Geodiversity, Nature’s New (Old) Calling Card

The Aspiring Georgian Bay Geopark will connect the region’s geology to our human stories words :: Leslie Anthony

You don’t need to convince anyone who lives near it, or has otherwise experienced the siren call of its azure waters, that Georgian Bay is a special place. Indeed, it’s widely acknowledged as one of Canada’s most iconic landscapes: from the many historic rivers feeding Mindoo-Gami “The Great Spirit Lake” to its thousands of glacial-smoothed granite islands and exceptional beaches, from Silurian limestone escarpments to even-more-ancient quartzite mountains, and from Eastern Canada’s greatest aquatic and terrestrial biodiversity to human communities that have, in some cases, occupied these lands for 12,000 years. Not only is the vibrancy of community writ large here, but a reminder at every market or restaurant how local products rooted in the passions of human cultivators and craftspeople have their origins in the thrust and tilt of the land—its bedrock, microclimates, hydrology and soils.

To its many visitors, the area around Georgian Bay presents a unique melding of geological, biological, historical and cultural heritage—something a tourism region supporting 33 municipalities, 41 First Nations, myriad provincial and national parks, two UNESCO

World Biosphere Reserves and a boatload of other destinations might want to gather under a single thematic umbrella. Which is precisely what folks behind the Aspiring Georgian Bay Geopark hope to realize with a long-term goal of designation under UNESCO ‘s Global Geopark program.

Before we go further, an explanation: While most are familiar with World Heritage Sites and World Biosphere Reserves—pillars of awareness, preservation and regional cooperation administered by UNESCO (United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization)—Global Geoparks are a relative newcomer to the fold, officially branded by UNESCO in 2015 after flourishing under separate aegis in Europe and Asia since 2004 (see sidebar “What’s the Difference?” for a quick comparison of these designations).

Like all UNESCO ideation, geoparks revolve around a lofty concept: areas of globally significant geology that help connect people to lands that have shaped culture, language, history and ways of life. Geoparks deliver on this concept by leveraging unique features (typically termed “geosites”) in educational and interactive ways to bring awareness to natural, climatic, historic and cultural values— as well as the sustainable use of natural resources, environmental stewardship and mitigation of geological hazards (e.g., wildfires, floods, rock/landslides, earthquakes, tsunamis, volcanic eruptions). Fortuitously, these same attributes of connection position geoparks as emissaries for more respectful and purposeful travel that promote resilience in an age of rabid overtourism and Instagram pile-ons, biodiversity loss and climate-change impacts. As with other UNESCO designations, geoparks also serve as a vehicle for cooperative regional initiatives that might not otherwise find footing or motivation.

Geoparks also shoulder aside the old colonial models in favour of the emerging characteristics of a 21st century park: They’re not physical set-asides, but purely conceptual; they don’t restrict any kind of land use or title; there are no gates or turnstiles, no people in uniform; most importantly, they can encompass landscape activities across areas that already have hundreds of thousands of people living in them.

No matter the broader crucible, however, each geopark stands on one thing: the rock beneath your feet. On an early fall day last year, I sat down with Tony Pigott, executive director of the Aspiring Georgian Bay Geopark, to learn what it all means. To begin, Pigott unrolls a laminated satellite image of Georgian Bay depicting its unique terraqueous character—but also the heavily populated and denuded parts of Southern Ontario edging it. “There will be 10 million people within two hours of Georgian Bay by 2040,” he says. “Pressure on the region is already intense, so a framework is needed to optimize all the community-based efforts being made to create resilience to those pressures. Geoparks are perfect for that; yes, tourism is part of it, but it’s how this is defined, managed and promoted as opposed to simply allowing the kinds of stampede some destinations are experiencing.”

The grassroots activities and efforts involved in advancing the geopark idea among partners from all levels of government, nature conservancies and trusts, academic and government researchers, commercial resource industries, business initiatives and First Nations fall into different categories, but the most obvious is the geological front—in this case going back some 2.7 billion years. A University of Torontobased team has plotted out eight major geological stories across the region that represent different zones of deep time as represented by “geoscapes” (a more precise term than landscape in this context)

WHAT’S THE DIFFERENCE?

