The Peel Watershed covers 68,000 square kilometres of pristine mountains, wetlands, rivers, tundra and forest. It is world renowned for its rugged natural beauty and ecological richness, and, more recently, as a wilderness under threat. 

Thousands of mining claims dot the territory, with companies seeking to extract copper, platinum, uranium, lead-zinc, and iron. The mines themselves would disrupt the landscape and watershed, and the roads required to support those mines have attracted their own criticism for the landscape fragmentation they would bring. 

The Peel Watershed supports other values as well: First Nations make use of the watershed’s bounty, while the area has become a sought-after destination for paddlers, hunters and ecotourists. The Final Recommended Plan put forth by the Peel Watershed Planning Commission in 2011 recommended 80 per cent of the watershed be protected from mineral staking; in 2014 the government shrunk that number to 29 per cent. What will be protected — and how much protection it will receive — is currently being decided by the Supreme Court.

Terri Cairns sits a top a mountain above the Wind River. The Wind River is one of the five main tributaries of the Peel Watershed.

Early morning on the still waters of the Wind River in Northern Yukon.

Long time Peel Watershed activists Ken Madsen and Glen Davis canoeing past the confluence of the Snake River and Milk Creek. The Peel watersheds sees thousands of ecotourists venturing into its pristine wilderness every year.

Tom Clynes enjoys the whitewater on the Snake River. The Snake is also one of the five main watersheds that combine to form the greater Peel Watershed.

An aerial view of the smoke filled Wernecke Mountains and the Peel watershed.

Mount MacDonald is the highest and most striking mountain within the watershed.

The abundant wetlands of the Peel River plateau are critical to the migration of millions of birds and waterfowl that use it as a home and as a stop over during their spring and fall journeys.

A two month old red fox kit, catches a quick catnap near its den by the Blackstone River. The Blackstone is another one of the key tributaries that combine to form the greater Peel Watershed.

A bull caribou skull and antlers on the banks of the Wind River. The caribou was likely taken down by wolves in the winter.

A bull moose shakes the water off, after diving for food in a small pond near the headwaters of the Peel.

Sunrise cuts through the morning fog and the boreal forest of the Peel Watershed.

Smoking whitefish on the banks of the Peel River.

Fort McPherson elder, Agnes Neyando, hanging whitefish taken from the Peel River. Agnes and her husband spent their summers living in a wall tent along the river, into their 90s.

Gwich’in youth Tony Alexie singing the feathers off a goose that he harvested on the Peel River. 

Richard Abraham from Fort McPherson hauling firewood by dog team. The Tetlit Gwich’in people have fought hard for the protection for the entire watershed.

The Porcupine Caribou herd migrating to their wintering grounds in the Yukon Territory. The Peel is an important traditional wintering grounds for the caribou.

A bull caribou moves through the boreal forest of the Peel Watershed.

Tetlit Gwich’in youth Tony Alexie and Clifton Salu hunting caribou within the Peel Watershed. The caribou provide cultural and physical sustenance of the Gwich’in people.

Tetlit Gwich’in elder Ernest Vittrekwa in his smoke shack along the Peel River. The Tetlit Gwich’in have fought for protection of the Peel Watershed for 3 decades.

A wolverine is caught on a camera trap as it returns to a caribou kill on the Blackstone River. The massive wilderness of the Peel Watershed provides healthy habitat for a variety of animals including wolves, wolverines, caribou, sheep, moose and bears.

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“If you’re in Vancouver this is way out in the middle of nowhere, but way out in the middle of nowhere is our backyard.”

Those are the words of Frederick Otilius Olsen Jr., the tribal president of a traditional Haida village on Prince of Wales Island, Alaska.

When I met him, he had travelled to Ketchikan, Alaska, to meet with officials about the risk posed by the mining boom across the border in British Columbia.

He stood on the boardwalk overlooking Ketchikan’s fishing fleet and waved his hands animatedly while he told me about how his culture — and southern Alaska’s economy — depends on salmon.

The week before, I’d spent several hours flying in a small fixed-wing plane over B.C.’s mining boom to capture never before seen images of the province’s largest and most remote mines.

Door removed, I captured hundreds of frames as we passed over the Red Chris copper and gold mine, which began operation in late 2014. Its tailings pond and dam rises impossible and angular out of a soft, sloping valley.

