Ocean to Desert: The return of the Sockeye Salmon to the Spawning Grounds of the South Okanagan.

Rattlesnakes, cacti, bunch grass; all species which characterize South Okanagan Region of BC's southern interior. Oh, and yes... Sockeye Salmon!

Okanagan River Salmon

The salmon stocks of the Fraser River system have in recent years gained high profile coverage both in British Columbia and internationally. However for time immemorial Salmon, including Sockeye and Chinook, have migrated from the lakes and streams of the Okanagan to the Pacific ocean via the great Columbia river, and then back again in their ongoing four year cycle. The historical spawning range extends to the tributary streams at the north end of Okanagan Lake near Vernon. Annual salmon returns where once a significant resource for Aboriginal communities with in the region. In recent times however this ancient pattern has been disrupted. Local stream alteration and larger regional hydroelectric developments over the past 50 - 100 years have dramatically changed the character of the Columbia drainage system. This change has had two significant affects on migratory fish species: First, the extent of their upstream migration has been limited, effectively cutting of access to their traditional head water habitat. Second, channelization and agricultural irrigation infrastructure have altered the habit that can currently be accessed. These combined pressures have resulted in an Okanagan salmon population that has struggled. In fact the furthest reach of the return has been until recently limited to a small damn at McIntyre Bluff just north of the community of Oliver. The public profile of the return is so low in fact, many local residents are unaware that they live adjacent to potentially highly productive salmon habitat.

The Good News

Through the efforts of the Okanagan Nation Alliance (ONA) http://www.syilx.org/naturalresources-fisheries.php sockeye and chinook salmon are now regaining use of the some of the waters that have been unavailable to them. The ONA in partnership with the Colville Confederated Tribes have secured funding from the Bonneville Power corporation to work pro-actively toward the long term goal of enabling salmon passage into skaha lake and ultimately enabling their passage into Okanagan lake.

At this point the measures intended to allow fish passage into Vaseux lake have proved to be successful. Both sockeye and chinook salmon have been observed in Vaseux as well as in the Okanagan River Channel at Okanagan Falls. In fact chinook salmon have been observed as far up the system as Penticton, indicating that last years prolonged high water runoff allowed fish to navigate up stream beyond the damn at the south end of Skaha lake.

This effort, although still very much on going is an excellent good news story. It is a First Nations lead project with cooperation from industry, and various levels of government on both sides of the boarder, and it is producing exciting results.

I thank the members of the ONA fisheries department who welcomed me to participate in the conservation fishery efforts this year. Though I am quite comfortable in the water I have never before worked a net with a team. I was lucky enough to spend the day with the crew in the mild mid October waters of the Okanagan River. Thanks !

I would like to extend a larger thank you to the Okanagan Nation Alliance and it's partners for taking on the project. It is ambitious and it is meaningful.

This fall as we buzz around our communities in preparation for the winter ahead we should take a moment to pause and imagine the streams and rivers of our communities once again being connected to the ocean through the migration of the salmon.

Sources for further information about Pacific salmon:

Okanagan Nation Alliance,
http://www.syilx.org/naturalresources-fisheries.php

Canadian Okanagan Basin Technical Working Group,
http://www.obtwg.ca/reg_description.html

Oceans and Fisheries Canada,
http://www.pac.dfo-mpo.gc.ca/fm-gp/species-especes/salmon-saumon/index-eng.htm

David Suzuki Foundation,
http://www.davidsuzuki.org/issues/oceans/science/sustainable-fisheries-and-aquaculture/marine-planning-and-conservation/canadas-pacific-north-coast/

Ski Joring at Mount Riordan in BC's Southern Interior: A Transformational Ski With the Dog, a Scarn, and the Solar System.

       I harness my dog and step into my skis. We begin our push toward the sky. Our objective this morning is the top of Mount Riordan, a smallish rock feature in the Nickel Plate lake area of the South Okanagan, not far from Nickel Plate Nordic Center (http://www.nickelplatenordic.org/). This hill is also known as “Riordan Scarn” or, the misleading, “Crystal Peak”. I have been focusing my ski time here as of late. My interest has been roused by public discussion of a potential pit mine operation on Riordan. I ski with the purpose of discovering the character of this place, before the forever effects of engineered denudation. Developing understanding of a natural place and its character, like forming the bonds of friendship, requires time and patience and commitment. It returns to us a dividend of self-discovery and transformation.