In combination, UNESCO’s three types of designations— Global Geoparks, Biosphere Reserves and World Heritage sites—comprise a complete crucible that celebrates all aspects of human heritage while also conserving the world’s cultural, biological and geological diversity through the promotion of sustainable economic development. And while there’s necessary overlap, the role of each is unique, casting the trio as related—but staunchly individual— siblings. Biosphere Reserves focus on harmonized regional management of biological and cultural diversity (e.g., Átl’ka7tsem Howe Sound, BC; Riding Mountain, MB; Long Point, ON); World Heritage Sites promote the conservation of natural and cultural sites of outstanding universal value (e.g., SGang Gwaay, BC; Quebec City, QB; L’Anse aux Meadows, NFLD); and Global Geoparks offer international recognition for sites that promote the importance and significance of protecting Earth’s geodiversity through active community engagement. When an aspiring Global Geopark includes or overlaps with a pre-existing World Heritage site or Biosphere Reserve, clear justification and evidence must be provided to UNESCO on how Geopark status will add value by being both independently branded and synergistic with the other designations.

that tell each story. “Rather than focusing solely on geosites that might be a small outcrop of rock,” explains Pigott, “we want to start with what these signature geoscapes and broader categories are telling us—a robust geological story within which lie various points of interest.”

As an example, he says, a provincial park or other readily delineated area like Parry Sound could be a geoscape with several geosites within it to explore. To that end, the group is pursuing geotourism initiatives with experts who’ve worked in the Canadian Arctic, Haida Gwaii and around the world on destination stewardship and conservation-oriented ecotourism that helped catalyze more meaningful visitation. This makes even more sense given that specific points of interest within a geoscape aren’t always geological, but can also be cultural or biological in nature. The latter is of special consequence for Georgian Bay. Of its 170 breeding bird species, including migratory and rare habitat-specialized island-nesters, 840 native plants, 44 mammal species and 34 types of reptiles and amphibians, fully 50 are listed as species at risk due to human development, invasive species and climate change. As the great German explorer-naturalist Alexander von Humboldt noted in the early 19th century—igniting a cause célèbre taken up by geologist Charles Lyell and his buddy Charles Darwin—geodiversity underlies biodiversity. Likewise, this relationship has become part of the appeal of geoparks—they are areas of both inorganic and organic natural wonder.

Of 213 UNESCO Global Geoparks in 48 countries, Canada hosts five: Discovery on Newfoundland’s Bonavista Peninsula, with stunning fossils of the planet’s first multicellular animals; Nova Scotia’s Cliffs of Fundy with its extreme tides, Carboniferous fossils and record of supercontinent Pangea; Stonehammer in New Brunswick, highlighting the closing and opening of ancient oceans and a Precambrian-to-Pleistocene geological record; Tumbler Ridge in northern BC, with fossil riches spanning Cambrian stromatolites to Cretaceous dinosaurs and their trackways; and Quebec’s Percé on the Gaspé Peninsula, home of the eponymous postcard rock and a halfbillion-year slice of Earth history.

In addition to Georgian Bay, four other regions sanctioned by the Canadian Geoparks Network are queuing for UNESCO status (check out both existing and aspiring geoparks at canadiangeoparks.ca).

Each sees the advent as a means to connect their region’s geological story to its biological and human stories, educating through outreach and participatory geotourism (e.g., hiking, rafting, skiing, paddling, sampling local foods and crafts) to build a bridge between science, history, commercial enterprises and the public, fostering interest and stewardship in local geology—and maybe just a little bit of wonder.

“We’re interested in promoting an experience in which visitors to the region arrive with genuine understanding of what a treasure Georgian Bay is,” says Pigott. “So there’s a need to reinforce an aura around it that instills deeper respect and reverence, and the clear benefit of UNESCO designations globally has been to create conditions where that’s possible.”

This kind of thinking is particularly germane considering the diversity of conservation efforts scattered around the bay’s vastness. “As we build partnerships and relationships with these groups, we can tell them that a geopark can actually help facilitate what they’re doing,” says Pigott. “Geology is destiny, so it’s important to understand and celebrate the fact that geology, by definition, connects to everything else—whether ecology or culture. This adds a depth of understanding to an all-encompassing story that can be told collectively.”

Geoparks centre on a lofty concept: areas of globally significant geology that help connect people to lands that have shaped culture, language, history and ways of life.

Such key backstories about the planet’s parallel geological, biological and human histories teach us not only about what happened and why, but how it’s all in constant flux both under and around us—the very essence of evolution.

“This is still very much a geopark in progress,” Pigott reminds me. “It may be a big, attractive idea, but we’re still reaching out to people and groups in hopes that they want to participate in creating it—which we very much hope they do.”