From Sharks to Sequoias

A couple of weekends ago I ventured south to Courtenay for the World Community Film Festival. The 18th edition of the festival was produced by the World Community Development Education Society, quite the mouthful, and featured over thirty documentaries. The films were concerned with issues ranging from the global plight of the apex oceanic predator, the shark, the workings of Canada's tar sands and the machinations of Monsanto to Peruvian women coffee growers, Vancouver's homeless and the artificial sweetner aspartame.

The films were shown at five different venues and I managed to watch five documentaries, from ten through until seven in the evening.


The first film was Sharkwater, a 2007 documentary examining the shark, its media-maligned character and its decimation at the hands of long line fishermen. I found much of the underwater footage involving the filmmaker, Rob Stewart, interacting with sharks to be fresh and fascinating. Scenes of the filmmaker holding sharks around their midsections on the sea floor, or grasping their snouts and grappling with them were unreal. Interviews with shark biologists and behaviourists do much to displace the layers of myth surrounding the shark as a species. Statistics show the miniscule likelihood of a shark attack and the devastation wreaked upon the shark population by overfishing. One statistic claims 90% of sharks in the world's oceans have been killed.

Rob Stewart journeys with Paul Watson of the Sea Shepherd Conservation Society and films confrontations with shark poachers off the coast of Guatemala and their encounters with the law in Costa Rica. Hidden camera footage is shot of illegal shark finning operations and Stewart outlines the massive Asian demand for shark fin soup. An interview with William Goh, an Asian shark fin entrepeneur, provides some hilarity as Goh defends his industry with nonsensical arguments. The shark is "a very fierce animal … they bite you and tear you, there is pain, and you die." Disregard that fins sell for between $400-$1000 per kilogram.

I took issue with facets of Sharkwater. The film feels uneven, transitioning from an underwater documentary to the stranger than fiction Sea Shepherd battles. Stewart seems an egoist with a love of his own image and an extended period of Stewart in hospital with flesh-eating disease did little to propel the documentary forward. These aspects pale beside the message the documentary bears, and I urge all to see it and cut all that shark fin soup out of your life. For further information check out this article in the UK's Telegraph.

I wavered between Tar Sands: Canada For Sale and One Water following Sharkwater. I decided to stay in my seat and watch One Water, released in 2008 by the University of Miami. One Water was concerned with global access to safe, potable water, water waste and water privatisation. The documentary was filmed in 15 countries and featured long tracts of visual storytelling interspersed with interviews with such luminaries as the Dalai Lama and Vandana Shiva, author of Water Wars. I enjoyed some of the visual storylines, particularly the thread which followed an Ecuadorian harvesting glacial ice from the volcano Chimborazo to sell in the markets of the nearby cities, but felt that many of the storylines dragged. The narration was weak and the visual quality of the film, featured so prominently, wasn't up to standard. The interviews were strong, but too few.

I ventured to another venue to see John Pilger's latest documentary, The War On Democracy, released in 2007. John Pilger is a two time winner of Britain's Journalist of the Year and has produced a number of books and documentaries examining un- or under-reported events, hidden histories, and aspects of the darker qualities of human civilisation. He is a strong critic of Western foreign policy, particularly what he regards as the imperialistic agenda of the United States. The War On Democracy examines the history of US intervention in Latin American politics, from the 1950s and the actions in the 'banana republics' of Central America, to the rise of the military dictatorships and the rule of the death squads in the 1970s and 80s, and the present day popular movements in Bolivia and Venezuela. The film features archival footage, interviews with former CIA agents and survivors of military regime pogroms, and an illuminating conversation with Hugo Chavez, President of Venezuela and yet another maligned character in the Western media.


The Real Dirt on Farmer John was the most lighthearted film of a heavy day's viewing. The 2005 documentary follows in the footsteps of Farmer John Peterson, and his journey from farmer's son, to farm owner and counter culture art commune 'organiser,' to the proprietor of a community-supported organic farm supplying fresh produce to 1,200 shareholder families. The archival footage from John's youth, shot by his mother in the 50s and 60s, provides a window into the seasonal flow of the family farm. Footage from the art commune days portrays the heady spirits of the late 60s and early 70s. John's life parallels the journey of American agriculture in the 20th century, the boom and bust of family farms and rise of industrial scale farming. John's development of Angelic Organics traces one route away from the mass production of multinational agriculture.

The misunderstandings between John, his hippy friends, and the conservative attitudes of his neighbours make for a few laughs, as does John's quirky nature and costume changes. The film finishes on a positive note, with the success of his farm and the connections developed between Angelic Organics and its community shareholders. Seeing all the shiny vegetables bursting from dark rich soil got me excited for spring and producing some of the same.

The final film of my day was The Forest For The Trees, a 2006 documentary tracing the activism of Judi Bari of Earth First! and her court case against the FBI. Judi Bari was active against the logging of the last stands of redwood forest in Northern California in the 1980s. She also organised efforts to improve the dialogue between environmentalists and timber workers. Her vehicle was pipe-bombed in 1990; Bari survived the explosion but was arrested three hours later while recovering in hospital. She was accused of carrying a bomb for use in an act of terrorism, despite the bomb's position beneath the driver's seat of her vehicle and its attached motion sensor. No charges were laid, but Bari filed suit against the FBI and Oakland police for false arrest, claiming they had attempted to discredit her work and that of Earth First! in defense of the redwoods.

