Clear the Coast 2015

By Karen Wristen

Living Oceans’ 2015 efforts to Clear the Coast of marine debris brought in an amazing five metric tonnes of debris, mainly composed of plastics of Japanese origin. Last year, working on the same Cape Scott beaches, we picked up 2.67 tonnes of plastic from all over the world, with Japanese-labelled items comprising about one-third of the total.

In an effort to put a dent in the enormous volume of plastic waste that is washing up on northern Vancouver Island shores, this year we intensified our efforts with more volunteers on the ground and more ground covered. We organized two major expeditions: the first returned to Sea Otter Cove aboard Paul Ross’s Samphire, and the second ventured into new territory for us in the Scott Islands, from a base camp in San Josef Bay.

Sea Otter Cove, August 17-24

It was delightful to return to Sea Otter Cove—it is such a pretty and secure cove and the weather was full-on summer. Sea otters plied the water daily for food, seemingly undisturbed by our presence; and while wolves and bears were evident, they kept out of sight. Dozens of different birds soared all around us as we worked. The kelp beds at the entrance to the Cove look as healthy and abundant as ever.

A raft of sea otters. Photo: Kari Watkins

Most of our crew camped on shore this year, while I stayed on Samphire to be on hand to get meals for everyone. It was quite the trick, feeding such a large crew from a tiny galley but we worked it in shifts and our volunteers were either very polite or actually impressed by the quality of the food we were able to turn out.

I’d like to say we found Sea Otter Cove clean, after all the work we did last year, but not so: we managed to fill five lift bags with nearly one tonne of debris! We recovered fishnet entangled in hundreds of metres of line that was painstakingly untangled to create bags for lifting large and unwieldy chunks of plastic, while purchased bags made of re-purposed fishnets and others designed specifically for helicopter lifts were used for most of the debris.

We hiked an easy 40-minute trail north over to Lowrie Bay on two days, because there was just so much debris there. Lowrie is a beautiful, deep sandy beach that is wide open to the Pacific, with rocky outcrops on which the waves break dramatically—a surfer’s paradise. It’s also so long that we had to establish two consolidation sites: some of the debris there was far too heavy to move long distances. Large, dense plastic pallets and the ever-present net balls are really challenging to move over soft sand! We packaged everything ready for lifting and left it high above the high tide line.

Fish floats wrapped in re-purposed fish net on the beach at Lowrie Bay.

To the south, the outer beaches of San Josef Bay that can’t be accessed from the Cape Scott trail head were easy to get to from Sea Otter Cove. A marked trail crosses level ground and not 15 minutes’ walking brings you out to the Bay. Last year, a passing family of boaters cleared a stretch of this beach for us and we picked up the debris. This year, you’d be hard-pressed to know it had ever been cleaned: I actually lost count of the number of bags we filled there, and there were multiple strings of fishing floats, tires, plastic jugs and the like that weren’t bagged, but just lifted on a rope.

Clear the Coast volunteers with fishing floats collected from San Josef Bay.

The beach at San Jo was so heavily covered in logs that it was tricky to find an area to consolidate everything for the lift—we either had to carry everything over the pickup-sticks pileup or chance leaving it where the highest tides might still reach. We opted for the latter, but I won’t do that again: when we came back to get it at the end of the next expedition, it was half-buried in a load of seaweed and sand and getting it out was a dirty, smelly proposition!

I missed the voyage to and from Sea Otter on Samphire, as I’d elected to drive to San Jo so that we’d have a vehicle in case of emergency. Our science volunteer, Garth Covernton, accompanied me and so the pair of us had to be shuttled around to San Jo’s inner beach to hike out to the truck. Paul Ross had nearly flipped his inflatable in the surf the day he came to pick us up, so we were cautious about a drop-off point. We chose to land at the second beach, knowing nothing about the trail between there and the trail head. Let’s just say I was not inclined to argue with B.C. Parks’ characterization of it as “treacherous” when I later read the sign at the trail head!

