British Columbia-based Harbour Air’s partnership with magniX means it could become the world’s first airline to offer all-electric flights across its fleet in 2022.
Harbour Air Seaplanes and magniX today announced a partnership to convert the airline’s seaplanes into an all-electric commercial fleet. The first aircraft to be converted will be a DHC-2 de Havilland Beaver and a test flight is expected to take place before the end of this year. Both companies are planning to receive certification by 2021 for the seaplanes – which will be powered by the magni500, a 750 horsepower all-electric motor – with a view to launching all-electric flights in 2022.
“We are once again pushing the boundaries of aviation by becoming the first aircraft to be powered by electric propulsion.” – Greg McDougall, Harbour Air Seaplanes
“Harbour Air first demonstrated its commitment to sustainability by becoming the first fully carbon-neutral airline in North America in 2007, through the purchase of carbon offsets,” said Greg McDougall, founder and CEO of Harbour Air Seaplanes. “Through our commitment to making a positive impact on people’s lives, the communities where we operate and the environment, we are once again pushing the boundaries of aviation by becoming the first aircraft to be powered by electric propulsion. We are excited to bring commercial electric aviation to the Pacific Northwest, turning our seaplanes into ePlanes.”
The British Columbia-based airline currently operates 12 routes, including between Vancouver and Seattle, in addition to destinations on Canada’s Pacific coast. It flies more than 500,000 passengers on 30,000 commercial flights per year.
“We’re excited to partner with Harbour Air, a forward thinking, like-minded company that is dedicated to bringing environmentally conscious, cost-effective air-transport solutions to the West Coast of North America. This partnership will set the standard for the future of commercial aviation operators,” said Roei Ganzarski, CEO of magniX.
“Going from a traditional combustion to an electronic system, the operator will be saving between 70 to 80% of their operating costs per flight hour.” – Roei Ganzarski, magniX
“If you look at operating costs of electric propulsion system, or an electric aircraft, we found that going from a traditional combustion to an electronic system, the operator will be saving between 70 to 80% of their operating costs per flight hour,” Ganzarski told APEX Media. “So, every flight will be 70 to 80% cheaper. This is a significant reduction in operating costs and fuel, of course, is more than half the operating cost of a flight.”
Ganzarski thinks the economics and zero carbon emissions of magniX’s electric propulsion system could convince airlines to open new routes at much smaller airports. “Those aspects together and specifically the much lower operating costs, the attractiveness of flying in and out of regional airports becomes very practical,” he said.
Ian Gill, a Tyee contributing editor, is a journalist, filmmaker and social entrepreneur who founded Ecotrust Canada and was its CEO in the U.S. and Australia. Follow him on Twitter at @gillwave.
‘People have a need to put food on the table and make their car payments and you can’t be angry about that. And if you are, they can’t comprehend your rage. Still, there is a catastrophe right in front of us that’s about to explode.’ Photo from Steven Barclay Agency.
[Editor’s note: On Monday, March 25, renowned author Barry Lopez will appear at a Vancouver Writers Fest event in conversation with Tyee columnist and contributing editor Ian Gill.
Lopez, perhaps best known for his ground-breaking book Arctic Dreams, has written a deeply reflective new work, Horizon. While he sees hope for the world, he also fears the path we are on. In advance of their conversation, Gill reached Lopez at his home in the McKenzie River Valley in rural Oregon, where he has lived for 49 years. This is a distillation of that conversation.]
The Tyee: In Orion magazine, Rebecca Solnit once quoted the poet and bioregionalist Gary Snyder who said, “The most radical thing you can do is stay home.” She wrote that “in the bioregional 1970s, going back to the land and consuming less was how the task was framed... The task has only become more urgent as climate change in particular underscores that we need to consume a lot less... We are going to have to stay home a lot more in the future.” Is she right? Was Gary Snyder right?
Barry Lopez: They are both right in a sense. It’s important to maintain an international awareness of global problems like methane gas releases and climate change. It’s hard as an American now that we’ve pulled out of the Paris accords not to be embarrassed abroad. But it’s important to get outside the bounds of your own nation state, to see what people are experiencing, and to report on what they are doing about it. If you are not in the Arctic, you simply cannot understand the staggering change that we are experiencing through climate change.
