Trauma and uncertainty linger in the rubble of Lytton for residents 2 years after catastrophic fire

Two years after a bushfire devastated the village of Lytton, the rubble has been removed from burnt-out buildings and the contaminated soil has been shoveled away and hauled away by lorries, leaving gaping pits where the foundations of homes and businesses once stood.

Before excavation began in earnest, residents were able to sift through the rubble and salvage all of the remaining artifacts — a ceramic mug, a garden gnome, an Adirondack chair whose green paint melted in the face of extreme temperatures.

The state of emergency and evacuation orders from the village have recently been lifted. But two years after the disaster, not a single building permit has been issued for the village as the community has worked through bureaucratic loopholes and faced existential questions about the future.

Residents say that, with the village still razed and the cause of the fire still unknown, it has been nearly impossible to make decisions about the future, let alone move forward.

As Canada’s wildfire seasons intensify and communities in other provinces face threats of their own, Lytton is being held up as a resilient community – one that has weathered the ultimate climate catastrophe but will be rebuilt to withstand the threat of future fires.

For those who fled on June 30, 2021, it feels a little more complicated than that.

‘Head in the Sand’

Denise MacIntyre never understood hoarders. But these days, she keeps most of her belongings in her truck.

After she lost the house where she raised four children in Lytton, she moved in with her mother-in-law. When her children gave her a framed picture, a copy of a picture that had been burned in the fire, she briefly hung it in her new room.

“I had it on. And then I realized, what happens if we have to evacuate? So that picture isn’t hanging anymore. I have it in a duffel bag so it can come with me because I don’t want to lose another damn picture,” said she.

LOOK | Lytton resident with woodburner talks about her anxiety when it smokes:

MacIntyre was a volunteer member of the Lytton Fire Department for many years. On the day of the fire, as winds resembling a blowtorch spread the fire throughout the city, she rallied to fight the flames. She was left with burns on her face and inhaled so much smoke that she was unable to call for help.

Once she fled to safety, she turned, unable to see the village burning from a distance. But when she stood by a neighbor who saw their house burn down while the family’s dog was trapped, she developed symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder.

After years of firefighting, she found herself wheezing dry and nauseated when her fire beeper beeped. When her wood stove gives off the smell of smoke, she has panic attacks. The sound of a passing train is enough to frighten her.

“It’s been two years and I’m just starting to deal with it. I’m like an ostrich burying my head in the sand hoping it will all pass,” she said, saying the prospect of rebuilding feels overwhelming. even now.

“I’ve talked to a lot of people in town, and a lot of them are in the same boat. The fear we all face.”

A climate-proof village

Standing near the center of town, Lytton Mayor Denise O’Connor hesitates for a moment as she tries to determine where she might have stood in an earlier version of the village.

“That was the patio of Klowa Art Cafe,” she finally says, pointing to a stretch of faded cement where visitors used to drink Italian soda on sweltering summer days and sell artisan jewelry and crafts during the cozy winter months.

The village of Lytton, only seven blocks long, lost its entire commercial core, as well as the police station, fire station, village office and two museums. Some landmarks are easier to spot than others, such as the Lytton Pool, which is still filled with dirty, chlorinated water.

O’Connor said she doesn’t know why it’s taken so long to get the shovels in the charred ground and begin rebuilding, though she hopes construction can begin in a few months.

Still, the residents of Lytton face an uphill battle to rebuild those homes. Many residents had no insurance. The federal government has earmarked $13 million for businesses and insured homeowners to rebuild fire-resistant homes. But residents have to provide the money upfront and be repaid at a later date, which has proven challenging for most.

“We heard right after the fire that Lytton was going to be a community for the world to watch. That’s not our goal. Our goal is to get the people back and get that community back,” she said.

“It’s been hard for everyone. The trauma, the PTSD, is still very real for many.”

A search for accountability has also stretched with few answers. Many residents believe the fire was started by a passing CN or CP rail train, with sparks being theorized flying from the bone-dry terrain ignited by the railroad, prone to fire from an extreme heat wave that week.

But in October 2021, Transport Security Council investigators said they found no evidence rail activity was responsible.

Since then, the village of Lytton has filed a lawsuit against its insurer and, along with the local regional district, another against CN Rail, CP Rail and Transport Canada.

Rosaslin Miles feels like one of the lucky ones. The fire crept up the hill behind her property and destroyed a brand-new fence, but somehow it wrapped itself around the property and spared her home — a 1920s home that is now alone. stands surrounded by charred rubble.

Two weeks after the fire, she thought the house was lost. When she found out it had been spared, she was wracked with “survivor guilt.”

“I called it the zombie house because it’s alive but not livable,” she said, though she was relieved to be allowed back into town to weed around her home. The knowledge that unkempt shrubbery had grown closer to the property and was a fire hazard kept her awake at night.

“When I worked in the fields, it was cathartic. I didn’t realize what it meant to me,” she said.

Lytton residents want the village to be a warning, but also proof that rebuilding after a worst-case scenario is possible. As MacIntyre walked through the dusty, weedy patch of land where she lived, she saw a first: a flower emerging from what had been poisonous soil for two years.

And as Miles pulled weeds around her house, she caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eye – a deer running past.

“It felt like a blessing,” she said.