Set within the vast and largely intact headwaters of northwestern B.C.’s greatest wild salmon rivers, the Red Chris mine is just one of 10 mines either in operation, in development or in advanced exploration stages in this region.

It is owned and operated by Imperial Metals, the company responsible for the Mount Polley mine disaster in central B.C. If the name seems familiar, it’s because in 2014, a tailings dam at Mount Polley collapsed, resulting in one of the worst environmental disasters in Canadian history. All told, 24 million cubic metres of contaminated mining waste flooded into a lake —  a source of drinking water and salmon-spawning ground that feeds the Fraser River.

A new study from the United Nations Environment Programme notes Canada has had seven known mine tailings spills in the last decade, only one less than China, which tops the list.

“The increasing number and size of tailings dams around the globe magnifies the potential environmental, social and economic cost of catastrophic failure impact and the risks and costs of perpetual management,” says the report.

A view from the sky gives perspective on both the enormity of the mines but also their proximity to Alaskans who, living downstream, fear they may unfairly suffer the consequences of another Mount Polley style accident.

“This is our Amazon right here and they’re not making any more of it,” Olsen Jr. said.

The following photo essay was made possible by 103 readers, who donated more than $10,000 to bring this unprecedented assignment to life.

B.C. and Alaska share some of the world’s most productive salmon rivers. However, the region is also home to some of the largest untapped gold and copper reserves in the world. Gold is mined primarily for use in jewelry, while copper conducts both heat and electricity well, so has many uses, including in electrical equipment such as wiring, motors and solar panels.

The Todagin Plateau on the edge of Imperial Metals’ Red Chris mine is thought to have the world’s highest density of stone sheep. It is the traditional Tahltan hunting grounds for moose, sheep, goats and caribou.

The wall of the Red Chris tailings dam is 105 metres high, about the height of a 35-storey building. Tailings are the byproducts left over from mining and include finely ground rock particles, chemicals and water. The rock particles and other chemicals sometimes undergo chemical reactions during storage that generate additional byproducts, such as acid, that can more easily leach into waterways.

In recent years, B.C. has experienced an explosion in mine growth on the Alaska border. Red Chris and Brucejack mines are now in operation, while KSM and Galore Creek have the required approvals and are in development. Schaft Creek is currently under review and four more mines are in the advanced exploration stages. Unlike Mount Polley, much of the waste in these transboundary projects will be potentially acid generating, making it much more toxic.*

The Red Chris tailings pond is an unlined, earthen centre-line type tailings dam — the same design Imperial Metals used at the ill-fated Mount Polley mine. An independent panel that reviewed the Mount Polley spill predicted two additional tailings dam failures could occur every 10 years in British Columbia if mine waste disposal practices aren’t improved. One of the panel’s key recommendations was for B.C. to move away from allowing liquid tailings ponds. There are currently more than 120 tailings dams across British Columbia.

When the Red Chris gold and copper mine opened in late 2014, it became the first mine of its type to operate in the transboundary region. The Narwhal (formerly DeSmog Canada) requested a tour of the Red Chris mine but was told by an official that Red Chris does not provide “unsolicited tours.” Red Chris is owned by Imperial Metals, the same company responsible for Mount Polley. The largest Imperial Metals shareholder is oilsands billionaire and Calgary Flames co-owner Murray Edwards, who organized a $1-million Calgary fundraising dinner for former B.C. premier Christy Clark’s 2013 re-election campaign.

The Mount Polley mine had a total tailings storage volume of 44 million cubic metres. B.C.’s massive transboundary mines require much higher volumes of waste storage. The tailings facility at Red Chris can store up to 305 million cubic metres of mine waste. Galore Creek will have a storage volume of 424 million cubic metres, Shaft Creek of 588 million cubic metres and KSM a staggering 1,213 million cubic metres.

Frederick Otilius Olsen Jr. is the Haida Tribal President of the Organized Village of Kasaan and chair of the Southeast Alaska Indigenous Transboundary Commission. “We have been trying for years to get the B.C. government to adequately address our interests and concerns, but other than nice words and vague promises, we seem to be getting nowhere,” Olsen Jr. said. “It takes a little wisdom, but sometimes to do something different, you have to do something you never did.”

