Amid calls for new (or reimagined) pipelines in response to Trump’s threat of tariffs on Canadian oil and gas, I offer a brief history lesson. Maybe a touch of geography, too.
Just a couple hundred kilometres south of the Arctic Circle, in the Northwest Territories, lies a reminder of how a panicked push to build pipelines can go wrong.
It was called the Canol pipeline or Canol Project. Once thought to be crucial infrastructure needed to respond to an imminent threat, today, 80 years after the project was mothballed, only empty sections of pipe, rusting oil barrels (hopefully empty), old cars, telephone cables and whole work camps left abandoned (some with pay stubs still in filing cabinets) can be found in this place of mountains and forest. Abandoned telephone lines still ensnare moose and caribou to this day in this Dene Nation territory, home of the Sahtu people.
It’s still being cleaned up, very slowly.
I had the privilege of witnessing this strange relic of our history many years ago, while hiking and canoeing in the N.W.T. It’s an image, and a lesson, that has stuck with me ever since.
The Canol project was an oil pipeline that ran from Norman Wells, N.W.T., on the Mackenzie River, to Alaska and the Pacific coast, to provide fuel for America’s military and shore up defenses on the United States’ northwestern coast. The plan was greenlit in 1942, a year after the attack on Pearl Harbor.
Road to the Canol Camp landing. The project was completed in 1944, but was decommissioned just over a year later, when it was deemed surplus to the war effort. Library and Archives Canada/CANOL project progress pictures vol.1 album 28/e010939426
Governments footed the bill, but all the oil companies got a piece of the action. Imperial Oil owned the oil fields. Standard Oil was to operate the refinery. Other companies formed a consortium to build the pipeline.
The build-out included a 1,600-km pipeline. It also included a refinery in Whitehorse, multiple air fields, roads, bridges, pumping stations, and a telegraph line (remember the moose and caribou). A bold undertaking by all accounts. Some military historians have called it the biggest construction project since the Panama Canal!
The pipeline ran over some of the most rugged mountains in North America, sending oil from the Mackenzie River valley (which empties into the Arctic Ocean), up and over the continental divide and into the Yukon River watershed (which drains into the Pacific Ocean), and as far west as Fairbanks, Alaska.
The project was completed in 1944, but was decommissioned just over a year later, when it was deemed surplus to the war effort.
During its short tenure, the pipeline was plagued by problems, given the challenging terrain and harsh climate. An estimated 46,000 barrels spilled along the route. It was ill-conceived from the start, climate change aside (which wasn’t really on the radar at the time).
But the real death knell was delivered by external forces. The war came to an end, and the threat that had served as justification for this project receded.
The assets were sold off at rock-bottom prices. Imperial Oil made off like bandits, paying $1 million for the refinery built in Whitehorse, which had cost governments about $27 million to construct. They dismantled it and moved it to Alberta.
The salvage rights for the rest of the project were sold off for pennies on the dollar. Clean-up was an afterthought — in fact, that thought only occurred very recently. (Sorry, moose. Sorry, caribou).
Today, the route is maintained as a road on the Yukon side, but there is a wilderness trail in the N.W.T. that isn’t maintained. It makes for tough hiking, but it passes through some breathtaking territory.
If you get the chance, I recommend you visit the area. Take in the beauty of the Mackenzie Mountains. You’ll probably see some wildlife (look out for grizzly bears), and see firsthand how a project that at one point seemed vital can be quickly abandoned, but cleaned up extremely slowly.
Keith Brooks is Programs Director at Environmental Defence
Comments
Thanks very much for posting this!
I’ve visited many abandoned industrial sites - mines, logging camps. The common theme is ‘spare no expense’ when it comes to keeping product moving - then ‘that is not economically feasible’ during the cleanup.
Chocker cables, well heads, mine equipment, old vehicles rusting in the forest.
Even whole operational mines like Prairie Creek sitting for decades - no need to clean up because the price of silver will jump and the mine will restart; I promise.
Profits to the company.
Expenses to the taxpayer (and the environment, of course).
Update: there is evidence Prairie Creek Mine is trying to reopen after 40 years; how about that.