Nevertheless, I do think there is wisdom in staying put. People have asked me before, “How can you write so much about community when you are away so much?” And then I thought about chinook salmon returning to the McKenzie River. I’m very attentive to the chinook, and it struck me one day that Chinook salmon are part of the community here, it just happens that they’re out in the North Pacific most of their lives. They are gone quite a bit, but out there they’re learning a lot about community.
When I travel, when I think about where I most want to be, I want to go home. Here is where I’ve had the longest conversation with the non-human world. Every day I’m home I’m out in the forest, I am a witness to its life. Right now, I’m living in a temperate rainforest where it no longer rains, and fire season is longer. Everything gets shaken up.
When people travel, given how huge their carbon footprint is, I’d just say, “If your footprint is going to be that big, then you’d better be doing something for all of us, not just yourself.”
Is the day of the explorer essentially over? Is there anywhere left to go in the world that hasn’t been gone to? Is there anything left to find?
Oh my god yes. A few years ago [the eminent Harvard biologist] E.O. Wilson — we’re friends — well, he had just come from a meeting at the National Geographic Society and someone had asked that. Ed put his hand to his forehead, and said, “Can you imagine such a question?”
Anyway, no, there’s never going to be an end to discovery. Every summer I sit here reading, and every summer, without fail, a bug I’ve never seen before comes trundling across the open pages of my book. Look at the recent discovery of a subspecies of orca in the southern ocean. In the State of California, an average of two reptiles a year are discovered.
So no, it’s not all known.
I think the better answer to the question is who did the exploring? How much was done by James Cook, for example? Or somebody who was exploring a much larger world, which was Humboldt? Who’s doing the exploring, who is contemplating or having a deep discussion with a place? Who offers a different epistemology, a different way of knowing the world? No, there’s never going to be an end to discovery.
You’ve acknowledged that you’ve had to wrestle with your conscience about having written about places like the Arctic, thereby popularizing them and spurring an onset of curiosity seekers whose attention threatens more and more remote places. Where do you find your own balance around this issue?
This is always a question for me. Back in the 1980s, there were some wealthy people — they were from Vancouver, actually — and I was on an archaeological dig on Skraeling Island [in the Arctic] and there were these tourists there. Someone came up to me and talked to me about Arctic Dreams. Then the fellow who was leading the expedition approached me and said, “This book of yours has created an industry for me.”
I’ve seen things I would never report, because I know they would be unnuanced no matter how carefully I wrote about them. If I wrote about some of what I’ve seen, it would reinforce people’s bigotry and racism because it would compromise people who took me into their world.
And then there are specific sites. I was once taken to see a ground glyph, which was a series of cobbles that had been arranged to make an outline of a horse. When I wrote about it, I lied about where it was, which was a very difficult thing to do. I made a professional decision to misrepresent where it was because I was worried that people would find it and wreck it.
There’s a footnote in the book where I admit that I gave the wrong coordinates for Jackal Camp (in eastern equatorial Africa). The coordinates are approximate, in order to protect the search area that I was writing about.
Writers and adventurers (and tourists) aren’t the only global explorers. Energy, mining and logging companies, in particular, are pushing farther into more and more remote lands and waters. Is there any prospect of slowing the industrialization of the entire world?
Oh Ian, that is my prayer. It’s important to find a very direct answer to this question and yet not be a painter of doom. Outside the tourist circle in the world, you come face to face with enormous economic power. In Australia, after [the economic slump of] 2008, every Australian state was in the red except Western Australia, where they were digging the hell out of the Pilbara and sending iron ore to China. The scale of it was just enormous. I saw it and I thought, “My god, are you kidding me?” When I came back home from Australia, it dawned on me this is happening everywhere. Hitting the brakes on it, I don’t know what it’s going to take.
The only thing you can’t do in public is to destroy people’s sense of hope. There are things we know that we don’t bring into conversation. You’ve got to take care with what you say. Where am I going to go to keep my own sense of possibility alive?
I don’t think people know what it takes to protect our species, to protect diversity. Those people trying to do that, theirs is holy work in emergency times. They know what the stakes are and its ferociously tough work. Do you think the environmental movement has failed us? If so, why?
