Up a forestry road north of Kispiox on Gitxsan Lax’yip (homelands), the sounds of hammering and power tools echo through the forest as golden leaves fall from aspen poplar and paper birch trees.
With winter imminent, Maas Gwitkunuxws Teresa Brown — who is Gitxsan from the Gisk’aast (Fireweed) Clan — and her team hurry to build a structure to keep Brown’s four dogs and nine foster puppies warm during the cold months.
In these territories of northwestern “B.C.,” temperatures can be unforgiving, with lows known to drop to -30 C or colder at night.
“It’s scary thinking I’m going to be out here in the winter, but it really feels like I can’t leave,” Brown says. “I do this from love.”
Her camp and dog sanctuary are just a few dozen metres from the projected right-of-way of the Prince Rupert Gas Transmission (PRGT) project.
The controversial pipeline would, if completed, supply the proposed Ksi Lisims LNG terminal, making it the province’s second-largest liquefied natural gas export project.
The pipeline is backed by the Nisg̱a’a Lisms government. But other Indigenous people from the area, including members of Gitxsan and Gitanyow — as well as some members of Nisg̱a’a Nation itself — oppose the project.
Brown’s camp, near the village of Kispiox, was established shortly after Gitanyow hereditary chiefs set up their own pipeline blockade in late August at Cranberry Junction, north of Kitwanga.
Brown sits at the Table of Gitluudaahlxw, a Wilp (House) of the Fireweed Clan. During an interview at her camp in October, she explained that standing in the way of the pipeline is how she asserts her sovereignty as a Gitxsan woman.
“The territory I am on is traditionally Gitluudaahlxw, as shown by the longhouse pithouse next to the river,” she said. “This is proof we were and are here.”
As of this week, the PRGT pipeline’s environmental assessment certificate, first granted in 2014, is up for review. Provincial regulators will now inspect work done up until Nov. 25 — a process expected to take several months — and draft a report.
After determining whether “substantial” progress has been made on the pipeline over the last decade, the “B.C.” government will decide to either quash or extend the certificate.
“After over a year of calling on for a new environmental assessment and protecting the Lax’yip from pipeline construction activity, Gitanyow is celebrating the expiration of the provincial government authorizations,” said a press release from Gitanyow Hereditary Chiefs on Monday.
If “B.C.” opts to decide in favour of the pipeline, the chiefs warned, “Gitanyow is prepared to join others to challenge this in the provincial courts.”
Brown, who’s chosen to make her home in a converted school bus heated by a wood stove, said she, too, will do what it takes to make sure the pipeline project is kiboshed.
“They’re not getting in here,” she told IndigiNews. “Over my dead body.”
Earlier this year, TC Energy sold the project to Texas-based Western LNG and the Nisg̱a’a Lisims Government to transport liquified natural gas 900 kilometres from Hudson’s Hope to Pearse Island.
The pipeline would cross more than 1,000 waterways until reaching the Ksi Lisims LNG terminal — a proposed floating facility — to export up to 12 million tonnes of LNG annually.
Selling PRGT to Nisg̱a’a Lisims and Western LNG was part of some $3 billion worth of assets TC Energy is set to offload by the end of this year, as the energy company tries to lighten its hulking debt load.
TC Energy’s last project in the region was the Coastal GasLink pipeline, which faced resistance from hereditary chiefs and members of Wet’suwet’en Nation.
That pipeline racked up numerous environmental violations during its construction and blew over budget to $14.5 billion — more than double the original estimated total cost of $6.2 billion.
‘Disaster waiting to happen’
Nisg̱a’a leadership have touted their project as an important way to “leave a legacy of prosperity” for their people, giving members jobs and an opportunity to build wealth in the community.
A video the nation posted in October said more than 30 Nisg̱a’a citizens have been hired for the project so far.
“I think the PRGT project is very beneficial for this region and the people,” said John Clayton, whose company Northern Valley Ventures works on the pipeline, in the video.
“It’s going to give long-term sustainability for families that have never seen the income it can give.”
But like other Gitxsan and Gitanyow people who oppose the pipeline, Brown is worried about spills and other long-term impacts to the lands and waters that sustain her people.
In April, a month after TC Energy sold the PRGT pipeline, another of its pipelines exploded on Treaty 7 lands in “Alberta,” sparking a wildfire and polluting the environment.
“It’s about everybody’s health, everybody’s ability to live here,” Brown said. “The land belongs to everybody, and if you’re willing to look after it, it will look after you.”
Drew Harris, a Gitxsan Youth organizer with Skeena Watershed Conservation Coalition, has spent time at Brown’s dog sanctuary and other pipeline resistance camps.
She helped form Youth of the Gitxsan Laxyip, a coalition of young Gitxsan people intent on defending their “cultural, ecological, and spiritual integrity” from extractive industries.
