ON A CRISP SATURDAY AFTERNOON, Lorrie Rand savours a lunch of baked arctic char and roasted carrots while she chats with friends and neighbours. Not far away, a father and son test steaming rice-stuffed squash and decide that it’s done to perfection. Dave Courtney, meanwhile, nudges glowing coals into a pile and eases pesto pizza onto the 800°F stone.

Rand, Courtney and the families here on the Common in downtown Dartmouth, Nova Scotia, belong to a group called PACO, or Park Avenue Community Oven. Committed members and curious residents gather every Saturday in the 120-hectare park and recreation area to stoke the flames of the region’s first wood-fired community oven.

The idea for an outdoor oven on the Dartmouth Common sprouted in early 2012, inspired by the local community gardens. Building a four-season oven next to existing garden plots seemed an innovative way to entice more people to share and enjoy fresh food. The group approached their city councillor and she loved the idea, forked over $20,000 of discretionary funds and gave PACO the go-ahead.

“We were surprised at how fast it all came together,” says Rand.

Surprised by the speed, but thrilled by the results. PACO enlisted seasoned natural builder Gena Arthur and her company, Eco-Developments. Arthur has built more than 25 earth ovens for private clients in Nova Scotia, but designing a community oven for use on public land presented new challenges. The oven had to comply with park safety codes, yet remain accessible to the community. The resulting structure, completed in September 2012, is one-of-a-kind: a domed clay oven (about four feet in diameter) atop a stone foundation, surrounded by a 12 x 12 foot clapboard hut. With the walls of the hut closed the building resembles a woodshed, and the dark green siding blends with the grassy hills and deciduous trees that surround it. But with just a few hands and minutes, the hinged clapboard opens to reveal doors, awnings and three stainless steel countertops – the “woodshed” morphs into an outdoor community kitchen.

“We call it our transformer-oven,” Arthur says. “And we managed to source all those materials locally: the clay, stone, wood, even blacksmithing for the oven door.”

The Park Avenue oven may be new to Dartmouth, but sharing fire is as old as cooking itself – and just as practical. Clay ovens take several hours to reach baking temperature, but once the coals are hot, pizza will cook (and feed a crowd) in 60 seconds. While the oven cools (a 24-hour process), meat and vegetables can be simmered, preserve jars sterilized, fruit dried and yogurt cultured. Dividing the day-long cycle of heating and cooling among the community makes sense. In many countries, particularly those around the Mediterranean, public ovens still draw bakers into town squares. Canada has seen a slow-burning revival over the past decade or so, with Toronto, Winnipeg, Montreal and Placentia, Newfoundland, among the places that now boast communal wood-fired ovens.

For PACO, reviving the art of community cooking has also sparked a bout of community learning. After funds had been transferred and construction began, the group discovered that not all local residents shared their passion for an earth oven on parkland. But now that pizzas are sizzling in the finished structure and many of those residents have come out for a taste, PACO feels the neighbourhood is on board. They do advise, however, that oven enthusiasts consult the community well before breaking ground.

As for the cooking, Rand says, “We’ve had a few singed eyebrows, but most of the meals have turned out really well.”

Between May and November, PACO offers training each Saturday morning – how to light and maintain the fire, basically – and everyone must attend a training session before using the oven. Within its first few months of operation, PACO trained enough intrepid cooks to see pumpkin tart, bagels, dried tomatoes and dozens of pizzas emerge from the brick hearth.

“The local foodies know all about us,” Rand says, “but we also want to appeal to people who might not normally bake their own bread or pizza.”

The streets around the Dartmouth Common are home to many youth groups, half a dozen churches and several seniors’ residences. PACO hopes these organizations, as well as families, individuals and businesses, will take advantage of the  oven. No doubt PACO will get their wish – news of the Park Avenue oven has quickly spread among locals and beyond central Dartmouth. In fact, parks and community groups from around Nova Scotia and as far afield as Ireland have contacted Arthur to ask about creating similar projects in their regions.

Arthur understands the attraction: “Wood-fired food tastes fantastic,” she says. “And besides, people love fire. There’s just something magical about it.”

Certainly, PACO has witnessed some of that magic. “I thought folks would cook and enjoy their own food,” Rand says, “but almost everyone brings extra, enough
to share.”

On a Saturday afternoon in late November, Dave Courtney pulls cheese bread and a golden calzone from the oven with a wooden peel. He slices both on the stainless steel counter and the scent of tomato and parmesan fills the air. He hands slices to his two daughters, then gestures to the group still lingering around the warm oven. “Help yourself!” he says. And they do.

Nova Scotians can contact Eco-Developments (eco-developments.ca), the Ecology Action Centre (ecologyaction.ca) and/or South Shore Social Ventures (theblockhouseschool.org) to get involved. Alternatively, you could organize your community to build an earth oven or root cellar, or seek out and support ones that already exist.

Check out the accompanying piece, “Some Keep it Cool,” about Nova Scotia’s root cellar revival, in the Greenbelts issue.

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THE SCALE OF GLOBAL CRISES IS TRULY DAUNTING, making us feel helpless and incapable of affecting the course of global events. Yet the experience, knowledge and wisdom of Indigenous peoples and local communities unequivocally demonstrate that a different way of living on the planet is not only possible, but practical – and increasingly imperative to improving our rapport with the environment.

For millennia, Indigenous peoples have maintained an intimate relationship with their revered Mother Earth, something that our modern world has all but forgotten. Indigenous peoples have contributed little to climate change’s causes, and the cruel irony of their predicament is that they are affected first and hardest. Still, they refuse to be mere victims of the unfolding crisis. Instead they are becoming a growing creative force behind local, regional and global solutions.

