Finding the Individual in Archaeology

As an archaeologist who has worked both internationally and locally for many years, a question commonly asked is, ‘What is the most interesting thing you have ever found?’ The answer usually surprises people because it is not the ceramic vessel decorated with hieroglyphs, or the 6,000 year old projectile point, it is a single stone bead. Not that interesting, you might think. However, if we change our focus from talking about material culture (i.e. the ‘stuff’) and starting thinking about individual people who made and used these items, the bead can tell us about a unique part of the past. This single bead could be one part of a necklace, a bracelet or sewn onto clothing, footwear or a bag. We may not be able to determine exactly how it was used, but the bead, like other small objects from archaeology sites, can provide information about the past in a different way because it is a personal object. More utilitarian, and more commonly found items, like ceramic vessels and projectile points are also made and used by individuals, but objects like shell or stone beads and bone hair combs are an everyday item that could be used for many years by a single person, and likely held a more personal meaning.

Considering the extensive lands that people travelled within British Columbia for access to seasonal resources, small objects were significant because they were lightweight, portable and individuals carried these objects with them on their travels. These objects would be worn or carried long distances, but they are not a part of a hunting, gathering or fishing tool kit, they were personal items. In this way, they tell archaeologists something about the past that a stone tool does not. They tell us about the individual and the personal style and likes of a person in the same way that jewellry and other adornments are used and displayed today

Shell and stone beads have been found throughout British Columbia from archaeology excavations of the living floors, from winter homes in the Plateau area, for example. Other personal objects like bone hair combs, decorated digging stick handles (for digging roots), and incised bone and antler tools also offer insight for archaeologists because the decoration has little to do with the function of the object, the decoration is created by individuals as a personal choice. Incised lines, geometric shapes, as well as human and animal motifs have been identified on bone, antler and wooden objects from a number of archaeology sites dating to different time periods. Since not all bone, antler and wood objects are preserved in archaeology sites due to the organic nature of these items, the objects that do last only represent a small sample of what individuals may have used in the past, and are especially exciting for us to find.

When a site is in the way of a pipeline

There’s a tense relationship between development and archaeology in British Columbia. Building in or extracting from land that’s been occupied for millennia inevitably means that the new must confront the old.

Because archaeological sites are protected by the Heritage Conservation Act, identifying and recording these heritage places is a common precursor to logging, mining, construction or other kinds of impacts.

On one hand, development-driven archaeology allows us to find sites we never would otherwise know about. On the other hand, the sites we find are at very likely to be destroyed.

So what happens when archaeological impact assessments succeed at finding archaeological sites, and those sites are in the way? What happens to the sites? And who decides?

For many kinds of development, design changes can protect the most significant parts of sites. A forestry cutblock boundary, for example, can be adjusted to exclude sites. For infrastructure projects, special berms or overpasses can be worked into plans to reduce impacts—the TransCanada Highway near Chase, or the South Fraser Perimeter Road in through Surrey and Delta, have good examples of this.

For other kinds of projects that can be hard to reroute or reduce impacts (like an open-pit mine or a linear right-of-way), it’s often necessary to remove the site entirely, an option that’s referred to as “mitigation”.

The concept of mitigation is common in environmental assessments: it refers to lessening the impact of a project on something that’s valued. You can mitigate pollution impacts on air quality, for example, by using scrubbers.

For archaeological sites, which are fragile and non-renewable, mitigation usually means carefully removing the site through controlled excavation. We’re meant to be mitigating the impact to the archaeological record by extracting data that will survive the site: replacing the actual site with its scientific reflection.

This assumes that the ultimate value of archaeology is informational—what we can learn from it—and positions archaeologists, with our special skills and methods, as the most qualified to manage and decide the fate of sites.

But there are other kinds of heritage value too, social and cultural values that Indigenous descendants and inheritors of the sites may have. Indigenous communities are consulted on these values in a cursory way, but generally have little influence over outcomes for their own heritage.

So what happens, for example, in the context of the Coastal Gas Link pipeline planned in northern BC, where Indigenous rights and industrial development have clashed?

In that case, the more than 60 archaeological sites found around the right-of-way (with more still at camps and laydowns) will be gone by the time the pipe is in the ground.

Those sites—the physical manifestation of millennia of occupation that gives rise to Indigenous rights and title—won’t be allowed to get in the way of the pipeline. They will be dug up, treated more like contaminated soil to be removed than like the irreplaceable pieces of human history they are.

I wish I could say that archaeological management worked out for everyone. I wish I could say that government and developers seek, and obtain, Indigenous consent to destroy the sites that are their cultural inheritance. I wish I could say that what we lose in physical heritage we gain in knowledge.

But most of the time we don’t. Most of the time, the most salient outcome of an archaeological impact assessment is a bag of artifacts that gathers dust in a museum, and an expert report that allows development to proceed with a clear conscience, having checked all the boxes that law demands.

So often in BC, archaeology has become a tool to remove a problem. Until we can deal with that problem head-on, archaeology’s potential to expand knowledge and generate interest and foster understanding will be wasted.

