An ominous threat returns to the fragile eastern slopes ecosystem of the eastern Rockies. Words :: Andrew Findlay.
The sound of lowing cows drifts across the hillside. It’s July, and Plateau Cattle Co.’s herd grazes in their summertime pasture near the Old Man River headwaters. Here, on the eastern slopes of the Canadian Rockies, lies the eye of an impending storm. In the midst of a multi-year drought, the Alberta government is considering open-pit mining in the Old Man River watershed.
Laura Laing and her husband John Smith raise more than 500 head of cattle here at their ranch near Nanton, AB. Four years ago, Laing and Smith were two of thousands of Albertans who rallied to prevent open-pit coal mining on Grassy Mountain. Now they’re fighting another coal project on the same mountain.
“Sadly, I’m not surprised,” Laing says.
When this ranching couple says they’re attached to these rolling hills, they mean it. The ranch has been in the Smith family for three generations. Smith’s grandfather John Hay immigrated from Scotland in 1928, first to northern Alberta then south with his family in 1934 to a Nanton homestead.
For Laing and Smith, coal mining was a distant concern until November 2015, when Benga Mining Ltd. submitted an environmental impact assessment (EIA) application for the Grassy Mountain Coal Project—a mine with an estimated annual production rate of 4.5 million tonnes of metallurgical coal and a lifespan of 23 years.
Metallurgical coal is heated in blast furnaces to remove oxygen from iron oxide, a key step for making steel. Lower-grade thermal coal, like the stuff from Vista Mine near Hinton, is burned to create steam and generate electricity. Both are dirty. Coal—whether burned for steel or heat—is a heavy carbon emitter. And, according to SteelWatch (an organization aiming to decarbonize steel production), 11 per cent of global emissions come from steelmaking. The latter pumps out 30 per cent of all human-generated carbon emissions. But it’s not only about the carbon footprint. Coal mining often results in habitat loss and toxic runoff with lasting impacts on watersheds and aquatic species.
In June of 2021, a Joint Review Panel (JRP) composed of the Alberta Energy Regulator (AER) and the Impact Assessment Agency of Canada (IAAC) rejected Benga’s project, concluding that it wasn’t in “the public interest.” The JRP said the mine would likely impact surface water and the blue-listed Westslope cutthroat trout. The panel also criticized Benga for underestimating the negative environmental impacts and overestimating the positive economic benefits of the project.
However, coal mining on Grassy Mountain wasn’t dead. In September 2023, a new proposal was put in play when Northback Holdings Corporation filed an application with the AER for exploratory drilling on the same Grassy Mountain coal deposit. The company is new in name only. It’s a subsidiary of the same Australian mining giant, Hancock Prospecting, which owned Benga and is chaired by Australia’s richest citizen and one of the world’s wealthiest women, billionaire Gina Rinehart.
Northback is proposing to drill 46 boreholes, between 150 and 550 metres deep, on a mix of Crown land and its own private property.
On the surface, this proposal might appear like a classic resource-industry-versus-conservation conflict. However, when you peer behind the press releases, the fight over Grassy Mountain reveals the Alberta government’s murky, confusing and at times conflicting policies around coal mining in the Rocky Mountain front ranges where precious rivers like the Old Man, Livingston, Elbow and Highwood originate.
To understand the situation today, one needs to first look to Alberta’s past. In 1976 under Premier Peter Lougheed’s leadership, the Progressive Conservative government of the day established a coal policy that clearly laid out where, when and how coal mining development could occur.
“No development will be permitted unless the Government is satisfied that it may proceed without irreparable harm to the environment and with satisfactory reclamation of any disturbed land. Neither exploration nor development will be permitted in certain designated areas. Limited exploration and development will be permitted in other areas while some areas will be broadly open for both exploration and development under controlled conditions,” according to the coal policy.
In 1977, Lougheed’s government published the Policy for Resource Management of the Eastern Slopes, then updated it in 1984. The policy wasn’t legally binding, but it set an overarching goal of ensuring “a continuous, reliable supply of clean water to meet the needs of Albertans and interprovincial users now and in the future.”
Given today’s water worries, this was a foresighted policy. Now, 40 years later, water—or lack of it—could be the number one crisis facing Alberta.
