[Text: Tomas Borsa. Photos and video: Jean-Philippe Marquis.]
For the past decade, oil and gas activity in the Peace Country has expanded at an astounding rate. Job availability has steadily increased, and the overall prosperity of the area has accordingly climbed. A quick glance down Dawson Creek’s main drag illustrates this, as every second parking stall is taken up by a freshly-minted truck straight off the lot. But as an area traditionally dominated by agriculture and ranching, there are many who feel uneasy, left out, or threatened by this shift. In 2008, concerns came to a head when a series of bombings targeting EnCana Corp.’s pipelines brought the area to its knees. Despite EnCana’s offer of a $1 million bounty for information leading to the identification and arrest of the bomber, to date, no one has ever been charged.
“Anyone who didn’t give DNA was considered a suspect. The bombing was really disruptive – it pitted neighbour against neighbour. But you know what? At least it stirred the pot.” Karl Mattson isn’t one to sugar coat things, and as an enigmatic cattle-rancher, artist, and mountain guide whose family has worked the land for five generations, he is the embodiment of the self-sufficient lifestyle that many feel has been put at risk by the encroachment of oil and gas development in the region. As a result of his immediate and visceral connection to the surrounding land, Karl expresses an unease about the Northern Gateway: “We’re fools to think that they’re going to stop with this next pipeline. By the time they’re done here, this area will be a moonscape, and there won’t be anything left for us to live off of.”
After sharing a hearty supper of shepherd’s pie and chili, Karl shows me around the Mattson family farm. The property is split up into several sections, and holds several large barns, a workshop, an art studio, and half a dozen red bungaloes, each of them showing all the character and class of a hand-made, hundred year-old structure. A few chickens wander around the property, as do several farm cats. Karl points to the horizon, where half a dozen gas flares shoot up in each direction. While calmly recounting the various explosions and leaks which each has experienced in the past several years, it’s at about this time that he suggests we follow him to his workshop. Once there, he pulls out a particularly disturbing example of what, in his mind, oil and gas activity in the area have contributed toward: “They say they know where that oil is going, but do they? Everybody around here uses irrigation. The amount of creeks that the Northern Gateway would cross over – I don’t even want to talk about it.”
Interview with Karl Mattson from JPMARKI on Vimeo.