"Not recorded" doesn’t mean not present

Archaeologists find sites where we look for them.  This sounds overly simplistic, of course we find sites if we look for them. The opposite side of that coin is that we can’t find the sites no one has looked for, and that can help explain the large gaps we see when we look at maps showing recorded archaeological sites. You may think ‘why is there a site here, but not right there beside it’?  Or a planner might think ‘that site doesn’t extend into the property, I’m fine to go ahead and develop’.

In CRM, or cultural resource management, archaeologists don’t get to do research and excavate where we necessarily want to, we conduct our studies in the areas that are going to be impacted by a proposed, or an ongoing, development.  Sometimes these places are interesting and archaeologically rich, other times less so.  There may be a spot right beside where we’re working that we’d love to check out, but we can’t extend our studies as it’s outside the area we’re allowed to work per our regulatory permits.

The area around the Big Bar Slide on the Fraser River is a prime example of ‘nothing recorded’ definitely does not equal ‘nothing present’.  As some readers may be aware, efforts are ramping back up at the slide location to clear debris from the river while water levels are low enough to undertake such activities.

When I first arrived at the Big Bar slide site back in September, it became obvious immediately (like within 5 minutes) that this was an area rich in indigenous history and there were indeed archaeological sites present.  And even though it was obvious to everyone present, no archaeological sites had been recorded within kilometres of the slide.  This is because the area is remote, hard to access, requires private property permissions, and archaeologists hadn’t had a reason to look there before…

Within the first few days on site, we found numerous cultural depressions (representing house pits, cache pits, and roasting pits), lithic scatters with many hundreds of stone artifacts, buried living floors, and caves.  I found out that local crew members from the High Bar and Stswecem'c Xgat'tem Nations also already knew of a site on the opposite side of the river approximately a kilometer upstream that has cultural depressions and pictographs (rock art, carved into boulders at the river’s edge).  This whole area had been an extensively used and thriving First Nations village site in the past, but nothing had been registered until the slide happened and we were asked to start archaeological assessments and record what we saw.

One government employee I spoke to said rather abashedly that they had looked on the provincial heritage registry when the slide happened, saw that there were no recorded sites anywhere nearby, and thought that meant there would be few archaeological concerns as a result.  They also admitted that they wouldn’t make that mistake again!

This is a concept for planners and developers to keep in mind.  Just because an archaeological site doesn’t extend into a property, or there is nothing recorded nearby, doesn’t mean there aren’t sensitive and legislatively protected archaeological sites present that need to be taken into consideration.

Reflecting on the lengthy history of the Kamloops area

With the start of a new decade, it seems timely to reflect on the long history of human occupation and the archaeological record in British Columbia. The longevity of the archaeological record in the southern interior, including Kamloops, and the province of British Columbia as a whole is extensive. The earliest recorded sites in the province confirming human occupation date to over 14,000 years ago. To put that in perspective, the oldest sites in the province were occupied over 9,000 years before the pyramids in Egypt and Stonehenge were constructed.

Archaeological sites are defined as the physical remains left behind by people from the past. There are over 50,000 archaeological sites currently recorded in British Columbia. That number grows almost daily as development continues throughout the province and previously unidentified archaeological sites are discovered as a result. Archaeologists are required to update the provincial heritage register maintained by the Archaeology Branch once a new archaeological site is discovered or an existing site is expanded.

Archaeological site types in the Kamloops area are diverse and plentiful. Common site types include subterranean house pits, burials, rock shelters, hunting blinds, cache pits for food storage, earth ovens, culturally modified trees, cultural trails, fish weirs, rock art, and scatters of stone and bone artifacts.

The oldest recorded sites currently identified in British Columbia are found along the west coast. While much of the province was covered in thick glacial ice until around 10,000 years ago, the coastline and associated islands and inlets were ice free first thereby creating habitable environments. In the Kamloops area the oldest sites date to around 10,000 years old coinciding with the glacial ice retreat. As more research continues throughout the province it is inevitable that additional archaeological sites will be identified and the dates of the earliest human occupation will be further refined.

When comparing dates of 10,000 or more years of Indigenous occupation to settler history in this area, the time difference is stark. The first European to set foot in the Kamloops area arrived in 1811. Settler history spans just over 200 years in the Kamloops area, while Indigenous groups have been living here for millennia.

As an archaeologist working in the southern interior, it is often exciting and humbling to discover and hold an artifact that was manufactured thousands of years prior. The Kamloops area has a rich history that spans thousands of years before the most recent 200 years of settler occupation in the region. As the year 2020 was rung in across the world, it’s a fitting time to consider and appreciate the long and diverse history of the Kamloops region prior to the arrival of the first Europeans.

Excavating interest from the next generation

Archaeology is a fascinating subject and the feeling of uncovering centuries-old artifacts is amazing. Interpreting the materials left behind by ancient peoples requires a broad-based education.

As part of our university programs, we pursue training in anthropology (cultural and physical anthropology, archaeology and linguistics) and other disciplines to assist our understanding of archeological sites. These may include geology, geography, biology, chemistry, Indigenous studies, history and statistics. We also develop a variety of technical and technological skills to gather and analyze data.

Archaeologists often find themselves teaching and delivering presentations to the public, clients, regulators and schools about artifacts, sites and resource management. For instance, I work wh the Local Government Management Agency provincial approving officers to improve archeological due diligence for development.

