Canadian wildfires have this year burned a land area larger than 104 of the world’s 195 countries. The carbon dioxide released by them so far is estimated to be nearly 1.5 billion tons — more than twice as much as Canada releases through transportation, electricity generation, heavy industry, construction and agriculture combined. In fact, it is more than the total emissions of more than 100 of the world’s countries — also combined.
Forest management in region since so-called War of the Woods should be model for rest of B.C., critics say
The Sierra Club of B.C. says the logging of large old trees in verdant, biodiverse forests on Vancouver Island has continued mostly unabated in the 30 years since one of the biggest acts of civil disobedience in Canadian history.
As Canada experiences a record-shattering summer of deadly extreme weather, it’s worth remembering that our national pension fund has poured much of our retirement savings into the primary cause of the climate crisis: fossil fuels.
In doing so, the Canada Pension Plan Investment Board is also undermining its own purpose: to provide Canadians with retirement security by achieving a maximum rate of return without undue risk of loss. Fossil fuel industries, after all, must be rapidly phased out to ensure a safe climate future.
Over the past five years, I have closely followed the signals of climate change, deciphering their significance through the frequency of temperature records and the escalating intensity of wildfires.
At the beginning of July, I mapped out record temperatures that resulted in devastating wildfires in B.C., Alberta and Nova Scotia. It showed record heat that intensified in May and June.
Canada's current wildfire season is devastating evidence of the effects of climate change, scientists say, but for some conspiracy theorists, the thousands of square kilometres of burnt ground isn't enough to convince them.
Inside the fight to save one of the last ancient old growth forests on the planet
Not long past the break of dawn, along a remote road deep in the unceded, forested mountains of southern Vancouver Island, the steady blaring of a conch shell sends a warning through the trees.
A raid is coming.
In the Savage Patch camp, a new front in a years-long struggle over the fate of some of the country’s oldest trees, a small group of forest defenders scurry to pack sleeping bags and douse the fire that kept them warm through the night.