It’s a bone-jarring ride on a logging road from the Cape Scott trail head back to Port Hardy and it’s wise to keep one’s fluids up by stopping at the Scarlet Ibis in Holberg along the way. Legendary fish and chips and the first cold beer to be found outside the Park.

Lanz and Cox Island Provincial Park, September 5-8

Our second expedition was planned to attack the innermost of the Scott Islands group. Last year, our helicopter pilot had told us that the islands were choked with debris and she was right! This trip had to be done by helicopter because the waters are so dangerous and we needed large numbers of volunteers to do the work in a single day—or so we thought.

Karen Wristen among the jagged rocks on the beach at Cox Island.

We established a base camp on the beach at San Jo Bay, with 18 of us in tents and a cook tent rigged up over a helpfully large root ball buried in the sand. I have to mention the 45-minute trail down which we’d had to bring enough food and supplies for 18 people for four days—my partner Jasper and I using wheelbarrow and dolly, and volunteer Michael Neate using his bicycle trailer sans bicycle (they’re not allowed in the park) barely managed it. Sure, it’s wheelchair accessible; it’s also one of those trails that gets longer and hillier every time you do it!

We hired West Coast Helicopters to take us out to the Island in teams of four or five people per beach. We’d hoped to be able to hop from beach to beach and do a couple each, but found so much debris that we could have spent more than the hours we had just cleaning the three we chose to start with. We also found that, at low tide and in calm weather, there would have been no problem camping overnight on at least two of the beaches, so we could have planned a more extended cleanup.

I worked with Terry and Eric Grantner and Michael Neate on the first beach on which we landed a crew. Within three hours, we had bagged up four lift bags, one net bag and a huge string of floats. The helicopter returned with its hook on and removed our bags in two lifts. At this point, Mother Nature began interfering with our plans. When the helicopter returned, there was no hook in sight and we knew something was wrong. We climbed aboard and learned from our pilot, Paul Smith, that the weather was closing in fast and worse—he’d found his spare fuel contaminated with water. Facing two uncertainties, he’d elected to get the crews out as fast as possible. Looking at the ugly, dark cloud closing in from the north as we headed back to San Jo, I was happy for his good judgment!

Unfortunately, we’d been unable to communicate with one another on the VHF radios we’d brought—the headlands between the beaches were too much of a barrier. Each crew could communicate with the helicopter when it was within range, but that didn’t give the other two crews enough warning to be able to secure their bags to shore to await a later pickup. We were all concerned that a high tide would float them out, posing a hazard to navigation and to wildlife that might become entangled in the ropes securing the bags to one another. We waited uneasily through a drizzly night to find out what the morning would bring.

The next day must have dawned—the fog got brighter, at least—and I was certainly not expecting the helicopter that landed about 10:30 with the news that we could try to lift out some of the bags from the first expedition. Lanz and Cox were out of the question, however; a blank wall of sea fog obscured them from view.

Jodie, Michael and I were off to tend the lifts within minutes. We managed to get everything out of San Jo and all but one bag from Sea Otter before the pilot had to leave for another job. That left the Lowrie, Sea Otter and Cox Island loads stranded; we were out of budget and out of time with this crew of volunteers.

I have to break the continuity here to recall some acts of exceptional heroism. One of the net bags that left Sea Otter Cove looked like trouble from the minute it left the beach—the load of irregularly shaped plastics had become hung up in the net and wasn’t sitting in the bottom of it the way it should. That would place undue stress on the net and I feared it would tear. It didn’t; but what did happen was that the load fell into the bottom of the net and snapped the rope from which it was hanging just as the helicopter passed over our campsite!

Taking nothing away from the effort that everyone put into this expedition, I have to say that Marten Sims deserves special mention for getting into the water in San Jo Bay on a cool September day to attach a line to the bag. Nigel Marshall, too; when the line Marten was carrying proved too short for the job, he waded in behind Marten and between them, they recovered the bag intact. He, Wesley Piatocka and Cassy Bergeron packed the load out to the bins at the trailhead using the wheelbarrow and trailer, in two trips that left them exhausted. Kudos to them and to everyone who helped plan the recovery, warm up the swimmers and break down the load for packing out!

