Wetlands. Endangered species. Sinking islands. Developers and fishermen. Language barriers. Common law and lawyers with writs. Bureaucracies, old and new. And a long struggle and desperate hope; the tale of Finn Slough has it all.
The story starts 120 years ago, in the 1890s, when a group of Finnish fisherfolk pooled their savings to buy land on the south shore of Lulu Island, near where Woodward slough meets the sea.
Now, Lulu Island is flat terrain, at sea level and prone to flooding; early settlers built dykes by hand to protect their fields from the salt water. The dykes went up both sides of the slough, which wasn't dammed; a convenient setup for fishermen, who could bring boats right up to their doors.
They set about carving homesteads out of the forest, and began to build fish boats. One of the men towed two float houses up the slough for his family; others built from scratch, on pilings. And of course they built a sauna for the community.
At high tides, the sea invaded. Chickens had to roost at times on the roof of the henhouses. Plank walkways were built above the tide level, and drawbridges with removable boards to permit boats to go on past and into harbour.
Life was good there; salmon were plentiful and the water calm. The community thrived.
In 1900, a local farmer had a dam built at the foot of #5 Road, and floodgates set in the entrance to Woodward Slough. It is doubtful whether the Finnish-speaking residents had any advance notice of this, since they didn't read the English newspaper, where it was publicized. At any rate, they could no longer bring their boats up the slough, and instead found a handy harbour between Whitworth Island (just a gravel bar, really) and the mainland. They built a walkway over to the island for access.
New immigrants arrived. Many could not afford land, and lived in float houses or on their boats. A school was started. Gasoline motors revolutionized the work; the first powered gill net drum was invented and built here. #4 Road was extended to the dykes; now the fishermen could drive to Steveston or Vancouver.
Now, here arises a problem. Whitworth Island, or Gilmore Island as it is also called, was never purchased by the residents; it was just a spit of land in the river where they could pull up their floating houses and docks. In fact, it moved around as the river ate at it, so that the surveyed area of the island no longer exists; it is underwater.
In 1989, a developer managed to obtain a deed for the property. Four years later, the residents found notices pinned to their doors: "... all individuals without written consent (must) leave the Island." This was the first they knew of a proposal to build a condominium and marina complex on Finn Slough.
They fought back, of course. They managed to get jurisdiction over the slough transferred to the Fraser River Harbour Commission and to have the site inspected and designated as an environmentally sensitive area. They formed the Finn Slough Heritage and Wetlands Society, and have been enlisting support of artists, environmentalists, historians and the general public.
The water of Finn Slough is brackish; all of the island, except for about half an acre, is underwater at high tide. So it is home to salt-tolerant plants, several of which are rare or uncommon. One of these is the chocolate lily,
Fritillaria camschatencis, which I included in yesterday's post, and which grows now in very few places in the Fraser delta.
Yesterday, as we walked, we were charmed by the singing of birds, a choir of different voices, each with his own tune, yet all harmonizing. I read that we could find the black-headed grosbeak there, and the yellow warbler. I don't think I have ever seen the first.
However, the deed still rests in the hands of the developers. There was an attempt made to invoke common law, which gives continuous residents for more than several decades a deed to the land they occupy, but so far, no luck.
Next generation of fisherfolk, learning the trade.
Today, I found the latest proposal by the developers: an
"Executive Summary" outlining 4 possible projects.
* Raise Gilmour Island and put in estate lots similar to the lots developed at Deering Island. The Deering Island lots sold for a minimum of $500,000 during the last real estate recession Vancouver had in 1993.
* Raise Gilmour Island and build a higher density complex. The City of Richmond feels that on this site it is realistic to build townhouses.
* Raise Gilmour Island and develop a residential plus marina and yacht club facility.
* Raise Gilmour Island and build a private residence with water access.
Note that all these proposals start with raising "Gilmour" Island. Killing the plants, burying them under tons of cement.
No mention is made of the community presently living on the Slough; even the name has been somehow "forgotten" and the ancient name of Tiffin Slough is used instead. The Island is called by a misspelling of its alternate name, Gilmore; no doubt to circumvent researchers into the actual status of the land. A photo taken from high above gives no hint of the heritage buildings and structures, nor of the unique characteristics of this wetland.
I would laugh, if it didn't make me so angry: they write,
"The City of Richmond feels that on this site it is realistic to build townhouses."
