Manjushree Thapa is a Nepali-Canadian writer who has written ten books of fiction, nonfiction, and literary translations.
In January 2023, my partner and I booked our dream summer vacation in the Northwest Territories.
Daniel had just retired. More than anything, he yearned to travel. “I've always wanted to canoe on Great Slave Lake.”
I shared his wanderlust. “Is the water warm enough to swim in?”
That spring, a record number of wildfires broke out in northern Canada.
By summer, there were more than 200 wildfires in the Northwest Territories alone. Entire communities were forcibly evacuated.
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We read the news and wondered if we should cancel as our trip was coming up. “Wouldn’t that be like canoeing through climate change?”
(We did not cancel.)
We flew into Yellowknife in late July, passing several forest fires and landing on a dingy brown morning.
The air smelled of smoke and my eyes became clear.
Air Quality 5: Moderate risk.
Was it wrong for us to come?
We wore masks and walked around the old town and Ndiro, stopping by the shores of Great Slave Lake. Over dinner we planned all the things we wanted to do.
When I woke up the next morning, the sky was clear. “Whew!” Air quality ranked him 3: Low Risk.
Cheering along, we drove along the Ingraham Trail, stopping at every lake we passed. “The water is so warm!'' We swam on the walls of the Cameron River. “We are swimming north of 60 degrees!”
I couldn't believe it.
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But that night, the CBC reported that a 24,000-hectare wildfire was raging just 30 meters away from Yellow Dog, the fly-in lodge where we had booked a three-night stay.
We learned that each fire is given a number. This fire was ZF-011.
We read the news anxiously.
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Yellowknife-based cabinradio.ca also learned that residents of the town of Behchokī̀ were evacuated to a city complex. We drove by the multiplex the day before and were perplexed by how crowded it was.
I felt bad spending my vacation in a place full of displaced people.
But we were there.
“Shall we just go home?”
“Is it covered by insurance?”
“Not unless the organizer cancels.”
We visited the Prince of Wales Northern Heritage Center, walked along Loch Niven, and drove to nearby Detta.
The air was too smoky to stay outside for too long.
We returned to our hotel room. I drew it. Daniel read.
We called the owner of Yellow Dog Lodge.
Gord Ginn told us that he and his staff are safe. “We are exhausted! We have been fighting the fire non-stop and we have finally put it out.”
We shared his sense of relief. And that's what we thought. “Maybe we should cancel?”
“There will be firefighters stationed here,” Gord said. But if that doesn't bother you, I'll be happy to accommodate you. '' He added, “There's too much smoke so we can't fly planes.''
“But…shouldn't it be better to cancel?” we asked, confused.
“Let's talk tomorrow!” he said.
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By the end of the next day, we had checked out all the tourist attractions and souvenir shops in Yellowknife.
We swam in Long Lake with a horde of townspeople. We bought books by Richard Van His Camp and Alison McLeish and other local authors at a large independent bookstore called The Bookseller. I did a lot of laundry at a laundromat in the North Pole, but the smell of smoke still lingered on my clothes.
By then, all but one road out of Yellowknife was closed due to wildfires.
And planes still couldn't fly to Yellow Dog Lodge.
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A friend of mine from Nepal contacted his relatives and invited us to a home-cooked Nepalese meal of rice, lentils, cauliflower, paneer, chicken curry, and potato salad.
This was very reassuring.
On our last night in Yellowknife, Gord called us and gave us all the permission. “It's okay to jump in!”
“Oh! You're lucky!”
“see you tomorrow!”
The next morning, the DHC-2 Beaver flew us over vast tracts of land covered in forests, lakes, mines, and wildfires.
After crossing the area charred by the ZF-011 fire, we landed on the clear blue waters of Graham Lake.
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Fire teams have turned Yellow Dog Lodge into a hub of activity. We shared the lodge with Gord and his wife Kathy, his two summer staff, and 28 firefighters from the Northwest Territories and New Brunswick.
During the day, the plane circled the sky, bombarding parts of ZF-011 with water between landings and refueling from barrels stored at the lodge.
ZF-011's fire was still smoldering across the lake. Sometimes the trees caught fire.