While they represent only four per cent of the world’s population, Indigenous peoples still steward more than 20 per cent of the Earth’s surface, which supports 80 per cent of its remaining biodiversity. They are excellent observers and interpreters of the conditions and changes in the environment, and can offer invaluable insights into the past, present and future of our planet.

In a world scrambling for answers to the challenges of climate change, Indigenous peoples have important contributions to make. Their medicinal and agricultural expertise contributes greatly to global health and food security. Their ecological wisdom can be the foundation for appropriate local adaptation and mitigation strategies. Their stewardship of traditional homelands protects the majority of the world’s biological and cultural diversity.

“We [Indigenous peoples] have the knowledge that can contribute to finding solutions to the crisis of climate change,” explains Marcos Terena, an internationally renowned Xané leader from Brazil. “But if you [developed nations] are not prepared to listen, how can we communicate this to you?”

Regrettably, for the majority of people in developed countries, climate change remains a set of largely frightening projections based on impenetrable science. The general public sees few examples of how CO2 accumulation touches human lives. Meeting with and listening to real people sharing their climate change experiences is one important way to become familiar with the issues, develop a deeper understanding of others’ predicaments, grow less fearful of impending changes and become more proactive about finding solutions.

Conversations With the Earth (CWE): Indigenous Voices on Climate Change creates a virtual and exhibit space for Indigenous voices to be heard in the global conversation about climate change. The multimedia project is a partnership between Land is Life, InsightShare and award-winning photographer Nicolas Villaume. CWE’s purpose is to share traditional knowledge and perspectives, and to assert Indigenous peoples’ rights to their territories and resources as a primary condition of their resilience to climate change.

This CWE photo essay comes from Manus Island, the fifth largest in Papua New Guinea. King Tides (unusually high) happen two or three times a year, but nothing in living memory or legend compared to the tides during a pivotal four-day storm in December 2008. It scoured shorelines and decimated animal habitats. It destroyed homes and forced families to relocate. The rising sea level and growing intensity of winter storms continue to challenge these coastal communities. They are harbingers of a rapidly changing planet.

John Pondros

“I won’t go. Maybe it’s God’s plan to destroy the land. But this is my home, and this is the home of my great-grandfather. I will move my children. Maybe my grandchildren will visit me. But for me, I will die here on this Island.”

Solomon family after the King Tide storm in 2008

“We ran. The waves went into the house. We tried to break it apart and bring it inland, but saw there was no hope.”

Photos by Nicolas Villaume. Nicolas Villaume specializes in photographing people in demanding social environments­. He collaborates with international NGOs and cultural institutions (including UNESCO) and his work has appeared in Mother Jones, Boston­ Globe, National Geographic Newswatch and other publications.

Conversations with the Earth shares the the voices of indigenous peoples on climate change from around the world. Mobile versions of Conversations with the Earth are being developed in several different languages in order to make them available to local and Indigenous communities worldwide. In 2013, the CWE exhibit will be in Thunder Bay, Ontario; Lima, Peru; Quito, Ecuador; and Lorengau City on Manus Island. View the full Manus Island photo essay online. CWE Website | Facebook Page

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HERE ARE JUST FOUR of the many ways in which greenbelts can be used to the advantage of nearby cities.

1. Bring nature into the political equation.

Local government agencies should incorporate the economic benefits that natural spaces provide into their decision making about the future of our remaining wetlands, fields and forests. Greenbelts save money and enhance the health and wellbeing of nearby residents by naturally filtering water, controlling flooding and cleaning the air. These essential ecosystem services would be performed by costly, built infrastructure.

2. Reconnect with nature in our neighbourhoods.

Urban and suburban dwellers, especially children, are becoming increasingly disconnected from nature in their everyday environments. Greenbelts provide excellent opportunities to get our local nature fix by exploring nearby fields, forests and wetlands, and by creating relationships with the precious agricultural lands that feed our cities. Schools and daycares should take advantage by both greening their schoolyards and getting kids out into nature.

3. Adopt a prescription for nature.

Medical professionals should be empowered to prescribe green time as a remedy for physical inactivity and stress. Our busy lifestyles mean too many hours spent in front of screens and commuting to and from work. Greenbelts are a perfect prescription for better health and happiness, providing opportunities for recreation and relaxation. 

4. Treat our green spaces properly.

Communities should manage their network of parks, community gardens and ravines as a series of functioning ecosystems, rather than isolated ornaments. These green spaces deliver essential health benefits and provide a home for birds, plants, animals and insects. We need to redouble our efforts to enhance and restore these ecosystems and maximize their benefits.

Greenbelts provide even more far-reaching health, economic and environmental benefits. Check out “Bigger, Better Belts” and “Greenbelts for All Reasons” in the Greenbelts issue of A\J for more details, plus discussion of the challenges facing the Ontario Greenbelt.

Keep your eyes peeled for the David Suzuki Foundation’s forthcoming report about the impacts of greenbelts on health and wellbeing, to be published in autumn 2013 at davidsuzuki.org.

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From the lookout at the top of Mount Royal, you can see how the city rolls out upon the great plain of the St. Lawrence Valley. In the foreground are the tightly knit neighbourhoods and narrow streets that make Montreal so liveable, the historic McGill campus and the city’s distinctive skyline. In the middle distance, the river hems in the city and its bridges provide access from the suburbs. Beyond is the featureless urban sprawl that could be anywhere on Earth. On the horizon, you can make out several blue bumps – Mount Royal’s sister mountains, which dot the rural landscape stretching to the US border. 

From this distance, the scene appears peaceful, motionless. Yet this is a landscape on which scores of battles have been fought between those who are committed to stemming sprawl and preserving the region’s remaining farmland and natural features, and those who want to see business continue as usual. The preservationists have scored some important victories, but for the most part, it’s the developers and their (sometimes corrupt) municipal boosters that have carried the day. 

