Great Bear Rainforest

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Published by Greenleaf Book Group Press

  Austin, Texas

  www.gbgpress.com

  Copyright ©2014 Claim Stake Productions

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the copyright holder.

  Distributed by Greenleaf Book Group LLC

  For ordering information or special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Greenleaf Book Group LLC at PO Box 91869, Austin, TX 78709, 512.891.6100.

  Design and composition by Greenleaf Book Group LLC

  Cover design by Greenleaf Book Group

  Cover illustration by Leon Godwin

  Ebook ISBN: 978-1-60832-589-4

  Ebook Edition

  Conservation is a state of harmony between men and land.

  —Aldo Leopold

  For we do not own this land so much as the land owns us. The land is part of us, and we are part of the land.

  —Haisla Nation: The Kitlope Declaration

  ENGLISH/GITGA’TT:

  TRANSLATION OF COMMON PHRASES

  How are you?—Nda wila waalu?

  I am fine—Aam wila waalu.

  What is your name?—Naayu di waan?

  My name is … — di waayu …

  Where are you from?—Ndaayu di wil waatgn?

  Thank you, sir/madam—Tooyxsut nuun

  I’m hungry—Kwdiinu

  I’m thirsty—Luguungwaga’nu

  I like—Anoogi

  I don’t like—Akadi anooxt/anoogu

  I want—Hasagu

  I do not want—Akadi hasagu

  Where is … — Ndaayut?

  CONTENTS

  PART I

  ITCHING TO GO SOMEWHERE

  PART II

  PLIGHT OF THE RAINFOREST

  PART III

  THE SECRETS OF PRINCESS ROYAL ISLAND

  PART I

  ITCHING TO GO SOMEWHERE

  GANNON

  SEPTEMBER 16

  COLORADO

  okay, here we go again, but before I get into the adventure at hand and put down in my journal how the whole thing was set in motion, I want to take a minute to get something off my mind, which is basically this: I’m totally flabbergasted by what’s expected of kids these days!

  I mean, between school, sports, chores, and all of the other things that consume our lives, we hardly have time to stop and smell the roses. My parents tell me that learning to handle all of these responsibilities is just part of “growing up,” part of becoming a “well-rounded individual,” that dealing with these obligations, and I’m quoting my parents here, “helps build character and instill a good work ethic.”

  Well, fine. Whatever. Some of that may be true, but it sure as heck doesn’t make it any easier.

  When the captain called yesterday, I was feeling totally overwhelmed because of all the stuff I had to do and almost none of it, I was pretty sure, would help make me a more “well-rounded individual.” First, there was my room, which had become a total mess after days of neglect with dirty clothes all over the place and a couple overflowing garbage cans and mud on the carpet that I’d tracked in after my last hike. To make matters worse, it was my day to do the dishes, mop up the floors, and take out the trash. So I had all this stuff weighing on me, not to mention all the undone schoolwork piling up on my desk that I won’t even bother to talk about.

  Now, I’m not one to shun my chores. Okay, fine. I am. But I have a good excuse, which is … well … oh, who am I kidding? I don’t have an excuse. Chores just bug me. Period. The end.

  Now, where was I? Oh, yeah. Procrastinating. An art I’ve nearly perfected. So, there I was kicked back on the couch trying to think of ways to get myself out of all these chores, when the phone rang.

  I picked it up and said, “hello.”

  “Hello there, Gannon!” came a booming Irish voice.

  “Captain Colin?” I asked. “Is that you?”

  “You bet it is!”

  Captain Colin is an old friend my parents met at a pub in Dublin, Ireland, sometime before my brother and I were born. Story goes, they stayed in the pub singing Irish ballads until the sun came up and got along so well that the captain invited them on a weekend sailing trip to the Isle of Man. Needless to say, they accepted, more rowdiness ensued, and details of the adventure become pretty vague after that, I’m guessing for good reason. Anyway, they’ve been good chums ever since.

  “It’s great to hear your voice, Captain!” I said.

  “Good to hears yours, too, lad!”

  Captain Colin told me that he and the crew of the Pacific Yellowfin were taking some famous environmental scientist I’d never heard of into the Great Bear Rainforest to study the habitat of the spirit bear, and after all that was done they were going to volunteer at a whale research lab where the scientists needed help repairing a station that had been damaged during a severe storm.

  “That all sounds pretty cool, Captain,” I said.

  Then he told me the best part.

  “We have two empty rooms aboard the boat,” he said. “That is, unless your family cares to fill them.”

  It didn’t take me two seconds to answer. I mean, of course we wanted to fill them! We’re talking about a trip to the Great Bear Rainforest! Who in the world would say no to that?

  “Here’s the catch,” Captain Colin said. “We depart in forty-eight hours. Can you make it on such short notice?”

  Forty-eight hours! That meant we’d have to start preparing for the trip right away, and if that were the case, I’d have a totally legitimate excuse to blow off my chores.

  “I really hope we can,” I said to the captain. “But, let me check with my dad.”

