In the quest to protect the Squamish Estuary, there is no time to savour success. Days after Environment Minister Barry Penner officially dedicated the site as a Wildlife Management Area, environmental advocates Meg Fellowes and John Buchanan were already plotting ways to improve the policy. On Friday (April 25), they met at dawn to paddle through its waters at high tide. By documenting the estuary's unique wildlife and geographical features, they hope to see more land and water tacked onto the 165-acre management area.At first glance, the estuary appears to be a serene and untouched swath of marshland.But for Buchanan, who visits the site about twice a week, it is a fragile place continuously recovering from layers of man-made scars. As he paddles along, he pointed to stained pilings from the 2006 oil spill, strips of wire from a 2007 log pile, and an artificial basalt forest floor from a 1970s quarry operation. Each site stirred up fresh frustration. "It's like paddling past an old girlfriend I've got an issue with," he laughed as he headed over to Squamish Terminals. In 2006, a cargo ship slammed into the terminal docks spilling 29,000 litres of oil into the water. Buchanan is now working to see the square metal discs that punctured the boat rounded off at the edges."It's a boat can opener," he said. On a patch of marsh grass still discoloured by the spill, Buchanan has another project underway. He is steadily collecting loose wires left behind from a group of logs that were shored up and removed from the contaminated area last fall.Each time he visits the estuary, Buchanan slips on his work gloves and loads up his canoe with bundles of wire."It's all just housekeeping," he said as he wrestled with a piece. But it is on the "wild west side" of the estuary that human activity has left the area most disfigured.In 1972, it faced complete ruin when a gravel operation began filling it in to access the basalt wall. The mining company planned to strip the west bank mountainside of 50 million yards of gravel.While the municipality eventually halted the project, a large patch of meadow had already been filled in with rock to make a camp for workers."This is the devastation that was left behind by that operation," said Buchanan as he stood on the flat ground.For Fellowes, the site is not a complete disaster. She pointed out the area once filled by grasses and sedges has since been reforested with a different set of native species, including young maples and alders."This is good habitat for songbirds and lots of things," she said. "It could be worse."While restoration efforts take up much of Buchanan's time in the estuary, he is also building a case to see the management area expanded. Currently, much of the west bank, including Castle Rock, is not protected."I hate lines," he said, noting that animals have no way of knowing where the protected area boundaries begin and end.On this morning, he meandered along the shoreline looking for signs of a blue heron nursery or bald eagle nest to justify an expansion. With Fellowes' help, he spotted two empty nests in a stand of tall cottonwood trees."Nobody home yet," he said, resolving to keep an eye on the area.So far, he is aware of three bald eagle nests on the rocky ridge. A fourth was recently discovered in the central part of the estuary.The pair is also hoping to see more water added to the management area.Fellowes said by recording GPS coordinates of the sand banks surrounding the mouth of the Squamish River, they could argue to have the boundary moved further south toward the Howe Sound.With all these issues on the go, it is obvious Penner's recent dedication of the Wildlife Management Area is only one step in the ongoing battle of protection.To mark the triumph, which was 25 years in the making, a traditional house pole carving by Squamish Nation artist Aaron Nelson will be erected on one of the dredge spoils.It will stand in front of a backdrop of sweet gale, goldeneye ducks and Sitka spruce. After 42 years of exploring the estuary, the post will be one of the few man-made elements Buchanan is happy to lay eyes on as it promises many more years of high tide paddling."As a kid it was my playground and it still is my playground."