I wouldn’t say failed. The flaw in every model about climate change, for instance, is not that they were wrong about it happening, but they were completely wrong about the rate of acceleration. The speed of change is more than people could have intellectually coped with. And then when you have ruthless, unethical businessmen like Donald Trump running the show, deciding who gets the money, you’re in terrible trouble. I think generally the environmental movement has done pretty well, although I worry that it is increasingly full of administrative people who aren’t aware of what’s going on on the ground.
I think the environmental movement has always had to be savvy about being gentle in its messaging. People have a need to put food on the table and make their car payments and you can’t be angry about that. And if you are, they can’t comprehend your rage. Still, there is a catastrophe right in front of us that’s about to explode.
A lot of people place their faith in Indigenous communities making better decisions about resource use than Western society has proved capable of doing. Do Indigenous people have insights we can learn from? If so, can those insights be applied at a scale that would make a difference?
I think we can learn from them. What distinguishes our way of going about things, and native peoples’ — they are talking about an entirely different process. In a democracy, everyone gets to speak, but the systems are run by bureaucrats with their own bailiwicks and an agenda that demands that they must prevail. In traditional settings, the policy discussions and decisions must serve everyone. Indigenous people don’t have all the answers any more than we do, but what they have is a trust in processes to get to the right answer.
In traditional societies, what is uppermost in your mind is not progress, but stability. Seeing that the boat doesn’t turn over. In Indigenous communities there are people, real elders, who are lightning quick in seeing patterns of what works and where risks are. This wisdom of these elders is their appreciation of complex patterns. They can see where trouble lies, and where things you are worrying about aren’t worth worrying about at all.
How important is it for us, as a species, to understand our own diversity, and to take down, not build, barriers between us?
If you’re an evolutionary biologist you understand the importance of diversity. An entrenched belief in white culture is that a hierarchical structure is best. That’s just flat out what one of the problems is. It makes Western societies more bigoted than they think they are.
I don’t see very much, as I travel, that makes me hopeful about changing human behaviour enough to make a future for our children. I set myself a task of educating businessmen on what the problems are. Capitalism? We’re done with it. It destroys, it kills people all over the world. What comes after democracy, what comes after capitalism? The answer will be one that most people will reject, but it will be the right answer.
Do you think we have a shot at stability (if not progress!) in the next 40 years?
I would say no, but it’s important to act as if it’s possible. We have to stand up for what we believe civilization stands for, even if it’s gone off the rails. Perhaps you personally are doing well, but don’t you see you’ve taken up a space that used to be owned by many more species than homo sapiens? Fighting bigotry is at the centre of conservation work. We need to discover a social system that allows people to live with courtesy and compassion.
5 Favorites: Garden-Friendly Thistles Justine Hand March 19, 2014
Legend has it that the thorny thistle once saved Scotland from a marauding Norse army, a feat that earned this tenacious plant its status as a Scottish national symbol. But these days it’s staging an invasion of its own, causing people all over the British Isles, and elsewhere, to declare war on this invasive weed.
More’s the pity in my opinion, because I rather like the prickly beauty of thistles. Luckily there are some garden-friendly varieties, that with proper care, won’t run amok. Here are five of our favorites: (Invasive) Scots Thistles
Above: Photographer Francisco Gonzalez captured this quintessential image of Scotland: Scottish thistle in the Highlands. But throughout the world, invasive Scots or cotton thistles and their cousins threaten native species. Prairies and grasslands in America and Canada are being overrun, and in Australia the problem was so bad that Parliament imposed heavy penalties on those who did not control thistles on their land. Globe Thistles
Above: Misty globe thistles (Echinops ritro) by Isidre Blanc via Wikimedia.
The gentler cousin to the Scottish thistle, non-invasive globe thistles (Echinops ritro) are ideal for the garden. With deep blue or violet orbs perched on silvery stems that are from 2 to 4 feet tall, globe thistles provide a striking architectural and textural element to the garden. Drought resistant, these hardy perennials are also easy to care for. Bees, butterflies, and lady bugs love them too. Hardy in growing zones 3-9. Globe thistles are readily available at most garden nurseries. A 5-Inch Pot Of Blue Glow Globe Thistle is $8.99 at High Country Gardens. Giant Cotton Thistles
Above: A giant cotton thistle in Prague. Photograph by Karelj via Wikimedia.