The film details Bari's early work with Earth First! before shifting focus to the court case between Bari and the FBI. The documentary maker is the daughter of the lead attorney of the case, a civil-rights veteran, and she brings a unique perspective to the trial. Bari dies of breast cancer in 1997, but in 2002 her name is cleared when a jury orders the defendants to pay her estate over 4 million dollars, citing First Amendment violations. The film highlights the intentional blurring of the lines between dissent and terrorism in these days of perpetual war on terror.

Little Necks & Matsutake

We are into a new year. Two thousand and nine should prove to be a memorable year for Sarah and myself. We are getting psyched for our upcoming wedding and are excited to welcome friends and family from abroad to British Columbia.

Our last trip to Hornby Island, back in December, was a return to humankind's hunter-gatherer roots. We hooked up with friends and hit the shore at approximately midnight for low tide and the gathering of oysters and the digging of clams. We left a serpetine trail of excavations behind us as we probed for the clams, called little necks. Pictured are horse clams, dug the previous night at Miracle Beach, south of Campbell River.


The man looking sifty in the background is Mark Sloan, a fungi aficionado. We ventured out with him, his lovely wife Megan, and friends to Hornby's Mount Geoffrey, elevation 350 metres, to wander the forest hunting mushrooms, walk off our hangovers and view the view. We discovered patches of chanterelle and hedgehog mushrooms with Mark's guidance and identifying eye. As we returned back down the mountain along a wider, well-used trail, a clump of white at the edge caught our attention. We bent closer and breathed in the pungent odour of Tricholoma magnivelare, commonly known as the pine mushroom. The Japanese call the mushroom Masutake; it is a delicacy for which the Japanese pay premium prices. Early season Japanese Matsutake can be worth US$2000 a kilogram. The mushrooms we found were a combination of qualities, with decay occuring in the older specimens. The largest is pictured, an umbrella of a mushroom.

We left Campbell River over the Christmas-New Year period and spent our time in Vancouver. We rented snow shoes from Mountain Equipment Co-op (MEC), a ubiquitously Canadian symbol, and journeyed north to Squamish and our friends Trish and Regan. We snow-shoed with them along a trail in Garibaldi Provincial Park - my first experience of snow shoes. Snow fell throughout the hike.


After the New Year celebrations we headed up to Cypress Provincial Park, situated on the North Shore of Greater Vancouver. We met friends and followed a trail to higher elevations, with views of Vancouver to the south, Vancouver Island to the west, Howe Sound to the northwest, and the Lions - a signature pair of peaks overlooking the city - to the north.

We ate lunch, a bento box of Shogatsu leftovers, watched closely by a pair of large, glossy black ravens, and pestered by a number of gray jays. The gray jay is colloquially known as meat bird, camp robber, venison-hawk, moose-bird and whiskeyjack (a corruption of an aboriginal name, Wisakedjak, for a mischievous trickster). The jays flitted amongst our group, living up to their reputation as they attempted to steal food from the hand or mouth. They were bold and incorrigible.


Vancouver from Cypress Provincial Park, looking southeast. The Lions Gate Bridge crosses from North Vancouver to Stanley Park and the downtown. Note the section of white snow in Stanley Park, a result of the extreme windstorms of last winter and the havoc they wrought amongst the park's trees.

Movember

Green Thumbs

Living in our own place has given us the first real opportunity to grow our own food. We are loving that opportunity. Sarah is a silviculturist; her job is all about giving trees the best chance to grow tall and strong. She has the innate ability to cultivate plants, and I seem to have inherited some of my old man's green thumb.























Above: The beginning, early June (after the beginning of the beginning, digging up sod and building the beds).

Below: Progress, early July.



We have germinated, nurtured and consumed a multitude of green delights. Eating snap and sugar peas transported me to Shag Point, East Otago, circa 1983, a toddling Hinch plucking peas from plants and devouring pods and all. Two varities of radish, Pink Lady and White Sparkler, crisp, spicy, white fleshed beauties, have come and gone. We have kabocha, Japanese winter squash, swelling in size. Acorn squash have been a disappointment thus far, but the plant itself has spread from the edge of the garden bed out over the lawn.

Zucchinis are barbeque delights, caramelised goodness melting in our mouths. Beans are flush with pods, Broad Beans, Scarlet Runners, yellow and purple varieties called Black Valentine and Purple Peacock, and Edamame - Japanese soybeans - are progressing. Cucumbers, lettuce and a miscellany of leafy green vegetables have filled salads and sandwiches this summer. Carrots are booming.
We grew basil in pots on our balcony in Seoul, fueled by healthy doses of acid rain. The basil we're growing here in Campbell River is no comparison in flavour and freshness. Breathe that basil in. The scent rubbed onto the skin of hands when harvesting is enlivening. Sarah's made plush pesto. I've taken to adding a few leaves to my sandwiches, and it's a regular addition to salads as well. Coriander, or cilantro, has flavoured all kinds of dishes, along with chives - garlic and regular - lemon sorrel, shiso and spearmint. Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme round out the Simon and Garfunkel top four.


