone a light on what he says is the government’s ongoing failure to provide safe, culturally relevant mental health support to wildland firefighters.

Johansson became increasingly vocal as a leader, advocating for the safety and well-being of his crew. He would eventually be “DNRed” by the Edson district — a term referring to Alberta Wildfire’s “Do Not Rehire” policy. Alberta Wildfire does not grant seasonal firefighters automatic recall rights from one season to the next, unlike other Canadian provinces like B.C. Alberta Wildfire did not respond to questions about whether this policy exists or how it’s applied.

After leaving wildfire, it felt like Johansson was “starting all over again,” he says. He decided to pursue higher education in nursing, specializing in mental health. 

Johansson doesn’t want his research limited to publishing papers.

“When I put my nursing lens on firefighting, I’m always looking for strengths and how we can mobilize those to help people. In wildfire, that strength is the people,” Johansson says. “That’s what keeps firefighters coming back every season.”

Climate change and gaps in mental health support put Alberta’s wildland firefighters at risk

For his research, Johansson interviewed 17 former and current wildland firefighters in Alberta. He shared preliminary results with The Narwhal.

Early data from Johansson’s qualitative research has raised some red flags. The majority of wildland firefighters Johansson spoke to agreed the 2023 fire season was a “turning point” in their careers. Crews spent a higher number of days actively fighting fires in increasingly risky and volatile environments. It’s “non-stop all season long,” and there’s fatigue and additional safety issues that come with that, researchers found.

Initial attack and unit crew leaders also spoke to Johansson about mental health challenges related to high turnover of crew members. “In the past, most crews would only have a small number of rookies each year,” Johansson says. An Alberta Wildfire document, leaked to The Narwhal, analyzes the results of a wildfire crew exit survey in 2023, and indicates that “60 per cent of all firefighters were either brand new, or entering their second year.” 

Alberta Wildfire did not respond to any questions about the findings of Johannson’s research.

Johansson’s research found leaders were worried about dividing their attention between managing large-scale wildfires, and simultaneously supervising a higher number of rookies less familiar with volatile fire behaviour and danger trees, whose unstable roots and surrounding soil could result in suddenly toppling over. In addition, some reported that third-year firefighters were being pushed prematurely into leadership roles, he says.

There are broader labour issues in Alberta too, including that wildland firefighters lack paid sick days and health benefits. There are some limited mental health services available — including a counselling hotline — but interviewees expressed hesitation, or lack of trust about confidentiality when using the services for fear they might not be hired back the following spring, Johansson says.

Wildland firefighters are left to fend for themselves in the off-season — when they often need supports the most

Johansson often compares the dynamics of wildland firefighting to that of soldiers returning from combat. “[Wildland firefighters] exist in these really high-intensity situations. They have a tight-knit peer support network that keeps them safe mentally,” he says.

But when the wildfire season ends in the fall and seasonal firefighters’ contracts are terminated, they suddenly lose that support network.

For Jessica Broder, a former wildland firefighter with the BC Wildfire Service, when she left her crew to spend the winters in other communities she lost her “sounding board for processing.” She also points to the reality of wildland firefighters relying on substances to cope through the off-season. A study of U.S. wildland firefighters found that nearly four in five respondents reported binge drinking before and after the fire season.

Broder worked on a unit crew in Revelstoke, B.C., in 2023, the summer her colleague Devyn Gale was killed by a fallen tree. The accident felt all too relatable, Broder says. She herself had narrowly avoided falling trees and knew others had experienced similar close calls. 

After Gale’s accident, she and her crew participated in critical incident stress management debriefs, and had access to a clinical counsellor with a history in wildland firefighting.

Broder and her crew accrued approximately 100 fireline days in the 2023 season (a unit crew would be happy if they got 60 days, according to Broder). While initial attack crews respond to wildfires with the goal of quickly extinguishing them, unit crews are 20-person crews that specialize in “sustained action,” or longer-term firefighting efforts on mega-fires. In September, her crew was deployed to northern B.C. to work on the Big Creek fire, which she described as her “breaking point.” The Big Creek fire grew to more than 175,000 hectares in 2023 and triggered evacuation orders in the Takla Lake First Nation. Broder led a night shift, working from 5 p.m. until 9 a.m. the next morning, and had to evacuate camp when the wildfire threatened to burn it.

Broder worries that increasingly destructive wildfire seasons are exposing firefighters to greater psychological strain. While BC Wildfire Service has some mental health training, including a course offered through the Canadian Mental Health Association, adapted specifically for wildfire, called Resilient Minds, Broder would like to see more preparatory training for all wildland firefighters.