While the suburban growth machine has been well-organized and oiled by the windfall profits that flow from up-zoning greenfield land for development, environmental groups have been isolated in their local redoubts, fighting rearguard skirmishes over small patches of forest, wetland or farmland. But now the order of battle appears to be changing. Environmentalists and other progressive forces across the region are combining their resources and uniting behind a vision of a resurgent nature – the Montreal Greenbelt. 

Containing Sprawl

Of Canada’s largest urban regions, Montreal has the weakest form of regional conservation planning and governance. Metro Vancouver is vaunted for its ability to achieve consensus among urban and suburban municipalities and protect its Green Zone. The region has a strong growth management plan supported by provincial legislation and an agricultural protection system that restricts the conversion of foodlands to urban uses. The Toronto region has its Places to Grow Act and Greenbelt plans, which create a robust provincial framework for controlling sprawl, preserving farmland and protecting key ecological features, such as the Oak Ridges Moraine and the Niagara Escarpment. 

Montreal has a timid regional government (the Montreal Metropolitan Community, or MMC) that is distrusted by suburban municipalities and only half-heartedly supported by the province. Set up in 2001, the MMC was mandated by the provincial government to produce a regional land-use plan. For 11 years, the agency stumbled forward, stymied by suburban mayors who did not want to limit their growth potential. Only last year did they finally produce a regional plan, but its implementation is uncertain.

While the provincial government has been aware of the region’s unsustainable situation for more than 30 years, its efforts to address it have been uneven. In the late 1970s, the government set up an agricultural land reserve to help contain growth and preserve the farm economy near major cities. While it has helped avoid the worst ravages of sprawl, such as scattered and leapfrog development, the law has not prevented the inexorable nibbling away of farmland. Pressured by municipalities and developers, the commission that oversees the farmland preservation system routinely grants permission to remove land parcels from the protected zone. Periodically, the provincial government assists with this process by authorizing major de-zonings.  

Meanwhile, land outside the agricultural preserve is even more vulnerable to development. Although a patchwork of federal, provincial and municipal regulations protects isolated pieces of the region’s natural heritage, there is no overarching strategy to preserve or restore ecological features and functions. Forests and other valuable features are under attack by individual property owners, real estate developers, gravel pit operators, municipal public works departments, provincial highway engineers and the myriad other agents, who unwittingly inflict a death by a thousand cuts by pursuing their self interest in the absence of a public interest framework. 

The result has been a steady, even precipitous decline in the amount and quality of natural areas in the Montreal region. By 1976, 83 per cent of Montreal’s original wetlands had been lost, and a fifth of the remaining wetlands have since been destroyed. While the region was almost entirely forested when Europeans arrived 400 years ago, only seven per cent was covered at the beginning of the 21st century. The remaining forests have been disappearing at a rate close to two per cent per year. And a considerable amount of agricultural land has been developed in recent decades. Since the late 1970s, close to 30,000 hectares of agricultural land have been converted to other uses in the Montreal region, an area almost two-thirds the size of the Island of Montreal.

From the series “Comme un murmure” by Normand Rajotte.

The Montreal Greenbelt

Most greenbelts are multifunctional in nature. They provide a firebreak to sprawl, stabilize the local farm economy, serve as recreational venues and preserve natural areas such as forests and wetlands. They can improve surface and underground water quality, help clean the air of pollutants and provide habitat to flora and fauna. 

Montreal’s proposed greenbelt is more than twice as large as the one that surrounds Toronto. It would occupy a swath of the St. Lawrence Valley that extends from the Ontario boundary in the southwest to Trois-Rivières in the northeast, between the Laurentian foothills to the northwest and the Appalachians to the southeast, near the US border. The converging Ottawa and St. Lawrence rivers feed this region and bathe the many islands of the Montreal Archipelago, principally the Island of Montreal and Île Jésus (Laval). 

Almost half of the 17,000 km2 that make up the proposed greenbelt are agricultural lands (among the most productive in the province), a quarter is forested (with many species at their most northerly range), and 11 per cent is urbanized. The rest is made up of lakes, rivers, streams and wetlands. Although the region represents only one per cent of the province’s land, it contains the largest concentration of endangered species. It is estimated that only three per cent of the bioregion is currently protected by government regulation or private covenant. “This area of unique ecological and cultural importance is experiencing the strongest development pressures in the province,” says David Fletcher, a spokesperson for the Montreal Greenbelt Movement. “We need to move now.”

Unlike greenbelts in the rest of Canada, Montreal’s would not really be a belt at all. Rather than a doughnut of green space surrounding the grey, urbanized area, the greenbelt being proposed by Fletcher and his compatriots is more like a mosaic of the region’s valuable ecological features. 

It includes the large swaths of agricultural land and forest that dominate rural parts of the region, but also the remaining nature within urban areas. Many francophones refer to it as a “trame,” which means the weft of a fabric. 

By protecting this residual fabric of forests, floodplains, wetlands, agricultural lands and islands connected by natural corridors and water courses, the Montreal Greenbelt will serve as a type of peace treaty among the region’s environmentalists, farmers and developers. The goal is to strengthen protection of the existing agricultural lands and permanently protect another 17 per cent of the region’s surface area – a target more than five times higher than the current level of protection. “Most of the land is privately owned, so it is going to be a challenge,” says Fletcher. “The remaining ecosystems are fragmented. We need to protect what is still there and establish corridors to form a continuous network that will support species preservation and migration.” 

The idea of a Montreal Greenbelt began taking shape almost 25 years ago. In 1989, the Green Coalition, a grassroots conservation group that Fletcher helped found, succeeded in getting a $200-million commitment (from the now-defunct Montreal Urban Community) to acquire and protect key natural areas throughout the city. But in 1992, a cash-strapped government declared a moratorium on spending, and the program was quietly forgotten. With no conservation plan in place, more than 1,000 hectares of forests were stripped during the next decade.