The fight over Grassy Mountain reveals the Alberta government’s murky, confusing and at times conflicting policies around coal mining in the Rocky Mountain front ranges where precious rivers like the Old Man, Livingston, Elbow and Highwood originate.
On the heels of successive drought years, Alberta is bracing for another dry summer. In late spring 2024, the Oldman Reservoir west of Fort Macleod was sitting at 28 per cent capacity, compared to a normal range of between 62 and 80 per cent. St. Mary’s Reservoir was at 15 per cent, when it should have filled to between 41 and 70 per cent.
It’s why Alberta’s environment minister recently sent letters to 25,000 water license holders in an effort to initiate discussions about water-sharing agreements.
“Watershed protection was really at the core of these policies,” says David Luff, a retired Alberta government civil servant who was a deputy minister in Lougheed’s government and helped craft the coal policy and Eastern Slope Policy. “In many ways these policies are more important today than they were when they were first drafted.”
Against the backdrop of a water crisis, there is immense pressure from industry to develop new coal mines in Alberta. As of 2019, the province was digging 17.6 million tonnes of coal out of the ground, a mere drop in the bucket compared to the estimated 33 billion tonnes of known coal reserves in Alberta. Those are the kinds of numbers that make investors and mining executives giddy, and they have a friend in former Alberta premier Jason Kenney.
On a Friday before a long weekend in May 2020, Kenney’s government quietly rescinded Lougheed’s Coal Policy. It was done under the pretense of modernizing the province’s approach to coal.
Instead, it triggered a frenzy of new coal applications to the AER and a firestorm of public backlash. The events that followed are convoluted, to say the least.
Then-Minister of Energy Sonya Savage was suddenly in the crosshairs of conservationists, the general public and media. Luff suspects Savage didn’t understand the full implications of killing the Coal Policy. To her credit, the following February Minister Savage pumped the brakes and reinstated the 1976 Coal Policy. At the same time, she formed the Coal Policy Committee, composed of stakeholders representing policy experts, landowners, Indigenous communities and industry. It was tasked with gathering feedback to help guide a modern policy.
The public engagement process lasted just three weeks, concluding on April 19, 2021. The committee recommended restricting coal development on the eastern slopes until effective land use planning is undertaken that would investigate potential impacts on tourism and recreation.
Notably, nearly two-thirds of respondents to a Coal Policy Committee public opinion survey said that coal resources “are not important at all” to Alberta’s economic well being, while less than 8 per cent considered them “very important.”
While this process was underway, Minister Savage made a series of ministerial orders extending the suspension of new coal mine development, the last of which was issued in March of 2022. The order directs the AER to continue suspension of all coal exploration and development applications except “advanced coal projects or an active approval of a coal mine.”
On February 22, 2024, the AER announced that, after seeking legal advice on the definition of an advanced coal project, it would proceed with Northback’s application. Renato Gandia, a spokesperson for the energy regulator, said the AER is sending the “Northback applications to a hearing to ensure a transparent and well-informed technical review. The hearing will determine whether Northback can move forward with drilling and exploration at Grassy Mountain.”
As of May 2024, that’s where things stand. Any reputation that Alberta had as a steward of natural resources is in jeopardy and lawsuits are flying.
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Plateau Cattle Co. and Rocking P Ranch are suing the Alberta government for a lack of consultation before making the decision to rescind the Coal Policy. On behalf of both families, Wilson Laycraft Barristers & Solicitors filed a request in July 2020 under the Freedom of Information and Protection of Privacy Act for all documents related to the decision. They received hundreds of pages of heavily redacted correspondence, much of it between government communications staff and policy bureaucrats preoccupied over the wording and timing of the media release. However, there’s also a lengthy letter from Robin Campbell, a former provincial Progressive Conservative cabinet minister and current President of the Coal Association of Canada, to the deputy energy minister. In it, Campbell complains that the “current regulatory requirements for coal mining projects in the Province of Alberta is one of the most restrictive anywhere.”
That an ex-politician and third-generation coal miner is shilling for industry isn’t exactly a shocker to anyone following the coal debate. Neither would those Albertans find it surprising that Jason Kenney has taken a new job as a senior advisor to Bennett Jones, the Calgary law firm representing five coal companies suing the Alberta government for $10.8 billion in lost revenue and potential investment.
