A trip up the threatened Delta
The CBC's Mark Kelley is in Louisiana, reporting on the massive oil spill that threatens hundreds of species of fish, birds and other wildlife along the Gulf Coast. The spill, triggered after an oil rig caught fire on April 20 and sank, could become the worst U.S. environmental disaster in decades.
May 4, 2010
He calls himself Boola.
"Like Sting, or Madonna, " he says, "I only go by one name."
I call him Captain, because for the next two hours, he's taking me, cameraman Doug Husby and the executive producer of Connect, Caroline Harvey, on a boat ride deep into the Mississippi Delta.
The delta has been described as the "fragile wetlands" in virtually all news stories I've read since the explosion on the Deepwater Horizon on April 20 that triggered a massive oil spill and sprawling slick in the Gulf of Mexico. While I've read about the delta, I've never seen it, despite being here for two days and reporting about the looming threat to the area.
"This is where I grew up, this is where I feel at home," Boola says in his Cajun drawl, a wide smile on his suntanned face as he pushes the throttle and takes us deeper into the marshes.
We're winding through narrow channels, in less than a metre of water in some places, surrounded by thick reeds that hold the land together.
"If the oil gets in here," Boola says, "you can't get it out. This isn't like sand or stone that can be cleaned. If the oil gets into the marsh, it will kill it."
And the marsh is home to an array of birds, flowers, and plants.
"Look at that!"
Boola points to an alligator, about two metres long, sunning on the bank before it slips into the water as we approach.
"They'll survive the oil." he says. "But it could kill everything they eat."
Boola is 33 and has been running a fishing charter for 10 years now. When he finished school, his first job was with one of the oil companies.
"It didn't last, " he says. "My heart wasn't in it."
His dad was a fisherman, as were his grandfather and great-grandfather. But Boola admits the work of a shrimper was too hard for him — he prefers taking people to catch fish instead.
And now, because of the oil spill, the cancellations have begun. Boola fears the bookings will dry up.
"My only business is you guys," he says of reporters looking for pictures of oil. "But I know that won't last much longer."
He's right. Already reporters are starting to pull out — either giving up on the story or moving east to see if the oil makes landfall in some other state.
Boola doesn't wish the oil on anyone, but he says he just can't bear to think he'd lose this area to the slick.
"This is my world, and I want my son to grow up here just like I did. We can't lose this. They gotta do everything they can to save this."