‘We all made it’ Among the first wave to return, Flin Flon resident recalls harrowing journey of smoke and tears — and immense relief after month-long evacuation By: Nicole Buffie Posted: 1:24 PM CDT Thursday, Jun. 26, 2025

FLIN FLON — Just past 8 p.m. on the day residents are permitted back into Flin Flon, a dark grey sedan kicks up dust on the gravel road along Jones Square outside city centre.

The car comes to a stop on a parking pad surrounded by overgrown grass on the quiet residential street. A tall man with dark hair and sunglasses climbs out of the driver’s seat and pauses for a moment to look at the log cabin with green trim in front of him.

A wide grin stretches across Brett Holland’s face; it’s the first time he’s seen his home in nearly a month.

He doesn’t savour the moment for too long. He read rumours on Facebook of looting in other communities emptied out due to wildfire and he needs to take stock of everything he left behind.

The kayaks, bikes, quad and old trucks scattered across his front yard seem to be where he left them.

“My fishing gear is still here, that’s what I was really worried about,” he quips, gesturing to a yellow bag with a rod poking out.

The city’s 5,100 residents were ordered out on May 28 with little prep time and many dropped everything and fled, including Holland.

Last week, town officials decided the threat of a 370,000 hectare wildfire burning nearby was minimal and it was safe for residents to return home. At 9 a.m. Wednesday morning, RCMP removed the blockades into town so residents of Flin Flon, Denare Beach, Sask., and Creighton, Sask., could return to the communities.

After a once-over of his yard, Holland clambers up the few steps onto his front porch with his 11-year-old shepherd, aptly named Commander, close behind him. A blue plastic ribbon tied to the railing signifies his home was cleared by the RCMP when they did a sweep of the community to ensure everyone got out as directed.

Holland opens the glass sliding door from the porch into his living room and he breathes a sigh of relief: it doesn’t smell like rotten produce or forgotten garbage.

A pot of soup on the stove and some dishes on the counter will need a good scrub, but his guitar, TV and couch are just where he left them.

“It was terrifying leaving. When I got into Winnipeg I was thinking of everything I left behind,” he says.

He gestures to two square urns on a side table inscribed with his parents’ names. He glances over at the wooden trim around his daughter’s room etched with dates and heights to keep track of how much she’s grown.

“It’s stuff you can’t replace.”

Unable to avoid it any longer, Holland opens the fridge door and is relieved. Some cut-up watermelon in a bowl has grown fuzzy spots and a carton of eggs needs to be thrown away, but the smell is bearable and cleanup shouldn’t take long.

“I’ll take it, could have been a lot worse,” he says.

The 34 year old, who moved to Flin Flon on a whim from Fernie, B.C., nine years ago, remembers being out for a walk in May with his girlfriend when they noticed a plume of smoke in the distance. They chalked it up to a fire at the Creighton dump a few kilometers across the provincial border.

A few days later, that smoke took over the horizon. “The first couple days you just didn’t know. It could have gone either way. You looked at the fire map and it wasn’t looking good,” Holland said.

When the evacuation order came down, his daughter Ellie, 6, was at school and he didn’t know whether to pick her up or if she would be rushed home on the school bus.

Holland packed a suitcase of Ellie’s clothes, three shirts and a pair of pants for himself, an emergency kit and camping gear, picked up his daughter and hit the road to Winnipeg.

After about six-and-a-half hours, he had made it as far as St. Laurent, about 80 kilometres from Winnipeg, but then the adrenaline wore off and they slept on the side of the road before finishing the drive the next morning.

Holland hears he’s among the first wave of people to return home. Friends tell him they’re waiting until all stores and services are back online before making their way back, but Holland craved normalcy.

After some cleaning, a long shower and longer sleep, Holland says he’s ready to go back to work first thing Thursday morning.

“I want to work. My boss called me on the way home and said we need to restock all the stores,” he said.

Holland works for Arctic Beverages and usually stocks Pepsi products across the city, but he’s needed on the bread truck to fill grocery shelves in the coming days.

“I’m excited. It’ll feel a little bit normal. I just want to get up, make a coffee, go to work and just have a regular day.”

When he was staying at his brother’s house in Winnipeg while evacuated, he paced around the home the first couple days, not knowing what to do with himself. After a while, he’d meet up with fellow evacuees at community barbecues in city parks organized by residents. He’d also run into them at malls.

“Just so we could deal with the shock of it all together instead of separately,” Holland said. “That really helped.”

He is under no illusion this is the end of wildfire season. He knows a second evacuation is possible. He plans to pack a go bag and got tips from friends in Alberta who know — all too well — how to insurance-proof homes, after experiencing multiple wildfire evacuations themselves.

He sheepishly admits he cried several times on the eight-hour drive home from Winnipeg.

“I just missed everybody. It was such a shock. And then you see everyone popping up on Facebook sitting on their porches and it’s like, ‘oh, we’re all back,’” he says.

“We all made it.”

nicole.buffie@freepress.mb.ca