Our Kamloops chapter of the Archaeological Society of British Columbia hosted a regular educational and public outreach display at the Kamloops Regional Farmers’ Market this past summer and will be hosting an archeological speaker series this winter.

Education is a common aspect of our lives, regardless of whether we work in the academic, regulatory or resource management spheres.

One of the most satisfying programs in which I participated involved delivering an in-class archeological excavation program for students in grades 5 and 6. I provided an introduction to archaeology and its methods. We then discussed how elements of traditional First Nations and Métis lifeways and culture might be physically expressed and interpreted.

The class was divided in two sections. Group A created a small archeological site representing a 3,000-year-old First Nations campfire activity area, while Group B built a site representing a 19th-century Métis cabin. The groups then switched so that Group A excavated the site built by Group B and vice versa.

Using proper fieldwork procedures, the students excavated the sites in small teams to expose, map and record the artifacts. After “fieldwork” concluded, we undertook laboratory procedures to inventory the artifacts and make interpretations about what past behaviours they represented.

The students then prepared short reports on their excavation programs and explanations of their recoveries.

I loved delivering this program for a number of reasons. The program excited young people about the past and what could be learned from it. During the school open house, the students were so proud to show their parents the excavations and what they were learning. The best part was that the students learned far more than “just archaeology” without realizing it.

This hands-on activity required the students to think critically and creatively, use observational skills, take detailed notes and precise measurements, work collaboratively towards a specific goal, analyze data and communicate their results. Some of the children who had struggled with developing these skills during regular classroom lessons exhibited noticeable improvements through this experiential program.

I don’t know if any of those grades 5/6 students decided to become archaeologists, but they were able to build or improve their problem-solving, numeracy, analysis and literacy abilities in a program that didn’t feel like typical schoolwork. Those skills and the understanding they gained of Canada’s Indigenous peoples will serve them well in becoming flexible, broad-minded and skilled contributors in our society.

A Case Study in Archaeology: Ancestral Remains Discovered on West Victoria Street

In July this year, construction crews working on the City of Kamloops Victoria Street West project uncovered ancestral remains while excavating for new municipal infrastructure. The archaeologist on site monitoring these construction activities quickly recognized the find, immediately halted work, and started making phone calls to the RCMP, the BC Archaeology Branch, and to Tk’emlúps te Secwépemc (Ttes) Natural Resource staff. Once the RCMP and coroner established the remains to be archaeological in nature (as opposed to forensic), control of the site area was turned over to the archaeological team and Tk’emlúps leadership to determine the next steps. City staff and the construction crew secured the site and construction was allowed to continue away from the location of the burial as prescribed in the TteS Ancestral Remains Protocol that was in place well before any ground was broken on this project. Once all of the proper procedures and protocols were in place and the appropriate experts were contacted, the respectful recovery of the burial commenced. Now six months on from the initial burial discovery, the West Victoria project is nearly complete ahead of schedule.

I have chosen to briefly recount this situation to highlight a couple of important items. First, while the discovery of ancient burials is a worst-case scenario no matter the project, it does not necessarily mean the end of a project or endless delays.  Over the days and weeks following the discovery of the burial I heard many comments from the public that erroneously claimed this was the end of the West Victoria project or that construction would experience excessive delays. This quite simply was not the case and the consideration that archaeological discoveries result in project cancellation or delays is the product of the bad press coverage afforded to archaeology.

My second point is related to this, which is with open communication and good preparation on behalf of the proponent, when worst case scenarios come to pass these situations are not insurmountable. The City of Kamloops staff and their archaeologists engaged with Tk’emlúps staff and leadership and were accommodating in implementing the policies, protocols, and procedures that were presented during the early planning stages. It was during this stage that the City and their contractors were provided with the TteS Ancestral Remains Protocol document that explicitly described the process for when ancestral remains were encountered. When the inevitable did happened, everyone knew precisely what to do, who to call, and what would happen next. It is never desirable to disturb the ancestors. However, by ensuring that the proper processes were in place well before breaking ground, it was possible to avoid another archaeological catastrophe while ensuring the remains of the ancestor were taken care of and offered the utmost respect due to her.

The moral of my story here is with open, honest communication and early engagement with the local First Nation communities it is possible to work together to overcome challenges and worst-case situations. The negative press surrounding archaeology is often a result of proponents being misinformed or ignorant to the overall context within which they are operating and not engaging with First Nations and other stakeholders well before sticking a shovel in the ground. The City of Kamloops, their construction contractors at Extreme Excavating, and consulting archaeologists from Golder should be commended on their efforts and respect shown not only in this situation, but over the course of the entire West Victoria project.

What a Bunch of Garbage!

There was this interesting archaeology project during the 1970s, sometimes referred to as the Garbology Project, in Tucson, Arizona. Archaeologists conducted excavations of landfills to determine Tucson residents’ consumption habits. One of the things they found out was that during an economic recession people tended to buy more food products when they went on sale, but ended up disposing of these foods, such as meat, as they were unable to consume these foods quickly enough before the expiry date. This resulted in an abundance of food waste.

Other items excavated from the landfill included newspapers where they could still be clearly read 50 years later. By the early 1990s numerous new items were found in landfills, such as crushed aluminium cans, disposable diapers, plastic containers and – the list goes on. These items are not decomposing any time soon, yet the landfills are increasing, not to mention our waters continue to be polluted with these items.