The tailings pond at the Red Chris mine has a capacity of 305 million cubic metres — seven times more than the Mount Polley tailings dam, which collapsed three years ago. In the case of Mount Polley, British Columbian taxpayers ended up on the hook for $40 million of cleanup costs. No fines were levied and no charges have been laid against Mount Polley.

The Red Chris mine has an expected daily throughput of 30,000 tonnes of ore for the 25-year lifespan of the project. The Canadian government did not conduct a comprehensive assessment of the environmental impacts of the project, a process that would have opened the mine proposal to public input.

This is the view northeast across Todagin Creek, wetlands and Tatogga Lake with the road to Red Chris mine on the right. If any tailings escaped from the south dam of the Red Chris tailings pond, this is the point where the tailings would enter the Iskut river system.**

Melanie Brown, left, is a fourth generation commercial fisherman in Bristol Bay, Alaska. Heather Hardcastle, right, is director of the conservation organization Salmon Beyond Borders and a commercial fisherman in Juneau, Alaska. “We share these waters and we share these fish. There has to be an international solution,” Hardcastle said.

Massive braiding and bars from glacial sediment inputs on the Iskut river. Alluvial flood planes such as this are highly vulnerable to disruption.

A view of what is called the “Grand Canyon” of the Stikine River. Considered one of the last truly wild rivers in British Columbia, its 600-kilometre length encompasses mountain peaks and glaciers and supports some of the continent’s richest salmon habitat and wildlife populations.

If you look closely at this photo, you’ll see the drill pads perched on the mountainside (low centre right) and camp (centre left) of the Spectrum GJ gold-copper project, located 30 kilometres west of the Red Chris mine. It is just one of many examples of the lengths mining companies are going to open new mines in the isolated region.

A helicopter nearly disappears in the expanse of this glacier near the Brucejack gold mine. B.C.’s glaciers lose an estimated 22 billion cubic metres of water every year, feeding the province’s rich river systems.

A view east across Brucejack mine site and Brucejack Lake. Brucejack is an underground gold and silver mine. It will create 300 permanent jobs during its 22-year life. Owner Pretium has taken steps to minimize tailings risks by backfilling about half its mine waste in a paste mixed with cement in the underground mine. The other half will be stored in Brucejack Lake.

The Brucejack mine required the construction of an 11-kilometre glacial highway up the centreline of Knipple Glacier. The glacier retreated 300 metres between 2000 and 2011.

The Brucejack mine encampment. Potentially acid generating waste rock from the mine is stored underwater in Brucejack lake.

Joe Williams is a member of the Tlingit and former mayor of Ketchikan Borough, Alaska. He is also the owner and guide of Where the Eagle Walks, a walking tour business. Williams worries mining in the region has affected the health of oolichan populations. “The Department of Fish and Game say we can’t fish it anymore, even when it is out in the bay. It’s a sad thing. Now none of my kids know how to make oolichan oil and we can’t get it for me to teach them.”

Red Chris Mine went ahead after Imperial Metals’ largest shareholder Murray Edwards helped arrange $150 million in loans and crown corporation BC Hydro paid most of the costs for the $746-million Northwest Transmission Line into the region.

The proposed KSM mine site is in the foreground with Brucejack gold mine in the background. KSM sits atop one of the world’s largest undeveloped gold reserves. Once built, it will become one of the largest gold and copper mine in North America, with three open pits and two underground mines. The project initially entailed mining under an active glacier, but that glacier has now retreated. The project will require the construction of two 23-kilometre-long tunnels to deposit mine waste into a tailings impoundment. At 239 metres tall, the tailings dam wall for KSM will be higher than the Shangri-La, the tallest building in Vancouver and the tailings pond will hold 27 times more waste than was held in the Mount Polley tailings dam.*** 

The Tulsequah Chief mine, a zinc and copper mine close to the Alaska border, has been leaking acid mine drainage into the Tulsequah River since it was first shut down in 1957. Attempts to re-open the mine have failed, along with several promises to clean up the site.

Other jurisdictions, such as Alaska and Quebec, demand large financial securities, paid up front to ensure companies are held responsible for any damage.

