It’s just past 11 a.m. on a Tuesday morning and John Horton is at the helm of the 52-foot Steveston lifeboat in the midst of this season’s second commercial sockeye salmon opening on the Fraser River.
Directly ahead of him, near the No. 3 Road pier, are countless gillnet fishing vessels; further down the river are two tugboats, one heading east with a shipment of coking coal bound for the Lafarge cement plant, the other heading west with a double load of wood chip products destined for Crofton on Vancouver Island.
The tugboats, with limited maneouverability, will not only need to pass one another safely, they’ll also need to dodge fishing lines on this day.
All of a sudden, Horton’s VHS radio blares out a series of directives: ‘This is Victoria Traffic…’
It’s the Marine Communications and Traffic Services, operated by the Canadian Coast Guard, sending information to vessels on the water as to where the barges are heading.
“It’s important we know where the traffic is. We have to plan where we’re going to be safe. We have to think ahead,” said Horton, who is also taking information from his crew above deck, via a shiny, copper, Seconld World War-era talking pipe.
Horton blasts a round of horns at a number of fishing vessels soaking their nets in the shipping channel.
“This is trouble if they don’t move,” exclaims Horton.
As one of the captains for the volunteer-run Canadian Lifeboat Institution (CLI), Horton, provides safety patrols along the river, as well as in the Strait of Georgia.
With about 30 volunteers, CLI provides preventative safety recourse for vessels in the absence of an official, government funded agency; Port Metro Vancouver looks after shipping regulations, the Coast Guard and its auxiliary only provides search and rescue services, and local police and fire rescue don’t have boats of their own.
When a rare commercial fishery opening happens on the Fraser, the service provided by the Steveson lifeboat and the recent, newly fitted Fraser lifeboat become more apparent.
“If we stop an accident from happening, we’re ahead of the game,” said Horton.
As he lets the coal barge pass, he turns around and heads down river, clearing the way for the two wood chip barges.
It’s not long until the crew spots a danger — stalled is the 35-foot gillnetter North Star that’s lost its ability to steer.
After the fishers frantically pull in the line, full of salmon, the lifeboat crew tosses a line to the stranded boat and pulls it to the shore for repair. A potentially dangerous situation is averted as the Seaspan barges pass a mere 100 feet away.
With all the help CLI boats offer, the question begs: Why is the Fraser River dependent on a growing volunteer organization in the wake of two major decisions that will only serve to put more (potentially dangerous) traffic on the river (jet fuel and coal)?
Horton says agencies are strapped for cash.
“We’ve got people like the RCMP who I feel should be out there more often. There’s DFO, Port Metro and the Coast Guard. It always comes down to funding. When I talk to these people, they won’t give them overtime and what not. They say the funding isn’t there,” said Horton.
That said, the long-time volunteer mariner says for most of the time there isn’t a pressing need for constant, vigilant patrols throughout the year.
“In a way, we created our own animal. We took this on as an accident-prevention service; no one did it. It’s not like we took on something someone else was doing,” said Horton, noting the Coast Guard does not do routine patrols and only responds to emergencies. “I don’t see professional agencies taking over what we’re doing unless there’s a major change in the way things operate … or a greater need is seen,” said Horton, adding there is less of a need for lifeboat services the further one drifts from urban areas.
CLI’s structure is largely based on Britian’s 444-boat strong volunteer-driven Royal National Lifeboat Institution.
Horton said he’s always looking for more volunteers, many of whom have rescue and/or marine-related work experience, such as with a fire department or with the Royal Canadian Navy (however, neither is necessary).
One of the most recent volunteers is Chad Freeborn, 28, who recently took on sailing as a hobby.
“It gives me an opportunity to educate myself and be involved,” said Freeborn, whose job this day was to log incidents.
Horton said CLI operates on donations and his two lifeboats, docked at the south end of No. 1 Road, require about $25,000 worth of maintenance a year. Visit www.canadianlifeboatinstitution.org for more information.