In 2003, the Green Coalition approached the Québec government for help. They asked then-environment minister Thomas Mulcair to consider creating a provincial park that would include remaining green space in the west end of Montreal Island and on adjacent shores at the confluence of the St. Lawrence and Ottawa rivers. Mulcair promised to consider the Lake of Two Mountains National Park concept, in which he saw an opportunity to promote both tourism and ecological protection.  

Two years later, Mulcair emerged with a much more ambitious proposal: a greenbelt that would protect all the ecologically valuable land in the greater Montreal region. Ironically, just as Mulcair was about to release his preliminary plan for the Montreal Greenbelt in 2006, then-premier Jean Charest sacked him for not supporting a bid to sell parts of an existing provincial park to a private developer (who happened to be a personal friend of the premier). The new environment minister, Claude Béchard, was cool to the idea of a greenbelt and off-loaded responsibility for the initiative to the MMC, which initially did little to promote it.

Rebuffed by the provincial government, the Green Coalition decided to build momentum by enlisting a wider array of stakeholders. In 2007, the group launched the Partnership for an Ecological Park in the Montreal Archipelago, which has since signed on more than 100 supporters. The list includes 14 municipal partners (among them the cities of Montreal and Longueuil), provincial and federal opposition parties, and many local environmental groups already fighting to preserve patches of green space. Supporters have all signed letters calling on the province to take the necessary action to set up the proposed greenbelt.  

From the series “Comme un murmure” by Normand Rajotte.

Pangs of Implementation

The Montreal Metropolitan Community is the regional government for Montreal, Laval, Longueuil and the other municipalities on the northern and southern “crowns.” It occupies only about one-quarter of the region targeted by the supporters of the Montreal Greenbelt, but includes the areas with the most direct development pressures. It is therefore crucial to the establishment of a future greenbelt. 

In 2011, the MMC embarked on a new effort to create a land-use plan for the Montreal region. David Fletcher’s group used the opportunity to display the broad enthusiasm for a local greenbelt by encouraging its supporters to present briefs during public hearings. The schedule had to be lengthened to accommodate the 350 individuals and organizations that came forward, many calling for the creation of a greenbelt. The MMC could hardly ignore this groundswell of support, and it did not. 

When the MMC approved the new regional plan in December 2011, the vague idea of a Montreal Greenbelt was transformed into a tangible project with government backing. The plan endorsed the creation of a greenbelt and adopted the 17 per cent goal for formally protected lands within the MMC’s borders by 2031. 

It recognized 31 significant forests and 52 corridors that deserve protection, and promised to raise the proportion of land under forest cover from 19 per cent to 30. The plan also imposed a five-year freeze on further removals from the agricultural zone, and proposed a six per cent increase in cultivated land over the next 20 years. The provincial government backed up these commitments by announcing that it would dedicate $30-million to implementing MMC’s greenbelt plan over the next four years. 

While environmentalists rejoiced then, they have since become a little more wary. First of all, the MMC can’t implement its own plan; it must rely on the region’s 82 municipalities to also adopt new plans that reflect these regional requirements, which is unlikely to occur before 2014. Meanwhile, developers are furiously working to get suburban municipalities to approve projects that might be affected by the freeze. Thus, despite the introduction of the MMC plan, greenfield development continues at an alarming rate. Citizens of Saint-Bruno, Carignan, Otterburn Park, Longueuil and the West Island of Montreal and Laval are still struggling to preserve their significant forests and wetlands.

Secondly, the MMC plan covers only one-quarter of the proposed Greenbelt, so most of the region remains unaffected. Finally, the MMC and its member municipalities cannot simply expropriate private land in order to protect it. Creative financing mechanisms and major investments (in the hundreds of millions of dollars) will be needed to see the plan through. 

Hoping to strengthen government resolve, Fletcher’s grassroots group recently joined an array of major environmental groups to form the Montreal Greenbelt Movement. The new coalition brings together the political capital built up by Fletcher and his colleagues over 20-odd years, and the financial resources and professional know-how of organizations like the David Suzuki Foundation and Nature Québec. 

The new coalition has helped build momentum for the Greenbelt plan. In January it was announced that the province’s $30-million investment would be matched by the MMC and local municipalities, for a total of $90-million. That money will create a parks along the Mille-Îles River and St. Lawrence Seaway, and green corridors near Mount Saint-Bruno and between Chateauguay and Léry on Montreal’s south shore. These projects will connect remaining natural areas and help to permanently protect 17 per cent of the land in the MMC. Now the coalition is pushing for similar investments in the other three-quarters of the proposed Greenbelt.

Karel Mayrand, who directs the Suzuki Foundation in Montreal, says the group is lobbying hard for an immediate freeze on greenfield development in the MMC, and to extend the provisions of the new MMC plan to the larger Montreal Greenbelt region. The group’s leaders are not naïve though – they know that the suburban growth machine is working behind the scenes to undermine their vision. “The new coalition gives us more resources to campaign with, more access to the media, and it will give us more influence to confront those who are against the greenbelt vision,” Mayrand says. “Now we have become an actor that cannot be dismissed.”

The view from the top of Mount Royal hasn’t changed much since the Montreal Greenbelt Movement was formed. But for once, heritage preservation groups are not acting alone to protect small patches of biodiversity. Like the mosaic of green spaces that makes up the Montreal Greenbelt vision, this new coalition will help fashion these local groups into a redoubtable network. “They will be part of a single campaign now,” says Mayrand. “They will continue fighting locally, but for a bigger cause. If you try to cut down 12 trees on Mount Royal, people feel you are attacking the whole mountain. That’s how we want people to feel about the greenbelt.”

