On the ground with Lytton wildfire evacuees

Meet the people rallying to support displaced residents with food, housing and spiritual healing
Lytton Wildfires, Narwhal/Tyee

Editor’s Note: This photo essay was created in collaboration with The Tyee.

Wednesday, June 30, 2021: the day British Columbia came out of a 67-week state of emergency. The day before an unmarked Canada Day. The day the town of Lytton burned down. 

We shouldn’t have been surprised. Three days of high temperatures had shattered all-time temperature records, with Lytton, B.C., reaching an unfathomable 49.6 degrees — the highest temperature ever recorded in Canada. 

British Columbia had already seen an unparalleled death toll that week — hundreds of sudden deaths brought on by “a heat onslaught more intense by some measures than anything in global records,” says Bob Henson and Jeff Masters from Yale Climate Connections, in an article for The Tyee. Many who died were found alone in their homes waiting for overrun paramedics to arrive. 

And then the Lytton wildfire happened. 

With only 15 minutes to gather their belongings and evacuate the town, Lytton residents fled in all directions, not knowing which, if any, direction was safe. By the time I arrived on July 2, residents had been constantly on the move finding loved ones, animals and places to sleep. Lillooet had been evacuated, re-evacuating those Lytton residents who headed north and Kamloops was under threat of intense lightning storms, which would set the city on fire that same evening. Oh, and more evacuations and re-evacuations. 

I was interested to know how residents in these highly affected areas felt about climate change and its role in the wildfires. It was barely July and our province was on fire. What I found even more disturbing is that First Nations account for 40 per cent of evacuations in Canada, yet make up only four per cent of Canada’s overall population, according to climate author and Queen’s University Fellow Ed Struzik. This overrepresentation speaks to the vast, systemic inequalities in Canada, a country seemingly obsessed with covering up examples of environmental racism. 

I received the full spectrum of opinions on climate change, from “it’s climate change — it will change. It’ll be hot, then it’ll be cold. It’s fine,” to “If we don’t start treating this planet with respect, we’re doomed.” What was made clear to me is that in a time of crisis people step up to help. Whether it’s giving, receiving or distributing donations, housing, feeding or uplifting spirits, both individuals and whole communities have given up their time and sleep to look after the needs of others. Let me introduce you to a few of these heroes. 

Members of the Siska First Nation welcome the River Spirit Canoe Family, who have travelled to Siska offering their help and support. “We know you. We love you. We respect you. This is the least we can do for you,” says Russell Williams, member of the River Spirit Canoe Family.

Siska is located 10 kilometres south of Lytton. The Siska community regard Lytton as part of their home. 

Many evacuees, including those from Lytton, are either survivors of, or are traumatized by the recent location of the remains of 215 children found buried at Kamloops Residential School.
dresses hung on crosses along a road
Members of the Pil’alt Canoe Family travel in convoy from Hope to Siska First Nation, just south of Lytton, to drop off food and water for the Lytton firefighters. With more than 90 per cent of the town burned to the ground including the fire station, firefighters on the ground must travel south to Siska to receive basic supplies.
convoy of cars on a highway
Along with the Pil’alt Canoe Family, volunteers from Guru Nanak’s Free Kitchen, based in Vancouver, deliver food and water to Siska First Nation for the Lytton firefighters. They’ve worked closely with Shxwhá:y Village for some time. “We distribute food to whoever needs it, whenever they need it,” says volunteer Manjit.
volunteers handing out food and water from a truck

Wind played a huge role in spreading the wildfire at great speed. According to CBC, 71 km/h winds pushed the fire north into the Lytton community, engulfing it so quickly that residents were given only 15 minutes to get out, dispersing them in all directions. 

Tyrell Kenworthy is an elected Councillor and emergency response manager for Shxwhá:y Village.

When Kenworthy saw that a member of the Cheam First Nation had started taking donations for the Lytton evacuees, she told him that she would open Shxwhá:y Village Long House for lodging if needed. “It escalated from there,” she says. Members from Cheam First Nation delivered a truck and trailer full of donations to Shxwhá:y Village, where Kenworthy and volunteers began receiving and organizing them. 

