We aren’t asking Alberta to build our future.

All we ever asked for was a chance.

There are days when a community can feel hope again and last Friday was one of those days.

When Elections Alberta announced the Water Not Coal citizen initiative petition had failed to meet the legal requirements to proceed, I wasn’t celebrating because a mine had been approved.

It hadn’t.

I was celebrating because, for the first time in months, Crowsnest Pass had something many of us feared was slipping away: a chance.

A chance to let Alberta’s regulatory process work. A chance to see whether Grassy Mountain could become the opportunity so many families have waited decades for.

And with that chance came hope.

Northback has indicated it intends to submit its revised Grassy Mountain application to the Alberta Energy Regulator (AER) later this year. When that application arrives, I hope it receives exactly what every Albertan should want.

A fair hearing.

That’s all we’ve ever asked for.

We’ve been here before. In 2021, the AER rejected the Grassy Mountain proposal after hearing months of evidence. Those opposed to the mine celebrated because they believed the process had worked.

Northback accepted that decision, revised its proposal and intends to submit a new application. That’s exactly how Alberta’s regulatory system is supposed to work.

Yet before the new application has even been filed, many have already decided what the outcome should be.

That isn’t due process. It’s deciding the verdict before the hearing begins.

That’s why this matters here.

This is the story of one proposed mine because it has become the story of one community.

Coal built Crowsnest Pass. Its people made it home. And they’re still fighting to keep it beating.

Five generations of mining families built our schools, churches, arenas, businesses and neighbourhoods. They volunteered, coached hockey, served on councils and opened businesses.

When the last operating coal mine in the Crowsnest Pass closed in December 1983, we didn’t just lose an industry.

We lost the economic engine that had sustained this valley for generations. For more than 40 years, we’ve searched for what comes next. What we didn’t lose was our determination.

The people who built this community refused to give up on it.

Like countless resource communities across Canada, we had a choice. We could give up. Or we could rebuild.

We chose to rebuild.

We invested in tourism, our history and the remarkable landscape that surrounds us. Our volunteers and entrepreneurs refused to let this community fade.

I’m proud of what we’ve accomplished.

But tourism has never replaced the kind of year-round, family-supporting jobs that disappeared when the mines closed.

That isn’t because our mountains aren’t spectacular.

It’s because economic reality matters.

Banff sits less than two hours from Calgary International Airport and welcomes more than 4.5 million visitors every year. Waterton Lakes National Park, one of Alberta’s greatest treasures, receives only a fraction of that visitation.

Geography matters. Accessibility matters. Those are realities communities like ours cannot change.

But we’ve never fully replaced the opportunities that once allowed generation after generation to build a life here.

For many families, Grassy Mountain represents the first genuine opportunity in decades to begin rebuilding that economic foundation.

When nearly three-quarters of Crowsnest Pass voters supported responsible coal development in the 2024 plebiscite, they weren’t simply voting for a mine.

They were voting for the possibility of writing the next chapter of Crowsnest Pass. The possibility that young families could put down roots instead of moving away. The possibility that seniors could remain close to the people they love. The possibility that our schools, businesses and volunteer organizations would continue to thrive.

Communities don’t disappear overnight. They slowly watch the people they love leave. 

One graduating class at a time. 

One family at a time. 

One business at a time. 

One volunteer at a time. 

Until one day people wonder what happened.

That’s what many of us have been watching for more than 40 years.

For 96 years, the Crowsnest Pass Herald has chronicled this community’s story through thousands of stories and photographs. We’ve celebrated births, graduations, championships, new businesses and milestones. We’ve also documented layoffs, closures, families leaving and the economic challenges that followed the last mine closure. We’ve recorded nearly a century of this community’s history, one edition at a time.

So, when people ask why this community keeps fighting, the answer isn’t complicated.

We’re fighting for Grassy Mountain because we believe it represents the best opportunity to rebuild the economic foundation that once allowed Crowsnest Pass to thrive.

Not for the sake of a mine. For the sake of a community.

We drink this water. Our children drink this water. No one has a greater stake in protecting it than the people who call this place home.

That’s why Alberta has the AER.

To examine the science, test the evidence, question the experts and make an informed decision.

For months, I’ve watched people tell Crowsnest Pass who we are. That saddens me. 

Not because they disagree with us.

Healthy democracies should disagree. Reasonable people can look at the same evidence and reach different conclusions.

What saddens me is how often our community has been judged by people who have never walked our streets, attended one of our council meetings, taken a Northback tour or listened to the hydrogeologists, engineers and environmental scientists studying groundwater, reclamation and water quality.

Yet many have already decided who we are. Nothing could be further from the truth.

Every town has a story. Ours just happens to have a mountain in the middle of it.

For some, that mountain represents a proposed mine.

For others, it represents water.

For me, that mountain represents something else.

It represents the people who call this place home.

Because a town isn’t its buildings. It isn’t its streets. It isn’t even its mountain.

A town is its people.

The people who choose to stay. The people who build. The people who volunteer. The people who believe tomorrow can be better than today.

When I look at Grassy Mountain, I don’t just see a project. I see the possibility that our future is still ours to write.

The irony is that Corb Lund’s petition answered a question I’d been asking for months.

The campaign was impossible to miss. It received extensive media coverage, spread across social media, attracted high-profile supporters and featured signing tables throughout Alberta. The petition was highly visible across the province.

In the end, Elections Alberta verified significant support for the petition, but not enough to meet the legal threshold. About 5.8 per cent of Alberta’s estimated eligible electors submitted valid signatures.

But it did answer another question I’d been asking for months.

For too long, many of us were left with the impression that Crowsnest Pass stood alone.

I no longer believe that.

That doesn’t mean Albertans have already decided Grassy Mountain should proceed. They haven’t. But it does suggest our community is far less isolated than many of us were led to believe.

A provincewide poll conducted by respected Alberta pollster Janet Brown in 2025 found that six in 10 Albertans supported steelmaking coal mining, with support rising to nearly three-quarters when respondents believed water and the environment could be protected.

Seven in 10 also supported the Grassy Mountain proposal. Whether people agree with those findings or not, they suggest many Albertans remain open to letting the regulatory process run its course before reaching a conclusion.

I believe many Albertans are willing to let the AER do exactly what it was created to do.

Do its job.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

We aren’t asking Alberta to build our future.

We’re asking Alberta to let us build it ourselves.

So, here’s my invitation.

Come to Crowsnest Pass.

Walk our streets. Talk to our neighbours. Visit our museums. Read our newspaper. See the ‘I Heart Coal’ signs throughout the community. Take a Northback tour. Ask every difficult question you can think of.

Then let the process work.

If the answer is no, I will respect that decision, just as many Albertans respected the decision in 2021.

But let that decision come after the evidence has been heard, not before.

We’re not asking Albertans to agree with us.

We’re asking Albertans to understand us.

We’re asking you to see Crowsnest Pass not as a headline, a stereotype or a battleground, but as fellow Albertans trying to build a future for our families.

When you think about Grassy Mountain, don’t just picture a mine.

Picture the parents hoping their children can build a career close to home. Picture the grandparents hoping their grandchildren will grow up close enough to stop in after school instead of only a few times a year. Picture the people who refused to let this community’s last chapter become its final chapter.

Last Friday didn’t approve a mine.

It didn’t guarantee a future.

What it gave Crowsnest Pass was something many of us feared was slipping away.

A chance.

A chance to let the process work.

And with that chance came hope.

If this were your hometown, what chance would you hope Alberta would give you?