The Tulsequah Chief mine — which has been leaking contaminated water into a salmon watershed on the B.C.-Alaska border for over 60 years — will cost $48.7 million to clean up, according to a final remediation plan released by the B.C. government on Wednesday. 

The cleanup effort will also cost up to $1 million a year for monitoring and maintenance in perpetuity, according to the plan. It’s unclear who will pay the cleanup tab, because the owner of the mine is in receivership.

The province, in collaboration with the Taku River Tlingit First Nation, said it will begin work this summer to ready the Tulsequah Chief mine site for final closure. 

“Taking action now is critical in order to begin to address the impacts of the former Tulsequah Chief mine,” George Heyman, Minister of Environment and Climate Change Strategy, said in a press release. 

The location of the abandoned Tulsequah Chief mine in relation to the Taku River watershed. Map: Carol Linnitt / The Narwhal

According to a 2016 report commissioned by Rivers Without Borders, a non-profit organization in  that focuses on transboundary issues in B.C. and Alaska, an estimated one million litres of contaminated water flows into the Tulsequah River, a main tributary of the Taku River, every day.

“After more than 60 years of polluting a world class salmon watershed, two bankruptcies, four years of receivership proceedings and a lot of promises, we are finally seeing real progress toward mine cleanup and closure,” Chris Zimmer of Rivers Without Borders said in a press release. 

“We have some concerns with the closure and cleanup plan and as to how and when the plan will be implemented. But between B.C.’s strong demand to end the receivership process and the release of the cleanup and closure plan, there is real momentum toward ending pollution from the Tulsequah Chief.”

Water at the Tulsequah Chief mine is contaminated due to acid rock drainage, which occurs when rock becomes oxidized and forms sulphuric acid, which leaches heavy metals out of the rock. The contaminated water includes copper and zinc, among other contaminants, at levels far exceeding safe standards. 

The 113-page final remediation plan was prepared by SNC Lavalin and SRK Consulting and includes cost estimates and a conceptual five-year plan to permanently close the mine and contain the acid rock drainage. 

Water contaminated with acid mine drainage flows into a containment pond near the Tulsequah River. Photo: Colin Arisman / The Narwhal

Who will pay to close the Tulsequah Chief mine?

Teck-Cominco operated the Tulsequah Chief mine for seven years, before abandoning it in 1957. The company, a mining giant in Canada, never put systems in place to contain the toxic waste materials.

Chieftain Metals bought the property in 2010 to reopen the mine, on the condition that it addressed the acid rock drainage issues. It built an interim water treatment plant, but only operated it for less than a year before the company shut it down, citing high operational costs. Chieftain never achieved its goals of reopening the mine before going into receivership in 2016. This week, the company and its largest creditor, West Face Capital, attended a hearing at the Ontario Superior Court of Justice to determine whether the receivership proceedings will be finalized or extended. 

The decision on receivership is critical to determining the future of the mine site. West Face Capital could acquire the property through debt owed to the company by Chieftain Metals. If this happened, it would be in a position to sell the property to another mining company. In the hearing, West Face asked for an indefinite extension to the receivership so it can continue to pursue a buyer.  

The Taku River Tlingit First Nation submitted its statements to the court, urging for a quick and final decision. 

“Taku River Tlingit people are not currently able to exercise their Aboriginal rights at or around the mine site due to unsafe conditions and fears that plants and animals harvested from the area would be unhealthy to consume because of environmental contamination from the mine,” the statement read.

While it’s uncertain who will foot the bill for the eventual cleanup and closure of the mine, Teck has been involved in planning workshops for the reclamation report. 

“We understand that a number of ongoing legal proceedings with respect to the site will need to come to a conclusion as a long-term approach is finalized,” Teck told The Narwhal in a statement. “However, as this process moves forward, we are supportive of the province and the Taku River Tlingit First Nation’s interim reclamation actions at the site.” 

‘When are they going to ensure the polluter pays?’: proposed B.C. mining reforms don’t go far enough

Last year, the Environmental Law Centre and more than 30 mining advocacy and legal organizations called on the B.C. government to reform its mining laws. Suggested changes included ensuring companies are held legally liable for cleanup and setting up requirements for long-term independent analysis of water treatment systems. Even if those reforms are implemented, legacies like Tulsequah could remain a direct cost to taxpayers.

While mining companies are required to provide money up front to the government to cover the costs of reclamation, the province currently only has $1.6 billion in bonds to cover an estimated $2.8 billion in reclamation costs. 

“This small mining site is a stark reminder that we need to make sure the polluter pays and that we update our reclamation bond policy,” Nikki Skuce, director at Northern Confluence, said in an email. “It also reinforces that if you can’t clean up your mess because of costs, remoteness or complexities with the site, then you shouldn’t be able to mine at all. I think British Columbians would support no-go zones for mining and ensuring the polluter pays if it meant protecting salmon rivers and avoiding $50 million taxpayer clean-up bills.”

Skiffs and barges were used to run workers and materials upriver to this staging area, from where trucks could drive the access road to Tulsequah Chief mine. Photo: Colin Arisman / The Narwhal

Location and complexity of the mine challenges reclamation efforts

Because the site is so remote, access has always been an issue driving up costs associated with reclamation. There is no road to the former mine — small aircraft and barge are the only ways to reach the site. Barging on the river can only be done in high flow, which means there is a very narrow window of time each year to get equipment to the site, and with tides affecting entry to the Taku River, the logistics are challenging. Extreme weather conditions further complicate access.

“Where the mouth of the Taku meets the salt water, a number of different mountain ranges and channels come together, and it can be just like a horrible washing machine, and very difficult to get through,” Zimmer with Rivers Without Borders told The Narwhal in an interview. “What we’ve seen in the past when the mining companies were trying to barge stuff up there, the barges were getting stuck everywhere.” But Zimmer said it’s still the obvious option. “Flying in a bulldozer is pretty expensive.”

Accessing the site via river also means crossing an international border, a lengthy bureaucratic process. Then, once the barge reaches a suitable landing site, the equipment still has to travel to the mine on road, which is in dire need of repair. 

“Some of the first steps include replacing and repairing bridges, upgrading the access road, establishing an erosion protection berm and repairing the existing airstrip,” the ministry said in the press release.

The abandoned Tulsequah Chief mine site is situated just meters from the Tulsequah, a tributary of the salmon-rich Taku River. For six decades B.C. has failed to address acid mine drainage at the mine site. Photo: Colin Arisman / The Narwhal

Final remediation plans are a work in progress

Zimmer told The Narwhal the plan reads more like a plan for a plan, outlining several options and highlighting significant gaps in data. 

“To call it a final plan could be confusing. It’s not the final plan. It’s kind of a framework that says here are the questions we need to answer, we need to do these studies, here are the options, and here are the pros and cons. So it’s still really hard to tell exactly how good this is going to be — it depends on how it’s implemented.”

