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It is the Great Bear Sea, stretching from northern Vancouver Island past Bella Bella, Klemtu, and Hartley Bay to Haida Gwaii.

But this region is under pressure from industrial trawlers that damage the seafloor, vessel traffic that harms whales, and habitat loss that threatens at risk species.

Marine protected areas are one of the most effective tools to counter those impacts.

The proposed Great Bear Sea MPA Network would restrict bottom trawling and protect spawning grounds for herring, salmon, and rockfish. It would also safeguard glass sponge reefs and other habitats that anchor the marine food web.

When implemented, it will help restore balance to a coast that has long been pushed past its limits.

Raw oysters - one more reason to support the Great Bear Sea Marine Protected Area (MPA) Network.

These mammal-hunting orcas roam the entire Pacific coast from California to Alaska, including BC’s waters.

Orcas may breach while socializing, communicating with other whales, shaking off parasites, or during moments of excitement around a hunt.

However underwater noise pollution from vessel traffic can interfere with how whales hunt and communicate with each other.

Traffic in North Coast waters is projected to increase by 217% by 2040.

When that happens, all marine mammals using those waterways will be affected. This will not only lead to noisier waters but also increase the risk of vessel strikes.

In the Great Bear Sea Marine Protected Area (MPA) Network, critical migration routes and feeding grounds will be subject to vessel slowdown or no-go zones designed to reduce disturbance and underwater noise.

Quieter waters give killer whales like Jack more room to live and hunt along the coast we all share.

Video by: Christopher Schwan

Original video from https://www.instagram.com/vancouver.eyes/

A spill hits. The company pays… right?

In 2016, the Nathan E. Stewart ran aground and spilled 110,000 litres of diesel into Heiltsuk waters. A working food system was shut down overnight. Clam harvests collapsed. Families lost a major source of income and food.

The Heiltsuk Nation estimates over $23 million in damages.

The company faced about $2.9 million in penalties. Yes, you read that right.

Years later, the community is still fighting for compensation. Still waiting. Still paying. In fact, they’ve even had to pay out of pocket for monitoring, recovery, and legal action.

That’s the gap in “polluter pays.” It’s more like “polluter shrugs.”

Costs don’t land where the damage happens. They land on the people closest to it, while insurance covers the mistakes made by companies – well, only a small portion of it.

And this was a tugboat. A tugboat.

But sure, let’s scale that up to a supertanker spill on the North Coast, you know that place known for its rough weather conditions that would make oil recovery even harder. What could go wrong?

This is what’s at stake when Alberta tries to take down the North Coast tanker ban. That’s exactly what they’re asking us to be okay with.

The people of BC are not here to subsidize the costs incurred by oil companies taking risks that we told them not to take. We meant it the first time.

Fisheries on both coasts use Individual Transferable Quota (ITQ), which divides the total allowable catch into quota shares that can be bought, sold, and leased.

On the East Coast, the ITQ system keeps fishing quota in the hands of the people doing the fishing, owner-operators. The intent is clear: protect independent harvesters and keep value in coastal communities.

On the West Coast, these protections don’t exist, so anyone, not just owner-operators, can own quota, including corporations like Canfisco. So independent harvesters have to lease quota from the people who hoard it, and that quota comes at a very steep price. Yikes!

In some years, the lease price for quota has exceeded the price per pound at the dock, wiping out any margin before a single expense is paid. Harvesters are forced to go into debt.

There is something fishy going on our coast, and if we want a future for independent harvesters on this coast, this has to change.

The diluents make it thinner and easier to transport. But that convenience for industry becomes a disaster once it is loaded on tankers.

Dilbit is a mixture of two things. First, heavy, tar-like bitumen from the Alberta oil sands. Second, lighter liquid chemicals called diluents. Once dilbit escapes into cold ocean water, those light chemicals evaporate quickly. What gets left behind is heavy, sticky bitumen that does not float like regular oil. Instead, it sinks or hangs just below the surface.

This creates a nightmare scenario for spill response. Traditional cleanup methods, like booms and skimmers, are designed for floating oil. With dilbit, you cannot see most of it from the air. It can travel underwater, coat the seafloor, and get buried in sand or gravel.

