River Alchemy Fighting Words
Éric Gagnon, Rupert Reverence, and the struggle to save the Rupert River writer Jeff Jackson
T
here are few who can speak so many languages. I have met Éric Gagnon on three occasions, and on each he has
apologized for his near-perfect English, a second language that he speaks better than most of my English friends. Within French and English, Gagnon also speaks many other lan- guages: the languages of engineers, government officials, international media, paddlers, citizen activists and artists. He is as comfortable critically evaluating hydroelectric develop- ment as he is persuasively telling how he loves a river.
Éric Gagnon is co-president of Rupert Reverence, a major group of river activists just one year old. He has scraggly hair, not quite long enough for the ponytail he tries to restrain it in, wears worn out jeans and sneakers, and wanders about at river festivals easily slipping in and out of conversations. He is comfortable around people and listens intently to what they have to say.
“There is a brotherhood between all people active saving rivers,” he says. I am so encouraged by the people I meet at the Kipawa and citizen committees. I have difficulty considering myself as an activist, but I felt a calling. I speak English, I know the Cree, my skills are needed.” Turned on to the Rupert River six years ago when he learned to kayak, Gagnon sensed another language, one of rivers, of the immediate pull of the current and the connection to place—a river language the resident Cree in the James Bay region have felt for generations. The Rupert River is the last great “big” river in Northern Quebec and
Graffiti by the locals overlooking Oatmeal
Rapid on the Rupert.. photo by Regan Moran
James Bay. At only 730 kilometres long, this short river flows huge, aver- aging 900 cubic metres per second with roaring big drops and long, dark rapids. The Rupert is the heart of a great roadless and undeveloped wilderness. The Cree have travelled the river for literal ages, followed by fur trade canoe brigades and now recreational canoe expeditions, paddling the long flat sections and walking the whitewater. Only recently have kayakers been drawn to the 65 rapids, many yet unrun, as a first-descent
proving ground. Two rough roads cross the region, heading north to the La Grande hydro project.
When the Grand Council of the Cree signed a deal with the Province of Quebec in 2002 to completely divert the Rupert River into the Eastmain (and then on to the La Grande’s existing hydro generators), many in the region were outraged. The Rupert would become a dry riverbed; the Eastmain, a vast reservoir. Neither would flow to James Bay anymore. An ecosystem would be shattered, a language lost.
While the Grand Council of the Cree signed the development agree- ment on behalf of their people, based on controversial referendum results,
Right now, likely far away from where you read this, a river thunders to the sea. But in seven years it will be dead. Dry. A river no more.
many in the Cree community are now turning against the project. For many, the sacredness of the river greatly outweighs what will be gained by the project.
Rupert Reverence has committed to stopping the Rupert diversion, but even if it can’t, it has dedicated itself to protecting all Northern Quebec rivers including several in Inuit Quebec that have deals signed for future development.
The group can claim some significant accomplishments, not the least of which is forming a 12-seat board of administrators comprising six Quebecers and six Cree—a first of its kind, given the language barriers and varying political and cultural backgrounds. On the board, Gagnon said, “We had to overcome many obstacles, but we share one thing, and that is a deep commitment and deep love for the Rupert River.” Rupert Reverence has helped raise awareness of the marvelous land- scape and its perilous position by hosting a two-week expedition last summer that generated worldwide media exposure, and by assisting with the making of two documentaries to air this spring.
People like Éric Gagnon amaze me with their selfless determination, hope and “little train that could” attitude. He works 30 hours a week on top of his regular, paying job, and last year moved to Granby to be closer to the offices of government.
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