We packed up camp on the morning of September 8th. Returning to Sointula, I called Coast Guard to report a potential hazard to navigation, put out an urgent call for funding and a media release and began appealing to the public for help. And that’s where the amazing things started happening...

The Third Expedition

First, the Vancouver Aquarium called to say they had a little bit of tsunami debris funding left and they could help. On the strength of that and some generous donations from our supporters, I booked a helicopter and debris bins for the weekend of Sept 19th and 20th. Michael Neate and Jodie Bergeron volunteered to join me, as we expected to find our bags scattered by the tides and needing some man-handling to get them into position for lifting.

Just before I left, the Canadian Wildlife Service called to say they could purchase some helicopter time for us. And while I was up island waiting on the weather (again), the Cape Scott Wind farm called to say they would donate two hours’ of helicopter time. And then the sun came out, against all predictions.

We still ended up having to do the work over two days, when Saturday dawned quite soggy. The ceiling was high enough despite the rain, so we flew from West Coast’s Port McNeill base to our first stop near Hanson’s Lagoon, where I’d agreed to look for the kit of a shipwrecked sailor who had contacted me that week. He’d provided co-ordinates, so it took no time to locate the wreck and salvage his dry bags. The wreckage was too large to contemplate moving, so we stowed it above the high tide line.

Shipwrecked sailboat near Hanson's Lagoon.

From there, we hooked up the bags at Lowrie Bay with no difficulty. The helicopter was a while coming back, though; and when it did, our pilot said the ceiling was lowering and so he’d hooked up the load at Sea Otter himself and dropped it; we were heading home. It was the lowest flying I ever hope to do, but very instructive: we were able to take a good, close look at all the pocket beaches south of Cape Scott and every one is full of debris!

Sunday, the weather forecast changed dramatically and we were off—driving to San Jo Bay one more time. The pilot needed to sling fuel out to San Jo in order to be sure of having enough for the job, so we could not fly with him. We arranged to meet at the San Jo parking lot—if we were needed. Mike Aldersey, the base manager, was flying this job himself and he felt it would be most efficient if he went out alone and did the hookup. We were there as backup, if it proved we were needed to move the bags about.

It did turn out that we were needed—after the first load, Mike landed to explain he had to have someone on the ground to help with the rest. But his helicopter was showing a warning light and we’d have to wait for another one from McNeill. That meant another pilot, who could be with Mike in the helicopter while they flew a load in—something he can’t legally do with passengers. We had to decide between doing two trips—one for passengers and one for debris—or letting them handle it themselves. Naturally we opted for the most efficient approach, although not without regret that we wouldn’t see Cox Island again this year.

Marine debris in a bin.

We stayed to see two more 30-yard bins filled with the remaining debris, making four in total that we’d recovered. To give you an idea of the volume that represents, I figure I could park two of my Honda Civics in a bin lengthwise, and open the doors right up without touching the sides. They’re about eight feet tall. Stacked two and two, they’d be about the size of a small two-storey house. It’s amazing to think we recovered that much with the work of about 20 people over seven collection days; more amazing still to realize that there is easily 20 times that much still out there on Cox, Lanz and Vancouver Islands.

Jodie Bergeron, Michael Neate, Ross Weaver and I sorted that last load for recyclables at the 7-Mile Landfill the next day. Thanks to the Regional District of Mount Waddington, we were not required to pay the tipping fees and received an accurate, weigh-scale total for our labours.

Cleaning up Sea Otter Cove

By Will Soltau

“Hey Will, there’s a Japanese skiff washed ashore near Cape Palmerston!” That was what my friend Mike called to tell me last March.

“I know.” I said, “I spotted it in January of 2013. It’s pretty beat up.”

“No,” Mike replied, “this is another one and it’s in good shape. We could salvage it!” And so we did.