The challenges of accessing the mine and the complexity of the site delayed field studies last year. This year, the outbreak of COVID-19 further delayed fieldwork. As The Narwhal recently reported, plans are underway to continue studies this summer, but it’s uncertain whether the recent announcement will include work on-site.

“The closure and reclamation plan outlines a phased approach that involves a series of steps designed to reduce the ongoing contamination,” the government statement said. “It is designed to be flexible, so changes can be made once more information is gathered from the site.”

Zimmer said he isn’t a fan of so-called “adaptive management” but given the site’s complexity, it’s the only way forward.

As for the actual closure of the mine, the report proposes three different options for controlling and addressing the water contamination issues. One dilutes the waste water with creek water to reduce the toxins to safe levels before it reaches the river. Another suggests controlling the rate at which the water is coming out, similarly to dilute and regulate the acidic content. And the last option proposes to inject the waste water underground into the aquifer beneath the Tulsequah River.

“There still seem to be a lot of unknowns in terms of water treatment options to deal with the copper, lead, zinc and other toxins that far exceed B.C. water quality guidelines,” said Skuce, the Northern Confluence director. “None of the options to dilute or bury the wastewater seem ideal, but it’s reassuring that the province is working with the Taku River Tlingit First Nation and State of Alaska who highly value salmon and water quality.”

The report itself admitted each of the options has significant drawbacks, but said the site could require a combination of all of the methods of water treatment. 

“The combination here of an acid-producing mine right next to salmon habitat, you know, it’s a bad combination,” Zimmer said. “And it points out the challenges of reclaiming these mines. Dealing with acid mine drainage, this stuff is insidious.”

Despite the obvious challenges ahead, Zimmer is optimistic. “Let’s get some things done now that we know we can do and hopefully we can stick to a good timeline. Overall, I think it’s a very good step forward.” 

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.

In a remote corner of northwest B.C., an old mixed-metals mine has been leaching contaminated water into the largest tributary of the salmon-producing Taku River for more than 60 years. 

In 2019, the B.C. government said it would have a final remediation and reclamation plan ready at the end of that year. But now, due to delays related to COVID-19, the province says the plan won’t be made public until the fall or later and on-the-ground work won’t start until next year at the earliest. 

Salmon Beyond Borders campaign director Jill Weitz is disappointed by the delay but said the work has to be done right.

“Last year, we were all really excited,” Weitz told The Narwhal. “But given that this has been an issue for 60 years, there’s certainly no need to rush the process. It might take as long to clean up as it took to pollute.”

Teck-Cominco abandoned the mine in 1957 after operating it for seven years. Since then, and possibly before, contaminated water has been leaking directly into the watershed. In 2010, Chieftain Metals acquired the property and promised to reopen the mine and address the contaminated water. It failed on both fronts and went into receivership in 2016.

The Tulsequah Chief mine sits on the banks of the Tulsequah River, 10 kilometres from where it meets the Taku River, which flows into the Pacific near Juneau, Alaska. Last year’s government announcement was met with relief by campaigners on both sides of the border, who have been working for decades to get someone to take responsibility for the mess and clean it up.

“The Alaskans have been pissed off for years, and rightly so,” said Nikki Skuce, director of Northern Confluence, an initiative based out of Smithers that focuses on land use decisions in northern B.C. “The Taku River seems pretty remote to British Columbians, way up in the very northwest corner, but it’s not to the citizens of Juneau.”

The location of the abandoned Tulsequah Chief mine in relation to the Taku River watershed. Map: Carol Linnitt / The Narwhal

Province blames delays on ‘complexity’ of site, COVID-19

Last year, the province and the Taku River Tlingit First Nation selected a proponent to develop a remediation plan for the Tulsequah Chief mine. 

The plan was developed by SRK Consulting and SNC-Lavalin, a Montreal-based engineering firm that faced criminal charges in 2018 and 2019 for its business operations in Libya and in June was ordered to pay the Canadian government $1.9 million for its role in a bid-rigging scheme in Quebec. 

The final plan was submitted to the province in April and is currently being reviewed, Karemaker said. The province declined The Narwhal’s request to review the plan. 

There were several reasons the report was late, Kent Karemaker, a spokesperson for the Ministry of Energy, Mines and Petroleum Resources, wrote in an email.  

“Due to the complexity of the site, the lack of historical data to support current assessments and the remoteness of the location and associated logistics, the completion of the remediation and reclamation plan was significantly delayed,” he said. “Similarly, due to COVID-19, the anticipated progress on the receivership process was delayed.”

We back-country paddled to the Tulsequah Chief, B.C.’s most infamous abandoned mine

Before the province can commence work, receivership has to be finalized because the government needs the money Chieftain gave it in a bond to pay for the work. 

Mines are required to post bonds with the government to cover the eventual costs of reclamation. The province currently sits on $1.6 billion in bonds to cover an estimated $2.8 billion in reclamation costs. When a mining company goes bust, taxpayers pay the difference. 

The province has collected just over $1 million from Chieftain and estimates cleanup will cost $1.2 million. However, Chieftain’s unsuccessful attempts to treat the contaminated water cost $5 million, so the final cleanup costs will likely be much higher. 

As for when receivership will be complete, Karemaker said that “given that this resides within the authority of the Ontario courts, the province is not at liberty to provide a firmer timeline, but anticipates a satisfactory outcome towards the fall.” 

The pandemic has also delayed on-the-ground work. “COVID-19 presents a challenge for operationalizing field plans this season; however, B.C. is planning to undertake work in summer 2020 to support additional studies, which are needed to plan larger-scale remedial activities,” Karemaker said.

That work includes a LiDAR survey to support design work for reclamation plans. LiDAR, or light detection and ranging, uses a system of laser scanners and GPS on a plane or helicopter to acquire accurate topographical data. The data is used to create detailed 3D maps. 

The government is also initiating an aquatics monitoring program to measure the alkalinity of the water and its impacts on aquatic life, as well as sample and study fish and other aquatic life. This is just at the planning stage with fieldwork set to start next year. 

The last aquatic ecological risk assessment at the Tulsequah Chief mine was done by the Ministry of Environment and Climate Change Strategy in 2016, after it found that an earlier report by Chieftain Metals was insufficient. The ministry couldn’t complete the assessment due to challenging weather conditions but found that contaminants in the water near the mine were at levels that pose high risks to fish and other aquatic life. 

The government will also be assessing the existing water treatment plant to determine if it could be rehabilitated. Chieftain operated the plant for less than a year in 2012 before shutting it down, citing high operational costs and technical difficulties. This work will be done remotely. 

One million litres of contaminated water flows into the Tulsequah River every day

While preliminary work slowly gets underway, an estimated one million litres of contaminated water flows into the Tulsequah River every day, according to a 2016 report commissioned by Rivers Without Borders. 