Giant cotton thistle (Onopordum acanthium) was prized during the Middle Ages for its herbal properties, and by the poor who used its fluffy “down” to stuff mattresses. At from 10 to 15 feet high with a 5-foot spread, this dramatic biennial is not for small gardens. It benefits from staking and from stony soil (which provides better support for its roots). But note: Giant cotton thistle is invasive. To prevent the seeds from scattering to the wind, it is important to cut the heads off after flowering. You can also see that, with all those spikes, it should only be handled by gloved hands. Plume Thistles
Above: Cirsium rivulare ‘Atropurpureum’ by Jean Jones.
Magenta heads atop long, leafless, and spike-less stems make ornamental plume thistle (Cirsium rivulare ‘Atropurpureum’) an excellent garden choice. Rivulare literally means “growing by a stream,” and this perennial prefers moist, yet well-drained ground; fertile, slightly acidic soil, and full sun. Cut back after early summer flowers to promote another flowering, and then to the ground after the last bloom in the fall. Though popular in Europe, this Cirsium is pretty rare stateside, so you’ll get points for originality with this one. A 1-Gallon Pot Of Cirsium Rivulare ‘Atropurpureum’ is available at Far Reaches Farm seasonally for $16. Globe Artichokes
Above: A globe artichoke in flower in South Africa. Photograph by Marie Viljoen. For more, see My Mother’s Garden in Constantia.
Last year, Michelle discovered that artichokes are members of the thistle family, Asteroideae, as well. (See A Thistle That Won’t Misbehave.) Though its wild counterpart artichoke thistle is invasive, stately globe artichokes (Cynara cardunculus) and their cardoon cousins make a dramatic statement in the garden, and, of course, can be eaten as well. (With cardoons, you eat the stem, which is said to taste like a celery artichoke medley.) Artichokes and cardoons prefer lots of sun and rich, well-drained soil. To build up a plant’s strength, during the first year cut off the heads as soon as they appear. Replace the entire crop every four years. For more information, refer to this extremely thorough article from The Daily Mail. Sea Holly
Above: Photograph by Erin Boyle.
Not really a thistle at all (actually a distance relative of the carrot family), sea holly (Eryngium), is often considered a worthy stand-in for thistles. I love it for my seaside garden, where it endures not only drought and poor soil, but also salty air. About the only care it requires is deadheading to encourage additional blooms.
N.B. Thistles and sea holly also dry well for use in winter arrangements and crafts. One of my favorites is Erin’s Black Thistle Bouquet.
Finally, get more ideas on how to successfully plant, grow, and care for thistle with our Thistle: A Field Guide.
Finally, get more ideas on how to plant, grow, and care for various perennial plants with our Perennials: A Field Guide.
Scotophiles everywhere adore their native thistle. Scottish children learn the story of the thistle before they outgrow thistle-decorated diapers. Here is the story: Long ago the Scots and Norse were at war. One dark night the Norsemen came ashore planning to surprise the sleeping Scottish forces, so removed their boots for a quieter assault. This might have been a fine plan, were it not for the prickly patch of Onopordum acanthium growing between the two armies. Legend doesn't tell us the exact words which woke the sleeping Scots, however if you grow Scottish Thistle, or if you've ever seen one, you can imagine what kind of cursing might result from a barefoot tread on a small one, much less running smack-dab into a full grown plant in the dead of night. Needless to say, the thistle was credited with saving the day and became the Scottish national flower and emblem. Warning As ancient Vikings would attest, thistles, even Scottish thistles, are not beloved by everyone. I don't want to sugar coat this. I have seen them grown at such a respectable place as Longwood Gardens, Kennett Square, PA. and written about in such well-regarded references as Tracy DiSabato-Aust's The Well-Tended Perennial Garden. However, in many places on several continents, including this one, they are sometimes considered noxious weeds. Don't tell the Scots. So before I continue, here is a stern warning: If you want to grow them, you must promise, and keep your promise, to not let them become garden juvenile delinquents. Again, in plain language: control them or they will become horrible weeds. Scottish Thistles are like large breed puppy dogs, Scottish Deerhounds my particular favorite. In the fall a small silver-gray rosette appears and you can't imagine what problems could arise from such a cute little thing. The following spring it begins to grow and grow until soon it's five to eight feet tall and four feet wide and covered with sharp stickers of various sizes. And then it blooms those famous globe-shaped flowers of dark pink and lavender. Much like a Scottish Deerhound grown into maturity, it is a stately, elegant life form, and a lovely shade of grey.