I blogged about the salvage adventure last June and vowed in that blog to return to Sea Otter Cove for a shoreline cleanup. Sea Otter is a small, shallow cove on the west side of Vancouver Island in Cape Scott Provincial Park. There are a few rough trails to outside beaches from the cove but it is accessible only by water. Rich with wildlife because of its high-value habitat, it is aimed at the open Pacific like a catcher’s mitt so it also collects a substantial amount of marine debris.

We began planning the project and started fundraising. Two week’s worth of food and accommodations would be needed for the team of volunteers and a large skiff to transport them and what they collected from the debris strewn beaches.

Removing the collected debris from the cove would require a landing craft and helicopter.

It would take a huge effort on the part of the volunteers to clean the cove and surrounding areas and a considerable amount of money to do it safely. Funding for the project came from the generous contribution from the Government of Japan and its people. We also gratefully acknowledge the support of the Province of British Columbia, Ministry of Environment, the Vancouver Aquarium, the BC Parks’ Enhancement Fund and all those individuals and local businesses who donated food, supplies, equipment and time as well as all the individual donors who believe in us and what we do.

Two weeks of cleanup work netted over 2,600 kilograms of debris from Sea Otter Cove and the surrounding beaches. Only 41 percent went to landfill with the rest being either recycled or repurposed.

I would humbly like to think we made a difference for the better because I’m pretty sure no one has ever tried to tackle a remote cleanup on this scale since plastic was invented - at least not before at Sea Otter Cove. Still, even while we were there, I watched new debris objects washing in with every rising tide. Knowing that the consumption of plastic and the amount of plastic waste is increasing every year, I’m left wondering if what we did was nothing more than a drop in the ocean and how soon we might have to return to Sea Otter Cove to do it all over again.

Once everyone was home safe and sound and the debris responsibly disposed of, I felt relieved. I checked my voice-mailbox. There was a message from Mike. “Hey Will, there’s a Japanese skiff washed up at the bottom of the Hecht Beach trail. It’s pretty trashed. Not really salvageable but thought you might be interested.”

Raft Cove and Cape Palmerston cleanups

By Carmen Pendleton

Cleaning up the remote beaches of northwest Vancouver Island is an ongoing challenge. This summer the Clear the Coast campaign is focusing on a large expedition to Sea Otter Cove in early August. In addition to this we are also monitoring collector bags at remote beach locations.

Clear the Coast's Will Soltau lowers a
collector bag from a tree at Cape Palmerston.

Collector bags are made of retired fishing net that is sewn into a large sack. A rebar hoop is threaded through the top of the bag and they are hung from trees at remote beaches. We knew that there were at least three full collector bags at the Cape Palmerston recreation area that needed to be removed. As luck would have it the Vancouver Island chapter of the Surfrider Foundation was also doing a remote beach cleanup nearby at Raft Cove and agreed to share helicopter time. This is an area where we had maintained collector bags last summer so we were interested to see the condition of that beach this summer.

We set off on the first ferry Monday morning and, after a short stop in Port McNeill for supplies and radios, we were headed to the west coast. On the way we also stopped at the local landfill to drop off 20 kilograms of Styrofoam from our last cleanup on Malcolm Island. I know it doesn’t sound like much but it was a full truckload! Shortly after the landfill, we hit the logging roads. About 70 bumpy kilometers later we made it to the Raft Cove parking lot for our first hike of the day!

A hike of about 40 minutes through mud and tree roots brought us to the long sandy expanse of Raft Cove. It was another 20 minutes walk along the beach to where the Surfrider group had piled some of their debris. After dropping off a radio we chatted with them about data collection, debris and how their trip had gone. They mentioned that the area around where our collector bags were placed last year had been fairly clean and they had focused their attention on other areas, which was great to hear. After a well deserved lunch break we were back on the trail and hiking up to the truck to drive over to Cape Palmerston.

A helpful kayaker helped Carmen Pendleton and Will Soltau move
the third collector bag of marine debris to the pick up point.