The water is contaminated due to acid rock drainage, which occurs when rock becomes oxidized and forms sulphuric acid, which leaches heavy metals out of the rock. Acid rock drainage lowers the pH level of the water, making it unsafe for humans and wildlife. The contaminated water includes copper and zinc, among other contaminants, at levels far exceeding safe standards. 

Even just two drops of copper in an Olympic-sized swimming pool is enough to affect a salmon’s ability to smell. “That ability facilitates locating spawning grounds, finding food and mates, and detecting predators,” the report pointed out. 

Zinc is toxic to fish. At the time of the report, zinc levels at the mine site were more than 2,000 times higher than legal standards.

The abandoned Tulsequah Chief mine site is just meters from the Tulsequah River, a tributary of the salmon-rich Taku River. For six decades, B.C. has failed to address acid mine drainage at the mine site. Photo: Colin Arisman / The Narwhal

B.C.’s mining laws in desperate need of overhaul 

Skuce said the problems at the Tulsequah Chief point to deeper issues with mining in the province. She referred to Britannia Mine near Squamish, which cost taxpayers $46 million in reclamation costs and requires a further $3 million every year in perpetuity to monitor and treat water at the site. 

“We need to make the polluter pay,” she said. “Right now there’s a $1.2-billion liability of what it’ll cost to do reclamation. Other jurisdictions like Alaska and Quebec require full mine reclamation bonds within the first three years. And that’s something that B.C. should do.”

Last year, the Environmental Law Centre and more than 30 mining advocacy and legal organizations called on the B.C. government to reform its mining laws. Suggested changes included ensuring companies are held legally liable for cleanup and setting up requirements for long-term independent analysis of water treatment systems. Even if those reforms are implemented, legacies like Tulsequah will remain a direct cost to taxpayers.

“We need to be treating this water at the Tulsequah site forever,” Skuce said. “But it’s remote and hard to get to, with super-challenging weather conditions.” 

Accessing such a remote site for monitoring and treatment is expensive — and that’s not going to change. 

On the Alaska side of the border, the Tulsequah Chief is viewed as a frightening example of what can happen to transboundary watersheds if mines are not properly regulated. With numerous larger mines proposed or under construction along the Alaska border, like the proposed KSM mine, near Stewart, B.C., the potential environmental impacts on fish, wildlife and tourism are staggering.

“[Tulsequah] is this little thing, in my opinion, in the shadows of much more daunting problems,” Weitz said. Her view is that the eventual cleanup of the Tulsequah Chief mine can set an example for other B.C. mines — or serve as a warning.  

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.

This photo essay was made possible through the generous donations of 94 readers. The Narwhal is a non-profit online magazine dedicated to publishing stories about Canada’s natural world you can’t find anywhere else. You can donate here to support our independent journalism. Every bit counts.

There are only a handful of ways to get into the roadless wilderness of the upper Taku River. 

You can take an onerous 100-kilometre jetboat ride up the river from Juneau, Alaska’s capital city, or you can come in from the air, either by helicopter charter or by bush plane, which will land you in a lake where you can join the flow downstream.  

The wildness and vulnerability of the Taku are what have drawn me and my good friend Alex Craven to undertake a 130-kilometre pack-raft trip from a headwater lake nearly to its confluence with the Pacific.

Alex Craven surveying the abandoned Tulsequah Chief mine site after a 15-kilometre hike up the river bed. Photo: Colin Arisman / The Narwhal

Besides a few short 4×4 trails, the entire Taku watershed remains without access roads and is considered to be the largest intact wilderness river system on the Pacific Coast of North America, despite past mineral development in the valley.

As an avid fly fishermen and back-country traveller in Alaska, I’ve wanted to visit the Taku for years because of its jaw-dropping beauty and relative isolation. Despite abundant wildlife including grizzlies, caribou, wolves, moose and all five species of salmon, the remote region sees few visitors.

But there’s another reason for my interest in the Taku. 

As a photographer and journalist, I’m also here to document the abandoned Tulsequah Chief mine which, since the 1950s, has leaked acid mine drainage into a tributary of the Taku, the prevailing salmon-producing river for southeast Alaska.

Despite mounting public pressure, the Canadian and British Columbian governments have failed to clean up the mess for more than 60 years. 

The Tulsequah Chief mine is frequently referenced by downstream Alaskan stakeholders, tribes and fishermen as evidence B.C. cannot responsibly regulate the mining boom taking place near transboundary rivers that flow between Canada and the U.S. 

Arriving at the floatplane, Alex, a skilled paddler and staffer with the Sierra Club based out of Seattle, hops in the front seat.

Alex Craven gazes out across millions of hectares of roadless, unfragmented wild country. Photo: Colin Arisman / The Narwhal

Moving inland from the wet coastal range of Alaska, the Taku Valley forests transition from temperate rainforest to boreal forest in the drier interior of British Columbia. Photo: Colin Arisman / The Narwhal

Juneau slips out of view as we bank away from the Pacific and into the mouth of the mighty Taku River.

The fishing boats scattered across the confluence below us — where millions of salmon are beginning their arduous journey home to headwaters — disappear from view as we move toward the wide-open valley ahead. Tall peaks tower on either side, as the vast 1.8 million-hectare Taku watershed opens up in front of us. This will be our home for the next seven days.

We float the Inklin River to its confluence with the Nakina where the Taku River begins on the map. Photo: Colin Arisman / The Narwhal

The location of the abandoned Tulsequah Chief mine in relation to the vast 1.8 million-hectare Taku River watershed. Map: Carol Linnitt / The Narwhal

Our travel route included an eight-kilometre hike from King Salmon Lake to the Inklin River. Once on the river, we paddled downstream to join the Taku River and eventually took a detour north to the Tulsequah River where we located the abandoned mine site. Map: Carol Linnitt / The Narwhal

After an hour-long bush flight, the plane circles and lands on a large mountain lake. 

We grab our packs and begin the eight-kilometre hike down to the Inklin River, a tributary of the Taku. 

Alex Craven shuttling a heavy pack loaded with pack rafts, life jackets, cameras, bear spray, camping gear and a week’s worth of food from our float plane on King Salmon Lake. Photo: Colin Arisman / The Narwhal

Hiking down to the river requires fighting chest-high thickets of devil’s club and swarms of mosquitoes. Photo: Colin Arisman / The Narwhal

We are grateful to find an old trail that runs along a trapline but in places it has been completely reclaimed by the forest and soon we are bushwhacking. Blindly pushing through the thick undergrowth, we know we could easily bump into a bear or moose. 

The mosquitoes swarm.

Thick devil’s club, a fierce spiny plant, makes for slow progress. It’s four hours until we hear the sound of the Inklin.

Finally at the river’s edge, we inflate pack rafts, load our gear and begin the seven-day float.