Get involved by engaging the Montreal Greenbelt Movement or The Green Coalition. ceintureverte.org | greencoalitionverte.ca

For an update on where the Montreal greenbelt plan is now, listen to our interview with Ray in the Greenbelts podcast.

Montreal photographer Normand Rajotte turned his focus from editorial photography to landscapes in the early 1980s, coincidentally not long after the first attempt by the provincial government to preserve lands around the metropolis. He produced the Comme un murmure [As a Whisper] series between 2004 and 2010 during solitary excursions in search of natural omens on a nondescript hundred-acre wooded lot. Updating a traditional approach, Rajotte’s microlandscapes are unique to Québec photography, often exposing the secret lives of the undergrowth.

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IN FALL 2011, a recycling depot in Whitehorse partnered with Cold Climate Innovation to test a revolutionary plastic-to-oil processor. P&M Recycling, one of two main facilities that serve the Yukon capital’s 23,000-plus residents, had been losing money for years by shipping plastic waste 2,370 km to Vancouver for processing. But after local passive house advocate Andy Lera discovered the Blest Machine (on YouTube) and convinced other community stakeholders of its virtues, the city’s disposable coffee lids, yogurt containers and grocery bags have taken on new value.   

The Blest Machine, created by Japanese inventor Akinori Ito, uses pyrolysis (thermochemical decomposition) to produce one litre of oil for every kilogram of plastic. In September 2012, P&M Recycling installed the NVG-200 model (roughly the size of a pool table) for $175,000. The machine now processes 240 kilograms of plastic per day, about enough to continuously heat 70 homes in Northern Canada, with almost no waste byproducts. Owner Pat McInroy says the technology will save P&M up to $18,000 annually on heating and labour costs.

“We all think it’s good to recycle, it’s good to recycle plastic,” Andy Lera told Yukon News, “but in reality, when you go down and look at it, and find out that a lot of our plastic is being shipped out, it goes to China, it goes to India, and the processing out there is not very clean.”

In addition to sidestepping the dubious nature of some recycling practices, the Blest Machine challenges the notion that discarded plastics last forever and can only be remade into other plastic products. 

How the Blest Machine Works

Although Whitehorse’s Blest Machine recycles grocery bags and certain kinds of containers (such as egg cartons), it does not process items such as clear food packaging, outdoor furniture or shampoo, water and soda bottles. Combined, the PP, PE and PS plastics produce a mixed synthetic light sweet crude (composed of diesel, gasoline, kerosene and heavy oils). It takes less than one kWh of energy and one kg of plastic to produce one litre of oil.

How the Blest Machine Works – Click to view full diagram \ Diagram by Anežka Gočová

Crushed plastic chips are loaded into a collection container and then melted as they’re pushed through two chambers with ceramic heaters. The plastic is then vapourized at 400?C, leaving behind a non-activated carbon char residue. The gas is then cooled in a condenser and liquifies into oil. Any remaining gas is filtered and released as carbon dioxide and steam.

Building Blest Practices 

In 2001, Akinori Ito founded the Blest Company in Japan. Motivated by declining conventional oil reserves and plastic pollution, Ito wanted to adapt existing pyrolysis technology to create community-scale plastic-to-oil processors that would not require plastic to be pre-treated. Other attempts to make fuel from plastic had produced a sludgy, low-quality fuel. Within its first year, Blest was awarded a grant by the New Energy, Industrial and Technology Development Organization, Japan’s largest public research and development firm. 

Ito’s company has since created more than 60 commercial applications for customers in Japan, Africa and Nepal alone, and its products are also distributed in Canada, the United States and South America. Blest products are scalable to different residential and commercial applications, with processing capacities ranging from five kg of plastic per hour to three tonnes per day. In Japan, pyrolysis machines are used at municipal waste facilities – including the Tokunoshima Island Clean Center – and to make boiler fuel from plastic bags.

In Numbers: Why We Need to Use Less Plastic
 

Click to view the gallery.

For more details on how the Blest Machine works and surprising plastic facts, buy the Greenbelts issue now!

The post The Plastic to Oil Machine appeared first on A\J.

NEW YORK CITY’S METROPOLITAN TRANSPORTATION AUTHORITY (MTA) called the devastation and flooding during last fall’s Hurricane Sandy the biggest disaster the subway system had ever endured. At the first post-storm board meeting, MTA chairman Joe Lhota insisted that “the burden of Sandy will not be upon our riders,” and 80 per cent of service was restored within a week. In March, a pre-planned fare increase takes effect, which will now help fund the ongoing repair effort.

An animated map of NYC subway service recovery during the week after Hurricane Sandy. See the full-size image here.

US$70,000,000,000 in damages to the states of New York and New Jersey alone

US$10,000,000,000 in damages to transportation infrastructure (1/2 absorbed by the MTA)

90-95% of those damage costs that FEMA and insurance companies are expected to cover

10 subway tunnels between Manhattan and Brooklyn that Sandy flooded

43,000,000 gallons of water that flooded the Brooklyn-Battery tunnel

US$268,000,000 in lost revenue to MTA due to the storm

3,000 tonnes of debris removed from Rockaway Line, which provides rapid transit to Queens

20,000 tonnes of new material needed to repair the Rockaway Line area

7,500,000 riders that use MTA buses and subways on an average weekday

8-9% fare increase (effective in March), which will raise US$277-million in annual revenue

US$9,000,000,000 requested in federal aid (by NY governor Andrew Cuomo) to protect transit systems, the power network and sewage treatment facilities against future storms

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THE ELDERS OF KITCHENUHMAYKOOSIB INNINUWUG (KI) FIRST NATION KNOW that local water flows through their blood, and that their bodies are built of the trout that swim in its clean rivers and lakes. Taking care of their watershed is a sacred responsibility handed down to the KI youth from the Creator through the teachings of their elders.