Along with Skwah and Teddy’s Homes — which provides homes for children and youth in care — they’ve created a ‘Cultural Welcoming Centre’ for any evacuees in Chilliwack. “As First Nations People, we know the importance of their wellbeing and with a lot of people being traumatized from having to leave their homes, we wanted to be here to support all of the families in any way that we can,” Kenworthy says. Anybody that has been evacuated can turn up at the Shxwhá:y Village Long House and stock up on what they need — toiletries, clothing, food — as well as stay for dinner and singing each evening. “We want to take care of their spirit, take care of their wellbeing — try to heal them a little bit. I know that it’s a long road to healing, but we’re here to uplift them in any way that we can.” 

When I asked Kenworthy what role she believes climate change has played in the extreme weather events in the region, she said “climate change has really affected our First Nations People.” She told me that last year the salmon were so scarce that her community barely made it through the off-season. As people who live off the land, climate change has a much greater impact on First Nations Peoples than on those less connected with their environment. “We look after the land and we live off the land,” says Kenworthy. 

Kenworthy explained to me that as well as assisting any evacuee that need their help, her community is also assisting the province. “They need that Indigenous community drive work ethic that we have because we know so many people and we know how to communicate.” 



Just two weeks prior to the Lytton fire, Prest and Kenworthy “unofficially agreed” that they would act as the emergency social services for evacuees anywhere in B.C. “We just knew that we were capable of doing it and that we would work together in order to do it.” 

Kenworthy explained that unlike the dry lands of the Interior or the ocean towns, Chilliwack is well situated to avoid disasters from extreme weather events. “We’re just ready,” she says.

Shxwhá:y Village Long House, Chilliwack.
Shxwhá:y Village Long House, Chilliwack.
Children help organize donations for evacuees at Shxwhá:y Village Long House.
Children help organize donations
Because there is no air conditioning at Shxwhá:y Village, Tyrell Kenworthy and Ron Prest agreed with the City of Chilliwack that evacuees should first be sent to Chilliwack Secondary School to check-in and be allocated somewhere to stay before heading to Shxwhá:y Village for donations and cultural healing.
single armchair in long house
By July 1, all hotels in Chilliwack were full and evacuees in Chilliwack were being sent to Abbotsford. Similarly, in Kamloops, evacuees were being sent to Kelowna. As many evacuees don’t have their own transportation, they are having to rely on public transport and help from communities. Kenworthy says that communities including Shxwhá:y, are looking into hiring or purchasing buses to take the pressure off the evacuees’ own Nations.
sleeping bags and towels in long house

After returning home to Chilliwack at 4:30 a.m. after delivering water to firefighters in Lytton, Kenworthy received a phone call from a Lytton family. They’d been driving around all night and morning with nowhere to stay and were outside the Long House. Kenworthy rushed back to let them in to lay down and rest. 

“We had our morning crew take care of them, offering coffee and breakfast and filling their car with groceries for the next day.” The family moved on, hoping to find somewhere cooler. The Long House, spacious as it is, bakes in the heat and has no air conditioning. 

A mother fans her baby as the Pil’alt Canoe Family hosts a welcome evening of drumming and dancing for Lytton evacuees at the Shxwhá:y Village Long House, just two days after the Lytton fire.

“We’re very lucky with all of our First Nations People being fully vaccinated, we’re able to hold hundreds of people to sit here and share an evening together to rejuvenate,” Kenworthy says. 


During a welcome evening, youth from the Pil’alt Canoe Family danced for the Lytton evacuees. Before the event, Kenworthy spoke proudly to me about their dancers. “Watching our children take the floor, listening to our drummers — this is our medicine, this is our healing.” She was right. As I looked around the room, smiles appeared and shoulders relaxed. It felt as though a weight had been lifted.
children dancing in long house

“They’re carrying on for those who couldn’t — who couldn’t have children or practice their culture. These kids are so full of culture. It lifts our spirits.” 