Alex paddles his inflatable pack raft down the Inklin River. Photo: Colin Arisman / The Narwhal

Though the wilderness is rugged, the weather is fair and calm. We make our way through the rapids of the Inklin Canyon and into the swift but gentle current that will be the norm for the rest of the paddle. 

The Taku River runs near the 58th parallel. As our float coincides with the summer solstice, the sun barely sets at midnight during a short interval of bright evening twilight. 

Our first night we camp next to a clear stream and catch a nice Dolly Varden, a species of char that splits its time between the ocean and pristine rivers like the Taku.

Dolly Varden are an anadromous species of trout that gather in large numbers in the Taku River to feed on the salmon spawn. Photo: Colin Arisman / The Narwhal

Tiger swallowtail gathering is a sign of the return of chinook salmon, called king salmon in Alaska. While the Taku River has historically been known for bountiful returns of kings, numbers have been declining in recent years resulting in closures to the fishery. Photo: Colin Arisman / The Narwhal

We’re travelling through a part of the four million hectare (10-million acre) traditional territory of the Taku River Tlingit First Nation. 

Less than 200 years ago the river was flanked by permanent village sites and seasonal subsistence camps. To this day the Taku River Tlingit people rely on the river and watershed for moose, deer, caribou and prized chinook salmon. 

Several decades ago, the First Nation successfully fought the proposed development of a 159-kilometre access road that would have crossed the heart of the watershed, opening it up for mineral exploration.

In 2011, the nation and provincial government agreed to protect a large part of the watershed from development and to jointly manage aspects of the region. 

But that agreement has done little to remedy the decades-old problem of the Tulsequah Chief mine, situated on the Tulsequah River, a major tributary of the Taku.

A view of the midnight sunset from our camp on the Taku River. Photo: Colin Arisman / The Narwhal

Alex cooks a fish dinner over the campfire. Photo: Colin Arisman / The Narwhal

Paddling up to the staging area for the Tulsequah Chief mine. From here we hike 15 kilometres up a dirt road along the bank of the Tulsequah River to the abandoned mine site. Photo: Colin Arisman / The Narwhal

A small rotting dock is the first sign we see of the abandoned Tulsequah Chief mine. We pull our rafts up and step on the bank. This is the spot where barges would land after a long, perilous run up the swift, shallow Taku River. From here trucks would transport equipment up the 15-kilometre provisional road to the mine. 

Discarded trucks and boats, bunk houses and storage containers are scattered around the yard, left to rust amongst the trees. 

In Canada it is not uncommon for mining companies to walk away from cleanup obligations. According to a July report from Canada’s Ecofiscal Commission, “as many as 10,000 orphaned and abandoned mine sites exist across the country.” The report notes that, “B.C.’s policies have contributed to a situation where, according to the most recent figures, the province holds only $1.36 billion in financial assurance against an estimated $2.8 billion total cleanup liability.”

Skiffs and barges were used to run workers and materials upriver to this staging area, from which trucks could drive the access road to the Tulsequah Chief mine. Photo: Colin Arisman / The Narwhal

After five days on the river, the sight of rusting and discarded 50-gallon drums of chemicals feels strikingly out of place. Their mere existence here — 100 kilometres into the backcountry, in a vast roadless landscape — feels implausible. 

As we walk around, we see the remnants of several stages of ownership and haphazard operation of the site. Since Teck-Cominco abandoned the site in 1957, two companies — Redfern Resources and Chieftain Metals — have obtained exploration permits by promising to clean up the acid mine drainage. 

Both failed in their cleanup efforts and collapsed under debt.

We wondered whether the skull and crossbones on the outside was meant as humour or a legitimate health warning. Standing near the door, I was quickly struck with a headache. Photo: Colin Arisman / The Narwhal

An abandoned silo at the staging area is filled with trash, chemical waste and discarded equipment. Photo: Colin Arisman / The Narwhal

Road building is a topic of intense debate in southeast Alaska where there are no major road systems connecting the region’s communities. Photo: Colin Arisman / The Narwhal

A bunkhouse, still appearing new, looked as though it had been abandoned in a hurry, soon after construction. Shoes, telephones and other supplies lay in piles on the floor. Photo: Colin Arisman / The Narwhal

An abandoned room in the bunkhouse. Photo: Colin Arisman / The Narwhal

From the staging area we spent a day hiking up the access road and then the riverbed to the site of the Tulsequah Chief mine. 

Situated directly on the bank of the river, the site was startling and apocalyptic. 

Several new buildings, numerous storage containers and treatment ponds were scattered along the riverside. Rising steeply up from the river was a hillside that had been torn up by mining work.

The Tulsequah Chief mine site situated just metres from the river. Photo: Colin Arisman / The Narwhal

There were several pallets of ferric chloride, used in water treatment. Crisscrossing a dried up tailings pond, black bear tracks were perfectly preserved in the orange mud. The door of a storage container was cracked open, a pile of ominous-looking soak rags in a heap.

A large shed was filled with what appeared to be materials for an elaborate water treatment system. The water treatment system looked as if it was in very new condition and perhaps never operated before abandonment.

Numerous containers are filled with chemicals and equipment from attempted cleanup of the mine site. Photo: Colin Arisman / The Narwhal

A barrel of ferric chloride. Photo: Colin Arisman / The Narwhal

The hill above the river has been excavated extensively and the open earth is stained with the signature rust colour of acid mine drainage. Few plants grow among the orange rocks and many trees appear dead or dying. Several creeks run down through the old mine waste into a pond coated in a thick orange slime.

Previous owners of the site were required to construct new wastewater treatment systems but it’s clear standing near the river’s edge how thoroughly those attempts have failed. A wastewater pond, separated from the river by just 10 metres of gravel bank, has breached and eroded. A small stream of contaminated water flows directly into the Tulsequah. 

The overflowing containment pond. Photo: Colin Arisman / The Narwhal

The wall separating the pond from the Tulsequah River has eroded and wastewater now drains directly into the river. Photo: Colin Arisman / The Narwhal

Over the last decade Canadian officials have at times alleged that “there there isn’t significant environmental harm being done” to the watershed by the water leaking out of Tulsequah Chief. However, this summer the commissioners of several Alaskan agencies wrote that “there are measurable impacts to Tulsequah River water quality and fish habitats next to the mine site and a mile and a half downstream in the Canadian portion of the river.” They noted that these impacts have not yet been detected on the Alaska side of the Taku.

The Canada-U.S. border is marked by a clearcut strip, which cuts across the Taku valley about 20 kilometres from the mine site. Photo: Colin Arisman / The Narwhal

Pressure on B.C. increased in June with a letter from eight senators to Premier John Horgan, urging him to address the threats to transboundary rivers from mining.

“As you know, Alaska, Washington, Idaho and Montana have tremendous natural resources that need to be protected against impacts from B.C. hard rock and coal-mining activities near the headwaters of shared rivers, many of which support environmentally and economically significant salmon populations,” the senators wrote to Horgan. 