“We’re not giving people the tools to tell someone at 4 a.m. that their house is not ‘an achievable objective,’ or to go into a rural or Indigenous community [to engage with community members],” she points out, referring to how wildland firefighters have to knock on doors and tell community members to leave their homes — and sometimes warn them they are unlikely to have a home to return to.

Recently, Johansson recruited Broder — today a student at Thompson Rivers University in Kamloops, B.C. — onto his team to research existing mental health support programs for wildland firefighters in North America. “It’s something that really lacks across Canada,” she says. “I think [a peer-support network] could be transformational.”

‘It’s not a hopeless endeavour’: veteran wildland firefighter

Over a 30-year career, Michelle Wigmore fought wildfires across Canada and North America, led a 20-person unit crew and developed national training courses. Today, she’s teaming up with Johansson to help launch the peer-support network.

Over the years, Wigmore has seen wildland firefighters struggle with mental health, but says “it’s often not in the way people think.” Busy seasons and long hours can be challenging, but they’re also “why people join fire and stay in it,” she says. “It’s the excitement, adrenaline, you’re working as a team — it’s the greatest thing ever.” But it comes with immense pressure.

Wigmore has lost colleagues to helicopter accidents, health conditions and suicide. One year, a crew member died by suicide on his day off. 

A recent survey in the U.S. found 22 per cent of wildland firefighters have attempted suicide, while 37 per cent reported suicidal ideation. 

Rainy seasons can be just as psychologically hazardous, Wigmore says. When wildfire activity is low, crews may spend extended periods away from home without the opportunity to earn overtime. “That’s when I’ve seen the most issues come up,” she says.

The solutions don’t always need to be complicated, Wigmore says, and they’re most effective when they come from the ground up. Crew morale is at the heart of it, she says. “It’s not a hopeless endeavour.”

What helped her crew the most when they lost a colleague to suicide, was the show of solidarity from other wildland firefighters on base. They collectively decided to construct a bench in honour of their colleague and flew it to a nearby mountaintop.

In 2023, Wigmore wasn’t hired back on — she was “DNRed.” The “do not rehire” policy in Alberta is “barbaric,” Wigmore says. Wildland firefighters deserve job security and automatic recall rights, so they’re not afraid of advocating for their well-being, or safety, says the veteran firefighter

But she’s quick to credit recent progress. The Alberta government and union signed a new agreement in 2025 that will increase wages for crew members with the most years of service by more than 19 per cent by 2027. Wages for longest-serving crew leaders and supervisors will rise by more than 27 per cent and 31 per cent, respectively. 

“This is career-changing for people,” Wigmore says. “[Firefighters] that were planning their exit strategy … are now planning to stay.” Other major wildfire agencies in Canada, including B.C. and Ontario should take note, Wigmore says.

BC Wildfire leads cultural shift in mental health awareness

The devastating losses of six firefighters in B.C.’s wildland firefighting community in 2023 “struck a chord” for the BC Wildfire Service, Olivia Goldney, a safety specialist with the organization, says. “We need to have a strengthened culture of care for our staff and develop trauma-informed systems that can allow our staff to do this job long-term,” she adds.

Aside from chronic fatigue and burnout, wildland firefighters are grappling with a profound sense of “ecological grief,” as their communities and landscapes are burnt over by wildfires. Goldney experienced post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) from her experiences as an initial attack crew leader in 2021, witnessing the devastating events of the Lytton fire, which tore through the community in 15 minutes, destroying homes and businesses, and killing two people.

Today, she’s leading the development of a new psychological health and safety strategy within the BC Wildfire Service. “We want to align psychological injuries closer to how we approach physical injuries,” Goldney says.

All wildland firefighters in B.C. have automatic recall rights and benefits, including sick days and partially paid short-term disability leave, according to Goldney. Once they have worked over a certain number of hours, they also receive a $1,000 annual health and wellness allowance that can be used for services such as massage therapy and counselling. A counselling hotline is available to all firefighters, while First Nations firefighters can also access a crisis line to access culturally informed support. A 2021 survey found more than 50 per cent of Indigenous wildland firefighters in Canada had experienced additional risks related to cultural discrimination on the frontlines.

After the 2023 season, BC Wildfire Service also launched a recovery program, a four-day intensive retreat that provides firefighters with therapeutic tools for their long-term recovery from work-related traumatic stress.  

While wildland firefighting has long been dominated by a culture of stoicism — “a kind of buck up and do the job,” Goldney says — she’s seeing a cultural shift within BC Wildfire Service’s leadership to acknowledge and address the psychological toll of the work.

“From the bottom to the top, there’s this ‘shake’ that’s happening culturally,” Goldney says. “People are understanding the work we do has profound impacts on a person.”