As discussed in earlier articles about archaeological work in British Columbia (BC), artifacts that do preserve well are stone and bone. What does not preserve well, are items made with animal hides, or wood such as basketry, string, snowshoes, cradleboards, etc., unless some of these are found in exceptional environments such as dry caves or wet sites. The point is, the natural items that did not survive at a site were biodegradable and have returned to the earth. This is generally a disappointment to archaeologists who try to interpret the story of what’s going on at the site, but it does indicate that the Indigenous peoples were more economical in their consumption practices.

Archaeology examines the things that are left behind, basically other people’s garbage. We learn about past human successes and failures. Successes include, uncovering raised fields (Bolivia and Mexico) that supported large populations of the long ago past who lived in harsh environments, which provides innovative means of farming in a contemporary context. And the excavation of landfills informed new policies regarding some of the current recycling practices.

Archaeologists have identified some failures that include deforestation practices at Easter Island (south Pacific Ocean), known for the famous statues called “moai”.  In BC, Indigenous peoples have a long history of fire management, often choosing to burn to maintain productive grasslands that secures the return of animal and plant resources. The introduction of provincial legislation forbidding these practices has come at a cost with the increase of fires province wide.  

Currently, archaeologists conduct field surveys for forestry companies yearly in BC. If you’re flying over BC, the patchwork of harvested blocks are quite noticeable.  During some of these forestry surveys, crews have noticed large wood pile burns indicating wasted wood, and an array of garbage left behind by past forestry companies. Some of this garbage includes large steel barrels, chains, oil cans, plastic containers, steel cables, wire, and other forestry related items, all of which are not biodegradable. Furthermore, new forestry roads open up access to the public who dump their garbage. This is noticeable in the field and it’s time to clean up the mess.   

What will we learn 1000 years from now from our society? One thing is for sure, currently, we will be known as the disposable society. Archaeology provides a long-term perspective on human actions and their environmental consequences that can contribute to conservation and restoration efforts.

Stratigraphy in Depth

Previous Dig It articles, including #8 (Stratigraphy), #20 (The Importance of Context), and #24 (Relative Dating), discussed how important the study of stratigraphy (the layering of sediments) is in interpreting archaeological sites.  In this article I will look a bit deeper into the subject to show how we do it.

An amateur British geologist, William “Strata” Smith, revolutionized the study of stratigraphy in the late 18th-early 19th Century.  While working as a surveyor in coal mines and canals, he noticed that there appeared to be a predictable relationship between the various layers of rock, even when he moved from place to place across the country.  Using this information, he later produced the first known geological map.

The principles that he developed can be summarized as follows:

1) In an undisturbed series of layers of sediment, the oldest layers are at the bottom, and the youngest are at the top.

2) Anything that is in an undisturbed layer cannot be older than the material that the layer is made from.

3) Identifiable layers that are interrupted by a cut are assumed to be identical.

4) Layers that intrude into other layers are younger.

Archaeologists use these simple principles to interpret the sequence of events in archaeological sites.

In the most common commonest expression of this concept, when we are digging in an archaeological site, we generally can assume that as we dig deeper, we encounter ever older layers.  This is an idea that intuitively makes sense.

Figure 1 shows an example of what we encounter in many archaeological sites.  At the top is modern debris.  Successively older artifacts are found as we dig deeper until we get to layers that predate human occupation. 

Figure 2 shows a common circumstance where we find layers that are apparently out of time sequence.  When this occurs we have to explain the anomaly.  If we can confirm that this is an undisturbed layer, then we would need to revisit our assumptions about the sequence of dates.  In most circumstances this would suggest a more likely explanation is that the site has been disturbed, with older sediments removed from somewhere else and piled on top of younger ones.

Figure 3 shows another common occurrence, where we find a younger layer intruding into older layers, such as a hole for a storage or cache pit being dug into undisturbed ground.  In this case, we would assume that the intruding layer is younger than the layers it interrupts, and we can infer that the layers on each side of this intrusion are the same.  Note that in such cases it is not uncommon to find younger artifacts buried deeper than older ones, even though they were deposited later.

Careful excavation and diligent documentation of the relationship between recovered artifacts and the layers that they come from help us interpret complex archaeological sites using these simple rules of stratigraphy.  Destroying this relationship through activities such as artifact hunting and construction disturbance eliminates the opportunity for us to tell an archaeological site’s story.

Keeping sites secret for a good reason

In a recent edition of Dig It, my colleague Joanne Hammond discussed the presence of a very significant concentration of archaeological sites in and around Kamloops and how these sites pertain to the occupation of the region since the last Ice Age by Secwepemc people (“The Proof is Under the Pavement,” July 24, 2019).

Her article was accompanied by a single photo of the South Thompson river valley, overlain with red circles and ovals.

These polygons represent archeological sites and her intent was to illustrate their ubiquity in our city, often buried just out if sight, in locations both predictable and surprising.

To any B.C. archeologist, these red polygons would be immediately recognizable.

In British Columbia, the protection and management of archeological sites is the responsibility of the Archaeology Branch — an office of the Ministry of Forests, Lands, Natural Resource Operations and Rural Development.