“These transboundary watersheds support critical water supply, recreation opportunities and wildlife habitat that support many livelihoods in local communities.”

There are numerous mines at various stages of their lifecycle from proposed to active to abandoned in the B.C.-Alaska transboundary region. Mapped above are 19 of those mines spanning four major river watersheds, including the Taku, the Stikine, the Nass and the Unuk, all of which support major salmon populations. Map: Carol Linnitt / The Narwhal

The letter followed a report from the University of Victoria’s Environmental Law Centre that found 1,100 closed mines across B.C. that continue to represent environmental threats.

The report found that some mines subject to acid mine drainage can never be fully cleaned up and may be subject to expensive water treatment in perpetuity. The Britannia mine, for example, required a $46 million treatment system for acid drainage that requires $3 million each year to operate — all funded by taxpayers.

A coalition of 30 groups in B.C. this summer called on the province to overhaul out-dated mining laws to alleviate risks to the public and the environment.

Alex’s souvenir from the trip was a beautiful moose shed. Photo: Colin Arisman / The Narwhal

Desire for a solution to the Tulsequah Chief mine is at an all-time high with multiple new mine projects in various stages of proposal or development along the B.C.-Alaska border. 

But there’s also cautious optimism for the Tulsequah River now that B.C. has finally selected a contractor to develop a cleanup plan. However, the contractor — embattled SNC Lavalin — is steeped in controversy and an unfolding ethics scandal that could once again derail cleanup of the site. 

A final remediation plan is not expected until the end of 2019.

The Tulsequah Chief gives some indication of how costly and challenging a long-term containment and treatment solution is, even for a small amount of waste water. 

New mines in the transboundary watershed are being built at a scale far greater than the Tulsequah Chief. 

Several years ago I flew over the Red Chris mine, owned and operated by Imperial Metals, a company facing the threat of bankruptcy. I was awestruck by the scale of the mine and tailings pond after only two years of production. Red Chris is perched on a mountain top above the Stikine River watershed, another salmon-rich transboundary system shared by B.C. and Alaska.

Imperial Metals’ Red Chris mine in the headwaters of the Stikine River. Photo: Colin Arisman / The Narwhal

Imperial Metals is also the company that owned and operated the Mount Polley mine, the site of one of Canada’s largest environmental disasters after a tailings pond collapsed, sending 24 million cubic metres of contaminated water into Quesnel Lake. 

Imperial Metals’ full reclamation costs are estimated at $173.6 million, with only $14.3 million held in reclamation deposits. 

The Taku Glacier near the confluence with the Pacific Ocean where we caught a flight back to Juneau from a lodge. Photo: Colin Arisman / The Narwhal

Photo: Colin Arisman / The Narwhal

As we paddle out past the melting Taku glacier and to the confluence where salt and freshwater meet, I try and wrap my head around the timescale of water, rock and ice. 

A salmon jumps and makes a daring dash across the water’s surface. A moment later a seal head pops up just five metres from our boat, a sockeye dangling from its mouth. It is the magic of moments like this that have led me to fall in love with southeast Alaska. 

These are also the moments that highlight what is at stake as B.C. considers new and larger mines in these remote, shared regions.

*Article updated on Oct. 11, 2019, at 2:45 p.m. to reflect the fact that both Chieftain and Redfern went bankrupt and to correct a previous reference to strip-mining on a hillside. The mining was actually underground mining, not strip mining.

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Generations of John Morris Sr.’s family have fished the Taku River in Southeast Alaska and for decades they have watched acid mine drainage from the abandoned Tulsequah Chief mine in B.C. flow into a tributary of the Taku.

Now, with a new NDP government, running on support from the Green Party and a shared promise of reconciliation with First Nations and a commitment to the principles of the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, Morris is hoping there will finally be some action on the Tulsequah Chief clean-up.

Indigenous and conservation groups in Alaska, who are ready to put pressure on B.C.’s new government, are pointing to a previous statement in the Legislature by Green Leader Andrew Weaver who said the Tulsequah Chief gives B.C. “an environmental black eye.”

“We have worked on this for so many years now, one day it’s going to fall on the right ears,” said Morris, spokesman for the Douglas Indian Association.

The area around the salmon-rich Taku River is sacred to Southeast Alaskan tribes and cleaning up the mess around the Tulsequah Chief is vitally important, especially given growing unease as larger mines open on the B.C. side of the border, according to Morris.

There are 10 advanced mining projects in the northwest corner of British Columbia.

“Hopefully something can be done. As soon as the right people are in the right places (in the new government) there will be some ears we can bend,” he said.

Premier designate John Horgan is expected to announce his new cabinet later this month. In a brief statement emailed to The Province, Jen Holmwood, caucus spokeswoman for the NDP, said cleanup of Tulsequah Chief “is a serious issue we’ll be looking into and have to say more on in the weeks ahead.”

Hopes ran high the mine would be cleaned up after former Liberal energy and mines minister Bill Bennett visited the mine site in 2015 and promised to remedy the situation. However, after leaving Alaska, where he had appeared shocked at the extent of the pollution, Bennett started backtracking and claimed there was no environmental threat.

The small zinc and copper mine has polluted the surrounding area since it was initially shut down in 1957 and a litany of clean-up promises were broken as the mine passed through a series of owners, including two companies that went bankrupt.

In September 2016 Chieftain Metals Corp., the latest owner of the mine, went into receivership, but the receiver, Grant Thornton Ltd., has posted documents on its website showing an unnamed company is interested in buying Chieftain’s stock.

However, groups in Alaska want the mine closed, not sold, especially as, by buying stock rather than the assets, the new company would be able to use Chieftain’s existing permits and would not have to consult with the Taku River Tlingit First Nation.

The Grant Thornton documents say many government permits and licences necessary for the operation “have consent rights” as a condition.

“The purchase and sale of the shares of (Chieftain) may obviate the need for any such assignments and consents,” according to the documents.

Morris is adamant that the Tulsequah Chief is not a viable mine and it’s time to clean it up and close it down for once and for all.

“Two mining companies have gone bankrupt trying to re-open this mine and have left a legacy of toxic acid mine drainage into salmon habitat. B.C.’s assurances of mine clean-up seem hollow with B.C. more interested in re-opening this failed mine, rather than cleaning up its 60-year legacy of pollution,” he said.

Alaskan Hopes Pinned on New BC Gov as Sale Looms for Polluting #Mine #bcpoli https://t.co/0gp9vs8brn

— DeSmog Canada (@DeSmogCanada) July 5, 2017

Chris Zimmer, Rivers Without Borders Alaska campaign director, said the new government needs to take a new look at Tulsequah and repair some of the damage to Alaska/B.C. relations done by previous governments.

“This is a (Christy) Clark/Bennett leftover that the new incoming B.C. government should end,” Zimmer said.