The group released a statement in October, stating fossil fuel expansion in their homelands threatens “the source of our life, the bedrock of our identity, and the foundation of our future.”
The statement from the Youth added that proposed pipelines like PRGT are “symptoms of a greater disease, a disease that perpetuates the colonial mindset of taking without giving, of destroying without care for the consequences.”
On Nov. 18, Harris travelled to lək̓ʷəŋən homelands (Victoria), where she and other Gitxsan land defenders and supporters led a protest outside the B.C. NDP’s swearing-in ceremony at Government House.
Harris said she wanted the provincial cabinet ministers gathered there to hear loud and clear that Gitxsan Youth do not consent to the PRGT pipeline being pushed through their homelands.
Resource extraction projects divide Indigenous communities, while sacrificing their collective well-being, Harris said.
“They’re pitting all these nations against each other,” she said. “And we’re left with the mess — the environmental destruction and social impacts of the pipeline after these companies are long gone.”
One of those social impacts, Harris said, is the MMIWG2S+ crisis. She cited studies showing links between industrial worker camps and increased violence to Indigenous women and girls in the area.
“We already struggle a lot with missing and murdered Indigenous people,” she said. “So why would we want to bring in more risks? It’s just a disaster waiting to happen.”
‘Inadequate consultation’
In August, a few dozen kilometres west of Brown’s dog sanctuary, Gitanyow hereditary chiefs set up another camp at Cranberry Junction to oppose PRGT pipeline construction near the Nass River.
The day they set up the camp, the chiefs burned a benefits agreement they had signed with the province a decade earlier. They said PRGT can no longer proceed without being reassessed by the B.C. Environmental Assessment Office.
One of those chiefs, Simogyet Watakhayetsxw Deborah Good, said she helped mobilize the camp because protecting the Nass River is essential for her nation’s survival.
“The land and waters are our sustenance and way of life — without them, we have nothing,” she said. “We must return to the land to teach our Youth the importance of safeguarding it, so future generations can experience the abundance it provides.”
Gitanyow Nation is on its way to finalizing its own independent environmental assessment of the pipeline. And in late October, Gitanyow Hereditary Chiefs launched a legal action against the Ksi Lisims LNG export project at the B.C. Supreme Court.
Their lawsuit cited their “grave concerns over threats to salmon populations, escalating climate risks, and inadequate consultation with the Gitanyow Huwilp.”
Kolin Sutherland-Wilson, chief of the Kispiox Band, said the PRGT consultation process has been deeply flawed from the beginning.
“It’s filled with threats and manipulation, and strategic injections of money in order to gain consent,” he said.
Sutherland-Wilson said colonial governments have deliberately created dependency, offering Indigenous communities “crumbs of the resource pie” as their only choice for economic survival.
“It’s set up like an unethical lifeline to keep people hooked” on resource extraction, he said.
For Delbert Morgan, a Gitanyow person who spends nearly every day at the Cranberry Junction camp, no amount of money could justify the environmental risks of LNG expansion.
“The money is not worth it,” he said. “Giving me a million dollars is not worth it. You can’t put a price on the land — the people need it. We can’t mistreat what’s left, because then we won’t have anything.”
Morgan said the pipeline “goes against our laws and protocols,” and feared the pipeline could harm Gitanyow hunting and fishing.
”It’s going to interfere with the moose, the bear, salmon, the swamps where beavers are, almost everything,” he said.
‘Proof is in the pudding’
Sutherland-Wilson is also worried about the pipeline’s impact on his community’s way of life. He pointed to the Coastal GasLink pipeline’s environmental infractions in neighbouring Wet’suwet’en territory.
“The proof is in the pudding when it comes to how well these projects get regulated and the amount of damage they do to our territories,” he said.
Because PRGT was certified in 2014, it doesn’t have to adhere to today’s regulations, Sutherland-Wilson added.
“A lot of the legislation that governs this specific project is very old and antiquated. It originates from the whole Christy Clark era of politics,” he said, noting that UNDRIP and a new Environmental Assessment Act have since been passed in “B.C.”
With the permit now up for review, Sutherland-Wilson doubts provincial regulators could view the pipeline’s progress as substantial.
“The scant amount of clear-cutting they’ve done on the Nisg̱a’a territories does not constitute enough work for this project to have its permits renewed,” he said, emphasizing the rising opposition to the pipeline should serve as “enough of a deterrent.”
As snow starts to blanket Gitxsan and Gitanyow homelands, Brown reflects on the emotions she felt the first day she stood on the pipeline route, imagining it as the site for her dog sanctuary.
“When I first arrived,” she recalled, “I put my feet on this ground right here and I prayed, I cried — and I knew that this can’t be wrecked.”
Reporting for this story was made possible in part through a grant from the Institute for Journalism and Natural Resources and the Gordon and Betty Moore Foundation