“If we were to put the bar higher and require payment of financial securities ahead of permitting and ahead of mining, this would be one one way to get rid of the mines that would be marginal and you would end up with the mines that are safest,” Ugo LaPointe of MiningWatch Canada told The Narwhal.

Although most of the mines in this region have a life expectancy of 20 to 50 years, their toxic legacy continues far beyond. This contaminated tailings pond of the Premier gold mine in the Salmon Valley is one example. Originally built in 1910, it operated steadily for 50 years and sporadically for a few years after that. It opened again in 1989 to close once again in 1996. This toxic tailings pound is currently being upgraded to today’s standards so it can be reopened in the future.

A grizzly bear fishes for salmon in Fish Creek, Alaska, just downstream of the Premier gold mine.

Ketchikan, Alaska, just across the border from British Columbia has dubbed itself the “salmon capital of the world.” Ketchikan’s economy is based upon government services, tourism and commercial fishing.

The last catch of the season is offloaded and processed at Alaska General Seafoods in Ketchikan. Alaska’s fishing industry employs nearly 60,000 workers, of which nearly half are fishermen.

Salmon canning at Alaska General Seafoods processing plant in Ketchikan, Alaska.

The initial mechanical processing and canning of salmon at Alaska General Seafoods in Ketchikan, Alaska.

Chief Shakes Tribal House in Wrangell, Alaska. Coastal indigenous cultures are closely tied to salmon and have flourished here for more than 10,000 years.

Brenda Schwartz-Yeager is a fourth generation Wrangell-based Alaskan. As the owner and operator of Alaska Charters and Adventures, Schwartz-Yeager is a confident navigator of the ever-changing Stikine River. “What makes the Stikine so special and unique is its vast wildness,” she said. “We just don’t have many places of this size, and scope, and wildness left on the earth.”

Icebergs and Castle Mountain as seen from Shakes Lake, which feeds the Stikine River in Alaska. Traveling the lower Stikine in 1879, American conservationist John Muir called it “a Yosemite 100 miles long.”

— With files and additional reporting from Emma Gilchrist and Carol Linnitt

This photo essay was funded by The Narwhal readers like you. Want more journalism like this? Become a member today.

Updated on Oct. 30, 2017, at 7:05 p.m. PST. The transboundary map in this article was updated to reflect the fact that the Galore Creek mine is in the development stage, rather than operational as previously stated.

Updated on Nov. 2, 2017, at 10 a.m. PST to correct the lake in the photo to Tattoga Lake, not Todagin Lake. Thank you to the reader with the sharp eye who pointed this out to us.

Updated on Oct. 31, 2017, at 10:45 a.m. PST. The article was updated to reflect the fact that the KSM mine will no longer require mining under an active glacier, as that glacier has now retreated from the proposed pit area. The description of of KSM has also been corrected to refer to the project as one of the largest undeveloped gold and copper mines in North America, rather than the largest undeveloped open-pit gold and copper mine in North America.

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.

Just two years ago only four in 10 British Columbians had even heard of the Site C dam. Now, the project — one of the most expensive and environmentally destructive in B.C.’s history — is making international headlines.

With construction ramping up, the high cost of the Site C dam is becoming more visible, and not just on the landscape.

Residents are being forcibly removed from their land. More than 100 kilometres of river valley — much of it agricultural land — is slated for flooding. Independent review processes, meant to ensure the project serves the public interest, have been circumvented and indigenous rights have been trampled.

B.C. Premier Christy Clark has vowed to get the $9 billion Site C dam past the “point of no return” before the May 2017 provincial election, despite a torrent of experts questioning the demand for the power.

Aided by permits issued by the Trudeau government, construction on the project is rushing ahead, while First Nations wait on a court ruling that could stop construction.

Thanks to donations from you, our readers, DeSmog Canada was able to send celebrated photographer, Garth Lenz, to the Peace to capture the ongoing construction and the landscapes and lives that stand to be affected by the Site C dam.

While the destruction may alarm some readers, it’s worth noting that most of the work so far has been isolated to in and around the site of the proposed dam and more than 80 kilometres of river valley remains untouched at this stage.

A road winds up the north bank of the Peace River near Fort St. John, where a work camp has been constructed on the river bank. Photo: Garth Lenz.

A temporary bridge has been built across the river near the proposed dam site. Photo: Garth Lenz.