She points to systemic changes that are underway in B.C.: wildland firefighters are becoming increasingly recognized by their first responder peers in the province. Recently, BC Wildfire Service was invited to join the BC First Responders Mental Health committee, Goldney says. In addition, B.C. wildland firefighters will soon have the most comprehensive cancer coverage in all of Canada. She’s hopeful that federal legislation will change to recognize wildland firefighters as first responders.

“I think only good things are to come,” Goldney says.

Wildland firefighting peer-support network sets sights on launching in early 2027

If you had asked Johansson at 25 whether he was struggling with his mental health, he would have shrugged and replied, “Job’s fine. I’m fine.” Twenty years later, he’s no longer sure that was really the case.

That realization is part of why Johansson sees value in long-term support. His team plans to build a year-round support network for both active and retired wildland firefighters, offering a space where those still processing their experiences can find an informed, listening ear.

“You could be two, three, five, 10 years out and still access [support],” he says. 

Come September, after the fire season, Johansson’s team will brainstorm what the network could look like. There are already ideas of starting an online platform, a peer-support counselling line, group fitness challenges or even integrating supports into video games. 

They plan to launch the pilot peer-support network in Alberta in the spring of 2027 with the broader goal of eventually expanding across Canada. 

Already he’s receiving overwhelmingly enthusiastic reception and support for the project, he says. “[People] are like, ‘Thank you for doing this’, or ‘How can I help?’ It’s obviously filling a need.”

It’s been a full-circle moment for the former wildland firefighter, although Johansson admits that, emotionally, a part of him has never really left. 

Gardening in his backyard in Calgary often evokes the memory of “digging in the dirt, looking for hot spots,” he says. Even the faintest trace of wildfire smoke has a way of transporting him back to the frontlines. “It’s total nostalgia,” Johansson says.

“For a minute, I’m back in it.”

Updated on Aug. 7, 12:52 pm PST: A number of photographs in this story have been changed. The images originally used did not show a wildfire, but an Indigenous cultural burn, and misidentified attendees at the burn as employees of BC Wildfire.

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Summary

• The 2026 wildfire season in Canada, which has been particularly severe in Ontario, has prompted significant interest on social media platforms like Instagram and TikTok.
• Many of these posts contain misinformation, including AI-generated maps with incorrect details on the locations or severity of fires across Canada, or conspiracy theories linking wildfires to lasers, 15-minute city initiatives or eco-terrorism.
• Many posts focus on mismanagement and place blame on Canadian governments, which complicates valid critiques of wildfire response and funding with destabilizing misinformation.

Ontario is grappling with one of the worst wildfire seasons in recorded history, which has put thousands of people, especially those in the province’s north, at risk. Last month, two Indigenous communities — Namaygoosisagagun First Nation and Whitewater Lake First Nation — were burned to the ground. The scale of the crisis has made headlines around the world, and prompted a blaze of posts on social media.

But many of those posts contain misinformation, both AI-generated and hand-crafted: maps that purport to show Ontario wildfires labelled with communities that don’t exist; false information about air quality and evacuation alerts; captions with conspiracy theories about 15-minute cities and arson. 

Look closely and you might see clues about what’s real and what isn’t. One viral AI-generated graphic purports to show the location of Ontario wildfires, but directs people to a non-existent Ontario government website. Another, claiming 10,000 people in Alberta were under evacuation orders as of July 16 (not true), includes a map where Jasper National Park appears to cover most of the province. One map puts Ontario on the West Coast, Quebec over the southern United States and Alberta up around Alaska — and includes a province called “Onjebio,” where the wildfire situation looks pretty bad. 

But just as often, it’s hard to tell fact from fiction. And it’s getting harder: in May, Statistics Canada reported 43 per cent of Canadians find it more difficult to distinguish between facts and misinformation online, compared to three years ago. Those with less trust in news media reported even more difficulty. 

Each year, it seems, the onset of wildfire season in Canada is accompanied by the onset of wildfire misinformation season on social media. As AI-generated content becomes more ubiquitous — and often tougher to spot — across social media, it presents new challenges to Canadians looking for trustworthy information about unfolding crises across the country. Wildfires are getting worse because of climate change. But what’s driving the escalation of misinformation?

2023 marked a shift in online wildfire misinformation

Gwen Roley, a digital verification journalist covering Canada for the international outlet Agence France-Presse, recently reported on some of the AI-generated maps spreading across social media platforms. “The labels on it were really wonky, and the symbols for the wildfires didn’t make sense,” she says. Roley has covered wildfire misinformation extensively, and there are certain trends that pop each year — “eco-terrorists, directed energy weapons,” also known as lasers — but this year’s maps struck her as a new trend. 