The KI people have governed and cared for their Indigenous homeland – Kitchenuhmaykoosib Aaki, located about 580 km north of Thunder Bay, Ontario – since time before memory. They share their way of life from one generation to the next. But things are changing rapidly in KI because of climate change, and the elders are struggling to prepare the youth to meet these challenges.

KI’s territory is also rich in minerals and precious metals, attracting mining and exploration companies who try to operate without the “free, prior and informed consent” (FPIC) of the community.The close connection of the KI people to the land and climate means that disrupted weather patterns hit particularly hard, and unwanted industrial activity would only further jeopardize their traditional way of life. The elders feel that passing on their traditional knowledge to the younger generations is vital to providing them with the tools to adapt to ongoing social and environmental changes. 

Kitchenuhmaykoosib Aaki is located in the heart of one of the world’s largest intact forests. For hundreds of kilometers in all directions the forest has never been logged or fragmented, remaining much as it has been since shortly after the glaciers retreated 9,000 years ago. The boreal forest?represents the largest carbon storehouse on Earth – a critical buffer against runaway climate change – and also forms part of the planet’s greatest reservoir of freshwater. 

On the shore of the Fawn River, Brandon Crowe holds his most prized possession: an old rifle that used to belong to his grandfather. Brandon’s grandparents raised him and four of his siblings on food and income from hunting and trapping. Like Brandon’s rifle, the traditional knowledge of how to survive on the land has been passed down from generation to generation. But things are changing rapidly in KI and the elders are struggling to prepare youth to meet challenges. Many of the elders are not fluent in English and most of the youth are not fluent in their traditional Oji-Cree language, making simple conversations quite difficult. 

Orion McKay catches some pickerel for dinner on the Fawn River. Indigenous communities like KI depend on the clean water and fisheries that these rivers provide, and they are determined to safeguard their water. In 2011 the community voted overwhelmingly in favor of the KI Watershed Declaration, which places their entire 13,025-square-kilometer watershed (which includes the Fawn and much of the Severn River) off-limits to industry under Indigenous Law. KI elders insist that water is sacred, and their teachings prohibit them from doing anything to the water that might harm those who depend upon it – including fish, animals and people.

The KI people know this spot on the Fawn River as Muskeg Portage. Elders call the muskeg wetlands the “Breathing Lands” because they are the lungs of the Earth. KI’s visionary decision to protect their watershed benefits not only their community, but also the entire planet. Preserving their watershed keeps carbon and methane reserves safely locked up and out of the atmosphere. The thick layers of moss and soil in this ecosystem play a critical role in stabilizing the climate by storing twice as much carbon per hectare as tropical rainforests.

KI’s territory is rich in minerals and precious metals, which has attracted mining and exploration companies that have attempted to operate there without the free, prior and informed consent (FPIC) of the community – as required by the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, to which Canada is a signatory. In March 2010, supporters in Toronto (like Terry Teegee and Taylor Flook, pictured above) showed their solidarity with various First Nations’ efforts to defend their indigenous rights. KI has successfully stopped two companies, Platinex and God’s Lake Resources, from mining on their traditions land, with the support of such protest campaigns.

In 2008 the KI community was sued for $10-billion by Platinex Inc. The Ontario Government put six community leaders in jail, including the chief and several council members, for refusing to allow mining exploration. While the “KI-6” were locked up, hundreds of supporters marched through Toronto’s Financial District and camped out at the doorstep of Queen’s Park. Eventually the Ontario government paid Platinex $5-million to abandon their claim. Fearing further high-profile conflicts and costly buy-outs, the province also withdrew approximately half of KI’s watershed from all mining activity. But the fight isn’t over; once again the government’s decision was reached without the FPIC of the community, and fails to recognize the people’s right to protect their entire watershedand control their homeland. The government also left half of the KI watershed open to mining exploration – a situation that seems to invite further conflict.

At the end of a long hunt,  Orion McKay, Rory and Joel Chapman enjoy the delicious caribou they shot earlier in the day. Historically, the people of KI lived out their lives on the land, travelling around to find food and survive, using what the Creator gave them. The elders emphasize that this is the way things should be – as it has been for their people for countless generations. But lately KI elders and hunters are noticing big changes in the number of local wildlife. Birds, animals and fish were once abundant, the elders say, but their numbers are decreasing rapidly making it harder and harder for the hunters. Industrial activity on these lands would only make things more difficult for the community by causing more depletion.

After the hunters bring their catch back home, grandmothers like Rebecca Hudson divide and share the meat among the whole community. Caribou have been an essential source of protein here for thousands of years. They remain one of the healthiest and most affordable sources of sustenance available in KI, where expensive outside food must be flown in or trucked long distances over ice roads. The KI people take care of the vast landscape the caribou rely upon, and the caribou provide much-needed winter meat – a sacred and ancient relationship that lives on.

“We knew everything about what was going to happen with the weather; we would look to the sky. Wawatay [the Northern Lights] would tell us stories about what would happen. When the wawatay were very clear, the waters would be calm the next day. If they were moving a lot, then it would be windy. But that does not work anymore. Today, I look at the sky; I say it’s going to be a good day tomorrow, and then the next day it’s raining. Everything that we see is different now: the summer is getting hotter and hotter, and when the season changes to fall it gets cold right away. It never used to be like that.” —Mary Jane Crowe, KI elder

Louie Tate and Joel Chapman paddle down the Fawn River. All along the Fawn and Severn rivers are signs of Indigenous land use – recently used camps, well maintained portage trails, fishing nets neatly folded and hanging on trees. This landscape is remote on the grandest scale, yet it is well known and loved in the culture, memory and day-to-day lives of these people. KI elders are hoping that future generations will follow the traditional teachings and eventually pass down what they were taught. Learning how to survive on the land will be necessary to prepare the next generation to adapt to ongoing changes in their environment, which the elders predict will only get worse in the near future.

