It was abandoned 20 years ago. But last resident who stayed says northern community still 'a beautiful place'
Most residents never returned after Granville Lake was evacuated following 2003 septic spill
Granville Lake — population, at least a couple.
These days, there is no official population count, the province says, for the First Nation settlement, which sits on a peninsula in northwestern Manitoba, near the Muskwanuk and Mistuhe islands.
The place is quiet, after the majority of houses were abandoned after an evacuation more than 20 years ago.
But at least one person remained.
Clarence Bighetty lives in his house on the east side of the community with his partner.
The 60-year-old does not have access to many basic services like treated water, home phone services or groceries, without travelling to the closest regional centre — Leaf Rapids, about 45 kilometres away.
The land is accessible only by boat in the summer or by snowmobile in the winter.
WATCH | Granville Lake 20 years after evacuation:
But despite the isolation and lack of services, Bighetty says it's a beautiful place to live.
"My elders taught me. I've been all over this land and all over the trails and, you know, they taught me well, and that's why I take my knowledge and am trying to pass it on to the younger generation," he said.
"We love our home, we love our land and we love our community."
2003 sewage spill forced residents out
Granville Lake has been recognized by the province as a settlement since 1971. It still has about 12 structures standing, including 10 houses and a school that's listed online as "temporarily closed."
The community was evacuated in 2003, when its septic system failed, resulting in sewage spilling around the houses, onto the streets and into the lake.
The spill was a result of incompatible holding tanks, according to the province.
When the mayor ordered the evacuation, Granville Lake had a recorded population of close to 70 residents, according to Statistics Canada. The majority of evacuees ended up in Leaf Rapids.
After the spill, the remediation included a new local septic system with holding tanks and pumps, a lift station, a water treatment plant, a lagoon and water and sewer lines, according to the province.
While some residents returned to the community, many stayed in Leaf Rapids or other communities, "believing that the sewage spill was not remediated," the province told CBC in a July 11 statement.
Today, the province does not "maintain or operate any infrastructure in the community," and any existing infrastructure and community buildings are "planned for decommissioning and/or transfer to MCCN [Mathias Colomb Cree Nation] as part of their Treaty Land Entitlement selection," the statement said.
A claim by the people of Granville Lake for compensation and damages was filed in 2009, the province said, but no further action has been taken by the residents' legal counsel.
That claim "remains dormant, and there have been no payouts," the province wrote.
'It seems that nobody cares for us'
The community's population, when last tracked in 2016, was 10 people.
In the summers, former residents come out either to live on the settlement for a couple months in the houses, camp for short periods, or visit for day trips.
The only house that's occupied year-round is Bighetty's.
In the summer, the grandfather of 43 grandchildren — and counting — makes money by commercial fishing, harvests local medicine and grows an outdoor garden so he and his partner can enjoy fresh produce.
There is no phone service or cell reception, but Manitoba Hydro provides electricity, which makes it possible for Bighetty to connect to the outside via satellite connection.
"We need lighting here so it won't be so dark and desolate," he said, especially since "bears come around, wolves, wolverines, all these wild animals — they come into the community."
For water, there's normally a pump that runs from the lake to Bighetty's house, but that broke about two weeks ago. He is planning on fixing it, but with no store in the community that means a trip to Leaf Rapids.
Beverly Baker is among those who left during the evacuation in the early 2000s.
The white house on the west side of the settlement is where Baker's mother, who died last spring, used to live.
The land is her grandchildren's birthright, Baker said.
"This is where our history is, and we want to show our grandchildren our rich history and our rich resources here," she said.
Baker is among the residents who don't believe the site was properly cleaned up after the septic spill.
"Our tanks are still filled … they haven't come and emptied it out," she said. "And we never had a working — I don't know what you call it, but shit truck — we never had one that was working."
She returns to Granville in the summers with her children and grandchildren, but said because she does not believe the site was remediated properly the family limits their visit to two weeks. Any longer, and the children start getting "sores and boils, so we have to leave," she said.
The resettlement, and the loss of place and sense of belonging for the small, tight-knit community, have been hard, Baker said.
"It seems that nobody cares for us. We've been going through so much addictions and so many lives have been lost because of addictions and suicide, and we need healing.… We need to come home and heal with the land."
Bighetty said he knows people want to come back and make Granville Lake home again.
But he acknowledges it is not easy living in a community with no running water, proper sewer system, hospital, road or airport, and where any travel is dictated by the weather.
"If you want to live here, you got to be prepared, because this is an isolated community. It's not easy to come in and out — there's no regular flight schedule here and there is no all-weather road," he said.
The only way people come back to the community permanently is in caskets, said Bighetty.
"There's drug-related death or alcohol death and killings or suicide — that's the only time they come home."
Despite the lack of services and isolation, it's still the life that Bighetty prefers.
"It's a beautiful place and we can build … very healthy and strong again" for the younger generation, he said.
"I'm not getting any younger and, you know, I'm going to be passing on a few years down the road. But our grandchildren need a place to call home."
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