“Trying to re-open the Tulsequah Chief a third time is not a clean-up plan. It is a recipe for another bankruptcy, more pollution and opening up the heart of the Taku to mining and road building,” he said.

Lack of consultation about a new buyer for the mine, despite the signing last year of a Statement of Cooperation between Alaska and B.C., is bringing rumblings of discontent and renewed calls for the two federal governments to become involved in transboundary mining problems.

“If B.C. can’t solve the pollution problem at the relatively small Tulsequah Chief, what can we expect at much larger mines, such as Red Chris and KSM, especially without federal involvement under the Boundary Waters treaty,” asked Frederick Olsen Jr., United Tribal Trans-boundary Mining Work Group chair.

The cooperation agreement is similar to relying on the Neighbourhood Watch program, when police are needed, he said.

The Mount Polley disaster weighs heavily on many Southeast Alaskans who wonder what would happen if there was a similar tailings dam breach on the border, with poison reaching one of the major salmon-bearing rivers.

“It wouldn’t just be the salmon, it would be the whole ecosystem — the bears and wolves and every other creature that depends on this,” Morris said.

“We’re all for economic development, but let’s do it safe.”

Image: Taku River. Photo: Chris Miller via Salmon Beyond Borders

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Cleanup of the troubled Tulsequah Chief mine in northwest B.C., which has leaked acidic water into nearby streams and rivers for more than six decades, is again in limbo following an announcement by the owner, Toronto-based Chieftain Metals Inc., that the company is in receivership.

Chieftain, in a statement, said the accounting firm Grant Thornton “was appointed through court order as the receiver of all the assets, undertakings and properties of Chieftain.” The majority of company directors have resigned.

The court order came after a demand by West Face Capitol for repayment of a $26-million loan.

Chieftain’s properties include 65 mineral claims, but the company’s principal focus was development of the Tulsequah Chief, which it bought in 2010. At that time, Chieftain accepted responsibility for the long overdue environmental cleanup, but an interim water treatment plant operated for only six months and was closed in 2012 because of costs and technical issues.

The mine is situated beside the Tulsequah River, the largest tributary to the Taku, one of Alaska’s most important salmon rivers, and the continuing acid mine drainage has infuriated Southeast Alaskans who point to the pollution as a major reason not to trust B.C.’s rules and oversight of mines being developed along the B.C./Alaska border.

Chris Zimmer of Rivers Without Borders said the Tulsequah Chief is a poster child for downstream concerns at a time of growing demands from Southeast Alaskans for Alaska and the U.S. State Department to work together to obtain guarantees that B.C.’s mining development won’t harm water quality, fisheries or livelihoods downstream in Alaska.

“If B.C. can’t ensure that the Tulsequah Chief is cleaned up, why should Alaskans have any trust that much larger mines like KSM won’t pollute our waters?” asked Zimmer, who is demanding that the B.C. government step in and clean up the site, rather than relying on mining companies to clean up the site.

The KSM mine, about 35 kilometres from the Alaska border, which will tap into one of the largest gold and copper deposits in the world, is one of about a dozen B.C. mines in the transboundary areas in various stages of application, planning and development.

Last year, Energy and Mines Minister Bill Bennett flew over the Tulsequah Chief mine site and promised that the mess would be cleaned up. However, he then appeared to backtrack, saying scientists did not believe the acid mine drainage was causing any environmental harm.

That is a claim disputed by many of the Southeast Alaskan organizations, tribes and politicians anxiously watching the proliferation of B.C. mines near salmon rivers flowing into Southeast Alaska and there are growing demands for the U.S. federal government to step in and refer the issue of transboundary mines to the International Joint Commission.

“The size of the watersheds and valuable fisheries at risk and the growing evidence that neither B.C. nor its mining industry can be trusted, clearly shows Alaska cannot go it alone with B.C.,” Zimmer said.

“We need the help of the U.S. federal government and the authority of the Boundary Waters Treaty to ensure that B.C. and its mining industry pay for the true costs of mining rather than risking fisheries and water quality downstream,” he said.

The Tulsequah Chief was closed by Cominco in 1957 without any cleanup or reclamation of the site. It was bought by Redfern Corp. in 1992, but numerous government warnings and reclamation orders were ignored and Redfern filed for bankruptcy in 2009.

“Since the mining companies have been unable to halt the acid mine drainage, it’s time for B.C. to honour the promises made by Minister Bill Bennett last August and clean up this mess,” Zimmer said.

Energy and Mines Ministry spokesmen could not be contacted by time of publication.

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Acid mine drainage from the Tulsequah Chief mine in northwest B.C. has worried and infuriated Southeast Alaskans for almost six decades and concerns have again peaked with a new analysis that claims a study of runoff — that found the drainage would not affect fish — was flawed.

The mine, situated beside the Tulsequah River, the largest tributary to the Taku, one of Alaska’s premium salmon rivers, was closed by Cominco in 1957 without reclamation or clean-up of acid mine drainage.

The mine was bought by Redfern Corp. but numerous government warnings and reclamation orders were ignored and Redfern filed for bankruptcy in 2009. The mine was then bought in 2010 by Toronto-based Chieftain Metals Inc., which accepted environmental liabilities as part of the purchase price.

Hopes that the drainage problems would be addressed were short-lived and an interim water treatment plant that operated for only six months was closed in June 2012 because of costs and technical issues.

The only consolation for those worried about the effect of toxic runoff on salmon, was a study, ordered by the province and conducted for Chieftain in 2013, that concluded that, although significant levels of copper and zinc were found downstream from the mine, the drainage posed a low risk to fish in the Tulsequah River and that the discharge did not affect the Taku River as Tulsequah water was diluted by a factor of six when mixed with Taku waters.

“Chieftain Metals is of the opinion that the extent of aquatic environmental risk is very low for the majority of the year and low to moderate during the winter and spring thaw,” Chieftain Metals CEO Victor Wyprysky wrote in a 2013 letter to the provincial Ministry of Environment.

However, that study is now being questioned by a new analysis, conducted for Rivers Without Borders, that has found problems with the way information was collected.

“Consequently, the conclusion of low risk to aquatic life from Tulsequah Chief mine acid mine drainage is unreliable,” says the report by fisheries biologist Sarah O’Neal.

Chris Zimmer of Rivers Without Borders, one of the many Alaskan organizations, tribes and politicians that have been watching the recent proliferation of B.C. mines close to the Alaskan border with trepidation, said the Chieftain study is fundamentally flawed and cannot be used to delay clean-up of the polluting mine any longer.

In a question-and-answer interview with the Juneau Empire, Bennett said: “I said I’m going to try to fix it, so I’m going to try to fix it. It’s a horribly difficult and complex issue for B.C., because the scientists on both sides of the border say there isn’t any environmental harm from what’s going into the Tulsequah River. We have limited resources.”

DeSmog Canada received no response to numerous phone calls and emails to both the B.C. Ministry of Energy and Mines and Chieftain Metals.

