In my younger days, I found myself on a university trip to the coal strip mines of BC’s Elk Valley. It was the early 1970s. A small group of us listened in disbelief as a mining engineer described how they were leveling one of the mountains. We asked if it was wise, environmentally, ethically, and maybe even spiritually, to do this.
His response was shocking. “Look around”, he said, “we have so many mountains in BC, we won’t miss one.”
He had a point.
BC is mostly mountains. But Alberta is mostly prairie. Our share of the Rocky Mountains and their foothills is small potatoes by comparison.
Levelling a mountain would be destroying something we love.
Maybe our love for the Eastern Slopes started before Alberta was even a province. In the early 1900s, the federal government spared most of the Eastern Slopes from settlement. They set the land aside for national parks, as game reserves, for watershed protection, and as a timber source.
We Albertans often scoff at the federal government. But protecting water through “forest reserves” was one of the young nation’s great and (hopefully) long-lasting ideas.
The Eastern Slopes Policy of the 1970s cemented in Albertans’ minds that these landscapes were important, shared, and must be properly stewarded.
Whether through history, experience, or perhaps osmosis, Albertans have come to view the Eastern Slopes as sacrosanct, a landscape dedicated to the public good.
The idea of mountain tops blasted off, stream valleys flowing with toxic water, and places we love scarred forever have brought Albertans together.
Why?
Because we’ve seen the images from the Elk Valley in BC and in Alberta’s Coal Branch. That is not our shared vision for the future of the Eastern Slopes.
When Albertans travel to (or even think about) the Eastern Slopes, we pass into a place of unknowns, the unexplored, the intangible, and maybe the mystical.
As a kid, I could look west over the Medicine River valley west of Red Deer, to the foothills and the “shining” mountains. That country, within sight but beyond my grasp, was the real wild in my mind.
Albertans view this wild space as our backyard. The shaded forest, vast mountain vistas, and clear streams are almost mythical.
Over the years, some governments have misjudged Albertans and our rooted appreciation of the Eastern Slopes. They’ve tried to throw open the area to coal mining and other industries that would fail to protect our backyard.
That’s not to say that the region’s resources haven’t supported us in the past. In some places, they still do.
But industries change. Governments change. Economies rise and fall and rise again. Albertans’ love for the Eastern Slopes remains.
Viewing the foothills and Alberta Rockies solely as economic generators threatens to destroy an iconic part of what makes life so good in Alberta.
The desire of Albertans to protect this backyard for all of us is still clear after more than a century—it’s part of our DNA.
Will our leaders recognize that DNA in themselves?
Lorne Fitch is a Professional Biologist, a retired provincial Fish and Wildlife Biologist and a former Adjunct professor with the University of Calgary.