The Archaeology Branch has a variety of roles, but two of the most important relate to the issuance of permits and maintenance of a provincial registry of recorded archaeological sites.

This registry is accessed by archeologists through an on-line portal called RAAD (that is, Remote Access to Archaeological Data).

On RAAD, archeological sites are represented by red polygons.

RAAD is maintained by the Inventory Section of the Archaeology Branch. It maintains the provincial registry, which contains records for each of the more than 50,000 recorded sites in the province.

When an archeologist discovers a previously unrecorded archeological site, or revisits a recorded one, they are required to submit a B.C. archeological site inventory form.

Site forms contain a variety of information that archeologists collect when they record archeological sites.

This includes everything from basic location information and related maps to summary data regarding the age and functions of a site, its environmental context, condition and significance.

Together, these site forms comprise an inventory of archeological sites, which can then be accessed through RAAD.

Access to RAAD is limited to professional archeologists who require data about previous archeological studies and other eligible professionals who require information about archeological sites for land-use planning or development approvals processes. The information on RAAD is not available to the general public.

As the Archaeology Branch website explains, RAAD access is tightly controlled because of “the sensitive nature of archeological sites.”

Why is access to archeological site data limited and controlled?

The secrecy around archeological sites and their locations is intended to help protect sites from damage by pothunters.

A pothunter is an amateur artifact collector who lack the formal training of professional archeologists.

They collect artifacts from sites without the requisite permits and without recording the types of observations of their discoveries, which would allow archeologists to make reasoned inferences about past human behaviour.

Moreover, they often target the kinds of artifacts that would otherwise be most useful to archeologists: artifacts diagnostic of particular time periods or particular activities, such as: stone arrowheads, dart points, spearheads and knives.

Also, pothunters often dig pits into sites in their quest for artifacts, obliterating the context and associations of their finds.

This reduces the historical importance of the artifact from that of one piece within a prehistoric puzzle to that of mere curio.

At its worst, pothunting occurs at an industrial scale, with artifacts at times offered for sale online.

Collecting artifacts from archeological sites without a permit from the Archaeology Branch is illegal, as it violates the B.C. Heritage Conservation Act.

Pothunters may be subject to a fine or even imprisonment under the terms of the Act.

In a sense, pothunters are the frenemies of archeologists.

Their hobby damages archeological sites and limits the information potential for archeologists.

Yet, having an interest in artifacts and what those artifacts represent is commendable. It’s the same curiosity about the past, which motivates archeologists, after all.

If you’re a pothunter, please leave the artifacts you find where you find them and instead share your discoveries with the professional archeological community.

Your interest and passion for artifacts is understandable. Consider joining the recently formed Kamloops chapter of the Archaeological Society of B.C. (ASBC)

More information about the ASBC is available online at asbc.ca.

If you’re considering buying, selling or developing a property, and you are interested in knowing whether there is a recorded archeological site on that property, you can request the information from the Archaeology Branch through their website at archdatarequest.nrs.gov.bc.ca/. Realtors may also obtain this information for properties, which they list for sale.

Managing the Loss of Cultural Heritage in the Face of Climate Change

From unpredictable weather, changing coastlines, and wildfires, we’re experiencing challenges that recent generations have not faced before. Archaeology is not immune to these changes, and as archaeologists, we’re discovering many occurrences where archaeological sites are being affected by climate change.

Past Dig It columns have reviewed melting glaciers in alpine environments, and how archaeological sites, often with well-preserved bone and wood tools, are being uncovered, or, how archaeologists and Indigenous communities are surveying and assessing the impact of wildfires on archaeological sites. These valuable studies are ongoing, but it’s proving difficult to keep up with the rapid changes to our landscapes. A broader, more cohesive approach to managing the effects of climate change to archaeological sites has not yet been developed, but is necessary, likely, as we observe increasingly rapid changes.

Earlier this year, Parks Canada hosted a workshop to advance the understanding of climate impacts to cultural resources in B.C. and how the archaeological industry is or should adapt to the changes. The key questions identified during the workshop were: how are archaeological sites impacted by climate change? What are some of the impacts we are seeing, now? What kind of impacts are we likely to see more of? What are some of the responsive actions we are seeing, already? What are other actions we should be taking?

There was no disagreement that climate change is affecting archaeological sites, instead the conversation focused on the different types of impacts we are seeing in different parts of the province: storm surges on the coast, melting permafrost in the north, and melting glaciers and wildfires throughout B.C. Here in Kamloops, we have seen the effects of widespread wildfires over the past few years, Gwaii Haanas was hit by severe storms this past winter causing coastal shell middens to erode at an increased rate, and permafrost is melting at an accelerated rate in northern B.C., exposing sites and making them vulnerable to degradation.

What kind of actions are we seeing? These are mostly reactive as we try and respond, but the problem can seem overwhelming when we see the rate at which these impacts are occurring.

The effects of wildfires on archaeological sites are being managed through Archaeological Impact Assessments (AIAs) of recently-burned landscapes. Archaeologists and First Nations that are leading these AIAs are finding a high volume of archaeological sites on exposed, burned ground surfaces created by the fires. These studies are ongoing.