  I yelled at the top of my lungs.

  “Dad, can we go to the Great Bear Rainforest?”

  My dad strolled around the corner into the room, a cup of coffee in his hand.

  “Can we go where?” he asked.

  “To the Great Bear Rainforest! Captain Colin has room aboard the Pacific Yellowfin! Can we go? Come on! Please!”

  “Well, that’s very kind of him to invite us. I suppose I could do some work while we were there. Paintings of the rainforest would actually be a wonderful addition to my museum exhibit this winter.”

  “A wonderful addition,” I said, agreeing enthusiastically.

  “And I know how much your mom loves boating.”

  “Are you kidding? She flips over it!”

  “When would we leave?” my dad asked as he took another sip.

  “In forty-eight hours.”

  My dad gasped, nearly choking on his coffee.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” I said and returned to the phone.

  “Thank you for thinking of us, Captain,” I said. “You couldn’t have called at a better time.”

  “Don’t mention it,” he said. “When I realized we would have extra rooms on the boat, you were the first people that came to mind. I know how much your family enjoys exploring new places. So, what do you say? You on board?”

  “We’re definitely on board.”

  I walked over and smacked my dad on the back a few times, as he continued to cough up the coffee that he had sucked down his windpipe.

  “You’re going to love this place,” the captain said. “It’s truly magical.”

  “I bet it is.”

  “Listen, I have to go ashore to take care of some
business. Do you have any questions before I go?”

  “I have two, actually.”

  “I’m all ears, laddy.”

  “Where in the world is this place, and what on earth is a spirit bear?”

  The captain broke into a hearty laugh.

  And so it happened that we were invited to join Captain Colin’s expedition into the Great Bear Rainforest.

  Okay, then, that’s enough for now. Time to pack.

  WYATT

  SEPTEMBER 17, 11:42 AM

  ABOARD FLIGHT 417 DENVER, COLORADO

  TO VANCOUVER, B.C.

  The FIRST LAW OF EXPLORATION is to know your destination. This may seem impossible in some respects, as the nature of exploration is to set off into the unknown, but these days you can find information on just about every place on earth—books written by notable people, travel essays, photos, documentaries, maps, etc. The information is out there. Find it. Read it. Know it.

  I usually abide by this law wholeheartedly, but I just learned of this trip yesterday and we’re already on the plane en route to Canada. So I didn’t have a whole lot of time to study before we left. The only thing I really know about the area is that it was first explored by Captain George Vancouver—a protégé of the famous Captain James Cook—who in the late 1700s mapped much of the coastline and got a beautiful city named after him for his effort. I guess on this adventure I’ll just have to learn on the fly. Actually, my grade will depend on it. The fall semester of home schooling is under way and we’re studying unique ecosystems. I was going to do a report on the Amazon Jungle, a tropical rainforest in South America, but after learning of our trip, I obviously wanted to change the subject of my report to the Great Bear Rainforest, a temperate rainforest in North America.

  When we got the call from Captain Colin, my mom was working as a flight attendant on the London-Denver route for World Airlines. Luckily, I got in touch with her between flights to discuss the report. Turns out, she had already spoken to the captain.

  “Of course you can do your report on the Great Bear,” she said over the phone. “I was going to suggest it myself. Besides, we’ll visit the Amazon eventually. It’s a place I’ve always wanted to see.”

  “Sounds good, Mom. Thanks.”

  “When I spoke with Captain Colin, he said there’s going to be an environmental scientist aboard the boat.”

  “Really?” I said. “Gannon didn’t mention anything about it. Do you know who it is?”

  “I think his name is Brezner something or other.”

  “It wouldn’t be Dr. Hans Brezner, would it?”

  “Yes, I think that’s it.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I shouted.

  “No, why? Have you heard of him?”

  “Have I heard of him? He was one of the most important environmental scientists in the world!”

  “Was?”

  “He’s dedicated his life to protecting some of the earth’s most pristine environments, but a few years back he lost a battle to preserve a large area of Patagonia and he’s pretty much been off the radar ever since.”

  “Well, the two of you will have plenty of time to get to know each other while we’re aboard the boat. Personally, I can’t wait to volunteer at the whale research lab. That will be a great learning experience for all of us.”

  “This is going to be an incredible trip!”

  “I’ll meet you in Vancouver tomorrow afternoon. Dad has my flight information.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  As an artist, my dad was thrilled by the idea of creating a series of paintings set in the Great Bear Rainforest. What really had him excited was the opportunity to photograph and paint a spirit bear. A spirit bear is a black bear with a rare genetic mutation that causes it to be white. This will definitely require some luck, as very few people ever actually see one.

  My dad was all wound up and went on and on about the paints he would use and the colors he would mix and how he would display the canvases at his winter exhibit. Eventually, I stopped listening. My interest is not in art. It’s in science.

  Recently, my brother and I had received a letter from the Youth Exploration Society, thanking us for the reports we had provided on the environment of the Kalahari Desert and Okavango Delta of Botswana.

