https://www.biographic.com/welcome-to-the-great-bear-sea/
"The ocean bumps beneath our boat, and a cold mist obscures the way forward. I
peer over the driver’s shoulder to consult the GPS screen behind the steering
wheel. The map reveals a labyrinth of islands, as well as dozens of inlets and
fjords cutting up the western fringe of British Columbia’s Central Coast. Most
bear colonial names: Jackson Passage, Laredo Inlet, Princess Royal Channel. But
looking closer, I can make out other, older names: Nowish, Khutze, Kynoch.
When the mist lifts, the topography pops up all around me. Sheer granite peaks
plunge into a Magic Eye mirage of cedar, fir, and spruce trees rooted to rocky
shores. Some islands have stories and names that match their
shapes—navigational aids before nautical charts, teachings before written
language. Our boat,
Ksm Wüts’iin (
Mouse Woman) passes Qweeqweea’dzee
(Upside-Down Canoe), which gets its name from a legend about animals working
together from their shared canoe to fight a sea monster. It’s a story that
holds particular resonance today.
Finally, we reach Kynoch Inlet, the site of today’s crab survey. According to
oral history, Kynoch is the birthplace of the Xai’xais Nation. The story goes
that Raven searched for the perfect place for the people to be born and settled
on Kynoch for its bounty and biodiversity. It had just the right mix of plants
and trees; snow-fed rivers; and bays rich in marine life, from salmon and
rockfish to clams, cockles, and crabs. The Xai’xais amalgamated with the
Kitasoo Nation about 150 years ago, and Kynoch Inlet is now one of six areas in
Kitasoo Xai’xais territory where recreational and commercial crabbing is off
limits to protect Indigenous access.
Ken Cripps cuts the boat’s engine and flips on a winch. With a rumbling whir,
the machine hauls a length of rope from the water until the first trap appears.
Two small Dungeness crabs (
Metacarcinus magister) click their claws inside.
Cripps—the exuberant marine advisor to the Kitasoo Xai’xais Stewardship
Authority, who some call Ken Crabs—cocks his head, surprised by the low catch.
In these bountiful waters, the survey team can usually count on reaching the
nation’s measure of a successful catch: roughly seven adult male crabs per
trap. (Any trapped females are released.) Three colleagues record the sex,
shell size, and shell condition of the two females before flinging them into
the sea.
A few dozen meters away, the stewardship crew repeats the process for a second
trap. When it surfaces, it’s empty save for two sea stars. Cripps holds them
over his chest as if he’s a mermaid, and everyone laughs. Then the boat driver
puts on the Alanis Morissette song “Ironic,” as if to emphasize the
unexpectedly low catch in an area known for its productivity."
Via Esther Schindler.
Cheers,
*** Xanni ***
--
mailto:xanni@xanadu.net Andrew Pam
http://xanadu.com.au/ Chief Scientist, Xanadu
https://glasswings.com.au/ Partner, Glass Wings
https://sericyb.com.au/ Manager, Serious Cybernetics