The effects of storm surges on archaeological sites located along coastlines are managed by a similar, reactive process. The process requires that these sites are known and can be monitored, but given the wide, rugged span of coastline, this might be an insurmountable task.

What we’re learning from the reactive response to climate change, is that the increasingly rapid rate of change requires us to prioritize what landscapes we inspect, and what sites we plan to manage, first. Who makes these decisions, and how do we go about prioritizing the necessary studies?

We don’t have answers to these questions, but it’s an important dialogue to have. It would be great if we could say “x-many” sites were lost while you read this article to put things in perspective, and provide some solid numbers, but, unfortunately, nobody actually knows.

Indigenous groups, regulatory agencies, educational facilities, the consulting world, and the broader communities should play an important role in how these decisions are made. The first step is developing a strategy on how these sites will be prioritized. Other than halting human-caused climate change, the next step is developing strategies to collect data before destroyed, and protect/preserve where possible and practical.

Salmon Below the Slide, Over Time

Today, on a remote section of the Fraser River west of Clinton, tens of thousands of salmon are roiling around in turbulent pools, most of them unlikely to ever make their way upstream to spawn. The fish are trapped below a 5-meter cascade, caused by a rockslide that crashed into the river near Big Bar in late June.

It’s not the first time.

With almost 2,000 kilometers of mainstem river meeting thousands of tributaries, the Fraser and Thompson River systems have seen countless landslides over the millennia. Oral histories from Indigenous people throughout the interior contain intriguing details of rivers damned by sticks, rocks, and ice, at times maintained, or eventually destroyed, by supernatural beings.

Combining evidence at macro and micro scales, archaeologists and geologists have been able to piece together the results of a few such events in the ancient past. One well-known example is a series of slides on the Fraser River about 300 kilometers above Vancouver, near a small tributary called Texas Creek.

While the exact timing and effects of the Texas Creek slides is still the subject of debate, the 1-kilometer long scar the landslide left behind hints at the enormity of the event.

We know that the slide happened sometime around 1,000 years ago, and was believed to have been large enough to impound the Fraser River behind a 45-meter high dam of rock, creating a lake over 30 kilometers long in the Lillooet area. That dam likely persisted for a few years or even a few decades, until powerful flow of the Fraser eventually eroded it away.

Even a blockage of a few years would almost certainly have devastated many salmon runs, and the people who depended on them. The inability of migrating fish to reach their spawning grounds throughout the Interior Plateau would have lasting effects on peoples’ reliance on salmon as a stable and abundant food supply.

The effects of the Texas Creek slide would have affected not only the St’at’imc ancestors in the immediate vicinity of the slide, but also those in the upper reaches of the Fraser system, and eventually, all those in the Fraser basin who relied on the fish.

While archaeologists debate the extent of the cultural effects of the slide, it very likely triggered regional population movements as people reorganized around new food sources. Minimal archaeological evidence of conflict from these movements suggest that strong kinship and trading networks may have eased the shift for those who found themselves without this vital food source.

More recent examples corroborate some of the theories about the Texas Creek event. A slide on the Bulkley River near Hazelton in 1820 created a stretch of rapids that impeded salmon, and Wet’suwet’en families moved their village temporarily from Moricetown to below the obstruction.

In 1913-14, railway work in the lower Fraser triggered a series of massive slides at Hell’s Gate, blocking the already-constricted canyon and causing a catastrophic crash in salmon populations. Ladders to get migrating fish over the slide were not built until 1945, and stocks have still not fully recovered to pre-slide levels.

Clearing Hell's Gate Rockslide, Fraser River ca. 1916, Vancouver Public Library

While the 2019 slide at Big Bar is a natural, even regular occurrence on the landscape, it has come at a time when salmon stocks are critically low due to overfishing, industrial pollutants, and warming waters.

Huge numbers of salmon that would normally get funneled into the Interior Plateau won’t make it home, and so won’t spawn, and the people and animals who depend on them for food will suffer even greater shortages in the years to come.

Massive, even heroic, efforts are being made at that site to help the fish. But like never before, time is of the essence for BC salmon.

New repatriation guide from Royal BC Museum

Historically, the role of museums has been the collection and display of objects of cultural, historical and religious importance.

They also served as a public place for education and enjoyment, a place where items could be preserved and research could be conducted by scholars.

The museum experience often provided people access to objects and artifacts from cultures around the world.

The curiosity and interests of the public fuelled the collection, purchase, donation and display of objects in museums.

Unfortunately, illegal collecting, theft and other unethical tactics were undertaken during the late 1800s and early- to mid-1900s, with some items, including human remains and grave objects, coming into museum collections.

While most museums did not place human remains on display, these remains were often stored in boxes, far removed from their original resting places.

In 1990, the United States passed the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act.

Repatriation is the return of objects, artifacts, skeletal remains or other aspects of cultural heritage to their place of origin or to the descent community of origin.

The act provides a process for museums and federal agencies to return cultural items such as human remains, funerary objects and sacred objects to lineal descendants and culturally affiliated tribes and native Hawaiian organizations.

One of the first steps museums and federal agencies had to undertake was the creation and maintenance of an inventory of cultural items in their collection.

These inventories provided the basis for repatriation requests from Indigenous groups within the United States to return skeletal remains, sacred objects and artifacts.