It also emulsifies, or mixes with water, into a thick, gooey mousse that is nearly impossible to pump or collect.

A dilbit spill from a tanker would smother clam beds, eelgrass, and herring spawning grounds for years. And because bitumen sinks, cleanup crews would be scraping rocks and diving into cold water for years while the oil companies who spilled it faced few real consequences.

Dilbit is a risk our waters, our food, and our families cannot afford.

We are doing the work to establish Marine Protected Areas (MPA), restoring habitats and rebuilding fish stocks one careful step at a time. But what is the point of all that effort if we allow tankers filled with dilbit to travel through these same waters?

Water does not respect boundary lines. A spill near an MPA will not stay outside it.

Currents will carry oil straight into the very zones we are trying to protect, wiping out years of restoration in a matter of days.

Witnesses say a young calf was temporarily separated from its family after being cut off by a boat, while other watercraft continued to crowd the pod.

The pod was identified as Brave Little Hunter's family.

All vessels, including kayaks and paddleboards, are required to stay between 200 and 400 metres away from orcas (depending on location). These rules exist to prevent stress, injury, and long-term harm. Following them is not optional. It is the law.

It's also important to note that new, stricter rules are being proposed for the endangered Southern Resident killer whales in southern BC waters.

While this incident in Tofino involved a different population, the federal government is proposing to permanently increase the minimum approach distance for Southern Residents to 1,000 metres.

This change, open for public consultation until April 6, is meant to reduce the severe acoustic and physical disturbance from vessels that disrupts their ability to hunt and communicate. It highlights a growing recognition that current distances are insufficient.

If you see similar behaviour, please record the time, location, photos or video, and report it to Fisheries and Oceans Canada at: DFO.ORR-ONS.MPO@dfo-mpo.gc.ca.

Respectful whale watching starts with distance.

Off Vancouver Island, four grey whales were found dead in just 10 days. Researchers say they were among the worst body conditions they’ve ever seen.

And it’s not just here: 13 more were found in Washington and eight off San Francisco. All this year.

These whales travel thousands of kilometres from Mexico to the Arctic to feed. But when they get there, researchers say the food isn’t there like it used to be.

They rely on small crustaceans like ghost shrimp. As the Arctic loses ice and warms, those food sources are declining.

The population has dropped to under 13,000. More than half gone in just a decade.

We’ve seen this before. In 2019, over 200 grey whales died during an oceanic heatwave event. There’s concern this year could be even worse.

Other threats can make the issue worse, like the increase in vessel traffic. Thinner whales are less buoyant, making them harder to spot in the water. This increases the risk of ship strikes.

If you see a whale in distress, or a dead one, report it so it can be investigated: DFO Marine Mammal Response Network @ 1-800-465-4336.

Photo by Jared Towers, Marine Mammal License MML-42

Steam-powered ships chased whales at speed. Deck-mounted harpoon cannons fired explosive-tipped spears that detonated inside the animal, tearing through muscle and bone. A hit didn’t always mean a quick death. Whales could drag vessels for hours, bleeding out, surfacing again and again until they finally stopped moving.

By the mid-20th century, populations across the North Pacific had been pushed to the edge by Canadian, American, Soviet, and Japanese whaling. Some species were reduced by more than 90%. The coast that once held abundance was left quiet.

The 1967 ban on whaling didn’t come because we planned ahead. It came because there was almost nothing left to hunt.

After that, and with more protections introduced over the decades, numbers began to climb. But recovery was slow and uneven.

Some whales have returned. Humpbacks are showing up again along BC’s coast, feeding in places they had been absent from for decades. But recovery isn’t a reset. It’s a long climb out of a deep hole.

Today, the threats look different, but they haven’t gone away. Ship strikes from busy shipping lanes. Noise from vessels that cuts through their ability to communicate and find food. The depletion of prey like herring and krill.

We didn’t almost lose whales because we didn’t know better. We lost them because we acted too late.

Whales — one more reason to support the Great Bear Sea Marine Protected Area Network.

See who profits — and what's really at stake for our coast. Read more about the tanker ban. And learn how you can send a message to your MP to tell them to defend the ban.

