feature story on the Snake River - Fritz Mueller Photography

Avoiding a rough patch,Anthony and Walden line therapids of the Snake (LEFT).From their Otter aerie, theyview the Stewart Rivermeandering through theYukon wilds (BOTTOM).Staking a claim for a watershedThe Peel River watershed land-use process grinds as slowlyas Mount MacDonald’s glaciers in northern Yukon.In December 2009, after seven years of consultations,the independent Peel Watershed Planning Commissionrecommended that 80.6 percent of the region be withdrawnfrom staking and protected and that 19.4 percent becomeIntegrated Management Areas, where mineral, gas and oilcould be accessed only if there were no significant environmentaldeterrents. That winter, a round of public consultationrevealed more than 90 percent support for the plan.In February 2010, the commission received a formalresponse to its recommendations from First Nations andYukon governments. There were no surprises. First Nationsfelt the proposal was inadequate, insisting on 100 percentprotection. The government said 80.6 percent protectionwas far too much and sent the commission back to the drawingboard. The mining lobby was equally unimpressed.“The area we’re talking about is huge,” says ClaireDerome, president of the Yukon Chamber of Mines.“It’s 15 percent of the Yukon, which would add to the14 percent that is already protected. You’d jump tohaving close to 30 percent of the Yukon set aside. Thisis way beyond anything that exists in Canada.”This fall, the commission will produce its finalplan, which will go out for yet another round of publicconsultation, then be sent back to governments forfinal approval.The slow pace may prove helpful to conservationists. TheYukon is again experiencing a boom; this summer expects tosee a rash of new claims and increased work on establishedclaims outside the Peel River watershed, mostly due to thestrong price of gold and demand from China.This much activity elsewhere in the Yukon may make itmore widely palatable to set aside a large, intact wilderness.“The Yukon is in the middle of the largest mining boom inhi<strong>story</strong>,” says Mike Dehn, executive director of the CanadianParks and Wilderness Society’s Yukon Chapter. “Given howwell the economy is doing, it’s hard to justify the government’splans for the Peel.”L.A.Today, there are no elders on Taco Bar to greet us, thoughbear, moose and wolf tracks are abundant and insects legion.We spend a last, subdued evening around a driftwood fire,sharing tea and river stories, the melancholy of finalitytempered by accomplishment. We retreat to our tents thinkingwe will have a leisurely morning, time to take one lastsip from this cup of splendid isolation.The plane, however, shows up at 7 a.m., hours early ina bid to beat an approaching front. We haven’t even hadcoffee but pack, load and take off in a time frame that canhappen only in the North. Winging back to Mayo, weskim jackknifed grey waves and colourful troughs on a seaof empty mountains. First glimpses of a cabin or anairstrip elicit flashes of annoyance, as if these tracingsviolate our experience. Misplaced as such zealotry is, it sayseverything about the importance of protecting intactlandscapes and watersheds. We instinctually crave theconnections they offer.In the end, we’re back at the beginning, to the questionasked by those who purport to want to protect watersheds:what is wilderness? Is it no human footprint or very little?Does long use and transient habitation by First Nationsqualify or disqualify?Without consensus, we look to nature, where one thingis clear: whatever theanswer, it cannot contradictfirst principles ofecosystems or involve onlypiecemeal protection. Amine may benefit society,but only as long as theresource or changingeconomics of demandlast. Furthermore, a minecomes with both environmental and economic price tags forthe inevitable cleanup. But true wilderness, the type that theEarth doesn’t make anymore, offers wealth in perpetuity.“The Peel is still raw and wild, unlike anywhere else in thecountry,” wrote James Munson in the Yukon News in August2010. “Development would end that forever. Forever can’tbe mitigated.”Leslie Anthony is a writer based in Whistler, B.C., andthe author of Snakebit: Confessions of a Herpetologist.Photojournalist Fritz Mueller lives in Whitehorse.To comment, e-mail please editor@canadiangeographic.ca orvisit www.canadiangeographic.ca/watersheds.58 CANADIAN GEOGRAPHIC JUNE 2011