[Text: Tomas Borsa. Photos: Jean-Philippe Marquis.]
At 84 years old, Del Hearn lives alone on a quarter section of land, roughly 10 kilometers outside of Fort St. James. To the north, his property is bounded by a dirt road; to the east and west, by other homesteads; and to the south, by a bluff of mixed aspen located square in the path of the Northern Gateway’s 85-metre right-of-way. A lifelong bachelor, Del owns neither a radio nor a television. He tends to about a dozen sheep – plus an orphaned fawn, who the sheep have adopted as their own – who freely roam his property. Whether or not Del has any remaining family is anybody’s guess.
After a serious farming accident last summer, Del has been left with a limp, and gets around his property by way of quad. Revving his trusty mechanical steed, he leads us around through his property, past his grain fields, workshops, and barns, to the fence which serves as the boundary to his land. By its current routing, the Northern Gateway would run parallel to the fence, and would result in him losing about two acres of land. Nevertheless, Del tells us, no compensation has been offered, nor have any Enbridge officials or land surveyors directly contacted him. I find this hard to believe, and I press him for further details; surely someone has been out here at some point.
Though he is wearing sunglasses, the sun has caught Del’s lens at such an angle that they are momentarily transparent. He is staring into my eyes, as if to attempt to communicate the severity and sincerity of what he is about to say: “You two are the only fellows who have come out here and talked to me about this pipeline at all.”
