Tuesday 10 December 2013

Changing Seasons.

The heavy rain over the past month has seen the Little Campbell River become much deeper and faster flowing. On rainy days the weather is generally still quite mild, but gone are the clear days of blissful heat: in their place are clear days where the temperature plummets below zero and snow-capped mountains loom in the distance. Bird walks in the early morning are full of thick white frost now, and we rush home afterwards to thaw out with plenty of hot tea.


From a sunny summer day...



...to an icy diamond morning.


Heavily frosted gardens.


A wintery walk.


Fun with puddles!


Warming up with our new teapot.


Overhead, geese fly by in huge flocks, eagles and hawks wheel and circle, their musical cries echoing their eagerness to feast on the salmon, and the small birds hurry to make the most of the few remaining fruits and seeds on the bushes before winter closes in for good.


Early morning geese.


Looking for birds...


We've seen one!


The changing weather has brought with it hosts of memories. As the fog draws in, wrapping the centre in still, dark, quietness, memories of bonfire nights past have become so tangible that I’m sure that I can smell the wood-smoke and hear the sounds of revellers. It certainly felt odd not to be celebrating the absence of a big explosion in parliament during 1605, although the tradition of celebrating this by exploding many fireworks (having attempted to explain this to countless people here) has also struck me as quite odd.


Bonfire nights past...


But preparations for other celebrations are now underway too, distracting me from the absence of bonfires. Sunday marked one full week of advent, and I’ve been indulging in chocolate from the advent calendar my mum and dad sent me!

On Saturday, A Rocha held a Christmas open house and craft market. We’ve been making wreaths and decorations to sell, whilst listening to all our favourite Christmas music to get in the mood (it’s totally acceptable now that it’s December right?). During the week we experienced an arctic flow bringing strong winds and night time temperatures of as low as minus 20! This created some issues with the marquees (that tried to fly away on Thursday night) and meant that Saturday was a bitterly cold day. But the heaters and copious amounts of hot food and drinks kept everyone smiling and the day went very well with 500 people visiting and enjoying spending time here.

To add to my already child-like levels of excitement I was invited to go and help choose the Christmas tree, an experience which involved free hot chocolate, as well as the chance to chop a tree down for ourselves! All of these feelings of warm cosy excitement make me long for time with my friends and family in the UK snuggled up watching films, playing board games, and spending quality time together. I particularly can’t wait to give my lovely collie a long awaited hug.


Getting ready for the Christmas Craft Market: sign painting.
 


Making wreaths and other Christmas decorations.


Setting up at the craft market.



The vendors arrive.



Enjoying working in the food tent!

I’m glad that I’m looking forward to going home: it would make the imminent end of term and the thought of leaving here too difficult otherwise. But longing for Christmas can make me impatient. It’s good to remember to focus on what I’m doing and where I am now, so that I fully enjoy life instead of always searching for the next step and worrying about what will happen next. That doesn't mean that we should go through life without ever looking back or ahead. As the seasons of life change I think it is important to celebrate things that have been, and lament their passing, as well as look on towards the horizon with hope and excitement for what the new season of life will bring. But we should be free to live in the present, without living in the shadow of our past, or crippled by fear of an uncertain future.

Two weeks ago we waved goodbye to Slainte, our favourite Irish pub in White Rock, as they rang the bell for last orders for the final time before they closed forever. It was such a joy to share in the goodbye, singing out our farewell in style. I think this was a particularly poignant moment for those about to finish their final term as interns at A Rocha. There’s a mix of emotions. Sadness is coupled with the joy of having had the chance to spend time here, and excitement for the future and a new season of life. But no matter what, they'll always be welcome back through the open door of those who live at A Rocha.


Sunset at Slainte.


Singing goodbye in Slainte


Enjoying time with the A Rocha music crew.











Sunday 1 December 2013

Salmon Fishing in the Campbell.