According to Luff, the lawsuit suggests coal companies “were promised something that they didn’t get” after the Kenney government was forced to walk back its decision to open the eastern slopes to coal development.
Laura Laing calls it “stranger than fiction.”
“The whole thing is confusing and almost hard to believe,” she says. However, as a rancher and part-time public relations consultant, Laing is up for the fight.
• • •
On a spring morning, Mountain Life caught up with musician Corb Lund at one of his favourite places—the family ranch near Mountain View, east of Waterton Lakes National Park. He says Kenney’s pandering to the coal sector “stinks.” Lund admits to initially not knowing much about the industry or government approvals before he was compelled by some of his neighbours to speak up on the issue. Since then, he’s become an avid student of the topic and an outspoken critic of first Benga’s and now Northback’s proposal.
“I’m not anti-resource-extraction, I’m not left or right when it comes to politics, but this mine is a terrible idea. For me this is really about water. We’re in the middle of a multi-year drought, and all we’d be getting from this mine are some royalties and a few jobs,” Lund says.
Lund urges coal mine supporters to look across the border at BC’s Elk Valley where decades of open-pit coal mining have poisoned rivers and streams with selenium, a mineral that beyond certain levels is toxic to fish. Despite Teck Resources having spent more than $1 billion on improved water treatment at its mines, a 2023 sampling detected selenium levels in waters impacted by the coal mines that were more than 250 times higher than levels considered safe, according to an internal BC government memo obtained by The Narwhal. The price tag to clean up selenium contamination from the mines is now pegged at $6.4 billion, according to a report by Burgess Environmental commissioned by the East Kootenay conservation group Wildsight.
“Teck has barely made a dent in the problem,” Lund says. “Nearly 80 per cent of Albertans are against coal mining in the Rockies. It’s a bad idea economically and environmentally. The only ones who want this are some politicians and a few hundred people in Crowsnest Pass.”
The deep southwest of Alberta is the epicentre of Northback’s support but it’s no slam dunk. Neighbours debate the mine over their backyard fences. Just as Corb Lund has taken to social media to speak to his audience about the dangers of coal mining in the increasingly dry front ranges, pro-coal voices have made themselves heard.
The Piikani Nation, one of four Indigenous nations comprising the Blackfoot Confederacy, has been split on the Grassy Mountain issue. A group of Piikani members formed the Piikani Mountain Child Valley Society to oppose coal mining on their traditional territories when Benga put its project on the table. The group clashed with the late Piikani chief Stanley Grier who made numerous public statements supporting the project before his passing in early 2023.
The current chief, Troy Knowlton, declined to comment on Grassy Mountain, but Piikani member Adam North Peigan believes the Piikani council still quietly supports coal mining.
“There’s been no consultation with the community because they know that coal exploration will not be supported by the membership,” Peigan says. “I’m all for economic development that brings revenue to our community to help deal with the opioid crisis, housing and poverty, but coal mining on our traditional territories will devastate our community in the long term.”
According to Peigan, sustainable projects like wind and solar farms would be a much better fit for the Piikani.
“There’s been no consultation with the community because they know that coal exploration will not be supported by the membership…”
On a summer weekend in Canmore, as visitors jockey for parking spots, it would be hard to grasp that this was a gritty coal mining town for nearly a century until the last mine shut in 1976. It signaled the end of one era and the dawn of another: mass tourism.
Though Canmore and Crowsnest Pass may be different towns, they share a coal mining heritage. It’s an important common history, says Sarah Elmeligi, MLA for Banff-Kananaskis. She’s also an author
and wildlife biologist who has worked both as an environmental consultant and politician to oppose coal mining on the eastern slopes.
Elmeligi believes few issues have galvanized Albertans in recent years the way the coal discussion has. For her, watershed protection and stewardship of endangered species like bull trout (also the provincial fish) are important considerations. So, too, is what she and many others feel is the dubious merit of considering new coal mines when so many drought-afflicted Albertan farmers and communities are feeling the effects of climate change in real time.
Elmeligi suggests that in light of water shortages and environmental pressures there’s another path for Crowsnest Pass.