Realistic, on a site that shifts around with the tide, that is mostly in, not beside, the river? In an area that already needs to be protected by dykes, and at a time when weather patterns may be changing?
But they won't care, I'm sure, once they've built and sold the property; it will be the new owners who are the losers.
Financially, that is. The real losers will be the residents; the birds, the lilies and other plants, the fish and the fishers. And with them, all the rest of us.
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Finn Slough Heritage & Wetland Society
Natural History of Finn Slough
Islands in the Stream
Life on the Fraser
And just because, a spider web on my lawn. It was so high in the rhododendrons that I had to hold the camera 'way over my head and snap at random. But I had to try, because the sun was highlighting the web so beautifully against the upstairs windows.
Butterflies. A Swallow-tail, Papilo rutulus.
Just the butterfly. Who flew away when I took one step closer.
Rainbows, double.
And back to work.
You let things be: so the door kept getting splashed with the copper sulfate from the net-soaking tub? Well, it's a pretty green, isn't it?
Antlers, leaded glass, red lifesaver and ancient, unpainted boards. As your whimsy leads you.
And you make things easy for the cat:
The blue shed is fairly recent and on pilings.
Detail of a shed up against the bank.
Ancient pilings and sagging platforms.
The little dock will float when the tide comes in. So will the boat.
The Mermaid III. Unlikely to be putting to sea anytime soon, I think.
Pansy, anchor, fishnets and raingear.
At the entrance to this walk, among the rampant grasses, salmonberry bushes and roses, I discovered these.
Chocolate lilies! Fritillaria. I had never seen them before; that's a lifer, as birders say.
These used to be eaten by the BC natives, who dug up the bulbous roots and boiled or dried them. Now, of course, we wouldn't dare; they are "shy-flowering", meaning that they don't flower for the first 3 or 4 years, and the land available to them is always at risk of being paved over. This could happen in Finn Slough; the residents are fighting a desperate battle to keep the developers out. (More on this later.)
And red osier dogwood, Cornus sericea. Not a dogwood, though. I read that the name comes from "dague" or "dagger", because the wood supposedly makes good skewers. I am not exactly convinced.
Comfrey. Probably a purposeful import. Often used as a home remedy for what-ails-you.
Skunk cabbage. No longer in flower, but I couldn't resist photographing it from the vantage point of an elevated walkway. It's not often I get anything but a side view.
The grey around the base shows the high-water level for the slough.
Wheelbarrow, in my son's garden.
Herons fly with the neck folded back on the shoulder, and the legs streaming straight back. This one had barely leapt from the water; he still hadn't gotten into proper flying position.
Another view, a bit farther away. Isn't he elegant?
And a couple of general shots of the slough.
This is the same scene that Laurie photographed last December. How different it is in the sunlight!
I love these rusty pilings, supports for something long disappeared. And some of those boats look like they're back in the bushes, on land. They aren't. The slough meanders along, narrow and ringed by rickety docks.
Along the Kamloops-Merritt highway, BC
I had a visit this morning from a pair of yellow-jackets. They were at my back door, trying to get out, but of course I had to photograph them first. Here is one, looking at his reflection in the double glass of the door.
Other varieties of yellow jacket, and the related bald-faced hornet, nest in trees or in the ground. V. pensylvanica will also use human habitations. I have often seen them, in great numbers, entering and leaving a building via a tiny crack in the siding or roof overhang.
I know: that's three mugs. One for the road, a small one and a large one for around home. Oldies, all.
At the edge of the Horseshoe Slough parking lot, a middle-aged man stood staring intently at a dandelion gone to seed. After a long while, he lowered his hand and blew away the fluff. We stopped to chat for a minute or two, standing looking down at the chocolate water of the slough. He asked if we knew what made it that colour. I had a vague idea that it was algae, but no more information. He mentioned several other sloughs he had seen with similar colouring.
Brown water in a ditch near the slough.
Browns and greens.
A trail follows the creek back into farm lands. Those are stinging nettles at the left, burdock at the right. Left to themselves, they would close off that path in short order. Behind them is a wild cherry tree, loaded with still-green cherries. Bird heaven!
And smaller weeds. I don't know what these pink flowers are. Some of the leaves look like creeping buttercup. Next: tiny blue flowers, hiding in the grass.