Another important component of the act is repatriation grants, which provide financial support to assist museums, tribes and native Hawaiian organizations in their request for repatriation of items.

The act has its limitations and has not completely achieved the goals of addressing the rights of descendant communities, but it was an important step to change the ways museums collected and stored human remains, funerary goods and sacred objects.

Many Canadian museums looked to the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act as a way to change their practices, create inventories of collections and consider ways objects were displayed.

From 2016 to 2018, the Royal British Columbia Museum (RBCM) offered repatriation grants to BC First Nations and organizations to help in consultation, documentation and repatriation of cultural items, ancestral remains and burial items.

Recently, the RBCM and the First Peoples’ Cultural Council created the Indigenous Repatriation Manual, released this past June, to support communities and museums in the early stages of repatriation from local, national and international museums.

It is hoped this manual will assist museums and communities in the repatriation process and see ancestral remains and cultural items returned to their place of origin.

Nadine Gray is a Kamloops-based archeologist and an anthropology and archaeology Instructor at TRU.

Talking about Taphonomy

Stone tools, bone implements, remnants of ancient dwellings, and culturally modified trees. These are things that archaeologists can see, record, and interpret about how people lived in the past. The artifacts that archaeologists study are just a tiny fraction of the things people used, their ‘material culture’ as archaeologists call it. 

There are so many things that do not survive the centuries and millennia that archaeologist very rarely have any opportunity to study. Compounding the challenge archaeologists face when trying to interpret the past are all the things that change these sites from what they looked like the last time they were occupied. Archaeologists study the various things that happen to archaeological sites over time, called taphonomy, in order to try to squeeze as much information about the traces left behind as possible.

The history of development has mostly obscured the vast network of trails that formed the basis for regional trade and cultural exchange in the past. Some section of trails still exist in more remote areas in British Columbia, but most of the trails in more heavily developed parts of the province are now invisible – fragmented and disturbed by railways and roadways, and cutblocks.

In most parts of the southern interior of British Columbia, only in exceptional circumstances do artifacts made from wood, other plant fibres, leather, or bone survive the acidity of the soil, moisture, and time. Although no one really knows what archaeologists do not see, it is likely that archaeologists can only uncover a tiny fraction of the material culture left behind by the ancestors of indigenous people.

Roots, burrowing rodents, insects, moisture, and frost can all move artifacts from their original resting place buried in the soil. These processes, called bioturbation and cryoturbation, can often move artifacts up and down in the soil, so much so that it is difficult to determine which soil layers the artifacts were originally from.

Erosion through wind and water can wash artifacts away, bury them under many meters of debris, and wear away the artifacts themselves until many of the tiny details that can tell archaeologists so much is worn away. Erosion can completely obliterate the remains of dwellings, structures, and evidence of domestic life, leaving behind only stone tools in a jumbled mixture of soil.

Although many things can happen to an archaeological site over time, sometimes conditions are nearly perfect to preserve them. One of the best examples of this is the site of Pompeii, an ancient Roman city that was destroyed in moments by a large volcanic eruption that buried the site in a deep layer of volcanic ash and pumice. The ash deposits preserved so much of the ancient city that archaeologist were able to find out what individuals had eaten the day before, and what these people were doing in the moments before they died.

Well preserved, intact archaeological sites are becoming less and less common as development pushes further out into remote areas. Protecting what is left to preserve our collective history and for future study using scientific techniques unknown to archaeologists today is only a part of what archaeologists do, but for many the preservation of these places is what keeps them digging holes and filling them back up again – day after day.

Spending some time on the water

If you’re like me, you’ve spent some time this summer paddling a canoe around the rivers and lakes of our region, traveling, fishing, or just drifting idly in the sun. When you’re out there in your narrow boat on the rippling waters, you’re part of a very long tradition, one that dates back millennia, and spans not just this province but across continents.

Here in Secwepemculewc, traditional canoes were made of cottonwood trees, hollowed out then stretched open by steaming the wood. On the coast, dugout cedar canoes dominated. To the east, wood framed canoes with bark skins were used to plow up and down the Columbia.

These boats were the foundation of a transportation network that linked people across the northwest and to river systems beyond. All these styles produced watercraft that ranged from single-person skiffs to cargo canoes capable of hauling tons of goods, boats that fostered wide and sustained economic systems as well as personal freedom and exploration.

The archaeological record of canoeing is choppy, but continuous. We can’t say for sure how long people have been making boats like this, because the evidence of wood, bark and pitch decays and gets lost to time in most parts of the world.

The oldest dated canoe in the world was found in the Netherlands, and dates to around 8,000 years old. In Florida, where the highest concentration of archaeological dugout canoes are known, almost 7,000 years of canoeing technology has been documented.

Mucky, still waters create the best conditions for preserving archaeological canoes. Submerged in drifting silts and clays, otherwise fragile boats can be held together until they’re revealed when water levels drop. Once exposed to air, these vessels quickly decay.

In BC, where swift moving or salty waters dominate, the physical remains of ancient canoes are rare. Instead, we infer canoe making from the tools and remnants of the canoe-making process.