Learn more about the KI Indigenous Nation’s struggle to protect their watershed: The KI Lands and Environment Unit website | The KI Watershed Declaration & press release.

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FROM THE END OF THE SECOND WORLD WAR UNTIL 1989, Europe was severed by a strip of barbed wire, minefields, watchdogs and spring guns. Nations on the Western side, mostly NATO members, were politically, economically and militarily divided from Warsaw Pact signatories in the East. Attempts to traverse the barrier were perilous, and most Europeans kept their distance.

By excluding humans, the border zone unwittingly welcomed nature. While some areas and their resident wildlife (especially in Eastern Europe) were devastated by strip mining, Soviet tank maneuvers and motion-sensing machine guns, ecosystems ranging from Arctic tundra to peat bogs to alpine meadows flourished along the Iron Curtain during its decades-long respite from disturbance. Environmentalists on both sides noted this increase in biodiversity, but little could be done to officially protect it amidst the tense political climate of the Cold War.

Order your copy of the Greenbelts issue for stories
about all 17 points along the Green Belt.

Following the Iron Curtain’s collapse in 1989, conservation initiatives started springing up along its former path. Cross-border cooperation led to the establishment of protected areas, which have since been increased and expanded to form vast networks. In 2002, the German conservation organization, BUND, proposed the creation of a pan-European greenbelt spanning the entire length of the former Iron Curtain. A series of conferences attended by delegates of the 24 former border countries have brought this idea to life during the last decade.

The 12,500-km European Green Belt now extends from the Barents Sea in the north to the Black Sea in the south, and includes four organizational regions: Fennoscandian, Baltic, Central European and Balkan. Although its width ebbs and flows, the greenbelt covers the same distance as a path from Vancouver to North Sydney, Nova Scotia, and back again.

“This ecological corridor is an outstanding memorial landscape of European relevancy with a great potential for transboundary cooperation, sustainable regional development and the merging of Europe,” explains Liana Geidezis, regional coordinator of Green Belt Central Europe. “It is a unique chance that last century’s zone of death shall become a lifeline across Europe. Nature knows no boundaries.”

The points of interest profiled on the following pages are just a fraction of the European Green Belt’s mark on the landscape – a snapshot of the species, habitats, complexities and collaborations that are driving its development. Learn more at euronatur.org.

Fennoscandian Green Belt

C. Finnish-Russian Friendship Nature Reserve

Access to the Finnish-Russian border zone was prohibited for a period of 60 years during the Soviet era. Forests along this 1,250-km strip were thus left to flourish and emerged as a dark green strip in satellite photos of the region as early as 1970. Cooperative efforts to conserve natural areas on both sides of the border began later that decade. The two countries signed a cooperation agreement in the 1970s, and another related to environmental protection in 1985. The latter sparked the establishment of a Finnish-Russian Working Group on Nature Conservation, whose efforts to protect species and natural areas continue to this day.

In 1990, the cross-boundary Friendship Nature Reserve was established to conserve the habitat of wild forest reindeer and to promote cooperative research comparing the responses of similar natural environments to different management strategies on either side of the border. The reserve is the founding park of the Fennoscandian Green Belt, shared between Kuhmo, Finland, and Kostamus, Russia. This spirit of cooperation now extends to Norway as well: the Pasvik Inari Trilateral Park, completed in 2003, spans the Barents region of Finland, Russia and Norway.

Baltic Green Belt

E. Latvian Coast

The Iron Curtain also limited access to the beaches and forests along the Latvian coast to local residents and military personnel. Many artifacts of the Soviet regime can still be found in this region, presenting an opportunity to develop military tourist attractions. Yet some bunkers, tanks and watchtowers are being left to degrade, and the number of living citizens with in-depth knowledge of their significance is dwindling.

One shining example of historical revitalization that could be emulated is the Radio Astronomy Tower in Irbene. This was a secret Soviet outpost that intercepted NATO communications during the Cold War, using a still-intact 32-metre satellite dish. The tower and surrounding structures were abandoned when Latvia regained independence in 1991, and then reinvented as a space research facility and tourist destination. Researcher Juris Žagars explains the on-site atmosphere: “You could shoot a horror movie called Frankenstein and the KGB here without having to spend a single lat [a unit of Latvian currency] for the sets.”

The Radio Astronomy Tower in Irbene, Latvia. Photo: Konstantin Lazorkin.

Central European Green Belt

I. Šumava National Park, Czech Republic

While the European Green Belt strives to foster cooperation, conflict is sometimes unavoidable. Decisions by government and park authorities have come under fire from environmental organizations, which insist Šumava National Park’s primary role as a nature reserve is being undermined.

One point of contention has been the clear-cutting of forest stands infested with bark beetles. While government authorities have claimed this is necessary to protect healthy trees, conservation groups argue that the damage done by bark beetles is a natural process in the forest’s lifecycle and that the logging is economically motivated. The controversy came to a head during a peaceful blockade in 2011. Despite public outcry, logging continued in 2012.

A new law that adjusts the sizes of zones within the park to correspond with different levels of protection has also sparked debate. The Czech government has described the law as a compromise that balances stakeholder interests. But some conservationists disagree, criticizing the decision to allow construction of a chair lift in a zone designated to receive the most stringent protection. Disputes over the management of Šumava will likely continue.

M. Murtum Nature Observation Tower, near Gosdorf, Austria

The Murturm Nature Observation Tower. Photo © TAUSP.

A small village in southern Austria offers a great example of how some communities are welcoming the increased visibility that comes with their involvement in a pan-European greenbelt. In 2009, Gosdorf mayor Anton Vukan and conservationist Johannes Gepp spearheaded the construction of an observation tower, capitalizing on an opportunity to draw more tourists and enhance interaction with the surrounding landscape.