In November, B.C. and Alaska signed a memorandum of understanding to strengthen cross-border consultation on major mine developments and to develop a joint water monitoring program for transboundary waters.

The Tulsequah Chief should be one of the first issues addressed and, as it seems unlikely that Chieftain has the wherewithal or financial resources to clear up the problem, it is up to B.C. and the Canadian federal government to step in, especially as questions are again being raised about damage from the runoff, Zimmer said.

“It’s time to seal up this festering sore. If Chieftain can’t do it, then B.C. needs to step up. Alaskans concerned about B.C. mining across the transboundary region see the Tulsequah Chief as a test case of how B.C. will deal with other mines,” Zimmer said.

“So far, B.C. is failing the test and Alaskans have real reason for worry. If B.C. can’t deal with this relatively small mine, how will it deal with massive mines like KSM?”

“Chieftain and B.C. have both a legal and moral responsibility to clean this up,” Zimmer said, pointing to Energy and Mines Minister Bill Bennett who, while he was visiting Alaska last year, initially pledged to clean up the mess and then backtracked, pointing to the Chieftain study.

The KSM mine, about 35 kilometres from the Alaska border, which will tap into one of the largest gold and copper deposits in the world, is one of about 10 mines close to the Alaska/B.C. transboundary region in various stages of applications, planning and development.

This week a delegation of tribal leaders, commercial fishing groups and conservation organizations from Alaska was in Ottawa looking for help from federal politicians in giving Alaska a bigger say in mine development in shared waters.

The group, who will also meet with Bruce Heyman, U.S. ambassador to Canada, wants the issue referred to the International Joint Commission, which was created under the 1909 Boundary Waters Treaty, to deal with disputes in shared waters.

“We wanted to get our request in the radar before Prime Minister Trudeau and President Obama meet here in Ottawa later this month as part of the North American summit,” Heather Hardcastle, from Salmon Beyond Borders, told DeSmog Canada.

Currently Alaska, as the downstream neighbour, takes all the risks associated with mines in B.C., she said.

“It is increasingly clear that it will take our two countries working together to decide how to manage our globally significant share of this iconic region,” Hardcastle added.

Years of trying to get the B.C. government to address concerns have produced nothing but nice words and vague promises, said Frederick Otilius Olsen Jr., chairman of the United Tribal Transboundary Mining Work Group, representing 15 Southeast Alaska Tribes.

“We seem to be getting nowhere,” Olsen, a member of the delegation to Ottawa, said.

“Facts, reports and studies keep emerging — the latest from B.C.’s Auditor General — that indicate the situation is even worse than we feared. We need federal help and an international solution to this international problem.”

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Promises of a closer relationship between B.C. and Alaska and more consultation on B.C. mine applications are a good start, but, so far, Southeast Alaska has no more guarantees that those mines will not pollute salmon-bearing rivers than before this week’s visit by B.C.’s Energy and Mines Minister Bill Bennett, say Alaskan fishing and conservation groups.

Bennett, accompanied by senior civil servants from the ministries of Energy and Mines and Environment, took a conciliatory tone as he met with state officials, policy-makers and critics of what is seen as an aggressive push by B.C. to develop mines in the transboundary area, close to vitally important salmon rivers such as the Unuk, Taku and Stikine.

“I understand why people feel so strongly about protecting what they have,” Bennett said in a Juneau news conference with Alaska Lt. Governor Byron Mallott.

“There’s a way of life here that has tremendous value and the people here don’t want to lose it. I get that,” he said.

But promises of a strengthened dialogue and more opportunities to comment on mine applications fall far short of a growing chorus of Alaskan demands that the issue be referred to the International Joint Commission, formed under the Boundary Waters Treaty, which forbids either country from polluting transboundary waters.

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It was a step forward to have such a high-level meeting, said Chris Zimmer of Rivers Without Borders, but it is an international issue that demands international attention.

“Increased involvement in the B.C permitting process is not a bad thing, but it is not a solution on its own. In other words, we stand firm for the need of an international solution under the Boundary Waters Treaty,” Zimmer said.

Both sides agreed the status quo cannot continue, but the question is how to move forward, Zimmer said.

“How do we move from words to real, concrete action to protect Alaska’s interests?”

Bennett did not rule out the possibility of going to the International Joint Commission, but felt it was premature and the commission should be brought in only if the province and state could not work it out between themselves, said Heather Hardcastle of Salmon Beyond Borders, a coalition of fishing, tribal, tourism and community organizations.

There was also no agreement on the question of how Alaskans would be compensated if there was an upstream spill.

“We are saying we are taking on the lion’s share of the risk and we are not receiving the benefits and there is nothing in place right now, Minister Bennett told us, to deal with liability,” Hardcastle said at a news conference following a meeting with Bennett.

“That’s just unacceptable to us that there’s nothing to compensate us for the lack of our livelihood.”

Financial assurances that Alaskans would be compensated if B.C. mining damages fisheries and water quality are needed prior to projects receiving permits, Hardcastle said.

Dale Kelley, Alaska Trollers Association executive director, said the universal theme was how to ensure no harm befalls Alaska’s fisheries.

“It was quite disturbing to hear the minister say there really is no remedy,” she said.

Both federal governments need to be involved in compensation discussions as a spill would mean a disaster on a scale that could not be handled by the state and provincial governments, Kelley said.

During the visit, Bennett agreed that B.C. should fix leakage from the Tulsequah Chief Mine, that, through a tributary, flows into the Taku River.

Decades of failed promises to fix the leakage have been a thorn in the side of many Alaskans, even though it is not known whether the mine drainage is hurting fish.

After touring the Taku River by helicopter Monday, Bennett told reporters it should be fixed.

“I think B.C is going to have to find a way to rectify it sooner than later and I think it is a most legitimate criticism of us by those folks in Alaska who don’t like it,” he said.

The Tulsequah Chief, now owned by Chieftain Metals Corp, was closed by Cominco in 1957 without acid mine drainage cleanup or site reclamation and despite numerous B.C orders, subsequent owners failed to clean up the mess. The mine was bought by Chieftain in 2010 when the company accepted the environmental liabilities and installed an interim water treatment plant.

“It’s clearly a black eye for Canada,” Zimmer said.

Solutions now, if Chieftain does not reopen the mine and get a grip on the drainage problems, are for B.C. to close down the mine properly — something likely to cost multi-millions of dollars — or to spend $4-million a year to treat the waste in perpetuity, Zimmer said.

“We are looking for very specific action to back these words up.”

Photo: Minister of Energy and Mines Bill Bennett. Credit: Province of British Columbia.

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Long-held perceptions of Canada as a country with strict environmental standards and B.C. as a province that values natural beauty are taking a near-fatal beating in Southeast Alaska, where many now regard Canadians as bad neighbours who are unilaterally making decisions that could threaten the region’s two major economic drivers.

