EXCLUSIVE: The Dangers Below – Hidden bombs thwart Ipperwash development

Mike Cloud’s walkie-talkie is constantly buzzing as we tour through Stony Point. “White SUV heading back towards the gate,” it warns.

“Base-burial ground is secure, we’re gone by it now, we’re going to take a quick run down to the demolition area,” Cloud shouts back.

Everybody’s movements are monitored, even ours, as we ride down an unpaved road deep in the bush of Ipperwash.

Security is a premium. The land is guarded by barbed wire in some places, metallic, opaque fences in others. Staff guard the front gate — the only people allowed in are those who live at the former army camp, or are known by the staff.

In the 22 years since the Chippewas of Kettle and Stony Point took back their land from the Canadian military very few people have passed through without those credentials — even fewer media — and this is the first time anybody can remember a TV crew getting behind those barbed wires.

“I’m only doing this because the Chief (Tom Bresette) said so,” says Cloud. He’s busy. He oversees the army camp and keeps track of the contracted workers there to remove bombs — work he said had to stop so we can drive through.

It looks like a war zone. The former army bunkers are dilapidated, I expected this. But the number of warning and danger signs are startling. There are unexploded ordinances — bombs, grenades — hidden underground. Nobody knows exactly where, nobody knows how many.

“The parade field where we found this debris, we were going to hold our unity gathering there and get our people together. So DND (Department of National Defence) went to do a clearance and they found two unexploded ordinances there, roughly this far from the surface to the ground,” Chief Tom Bressette tells us, his fingers pinching about an inch of air. “They were still live grenades, the two of them in the parade field, in close proximity to where people live. So that’s a very real danger there and we know that danger exists there,” he adds.

The Chippewas of Kettle and Stony Point (CKSPFN) had to relocate their unity celebration, planned for August 23-26th. That’s how dangerous the grounds are. Its also why so few families live on the former army camp. It’s dangerous to let children swim in the lakes, run through the hills or climb trees in the forest. That’s why Cloud’s eight-month-old daughter, Maryom, lives nine kilometres away in Kettle Point. “It just too dangerous here,” he explains.

Once you pass through the residential area, we see a big crew of men. “Those are contractors,” Cloud explains, people hired to do the labour-intensive and skilled work of locating and detonating unexploded bombs.

According to the Department of National Defence, 20 have been found over the past two years. They’ve only just scratched the surface — 96 per cent of the land where bombs are believed to have been thrown and launched in training exercises hasn’t been cleared.

“The folks who went and moved in there (Stony Point), they just went all over the place, they didn’t give any regard for the unexploded ordinances because they thought they were all gone, because they seen all those soldiers and cadets and figured it was all taken care of,” Bressette explains.

They weren’t.

We’re driving down an unpaved road when I ask Cloud about the roadways. “They should be cleared,” he answers. I’m not confident.

We navigate through winding trails. It’s beautiful. An eagle swoops down and catches some small game before flying away. We see several wild turkeys running for cover in the dense bush. The inland lake, where Cloud would fish with his family as a kid, looks pristine. Almost untouched. Almost. Wooden towers erected by the military still stand.

“We try to make sure the kids don’t use them to rappel into the water, but it’s tough. They don’t believe it’s dangerous out here. But it is. There’s a clear and present danger,” he says.

“There’s a lot of guys that hunt here. They depend on this land for their meat. There’s a lot of good hunting out here, it’s just risky,” Cloud explains.

There are no hunters out today, in fact, only a few dare practice the tradition. The bombs could be anywhere.

Carole Pelletier was born on the land but was forced to move to Kettle Point shortly after. That’s when the army seized the reserve and turned it into a training camp. She comes from a long line of medicine gatherers who practiced their craft on Stony Point lands — but she doesn’t dare.

“I don’t like gathering on Stony Point anymore because of all the contamination. I believe there is much contamination there,” she explains.

Cloud lists off the medicines that are found on the ground: sage, sweet grass, special mushrooms, berries. Most of it, like the sugar bush and maple trees, goes untapped.

“Some people still do it, but it’s risky. Anytime you come back here, you’re taking a chance, you never know,” he cautions.

As we make our way through a make-shift ring road of the land, we approach a small crew of two. We can’t stop the truck. “You’ll have to take video while we drive,” Cloud apologizes. The crew is digging a well-cordoned-off piece of land. There are dozens of flags in the ground and the men work with buckets of water by their side in case something they find begins to smoke. They don’t appear too protected — they certainly aren’t wearing HazMat suits or the kind of attire the “Hurt Locker” made famous. But decked out in reflective clothing and gloves, they don’t seem nervous, although it’s tough to tell from a moving vehicle.

We round our way back to the residential part of the camp — the army barracks in various states of disrepair. “We can’t build nothing here,” Cloud explains. “Not until it’s all cleared away.” Which means much of the $95 million settlement with the federal government, part of a deal reached only last year, can’t be used. It’s earmarked for development of the land.

Twenty-two years. That’s how long it’s been since Dudley George, an unarmed protestor, was killed by an OPP officer in a fight to reclaim this land. Twenty-two years. That’s how long ago the Canadian military walked away from the site. Twenty years — that’s how much longer the military believes it’ll take to clear the entire grounds.

Decommissioning the former Camp Ipperwash site is a complex undertaking that requires specific attention to a number of sensitive areas such as dunes, wetlands, and sites of cultural significance, as well as the conservation of many species at risk,” DND spokesperson Evan Koronewski explains.

“The navigation and management of sensitive areas, particularly those of cultural importance, have a significant impact on the overall decommissioning schedule.”

He adds that the department is willing “to focus clean-up efforts in specific areas of the site in order to return portions of the Stony Point lands earlier.”

“They could’ve clear it anytime they wanted,” Bressette says. “It was in their hands all along.”