The Murturm Nature Observation Tower ambles 27 metres above ground level to reveal a stunning vista of riparian woodlands along the Mur River. Conceived by architects Klaus Loenhart and Christoph Mayr, the tower’s acclaimed double-helix design provides visitors with a panoramic view during their entire ascent, as well as a different route back down. The tower’s shape also references the delicate spiral of a DNA molecule and pays tribute to an iconic staircase in a nearby 15th century castle. As though imitating the branches of neighbouring trees, the top of the tower sways slightly in the wind.

Tourist traffic to the Mur Nature Reserve has increased since the tower opened in 2010. The attraction is also popular with locals, who take pride in the region’s natural beauty and helped fund the construction project.

Balkan Green Belt

P. Mavrovo National Park, Macedonia

The 6th pan-European Conference on the European Green Belt was held in June 2012, drawing about 100 participants from 21 countries. While the conference recognized past achievements, it prioritized getting governments to protect the future of Europe’s natural heritage, still under threat in some areas.

Attendees were especially concerned about plans to build two hydroelectric plants in Mavrovo National Park. Funded by the European Bank for Reconstruction and Development (EBRD) and the World Bank, the Boskov Most and Lukovo Pole projects would involve the construction of a 33.8-metre-high dam, access roads, an artificial lake and a channel system. This infrastructure would impact large areas of the park, including its most ecologically sensitive zone.

Critics cite a dubious environmental assessment, possible contravention of international conservation commitments and potential threats to the endangered Balkan lynx population as reasons to scrap the projects. Addressing Macedonia’s Environment Minister at the conference last June, BUND representative Kai Frobel recommended the country turn to photovoltaic technologies instead.

Boskov Most is currently on hold while the EBRD conducts an internal review. Progress on Lukovo Pole, however, continues to move forward.

Q. Jablanica-Shebenik National Park, Albania

The Balkan lynx (Lynx lynx martinoi) is a subspecies of Eurasian lynx that is endemic to Macedonia, Albania, Kosovo and Montenegro. The mere 40 to 60 individuals that remain must cope with poachers, habitat loss and other threats, and their reproductively isolated and likely genetically distinct population is classified as critically endangered.

Learn more and see rare images of the endangered Balkan lynx in our web exclusive, Balkan Beauties.

To read about the other locations on the map, order a copy of the Greenbelts issue today! Then check out our interview with Liana Geidezis from Green Belt Central Europe in the Greenbelts podcast.

The sections on Suomussalmi, Finland; Paldiski, Estonia; Bratislava, Slovakia; and Röszke, Hungary, were written by Alexandra Varela, a recent masters’ graduate from uWaterloo who specializes in East German history. Maps are by Anezka Gocova, a uWaterloo Planning grad and A\J’s graphics intern extraordinaire. Map GIS data courtesy of BUND – Project Office Green.

The post The Green Curtain appeared first on A\J.

I SPENT MOST OF MY ADOLESCENCE within (sluggish) commuting range of Toronto. Before ever letting the words, “When I was a kid, none of this stuff was here,” escape my lips, I hadn’t really grasped that the Big Smoke’s overflow was swallowing nature with sprawl. I also didn’t yet know that entrenching greenspace would create a survival corridor, an elixir for the heart, lungs and health of our communities, and a barrier against the massive economic and ecological debts that accompany suburbia. 

I’ve since wrapped my head around the talents and capabilities of Ontario’s Greenbelt (and others like it). My palate has been schooled many times by the region’s abundant winemakers and brewmasters. During great escapes from the city, I’ve gawked at Bruce Trail escarpment gems, gnarly old growth forest and red foxes, snapping turtles and wild turkeys. I’ve feasted on the bounty of fabulous small farms that thrive within spitting distance of the Golden Horseshoe’s concrete. I’ve sipped, chugged and soaked up tap water, climbed trees for kicks and found space to breathe easier. 

By sequestering and storing CO2 and providing clean water, air and other essential benefits, greenbelts feed the wellbeing and wealth of the people, animals and plants that occupy them. Increasingly, their value as a land management tool is diversifying; they can be as applicable to combatting desertification in the Sahara as they are to shielding the coastal ecosystems that surround Victoria on Vancouver Island. 

They also contribute to environmentalists staking stronger claims to natural capital. Last year, two enormous mining quarry proposals near Toronto were denied by effective campaigns to put nature ahead of unsustainable business, and agricultural land and headwaters preservation ahead of fattening a few corporate citizens’ pockets. Obviously there are many struggles still to come, and this issue of A\J looks at how greenbelts are galvanizing and servicing the communities trying to build them. 

Urban sustainability sage Ray Tomalty takes stock of how and why property developers, politicians and citizens have been grappling over a Montreal Greenbelt for nearly 25 years. Ellen Jakubowski profiles some amazing natural features, embattled landscapes and exotic benefactors along the European Green Belt, which is transforming the old Iron Curtain boundary into “a lifeline across Europe.” Wanjira Maathai explains how her famous mother’s Green Belt Movement has empowered Kenyans and helped alleviate poverty by planting 51 million peace trees. 

For good measure, we also present the revelatory perspectives of naturalist photographer David Liittschwager, whose new project captures biodiversity by the cubic foot, and photojournalist Nicolas Villaume, who chronicles how Manus Islanders in Papua New Guinea are coping with slow-motion devastation.

Whether you live on the front lines of climate change or in the core, the country or the fringe, we hope this issue makes you reflect on the links between the built environment and greenspace around you. We’d love to hear from you about what’s changed since you were a kid, and what you’d like to see in the near future.  

Conserve after reading, 

Eric
editor[at]alternativesjournal.ca

The post Editorial: Barriers with Benefits appeared first on A\J.