Boston Bar Long House is on the grounds of the Tuckkwiowhum Village heritage site and campground, about 50 kilometres south of Lytton. They’ve been collecting donations for evacuees and are starting to think long term, anticipating a long summer of wildfires. The Long House was packed from floor to ceiling with everything from tents and bedding to food and toiletries.
Boston Bar Long House packed with donations
Karen Tillotson, a resident of Boston Bar, is coordinating donations and campers at Tuckkwiowhum Village. “So far we have one couple from Lytton staying in the campground, but we’re trying to collect as many tents and sleeping mats as we can, because we know it’s not only Lytton residents that will be on the run this summer. It’s only the first week of July.”
Karen Tillotson organizing donations

The campground is equipped with washrooms, showers and trees for shade. “An amazing thing that happened is that somebody donated their Airstream to us, so we’ll be able to provide a more robust temporary shelter for families.” 

Children’s toys donated to the Lytton fire evacuees at Boston Bar Long House, Tuckkwiowhum Village.

Irene Klossner works at the front desk of the Plaza Hotel in Kamloops. The hotel has been housing evacuees and pilots from Lytton and the nearby fires. One evacuee from Savona, just west of Kamloops, has her two dogs, cat, two birds and a lizard staying with her at the hotel. “The community just gets together and tries to be flexible. It’s all we can do, right?” she says.

Klossner has lived in Kamloops for five years. After the third fire season, she was diagnosed with a breathing disorder. “I try to put my head in the sand and say I don’t have anything, you know?”


Raymond Stad and his wife Diana have lived just north of Kamloops since 2000. On Wednesday, June 30, they were evacuated from their home. “The government’s response has been less than adequate,”says Stad, who learned of the evacuation order via the internet.

This is the third time in five years Stad has been evacuated from his home due to fire. “Last time they gave us much more warning and it’s not as though they couldn’t see what was coming this time.”


Stad says he is disappointed there has been no help from authorities. “Why are they taking so long to issue a provincial state of emergency? If a city burns down like Lytton and it’s not a state of emergency, I don’t know what is.”

As of July 4, when I spoke to him, Stad’s home was still standing, but the neighbouring properties had burned down. “There was a change in the wind and we got lucky, for now,” he says.

I asked Stad how climate change has had an impact on the wildfires. “I’ve seen a huge change in the years I’ve been here” he says. “We’ve been blessed in this part of the world for a long time. The rest of the world has had their hurricanes and their fires and their disasters, but we’ve got to pay the piper too — payday is here.” Stad says he doesn’t blame Mother Nature. “The way we’ve been treating her, we don’t deserve much more.” 

Like a kid in a candy store
When those boxes of heavily redacted documents start to pile in, reporters at The Narwhal waste no time in looking for kernels of news that matter the most. Just ask our Prairies reporter Drew Anderson, who gleefully scanned through freedom of information files like a kid in a candy store, leading to pretty damning revelations in Alberta. Long story short: the government wasn’t being forthright when it claimed its pause on new renewable energy projects wasn’t political. Just like that, our small team was again leading the charge on a pretty big story

In an oil-rich province like Alberta, that kind of reporting is crucial. But look at our investigative work on TC Energy’s Coastal GasLink pipeline to the west, or our Greenbelt reporting out in Ontario. They all highlight one thing: those with power over our shared natural world don’t want you to know how — or why — they call the shots. And we try to disrupt that.

Our journalism is powered by people just like you. We never take corporate ad dollars, or put this public-interest information behind a paywall. Will you join the pod of Narwhals that make a difference by helping us uncover some of the most important stories of our time?
Like a kid in a candy store
When those boxes of heavily redacted documents start to pile in, reporters at The Narwhal waste no time in looking for kernels of news that matter the most. Just ask our Prairies reporter Drew Anderson, who gleefully scanned through freedom of information files like a kid in a candy store, leading to pretty damning revelations in Alberta. Long story short: the government wasn’t being forthright when it claimed its pause on new renewable energy projects wasn’t political. Just like that, our small team was again leading the charge on a pretty big story

In an oil-rich province like Alberta, that kind of reporting is crucial. But look at our investigative work on TC Energy’s Coastal GasLink pipeline to the west, or our Greenbelt reporting out in Ontario. They all highlight one thing: those with power over our shared natural world don’t want you to know how — or why — they call the shots. And we try to disrupt that.

Our journalism is powered by people just like you. We never take corporate ad dollars, or put this public-interest information behind a paywall. Will you join the pod of Narwhals that make a difference by helping us uncover some of the most important stories of our time?

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