The $470 million work camp on the dam’s north bank could house up to 2,000 workers. It will feature a movie theatre, licensed lounge, running track and basketball court. Photo: Garth Lenz.

Clearing work on the north bank. Photo: Garth Lenz.

Photo: Garth Lenz.

An injunction notice at the site of the Rocky Mountain Fort, the first white settlement on mainland B.C. Protesters camped out at the site for two months last winter to stop construction, until BC Hydro won an injunction to have them removed. BC Hydro is now suing six Peace Valley residents for conspiracy, intimidation and trespass as a result of the protest camp, in what has been called a SLAPP suit. Photo: Garth Lenz.

Bridge construction on the Moberly River, which will also be flooded by the Site C dam. Photo: Garth Lenz.

Photo: Garth Lenz.

Photo: Garth Lenz.

Photo: Garth Lenz.

Photo: Garth Lenz.

Photo: Garth Lenz.

Site C dam construction looking south from the north bank of the river. Photo: Garth Lenz.

Crews attempt to repair sloughing as a result of heavy rainfall that destabilized hills along the north bank of the river. Photo: Garth Lenz.

Ken and Arlene Boon’s farm has been in the family for three generations. Like others in the 100-kilometre flood zone, the farm will effectively be destroyed by the Site C dam. Half of the farm will be under water, with the other half — including the Boons’ family home and farm buildings — sacrificed to build a new highway. BC Hydro wants to begin construction on the section of highway that will pass through the middle of the Boons’ farm as early as Christmas. Photo: Garth Lenz.

Arlene Boon picks what may be her last harvest on the land her family has farmed for three generations. Photo: Garth Lenz.

The Site C dam will impact 13,000 hectares of agricultural land, including flooding 3,800 hectares of farmland in the Agricultural Land Reserve, an area nearly twice the size of the city of Victoria. Photo: Garth Lenz.

Archaeologists dig for artifacts on the Boons’ farm. The arrowheads found here indicate a long and rich history of indigenous habitation in the area, dating back at least 12,000 years. Photo: Garth Lenz.

Ken Boon in the kitchen of the Boon family home. Ken and Arlene have been told they must vacate their land by Christmas. Photo: Garth Lenz.

All of the low-lying areas seen here are slated for imminent destruction. Photo: Garth Lenz.

A rare limestone formation called a tufa seep, which took close to 10,000 years to form and covers the hillside with clear pools, rare mosses and calcified trees. This area is destined to be bulldozed and clear-cut as soon as this winter. Photo: Garth Lenz.

Low-elevation forest in the flood zone slated for logging. Photo: Garth Lenz.

The Watson Slough, an important wetland conservation area, that will be flooded by the Site C dam. Photo: Garth Lenz.

This critical old-growth forest habitat along Moberly River is slated for destruction by the Site C dam. Photo: Garth Lenz.

The Bear Mountain Wind farm is located near Dawson Creek, B.C. With a newly installed solar hot water system at city hall and the proliferation of solar panels on the roofs of businesses, the city plans to become the renewable energy capital of B.C. The Site C review panel didn’t have the mandate to consider alternatives to the Site C dam but criticized B.C. for failing to investigate alternatives like wind, solar, run-of-river hydro and geothermal power generation. Photo: Garth Lenz.

After looking at these photos, you may be asking yourself: “So is the Site C dam ‘past the point of no return?’ “

“It’s clear even more so as each day goes by that there really is no business case for Site C, especially with Hydro’s own electricity demand decreasing significantly,” Marc Eliesen, former CEO of BC Hydro, told DeSmog Canada this summer.

Eliesen pointed to examples from other provinces where failed projects have been halted mid-way.

For instance, in the 1970s, Manitoba Hydro began to build a large dam on the Nelson River, yet after 2.5 years of construction, it became apparent that the long-term power forecasts had changed and construction was suspended.

“Can you postpone, can you suspend, can you cancel Site C? Basically the experience in other jurisdictions shows that you can if the end result shows that the cost to the ratepayer will be more than if you postpone or suspend.”

B.C. Premier Christy Clark has vowed to get the $9 billion Site C dam past the “point of no return” before the May 2017 provincial election. Here’s what that looks like.

Posted by DeSmog Canada on Tuesday, October 18, 2016

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