Tomatillos are begging to be transformed into salsa. We are still waiting on brocolli, a spring crop, though its leaves have joined our green salads. Peppers - Banana, Kimchi, Hot Portugal - tomatoes and potatoes are readying. I have big plans for potatoes next year, having identified better space for the lovely little tubers. Tomatoes have teased us the last month, seemingly ready to ripen for weeks but just beginning to blush now. We have rougly twenty varieties in the ground, including heirloom cultivars Ardwyna, Black Cherry, Black Plum, Black Prince, Brandywine, Costoluto Fiorentino, Green Zebra, Polish Paste, Sweet Million, and Yellow Pear. Cultivar names conjur vivid images. I'd drown in Brandywine.








Green Zebra tomatoes to the left;
Tomatillos on the right.








I've also planted hops, that essential ingredient of any respectable beer. I planted two types, one labelled Common Hops, a who-knows variety, and the other called Nugget, a high alpha acid, bittering hop. The Nugget has produced a decent crop of green scaled flowers, or cones. They'll be harvested and dried later in September. We have a number of raspberry canes in the ground, two blueberry bushes, and a Saskatoon berry shrub. A deer came along and nibbled the flowers off the Saskatoon earlier this summer. We aren't expecting rasp- or blue- berries until next year.


We've seen evolution, from green grass on the front lawn, to flush and full beds of soil and plants. And we're eating free food.

Islands

Sarah at the end of the Ripple Rock trail north of Campbell River, looking over Seymour Narrows to Quadra Island.

This summer Sarah has been busy studying for her professional forester exam and working up the BC coast and in the drier interior on lengthy camp shifts. I've continued to brew. We have found time for island excursions, attracted by the plethora floating between Vancouver Island and the British Columbian mainland.

Early in the year we stayed with our friend Eric, as he house-sat on Quadra Island, just across the water from Campbell River. The weather was gloomy, but the view gorgeous.


Hornby is especially hard to resist in the summer. Sarah's parents know all about location, location, location, their house perched at the edge of the High Salal cliff overlooking Tribune Bay. We were blessed with glorious summer days and baptised our bodies in the salty waters of the bay.


Below: the evening view north from Hornby, in the general direction of Campbell River.


Our friends Trevor and Kate were bound for Dublin. Towards the end of their time in Campbell River we were fortunate enough to join them on Mithrandir, Trevor's 35 foot sailing vessel. Our destination was Marina Island, east of Campbell River. We encountered light winds and starter motor failure, but more beer and hefty hits with a hammer provided solutions.


We rendezvoused with Eric and crew aboard his powerboat Sparky. We anchored in Uganda Passage, the channel between uninhabited Marina and the larger Cortes Island. Some rowed ashore to set camp at Shark Spit, while the rest went with Eric to haul in prawn and crab traps.

The Dungeness crab is considered something of a delicacy here in the Pacific Northwest. We had a small haul of crab and a decent catch of Spot prawns, plenty enough to satisfy our crowd.

As the two vessel captains pondered the powerful West Coast tides and reset anchors, a fire was lit and feasting begun. Liquor there was, and songs and bending of elbows.

Mithrandir sailed early the next day. Sarah and I boarded Sparky and we investigated the marine sanctuary at Middlenatch Island, south of Quadra, before throwing a couple of lines in the water and trolling, unsuccessfully, for salmon.

Eric and Alana, the next morning with the tide out, our campsite at Shark Spit in the background.

Our last island trip was to Pender Island, one of a cluster known as the Southern Gulf Islands. The climate is drier: Pender falls within the Coastal Douglas Fir biogeoclimatic zone, whereas Campbell River and the majority of Vancouver Island is within the moister Coastal Western Hemlock zone. Arbutus, an evergreen with smooth reddish peeling bark, reminds me of eucalypts, preferring the drier ecosystem, clinging to rocky bluffs. We visited the Pender farmers' market, a blend of hippy vibes, green ethics, and artistic kitsch. I bought a tee shirt made by a member of Islands Fold, an artist collective.

We were on Pender for the wedding of Amy and Lee. I'd met Amy at Pumpkin Pull, a Hallowe'en-themed ultimate tournament, in 2003, and Lee subsequently in Korea when we were all teaching on the peninsula. We played a bride versus groom game of ultimate the afternoon before the wedding, a relaxed affair. The ceremony was held at Poet's Cove Resort, overlooking a marina and the waters of Georgia Strait.


The day was beautiful, the couple divine, and the reception was a hoot. Next day we played the stupendous 27 holes of the Pender disc golf course, then farewelled Amy and Lee (Doctor Lee), bound for Halifax, and Lee's first residency.

Labour Day long weekend approaches. Our plans are for another island trip, across to Cortes for camping.