Alien Invasion: The Fungus That Came to Canada

Fyfe consulted Pamela Kibsey, a microbiologist at the Vancouver Island Health Authority. Kibsey said she had noticed an increase in human cases of Cryptococcus. And there was something strange about it. It was infecting healthy people, not just the sick.

Fyfe formed a group to begin combing records of veterinarians and hospitals, tracing the first cases back to 1999. He asked Bartlett, at UBC, to join the group. They sent samples of the Cryptococcus recovered from diseased tissue for further analysis. The results showed it wasn't the familiar form of "crypto."

"This was an Australian fungus," Stephen said. "We said, 'What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?' "

More disturbing, the fungus appeared to be more virulent than in Australia. There, it infects about four people per million and is rarely fatal. On Vancouver Island, the rate was 27 per million, and it was more often killing people.

The scientists can only guess how, or when, the fungus arrived. It could have been brought on eucalyptus trees imported by nurseries from Australia. Or it may always have been on the island, quietly clinging to life unnoticed until the warm summers spurred it to proliferate.

"With global warming, it may have finally been able to emerge to a level [at which] it is infectious," Fyfe said. Humans and animals living in the area, having had no exposure, had developed no immunities to it. Some people reacted to exposure by developing the disease.

Bartlett formed a team of students to try to find gattii in the wild. Armed with new detection kits ordered from Japan, they tramped through back yards on Vancouver Island, digging up soil, taking air samples, swabbing bark on trees. They went out with hour-long questionnaires to talk to survivors of the disease and to owners of infected pets.

One common site came up: Rathtrevor Beach Provincial Park. It is an expanse of moss-covered fir and hemlock trees that reach for the sky, cheered by ravens and gulls, next to the Strait of Georgia. Patient Esther Young had gone to the park to kayak. Several other patients had been there.

Fyfe helped the students swab an old Douglas fir at the park. Two weeks later, Bartlett called him, excited. The swabs had come back positive, the first discovery of Cryptococcus gattii in the wild.

With the summer of 2002 approaching, Fyfe had a problem. The park had a popular campground; families reserved a year ahead for tent spots. Fyfe knew most people could come into contact with gattii with no ill effects. Those few who did become infected could be treated successfully.

So he decided on a low-key information campaign. He posted pamphlets in the park and sent out notices to vacationers who had made Internet reservations. The reaction was prompt: The park got 750 cancellations.

Word was also getting out through the news media. Ken James heard it on TV. At 55, the former millworker in the island town of Duncan had been plagued by a tickle in his chest, a nagging cough, night sweats and an intense desire every day to take a nap. When he heard the report on "this weird fungal disease," he said, it ticked off the same symptoms.