“Candling,” Gord called.
“There's nothing to worry about until next spring,” he explained. “Some of these fires continue to burn underground all winter long.”
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It was a very strange holiday. Daniel went fishing. we swam. I drew; we read.
Meanwhile, lodge staff and firefighters continued to work long hours.
Some of the firefighters were 20-year veterans. Others were new to the job. We chatted with them during meals.
They were doing important work. Their morale was high.
We all laughed about the timing of the trip.
In the end, I'm glad I came.
We told Cabin Radio's Olly Williams the same thing.
In a pleasant article on a news website, he described us as “undeterred” tourists.
Reinvigorated, we returned to Yellowknife in time for our main adventure: a canoe camping trip on Great Slave Lake.
Our guides, Nicholas and Hannah from Jackpine Paddle, assured us and the seven other outdoor enthusiasts in our group that “there are no wildfires where we go.”
The plan was to paddle slowly around Essen over nine days.
The day we started our journey, the sky was bright and blue.
And the next day.
And the next day.
We were off the airwaves all that time and fortunately didn't notice the news.
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A week has passed in almost idyllic conditions at Great Slave Lake.
The Northwest Territories sit on rock formations that are 4 billion years old, “the oldest rocks on Earth,” my guide told me.
We saw fossils of stromatolites, the first oxygen-breathing life forms, which left stripes in the rocks.
We saw red cross shield insects, reindeer moss, raspberry bushes, shrubby yellowtail, and lots of willow grass.
I forgot to count how many trout I caught and released.
We sighted 4 black bears from a safe distance at all times.
And we swam at the end of each day.
“We are swimming in Great Slave Lake!”
“Can you believe it?”
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On day 8, Nicholas and Hannah said there would be a high wind warning for the next day.
We had to row for many more hours to reach our final destination a day early.
“And the last day will be a day off.”
It was a smoky day, but we paddled over sheer rock cliffs that silenced us with their splendor.
“It's 4 billion years old.”
I felt like I could stare at that rock all day.
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On our last full day on Essen, the wind was relentless from the morning.
Daniel joined the others to practice his wet escape. I drew it. Some people were fishing, taking naps, reading, or just lazing around.
As the day progressed, the wind became more violent.
The lake was deserted and mud was kicked up from the bottom.
There was no swimming that day.
That afternoon, someone noticed a column of smoke rising from the horizon.
“Look over there!”
“what's that?”
The column grew steadily and soon covered the sky.
The sun turned brown in the haze.
It was creepy.
The day suddenly became dark. Storm clouds thickened overhead. A thunderstorm swept over the island and ended as quickly as it began.
As we were eating dinner that night, ash rained down on us.
As it turns out, we've been canoeing through climate change.
However, the sky was blue the next morning. The air was clean. The lake is calm again.
“Oh, good!”
“I was very worried.”
The seaplane came to pick us up as scheduled.
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A group of 3 people arrived by plane to begin the trip we completed.
“Have fun,” we told them as we parted.
“That’s great,” we said. “I think you'll like it. We had a great time.”
The pilot flew low due to poor visibility. The air inside the plane smelled of ash. Our eyes watered and our throats hurt.
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In Yellowknife, air quality was ranked 8th “hazardous.”
We will wear masks respectfully.
We left our hotel room and had a farewell meal of local lake trout at Bullock's Bistro.
We flew home the next morning.
Our dream vacation went on as planned.
We felt incredibly lucky to have had such a wonderful time.
“Wasn’t that amazing?”
“It really was.”
“oh.”
Two days later, the Northwest Territories government declared a state of emergency.
Although the ZF-011 and ZF-015 fires were contained, the ZF-085 and ZF-012 fires were closing in on Yellowknife. The city's 20,000 residents were given two days to completely leave the territory.
Shocked, we read the news.
We read about evacuation. Everyone I met in Yellowknife was fleeing the catastrophe and scrambling to safety.
When can they go home?
Will a fire burn down their house? Their town? Their lives?
Worst case scenarios crossed our minds, but of course we hoped for the best.
We were completely shaken up while reading and rereading the news.