Fishing and tourism — each billion-dollar industries — are the lifeblood of Southeast Alaska, where glaciers sweep down into rivers home to five species of wild salmon and massive snow-covered peaks tower over fertile wetlands.

Tourism accounts for 10,900 jobs in the Alaska Panhandle and salmon fishing employs 7,300 people.

Air and water are the only ways into communities such as Juneau, the state capital, and almost seven million hectares, or three-quarters of Southeast Alaska, are within the Tongass National Forest, where industrial activity is limited.

But, upstream, in northwest B.C., there is a new-style gold rush with an unprecedented number of applications for open-pit gold and copper mines, some made viable by construction of the Northwest Transmission Line and all requiring road access.

Alaskan politicians, tribes, fishing organizations and environmental groups have come together in a rare show of unity to condemn B.C.’s push to approve mines close to major transboundary salmon rivers, such as the Stikine, Taku and Unuk, which run from B.C. into Alaska. Tensions are running so high the groups are asking the International Joint Commission, designed to resolve Canada/U.S. water problems, to step in.

Canada is increasingly viewed as a “bad actor,” whose record — most recently illustrated by the Mount Polley mine tailings dam collapse — shows that the province’s environmental regulations and oversight is not strong enough to protect downstream communities.

“It’s the new wild west,” said Heather Hardcastle, a commercial fisherman and co-ordinator of Salmon Beyond Borders, pointing out that, even though Alaska has nothing to gain and everything to lose, Alaskans are being denied meaningful input into mine decisions.

10 Advanced Mining Projects in Northwestern B.C.

The new mines include Imperial Metals’ Red Chris, a copper and gold mine operated by the same company that owns Mount Polley, and Seabridge Gold’s massive KSM (Kerr-Sulpherets-Mitchell) mine, 30 kilometres from the U.S border and Misty Fjords National Monument, which will open up mining of the largest undeveloped gold reserve in the world. KSM has provincial and federal environmental assessment approval and is waiting for permits.

According to B.C.’s Ministry of Energy and Mines there are 10 advanced projects in the northwest corner of B.C. and numerous others in exploration phases.

Graphic: Salmon Beyond Borders

They include Kitsault (under construction), Silvertip (provincial permit granted in June), Tulsequah Chief (construction started, but project delayed), Brucejack (Mines Act permit application under review), Kutcho and Schaft Creek (both in the environmental assessment pre-application stage).

In comparison, there are only five operating mines in Alaska, of which two are in Southeast Alaska and one of which uses dry stack tailings, the method of dealing with acid-generating mine waste favoured by the expert panel that investigated the Mount Polley dam collapse.

The Canadian system appears to aim “to get to yes fast,” without consideration of other values when it comes to resource extraction, said Jev Shelton, a commercial fisherman and former member of the Pacific Salmon Commission, the joint Canadian/U.S. regulatory body designed to protect salmon stocks.

“It is certainly triggering a fair bit of anger,” Shelton said.

B.C. Moving 'Full Speed Ahead'

The pace and scale of development is huge, said Chris Zimmer of Rivers Without Borders.

“B.C. is going full speed ahead without any brakes. It looks as if they’re trying to move as fast as they can before Alaska puts up hurdles.”

There is growing indignation that B.C. is not listening to Alaskan concerns and that additional input, promised in May after Energy and Mines Minister Bill Bennett met with Alaska’s Lieutenant Governor Byron Mallott, amounts to little more than window-dressing.

“We were a bit stunned by Bill Bennett giving us the table scraps and saying Alaska can come in at the final stages of permitting — they’re saying we will involve you when the final decision has been made to build the mine,” Zimmer said.

Alaskan Concerns Ignored

Gillnetter and fisheries consultant Lindsey Bloom agrees that Alaskan questions are being ignored.

“Since I started working on this issue, the disregard of Canadian officials towards us is concerning,” she said.

While Mallott and Bennett were meeting in B.C., a group of Alaskan tribal leaders, fishing industry representatives and environmental advocates met with high-level provincial government staff.

However, it was an exercise in frustration because of the lack of answers or acknowledgement of downstream concerns, according to several people who attended the meeting.

“We tried to explain we don’t want more say in the permitting process, we want something to put us on an equal footing with B.C.,” Hardcastle said.

B.C. government staff appeared to think their task was to explain the process instead of listening to concerns and suggestions, said several members of the Alaskan delegation.

Mallott, who is leading an Alaskan transboundary waters working group, said in an interview with DeSmog Canada, that, during their meeting, Bennett was amenable to the notion of more Alaskan involvement and he has been invited to Alaska to continue the conversation.

Staff who have looked at B.C.’s technical permitting and assessment of mines believe the rules in B.C. and Alaska are generally equivalent, said Mallott.

“But there are significant differences. Whether the entire range of environmental assessment and permitting is robust enough to protect both B.C. and U.S. and Alaskan interests is still something we all need to be made more comfortable with,” he said.

“We would want Alaskan officials at the table when decisions are made in such areas of permitting that it is possible that catastrophic events could take place.”

Mount Polley Tailings Dam Collapse Stokes Fears Downstream

The pace of development and the cumulative impacts of the mines in B.C. are alarming, but it is the failures that haunt Alaskans.

The image of 24-million cubic metres of mine tailings and waste water sweeping down from the Mount Polley tailings dam is etched into memories, but there are others such as the constant irritant of the ongoing acid drainage from the Tulsequah Chief mine.

“It underlines the Canadian government’s lack of commitment to what happens in the river,” said commercial fisherman Len (Pete) Peterson.

The copper and gold mine, near the confluence of the Tulsequah and Taku Rivers, has been leaking acid since Cominco stopped mining in 1957. Since 1989, there have been numerous remediation and pollution abatement orders from the B.C. government, but the leakage continues.

Earlier this year the province gave Chieftain Metals Corp., the latest owner, permission to re-open the mine and the company is currently trying to obtain financing. However, hurdles include opposition from the Taku River Tlingit First Nation. In an attempt to circumvent the problem, the company is proposing a barging system, instead of an access road, but that is likely to be a problem for Alaskan gillnetters.

At Johnny Mountain, close to the Iskut River, operations ceased in 1993 and the company attempted to burn and bury equipment. Although there has been some soil remediation, what threat remains of acid rock drainage from the underground operation is unclear.

“They shoved (the equipment) into the mountain and blew it up,” said miner Joe Bradley, who recently flew over the area.

The test of B.C.’s process is how it is carried out and the “real world” results, Zimmer said.

“Alaska understands the B.C. process. Where has it gotten us? Mount Polley disaster, Tulsequah Chief and five decades of acid mine drainage, renewed talk of Taku River barging, a total lack of involvement on the evaluation of the Red Chris mine, a denial of Alaska’s request for a KSM panel review,” Zimmer said.

Photo: Chris Zimmer

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