        
       Snow lays quiet and trees stand cold. It is dark. The sun has not yet risen, but the fullness of the moon and luminous quilt of snow around us lend other worldly visibility. We are gliding through a photographic negative. We are silent speed. We are breath. Riordan begins to reveal, first, its nocturnal wilds. This area will potentially fall victim to a set of tragic geological realities: It is not as majestic as any mountain in the Rockies to the east; It is not so remote as to be inaccessible; It is not so completely unremarkable so as to be simply over looked. For Riordan the situation is most dangerous, its beauty is on the inside. Within Riordan lies a substantial deposit of Garnet, a material which it turns out is valuable for its usefulness in pressurized abrasive cleaning. The British Columbia Geologic Survey profiles the deposit in a 1992 report published in GeoScience world: http://econgeol.geoscienceworld.org/cgi/content/abstract/87/7/1862.

      I remember when I started thinking myself a mountain man. How naive. My senses were too overwhelmed by the mechanics of my tools and toys to really experience, well, anything but my tools and toys. Chainsaws, tractors, trucks. Vast areas covered in short times. The smell of burnt tobacco hanging on my damp denim jacket: the working man’s cologne, scenting the Canadian tuxedo. There is a disparity between the frenzied pace of a consumer society and the pedestrian metronome of the natural world. Mountains live in geologic time. The only hope we have of appreciating the immense scale of their existence is to slow our minds and quicken our pulses in their presence. A mountain experience is only authentic if you have worked for it. Our lungs open broadly for air and our eyes widen in the dark blue of morning, Riordan begins to awake. The set is becoming a character.                 

                                   

     My dog slips and I crash into him, flattening him to the trail. His name is Chinook. He is a 65 pound mixed breed Sheppard, black with a brindle mask, yellow-brown wild eyes. He is a harnessed hurricane. Chinook looks up at me with startled confusion. I selected him from a litter of three at the Penticton SPCA under the watchful eyes of my then 3 year old daughter. It would be an incredible understatement to say that Chinook has been a challenging presents in our home. “It’s lucky for him he’s nice to look at.” My wife and I used to joke. He is nice to look at, in his hyena-dingo way. Is that really what secures his place in our family? No. It is of course our patience and our commitment, our stubborn confidence that through time our family bond with Chinook will only become richer. We wager that our investment will create a reciprocated benefit. Our engagement with Chinook is most certainly, in some measure, a journey in self-discovery. He has tested every member of our household. He has tested my resolve to keep him. He has at times been the embodiment of marital conflict. Ropes untangled and poles collected, we begin to climb. Chinook shoulders forward in his harness, now beginning to pull more weight than his own.
                                     

     The contrast between the experience gained purchasing a bag of Mount Riordan for cleaning, verses, the experience of skiing its morning trails consumes my mind as we ascend, then is gone, replaced instead with the orange rays of the rising sun. Light spanning out from the horizon, glancing the top of the valley clouds below like a skipping stone on a pond. The morning splashes on the snow covered crest, painting it orange and then reaches to the Moon before bouncing back again. In the absence of peripheral static interference subtle nuances are elevated in profile. Character always present but previously undetected reveals itself, rising to the fore front of experience. With effort, some acceptance, and enough imagination we can gain new understanding. Is it possible that Riordan is more ‘valuable’ translated into dust? We ski on. Riordan reveals again, this time showing us magic. There, for a moment, stretching up between celestial beings, a snow covered scarn becomes a crystal covered peak valuable beyond its aggregated qualities, a man becomes ‘of the mountains’, and dog becomes a partner in discovery as well as the best damn ski companion I could ask for.

     This piece was originally written in February, 2010. It was revised November 7, 2011. Currently there has been no advancement of machinery nor detonation of explosives on or within Mount Riordan. This may be largely a consequence of market demand, or lack there of, for Garnet. As winter approaches Chinook and I look up and to the west from our home in Penticton toward the trails of Riordan.