As we near the end of the autumn term for interns here at A Rocha, the weeks are starting to blur into a frantic scramble to tie up the loose ends and make sure that projects are completed to a high standard. As each intern is assigned at least one research project it can be easy to end up helping everybody else out with their fieldwork and end up with limited time to get your own work done. We seem to have struck a sensible and fair balance of time generally. 

Alphabet Pancakes: S is for Salmon Hunting, and for Steph...

One of my individual projects over the past month and a half has been to study salmon spawning in the smaller tributaries of the Little Campbell River Watershed. This has been a crash course in salmon identification for me and I've rapidly gained a deeper understanding of their freshwater ecology. The main purpose of my project was to survey a number of tributaries that have historical records of spawning salmon and determine whether salmon are still spawning in the area or whether the area has been degraded to the point where there is no longer any suitable habitat for spawning. 

Ideal gravel beds for the salmon.

Gravel? Check. Fast flowing riffles and pools? Check. Perfect for salmon!

Some of the work could easily become disheartening as you visit tributaries that have been highly modified into little more than muddy drainage channels flowing along the edges of properties or roads; or become blocked by concrete culverts that impede the travel of fish upstream to suitable habitat. 

Rubbish left in an otherwise perfect tributary.

No salmon in this modified channel...
But there is a lot of hope too: I've stumbled across dog walkers, joggers and landowners full of questions, general enthusiasm about my work, or helpful information about the last time they saw salmon in the area. Although I can't use their anecdotes in my project it's so encouraging to find people who are taking an interest in the environment around them and it's beautiful to see God's plan for creation care being fulfilled even in such little ways as this. Despite a lot of agricultural and residential land use putting pressure on the watershed, my study has found that a number of the small tributaries still support populations of salmon and provide the gravel and medium-high water velocity required for spawning. The study also helps to pinpoint ways in which the tributaries can be restored in order to allow more salmon to flourish in the area. I look forward to seeing some of my recommendations put into practice.

A beautiful Coho salmon in one of the unspoiled tributaries!

Salish Sucker surveys (see previous blogs) have continued and the number of Suckers that we've caught continues to rise, bringing much excitement and tentative hope for future survival and success of this rare fish within the watershed.

What's in the trap? Could we get much wetter!?

A soggy Steph wrestles with a hopeless tangle of dissolved oxygen, conductivity and pH meters...

More Sucker hunting, much better weather!

Fluorescent vests and matching headbands: could we look any more official!?

The beautiful Little Campbell River

The other project I've been focusing my attention on has been my first attempt at planning a restoration project from scratch. It was a lot of fun to go out and look at the restoration sites, estimating the area and number of plants required, working out the species of plants best suited to the locations (kind of like gardening but with wild plants and trees and such) and then ordering those not present in our native plant nursery. It was even more of a joy to spend this Saturday out in the torrential rain with my hardy team (yet again getting covered in mud) planting on the steep slope that had previously been covered with invasive English Ivy and Blackberries, and looking forward to returning in spring to see the results of our hard work.     

All laid out ready for planting...  
 
Hard work planting on the slope.
 

Finishing up!

There have been other bits and pieces we've gotten up to as a team. A few weeks ago we ventured to Mayne Island (one of the Gulf Islands) to attend a bioengineering workshop. It was fascinating to spend time with some of the leading experts of engineering, conservation science and bioengineering in British Columbia, learning more about the interaction of these disciplines. It was particularly interesting to learn more about how restoration projects can allow natural processes to function properly and, for example, protect the coastline as they should, instead of huge, expensive concrete sea defences having to be constructed. It certainly provided me with much food for thought, particularly in musing about the parallels between the threats to coastal ecosystems and the freshwater ecosystems I work on.

Learning from the experts on Mayne Island.

One for all my geology friends...

Over-browsing by deer is a huge problem on Mayne Island. Here you can tell how high the deer can reach!

We're now all working hard in the office to get project presentations finished in time to present them to the board of directors next week (eek!). Soon it will be time to wave bye bye to fieldwork for the term. It's been truly wonderful.

Sunset from Mayne Island.