Roley has been debunking wildfire misinformation since 2023 — a “really superlative year, as we all remember,” she says. In addition to being the worst year for wildfires in Canada so far, there were also devastating fires in Hawaii. “These were almost like never-before-seen events, very scary events, where people are looking for explanations,” she says. In some parts of Canada, wildfires are familiar, even if the scale of recent years is not. But when wildfires rage in New Brunswick or the Northwest Territories or Hawaii, they may prompt more fear — and more speculation — than usual. When something that feels extraordinary happens, people are inclined to look for extraordinary explanations: even back in 1954, residents of Bellingham, Wash., became convinced hydrogen bomb tests or space rays were responsible for a sudden rash of damage to car windshields. 

Climate change denial, likewise, is not a new phenomenon. Chris Russill is an associate professor in the school of journalism and communication at Carleton University, where he’s also an academic director of Re.Climate, a centre focused on public engagement and climate communication. He says denial or skepticism of climate science dates back decades. 

But he agrees 2023 was an inflection point for wildfire misinformation online. Some of that was because of what was happening in the real world, such as the impact of Canadian fires on American air quality. 

But many were linked to shifts happening on major social media platforms: “Elon Musk had just bought Twitter,” he recalls. The Canadian government had passed the Online News Act, an attempt to make foreign social platforms pay to share news. Instead, Russill remembers, “Meta was refusing to negotiate with journalists around the News Act and stripped out Canadian journalism [from its platforms Facebook and Instagram].” It was also the first wildfire season since the widespread adoption of generative artificial intelligence; within two months of its release in November 2022, ChatGPT had more than 100 million monthly active users.

That chain of events is definitely still reverberating today: though Canadian news has been banned by Meta since 2023, a majority of Canadian users still don’t know that, according to a June 2026 report by the Media Ecosystem Observatory at McGill University. Of 1,518 Canadians surveyed for the report, only one in four Instagram users knew that news outlets in Canada could not publish on Meta platforms. Many people believe they’re seeing news on Facebook and Instagram when what they’re seeing is misinformation and conspiracy theories. And users searching Google for wildfire updates are shown AI-generated summaries, which launched in Canada in October 2024, and may contain inaccuracies. (Over the August long weekend, a Narwhal editor looking for air quality information at a lake in the B.C. Interior was shown a summary that incorrectly stated the lake was closed — information pulled from social media posts about two different places that were closed.)

Russill also attributes the 2023 sea change to the post-pandemic atmosphere of suspicion. “There was a more adversarial, conspiratorial way that climate was being dragged into other culture-war type issues that were becoming more and more salient through the [COVID-19] period,” he says.

This year, once again, Canadian wildfire smoke is impacting the United States, triggering posts from President Donald Trump on his Truth Social platform and AI-generated graphics that distort the impact of smoke on Americans.

Who benefits from wildfire misinformation on social media? 

As much as they complain about it, Russill says American politicians are also finding an opportunity in the effects of wildfire smoke on air quality. 

“The U.S. politicians, MAGA politicians, definitely have an interest in leveraging narratives — misinformation, conspiracies, false and misleading content — around wildfires to pursue a narrative they have about Canada as a bad neighbour, and leveraging that for trade and security,” he says. In a post on July 17, Trump threatened that the “cost of this pollution must of necessity be added to the TARIFFS Canada is currently paying.”

Researchers call this “participatory disinformation,” in which political leaders and influencers seed disinformation across platforms, and it’s then amplified and reproduced by ordinary users, in this case shaping online narratives about extreme weather events. (Disinformation is distinguished from misinformation by the intentions of the person sharing it. While people may unintentionally share misinformation, disinformation is false information shared on purpose.)

The McGill report on Canadian news notes, “When journalism loses visibility on social media, it is not replaced by nothing — it is replaced by content that serves a different function.” Conspiracy theories and images that distort the reality of wildfires get engagement, and a real crisis presents a fertile opportunity for content generation. 

Ad revenue from Google and other ad exchanges is another motivating factor, the Media Ecosystem Observatory also reported in June: the push behind a coordinated, international network of Facebook accounts pushing “news slop” — AI-fabricated stories — onto Canadian users. 

It’s easy for everyday users to get caught up in spreading untruths, too. Across social media, engagement is currency, which may provide an incentive to use the most dramatic or striking images without checking — or caring — about accuracy. “You can find a real map that you can very easily take a screenshot of that is using real data,” Roley says. But the real maps aren’t as dramatic as the AI-generated ones, “where it looks like all of Ontario has been burnt to a crisp, or one of the videos I saw where it looks like the wildfires are visible from space.” And lingering on those images — even if we’re skeptical of them — rewards the algorithm. 