The short drive and hike to the beach at Cape Palmerston was followed by a longer hike to the cabin, where we had been told there were three full collector bags. When we arrived at the cabin, however, we could only see two bags. This lead to a search along the beach where we found the third bag about 500 metres from the cabin, where we needed it to be for the helicopter lift the following morning. Luckily, a kayaker had just arrived at the beach and volunteered to help us move the bag which was so full it took the three of us about 45 minutes to move it to the cabin.

We spent the night camped at Cape Palmerston and after a good rest were ready for the excitement of the helicopter. Tuesday morning was perfect weather for the helicopter and after a short delay, the three bags of debris were picked up and deposited about a metre from our truck. Nice aim! There was too much debris to fit in the truck so we’ll be back later to load up the rest of it as well as the collector bag from the campsite. Thanks to all of the volunteers who pitched in to help Clear the Coast!

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Trash into treasure

By Will Soltau

Last fall Kerri, our Office Administrator blogged about how her husband Tyler found treasures amongst the trash while taking part in a shoreline cleanup. The two treasures—a glass ball and a bottle with a message inside—found on the same day is a rare occurrence indeed. Finding either one evokes an uncommon combination of feelings mixing amazement at finding such a rarity with awe that such fragile beauty could survive the turbulent elements of the beach. Toss in a dash of wonder over from where it came and how it ended up in front of you. I say this from personal experience having myself found a few glass balls. That is the lure that hooks a person on beachcombing.

The problem these days is that beachcombing means wading through tonnes of trash to find a treasure. If only that trash could be turned into treasure, an incentive like that would make our work a little easier. Refining the ocean plastic into useable oil, using it as raw material in 3D printers and certifying it as an ocean-friendly ingredient in packaging material are a few potential global solutions that we have been involved with. All are still in their infancy and none have really gotten very far off the ground yet. But then there are the home-made solutions at the local level. Repurposing is a popular incentive to beachcombers and artists. Colorful crab buoys and plastic balls are ubiquitous yard art in many coastal towns. In really remote communities anything useable is snatched up quickly. Large plastic oyster floats get repurposed as flotation in docks.

A recent example of turning what could have easily become trash into treasure is this (obvious) Japanese skiff that was found recently by a surfer friend of mine on the rocks at a very remote part of Vancouver Island’s west coast.

It was a little beat up but not broken beyond repair. He knew if he left it where it was, the skiff would soon get pounded to pieces by the tide and surf. So my surfer friend floated it a few miles to a nearby sand beach where it was less exposed to the elements and tied it up to a tree. Later, other friends of mine stumbled upon it while beachcombing large oyster floats and sent me some photos and a report for our interactive Clear the Coast map. Already knowing how it had gotten to where it was, I made introductions all around and we went back to gather more identification so we could report it to the powers-that-be. A third trip out for patching made it seaworthy enough for salvage.

Now ready for removal, I brought in a third friend of mine to tow the little skiff off the beach with his fishing boat. The first attempt had to be scuttled when the seas wouldn’t cooperate and we returned to town empty handed. But while waiting out the weather we came across huge accumulations of trash while beachcombing in Sea Otter Cove. We vowed to return for a cleanup there but that’s another story.

Eventually the weather improved enough to launch the skiff and it was moved to a more secure location where it sits today while the search for its owner in Japan continues.

Who knows what will become of this so-called treasure. The point is that even though the Japanese skiff was found in a very inaccessible location, it was worth our time and effort to remove it before it got trashed. If only the same were true with all the other trash on our shores.

Reducing the amount of debris entering the ocean is a key objective of our Clear the Coast Campaign. It’s a no-brainer. Cleaning up what’s already out there to restore our shores is number two. It’s also the right thing to do but it’s a huge job. Lots of folks are interested in volunteering their time to help clean up a beach (and maybe find a glass ball). Getting them out to remote shorelines where debris accumulates, then safely bringing them and what they collect back again takes a healthy dose of vitamin M. We need your support. That’s why we are actively fundraising to clean up Sea Otter Cove—a habitat rich area of northwestern Vancouver Island. Please check it out. There are some cool perks available if you donate.