Their message? Removing the tanker ban risks real places, real food, and real livelihoods.

One spill, and everyone here has to pay the price.

None of the oil companies invited to talks with the Haida dared to show up. Still, the message was delivered. The BC coast isn’t Alberta’s to destroy. It’s a home, a breadbasket, and our fishing grounds.

Just floating past like, “Don’t mind me, I’ve got places to be.”

This is a hooded nudibranch.

It glides through the water like it’s flying, opening its wide hood to scoop up plankton as it goes. The nudibranch itself can be eaten by rockfish, sculpins, and shore crabs.

So yeah, it’s got places to be. Mostly wherever the current takes it.

Hooded nudibranchs – one more reason to support the Great Bear Sea Marine Protected Area Network.

Video by olivias_reef on Instagram

After already hitting his annual Chinook limit and logging multiple halibut, Jean-Marc Cyr presented altered licence information during a second inspection. Officers found he was over the legal limit and had knowingly misrepresented his records.

These rules exist for a reason. Catch limits aren’t arbitrary. They’re set to prevent overharvest, protect future seasons, and make sure everyone, especially local and independent fishers, is playing on the same field.

When someone bends the system, it doesn’t just affect one trip. It chips away at trust, puts pressure on fish populations, and undermines the people who follow the rules day in and day out.

This is exactly why enforcement matters. And it’s also why broader protections matter. The Great Bear Sea Marine Protected Area (MPA) Network will strengthen enforcement by expanding monitoring and equipping patrols with more support. Clear boundaries, better oversight, and more eyes on the water all make it easier to catch problems early.

If we want strong fisheries tomorrow, the line has to be held today.

Photo credits:

Officer photo by DFO

Chinook photo by Brandon Smith on Dreamstime

Rich in oil and easy to harvest in large numbers, they fed coastal First Nations communities, supported trade routes like the “grease trails,” and carried deep cultural meaning that continues today.

This wasn’t just food. It was also tradition and security.

Eulachon may be small, but their impact runs far up the food chain. They hatch in rivers, then head out to sea where they grow and feed on plankton. Out there, they become food for salmon, halibut, seabirds, and whales.

But they’ve taken a hit. In places like the Fraser River, eulachon runs have collapsed by more than 90%.

A mix of pressures is behind it, including heavy bycatch in industrial trawl fisheries, where eulachon are caught and killed unintentionally.

That’s where marine protected areas (MPAs) come in. By banning bottom trawling in key areas, the Great Bear Sea Marine Protected Area Network reduces the risk of bycatch from trawl fisheries and protects the feeding grounds eulachon depend on while they’re at sea.

Protect the base of the food web, and everything above it has a better shot.

Anita Burke, who worked on the Exxon Valdez cleanup, said it best: There is no new technology to clean up an oil spill. None.

So how many double-hulled tankers have spilled anyway? More than you think.

Port Arthur, Texas. The Eagle Otome. Double-hulled. Still spewed 11,000 barrels into sensitive waterways.

The Sanchi. Double-hulled. Collided with a cargo ship and burned for a week, then sank with its cargo of toxic condensate as well as the heavy bunker fuel in the ship's fuel storage tanks.

The New Diamond. Double-hulled. Caught fire and released torrents of oil into the Indian Ocean.

According to ITOPF, 2024 saw six large spills (more than 700 tonnes) and four medium spills from tanker incidents worldwide.

Over the last 20 years, there have been approximately 30 double-hulled tanker incidents.

Here's the thing about "black swan" events, unexpected disasters that seem impossible until they happen. The Titanic was unsinkable. The Exxon Valdez wasn't supposed to happen in a pristine sound. The Deepwater Horizon wasn't supposed to blow.

But they did. Because things are never fully predictable.

So why would we put tankers on one of the most dangerous and unpredictable routes on the planet? BC's coast is a maze of narrow passages, powerful tides, and unpredictable weather. One mistake, one rogue wave, one moment of human error, and everything changes.

Double hulls aren't a magic wand. They're a safety feature, not a guarantee.

And when there's no technology to clean up the mess, that's a bet we shouldn't take.