As Russill points out, it’s “faster, easier and cheaper than ever before to generate fake and misleading content with AI.” It’s also easy to see what does well with your audience, and react accordingly, he says. “Like, let’s make the smoke bigger. Let’s put a fleeing polar bear in there. Who knows, right?” Some people may be diehard believers in climate conspiracies, and others might be deliberately seeding disinformation, but some are almost certainly agnostic to the culture wars; they just want the engagement. 

Whether users want to gain followers or further a political agenda, Russill says, they have “almost nothing to lose.” While AI posts may be flagged and removed on some platforms, it’s easy to replace them. “In these moments like wildfire evacuations and emergencies, this surges forward because it’s a real high engagement opportunity,” he says. 

This happened in 2025, he adds, prompting the BC Wildfire Service to warn of AI-generated images circulating on social media. And it’s happening this year, too.

From climate change denial to ‘mismanagement’: the narrative online has shifted

Misinformation typically downplays or denies the role of climate change in worsening wildfires, and displaces it onto other, implausible explanations. A few years ago, it was space lasers and 15-minute cities.

But no part of the world’s media ecosystem is free of Trump’s influence, including reporting on wildfires. After the 2025 wildfires in Los Angeles, which killed 31 people, the president blamed mismanagement of California forests. (Experts attributed the disaster to climate change, prolonged drought and southern California’s high winds, which spread the fire rapidly.)

“So the impacts people were seeing were a result of government mismanagement, not climate, not other types of things,” Russill says. The same argument is now being directed at Canada; in July, a Michigan senator posted on X, “Unless you want to become the 51st state, learn to manage your forests.” Such a task would be impossible in Canada, which has 369 million hectares of forest — covering more than a third of its landmass — 260 million of which is boreal forest in the sparsely populated north. Much of these forests have never been “managed,” but are experiencing more severe and frequent wildfires because the planet is getting hotter, a crisis that cannot be solved with rakes.

In part, this is a problem of our own making. In 2023, Alberta Premier Danielle Smith dodged a question about climate change and wildfire by pivoting to arsonists. And she’s not the only Canadian leader minimizing the severity of the climate crisis, while pushing more fossil fuel investments. “As politicians everywhere have gotten more quiet about climate, it becomes more difficult for people to understand why these [wildfire] situations are becoming much more unmanageable,” Russill says. 

The question of government responsibility is legitimate, he adds. There are valid criticisms of the Ontario government’s response to recent wildfires, or its habitual underfunding of emergency wildfire response. But in a news ecosystem rife with disinformation, it can be hard to balance valid criticism with simply undermining Canadian authorities. “It’s being leveraged as a frame in which to challenge and create distrust of authorities during these moments of crises in a more substantive way,” he says. 

Wildfire misinformation can bring real-world risk to Canadian firefighters — and everyone else

AI-generated images are annoying and possibly being weaponized to destabilize democracy. What researchers don’t know yet is if they are also putting individual lives at risk. 

“One of the things I would be curious to know is how it’s impacting people’s understanding of wildfires,” Roley says. “Like, is someone fleeing from their home because they saw this AI-generated map? I have no idea.” 

Wildfire agencies are now also spending precious time and resources combatting misinformation or pushing back on AI-generated images — especially when it targets them. Russill says that degrades trust that is already wearing thin. “In B.C., you know, BC Wildfire is not trusted by every rural community that experiences wildfire, so they already have that issue to deal with.” The effect of untruths and conspiracy theories on public trust is just one of the mental health stresses faced by frontline firefighters. 

Russill adds people might also be overly reliant on AI overviews to check for news on evacuation orders, park access or campfire guidelines. “But I think more likely it’s inducing a sort of widespread cynicism or distrust or confidence in people.” 

Online misinformation is a problem without a simple solution. Providing facts is important, but there is a depressingly robust body of research suggesting they’re not enough to change peoples’ minds or strongly-held beliefs.

“Certainly around moments of crisis like this, [providing fact checks] can introduce friction into the ways people are engaging with content,” Russill says. “Maybe they share a little less. Maybe they reset and ground-truth on something that’s happening, as opposed to letting their feelings start to overwhelm them.” 

Wildfires are still at their worst during hot, dry seasons; misinformation can burn all year long. At least for now, you can still limit your exposure to one of those risks by closing an app.

The Narwhal’s reporters are telling environment stories you won’t read about anywhere else. Stay in the loop by signing up for our free weekly dose of independent journalism.