“A mine runs for 25 or 30 years; tourism can be sustainable over the long term. But it will take investment and support from the province because tourism development doesn’t happen by accident,” Elmeligi says. “I’m not saying that they have to be Canmore, but the answer to coal mining on Grassy Mountain was already ‘No,’ so it’s frustrating that we’re going down this road again.”
When Mountain Life reached out to Northback, the company pointed out that at this stage it is applying for a drilling permit only to gather geotechnical, ground water and “other data.”
“This is not a mining application, nor does approval of this drilling program have anything to do with future applications,” says Daina Lazzarotto, Northback’s community relations advisor, in an emailed response. “The Joint Review Panel decision indicated that Northback had room for improvement in its development application in the areas of water and selenium management. The design of the drill program is a result of those comments and will provide more site-specific data to ensure that in any possible future development, that the water supply remains safe for residents of Southern Alberta.”
• • •
On a blustery afternoon, wind whistles down the streets and kicks up dusty spindrifts in Blairmore, one of five communities that amalgamated in 1979 to form the Municipality of Crowsnest Pass. Things are quiet at the office of Northback Holdings but the company has been busy in other ways, making its presence felt. The company is using the oldest play in the corporate playbook for seeking social license: chequebook diplomacy. It recently donated funds to the Southwest Alberta Skateboard Society for the building of a new skatepark, and to the Crowsnest Pass Quad Squad, a local group that builds and maintains trails for Off Highway Vehicles (OHVs). In March 2024, Northback presented a $75,000 cheque to Livingstone Range School Division for its nutrition program, and has raised nearly $300,000 at its annual Australia Day celebrations to support other local charities. Given that it’s owned by Australia’s richest citizen, Northback has deep enough pockets to play the long game.
“Our staff live, work and play in Southwestern Alberta, and we are committed to being active partners in the region,” says Lazzarotto.
While some might view their community contributions as an effort to simply buy support from a community dying for a boost, Carmen and Troy Linderman see it as good corporate citizenship. The Lindermans are thoughtful and measured when it comes to talking about Grassy Mountain but are also some of the more vocal members of the group Citizens Supportive of Crowsnest Coal. There’s no doubt that coal, warts and all, is written into the community’s DNA. The Hillcrest Mine Disaster Cemetery, south of the Crowsnest River and Bellevue, is a haunting reminder of the worst coal mining accident in Canadian history: a 1914 explosion that claimed nearly 200 lives. The last coal mine in the area shut in 1983 and Crowsnest Pass has been in an economic slump ever since.
Troy Linderman was born and raised in Crowsnest Pass. After university he returned home to work at Teck’s Elk Valley operations before shifting to the mine rescue team. He’s witnessed the boom of coal mining and the ensuing bust.
He welcomes tourism, but says people are dreaming if they believe tourists alone will keep the lights on at the Crowsnest Pass Sports Complex and the potholes filled downtown. He views Fernie, BC, as a model of balance between industry and tourism.
Troy Linderman was born and raised in Crowsnest Pass. After university he returned home to work at Teck’s Elk Valley operations before shifting to the mine rescue team. He’s witnessed the boom of coal mining and the ensuing bust.
“We’ll never be Canmore. Tourism jobs are generally low-paying and tourism comes with its own problems like housing affordability,” Linderman says. “More than 80 per cent of our tax base is residential. We need industry. Look at Fernie. That community has a thriving tourism sector and also several hundred people employed in coal mining.”
The couple say they support “responsible coal development” and believe environmental regulations will ensure Northback does the right thing on Grassy Mountain.
That’s cold comfort for Laura Laing and the thousands of other Albertans fighting to keep coal mining out of the province’s front ranges. Coal mining regulation is far from ironclad in Alberta. The Mexican company that owns Vista Mines is in the hot seat for a controversial mine expansion that conservation groups say threatens endangered bull trout and Athabasca rainbow trout habitat. When Laing, Corb Lund and many others look at BC, they see Teck, a coal company that has made fortunes while leaving behind a forever altered landscape and a toxic selenium problem decades in the making.
“I understand that Crowsnest Pass needs a boost. But I’m sorry, I just can’t sympathize with a few hundred people. We’re not just talking about Grassy Mountain, it’s about the entire eastern slope,” Laing says. “When a coal mine closes, you’ll never get the land back to what it was. As ranchers, we manage the land for generations.”
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