  “The field notes you submitted make for a wonderful addition to our library,” the letter read. “Your thoroughness and attention to detail provide a valuable documentation of this unique region of Africa, and for that, the Youth Exploration Society is grateful.”

  Receiving such a letter from one of the world’s foremost authorities on exploration was certainly a boost to the ego. So much so, I was already anxious to send in my next set of field notes. This trip would give me a chance to do just that.

  Even more exciting, this trip would allow me to meet and study with a scientist who was at one time considered the best in his field. And to do it in a place like the Great Bear Rainforest, well, to an aspiring scientist, that’s better than winning the lottery.

  GANNON

  SEPTEMBER 18

  VANCOUVER, BRITISH COLUMBIA

  Immigration … Vancouver, Canada

  Okay, we’ve made it to Canada, our fine neighbor to the north. Right now we’re sitting in the Vancouver International Airport waiting for a shuttle or taxi or something to take us to a floatplane that will fly us to the Great Bear. Here’s the thing about traveling to another country, even a place as friendly as Canada: they don’t just roll out the welcome mat when you get there. At least, not right away. There’s always the process of getting approved by some kind of border patrol, which, for someone like me who likes to joke around, can go good or bad, depending.

  I’d be willing to bet my last dollar that they teach “intimidation” to all border agents. Get tied up with an especially curious agent and you could wind up answering questions for about a day and a half, give or take. Sounds simple enough, answering questions, but it’s not and here’s why: when you answer a border patrol’s questions, they stare at you as if you’re lying to their face. I mean, they’re so good at what they do they can make you feel guilty of a crime you never committed. Below is an example. Okay, I made it up, but it’s very realistic.

  BORDER AGENT: How are you today?

  ME: Good.

  The agent stares at me, disbelief in his eyes.

  ME: Pretty good.

  The agent stares even harder. A drop of sweat runs down my forehead.

  ME: Truth is, I could be better.

  BORDER AGENT: Are you bringing anything illegal into this country?

  ME: No.

  BORDER AGENT: Are you sure?

  ME: No … I mean, yes. I mean, I don’t know …

  BORDER AGENT: Detain this boy at once!

  I guess it’s understandable. After all, they are the first line of defense and their job is to protect their country by keeping the bad people out and that’s pretty important stuff, so, of course they are going to be serious about what they do, but I’d much rather be playful than serious and in this sort of situation that can have good or bad results, as I said.

  Walking up to the agent at the Immigration and Customs desk, I suddenly remembered a Canadian movie where the actors kept saying “eh” at the end of almost every sentence and that just cracked me up, so I figured talking “Canadian” would be as good a way as any to break the ice.

  “How’s it going, eh?” I said.

  Turns out, it wasn’t such a good idea. Given the way the agent stared at me without saying a word, it was obvious he didn’t find it very amusing. Apparently, not all Canadians speak that way.

  “Are you visiting for business or pleasure?” he finally asked.

  “Pleasure,” I said.

  “And research,” Wyatt added. “We’re going to view the wildlife in the Great Bear Rainforest.”

  “Brave young men,” the agent said.

  He leaned over the counter and looked us in the eyes.

  “I have some advice,” he
whispered.

  “We’re all ears,” I said.

  “Try not to get mauled by a grizzly or torn to pieces by a pack of wolves.”

  Wyatt and I looked at each other, our eyes wide with fear.

  “Yeah, we’ll do our best,” Wyatt said.

  The agent winked as he stamped our passports.

  “Thanks for the advice,” I said.

  “No problem … eh.”

  WYATT

  SEPTEMBER 18, 2:51 PM

  VANCOUVER, B.C.

  23° CELSIUS, 73° FAHRENHEIT

  MOSTLY SUNNY, WIND CALM

  After clearing customs and immigration in Vancouver, a van took us to a marina on the northeast side of the city. From the docks, I looked to the sky and spotted a small aircraft flying over the mountains. On the bottom of the plane, where you normally find wheels, were two large pontoons. They looked a lot like big water skis. The plane flew in low and touched down, skipping a few times across the water’s choppy surface before settling. The pilot passed the dock and made a quick U-turn. As the plane drifted toward us, the propeller slowed and came to a stop.

  The seaplane that flew us to the GBR

  The door swung open and the pilot stuck his head outside. His shirt was unbuttoned below his chest and his brown hair was shaggy and disheveled, as if he’d just rolled out of bed. He was wearing flip-flops.

  “You the group that’s headed up to Bella Bella?” the pilot asked.

  “That’s us,” my dad said.

  “Excellent. I’m Brad. I’ll be your pilot today.”

  Brad threw us a rope and we secured the plane to the dock.

  “Hop aboard!” he said.

  As usual, my mom was nervous about getting on a small aircraft and went about interrogating the pilot.

  “How old is this plane, Brad?” she asked, sternly.

  “It’s an A185F floatplane, ma’am,” Brad answered, cordially. “Built in 1976.”