Living Art I only allow one or two plants to mature each year. Each one grows into a living work of abstract sculpture, a striking specimen plant when placed in the center of a round bed of herbs or perennials or at the back of a boarder. Comments from visitors are guaranteed. Some people are quite intimidated by the size and dangerous looking prickliness of it. However most folks, properly impressed (or so I like to think) by its regal statement, simply ask "What is THAT?" These reactions are surprisingly similar to the reactions you will get when walking in the park with a Deerhound or two. Years ago, when I began growing Scottish thistles (and Scottish Deerhounds), one kind elderly gentleman motioned me aside and sadly told me I had a dreadful weed growing in my garden. I almost felt bad telling him it was the national flower of Scotland but assured him I was careful to make sure it did not spread itself around.
Diligent Deadheading In order to heed my repeated warning to not allow these Scots to get out of hand, diligent deadheading is an absolute must. This is how I do it. I put on my toughest pair of gloves (even with gloves this plant can stick you) and carefully cut each flower after it finishes blooming. I've learned to catch hold of the flower with the pruners before it drops so I can place it in a waiting container to be thrown out with the trash or burned. If one drops I pick it up with the pruners to avoid a nasty sticker. I keep the container handy so this can be done once or twice a week while the plant blooms through the summer. After blooming is finished in late summer I cut it down bit by bit, using the pruners in the same way to dispose of the entire plant. Then I replace the old plant with a young one to repeat the cycle for another year. Never put one in your compost pile. Seeds may live for up to twenty years in the soil. Growing Requirements Scotch Thistles can be grown in zones 5-8. Once established, Scottish thistles will tolerate, even thrive, in poor, dry, gravelly soil and enjoy even the harshest full sun. Studies suggest that seed germination is possible nearly year round, so temperature is not much of a factor, but the alternating daylight and night darkness cycle seems to be necessary. Sometimes seedlings will sprout in early spring, have time enough to grow and flower the first season, however it is classified scientifically as a biennial, not an annual. Debatable Practical Uses Onopordum acanthium has another common name, Cotton thistle, derived from the cottony hairs on the stems, which are so numerous that in earlier times it was gathered to stuff pillows. The fat juicy grey disks below the purple florets were once eaten as artichokes, another thistle, are today. Personally I say, "Yuck" to both, but times were tougher and folks had a lot more time on their hands. Back when Scots were eating thistle dinners and sleeping on thistle pillows, they were also pressing thistle seeds for oil to burn in cooking stoves and lamps. Supposedly it takes twelve pounds of thistle seeds to make three pounds of oil. I have no idea how that compares to growing corn for use in ethanol but I believe Onopordum acanthium would be a lot easier and cheaper to grow than corn. Imagine corn that could be planted year round, germinating in any season or at any temperature and without the use of fertilizers. Sounds like a government grant in the offing. Except for that noxious weed detail. More History and a Final Warning Today the highest order of chivalry in Scotland is The Order of the Thistle which legend says was founded in 809 when King Achaius allied with the Emperor Charlemagne. The Order consists of sixteen Knights and Ladies and a few extras, including the British Royal Family. The Order's patron saint is St Andrew and the primary emblem is the thistle. The motto of the Order is "Nemo me impune lacessit" or, for the Latin challenged, "No one provokes me with impunity". Onopordum acanthium everywhere agree.
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Scotophiles everywhere adore their native thistle. Scottish children learn the story of the thistle before they outgrow thistle-decorated diapers. Here is the story: Long ago the Scots and Norse were at war. One dark night the Norsemen came ashore planning to surprise the sleeping Scottish forces, so removed their boots for a quieter assault. This might have been a fine plan, were it not for the prickly patch of Onopordum acanthium growing between the two armies.
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