Adze blades (sharp nephrite or jadeite bits used like giant chisels), stone hammers, and wedges form part of heavy-duty woodworking toolkits associated with whole-tree processing. Fire-cracked rock is left behind in huge quantities when logs are filled with water and heated cobbles to steam and stretch boat bodies. In some places, distinctive les of wood chips can mark boatmaking sites.

Occasionally, the roughed out shape of a canoe has been found on the forest floor. One such blank found in Haida Gwai in the 1980s was abandoned during manufacture more than a century before, left next to the stump from which the log was felled.

Together, these clues tell a story of how people fashioned boats from trees, and, over decades or centuries or millennia, figured out the best way to live in watery places.

Worldwide, canoes have been a way of getting people around in environments that were too deep, too swampy, too swift or just simply too big to traverse by foot. They are one ingenious solution to a planet made mostly of water.

The Proof is Under the Pavement

During the recent construction on West Victoria Street, an archaeological site and ancestral burial were found under the asphalt at the edge of the road. It’s a reminder this city has been occupied for millennia, and that Kamloops imposed itself on unceded land—including all the heritage sites created before settlers arrived. As a community, we need to start to talk about what that looked like.

First, a review: There’s good archaeological and oral historical evidence that Kamloops and the whole Thompson Valley have been occupied since the last Ice Age. The area along the river from Kamloops to Chase has been called “the cradle of Secwepemc culture”- cultural traits that first appeared here are found through Secwépemcúl’ecw.

During that 500+ generation-long occupation, Kamloops became a precolonial hub, and that left a dense material record. Among BC cities, Kamloops is second only to Victoria in number of known archaeological sites with 10 km of the city centre.

So what happened? How did this land go from cradling Secwepemc to an urban swath of Euro-Canadian settlement?

Let’s go to that spot on West Victoria Street where the ancestral burial was found. By around 1880, all the land around there, what would become Kamloops, had been “taken up” under a series of colonial Land Ordinances.

West Victoria St, 1880, City of Vancouver Archives

Under these new land laws white settlers could “preempt”, or occupy free on promise of improvement, up to 320 acres of land. None of that land had been ceded to colonial authorities by treaty, sale, or by military force. Secwepemc were unilaterally dispossessed of their homelands by pen strokes.

The preemption scheme was forbidden to Indigenous people, who were being relegated to the first Indian Reserves in this period. By about 1876, when the Indian Act was passed, all the prime land in the Thompson Valleys was claimed or settled by whites.

There’s some crucial context here, about the transfer of land from Secwepemc to seme7 (settlers): first, deadly epidemics threw Indigenous communities into crisis. The 1862-3 smallpox bout was particularly brutal, killing over 2/3 of Secwepemc around Kamloops.

By 1910, reduced populations were all confined to Indian Reserves, and federal Indian Agents controlled every aspect of Indigenous life. Permission was needed to leave reserves, fish, to gather in groups. To live.

Residential schools were a part of Indigenous population control, too, freeing up future land. By the 1930s, two entire generations of Secwepemc (and Nlaka’pamux and Syilx and other) kids had been stolen and raised at the Kamloops Industrial School.

All the while, Kamloops grew. Tk’emlups families that had owned and occupied this land for millennia became all but invisible.

But the archaeological sites remain. Those sites are still here, under West Victoria, downtown, Sagebrush, Aberdeen, Brocklehurst and Valleyview. There is no neighbourhood in Kamloops that was not Tk’emlups first.

North Shore, Kamloops, 1900, Kamloops Museum and Archives

It’s an uncomfortable truth that the racist laws of a colonial state allowed a new Kamloops to flourish without impediment. But every square inch built on lands that belonged to another nation.

When ancient bones or stones are uncovered in the city, when we’re confronted with material evidence of the Secwepemc past, and we should not allow ourselves to be surprised by that. To imagine these sites are rare, one-offs, or exceptions is a denial of our history that comes at the expense of Indigenous rights.

Secwepemc heritage is embedded in the landscape in Kamloops. We will continue to find sites as we dig and build. Many have been destroyed, but more are still there, under malls and lanes and schools and parks of Kamloops. This is the reality of colonial occupation.

The question is- how is Kamloops going to reconcile this past with the future we want to make?

Consider joining the Archaeological Society of British Columbia

There are a surprising number of resident archeologists in Kamloops.

Local archeologists can be found working at First Nations organizations, acting as independent consultants, teaching archeology at Thompson Rivers University or working for engineering or archeology consulting companies.

This time of year also finds an influx of archeologists to the area as field programs in the B.C. Interior ramp up for the summer season.

Earlier this year, several of the local archeologists (many of whom are contributors to the Dig It column), formed a Kamloops chapter of the Archaeological Society of British Columbia (ASBC).

The ASBC was founded in 1966 with the aim of bringing together archeology professionals, researchers and enthusiasts to share knowledge and promote the preservation of archeology sites and heritage in the province.

Archeology is considered a non-renewable resource as there are a finite number of archeological sites in the province that, once destroyed, are irreplaceable.

The ASBC has always maintained that educating the general public about the value of B.C.’s archeological heritage is one of the most effective means of preserving the threatened resource.

The goals of the society are twofold: to encourage the protection of archeological resources in the province and to provide lectures and publications about archeology to educate British Columbians.

The society publishes a quarterly journal about archeology called The Midden (uvic.ca/midden). Consulting archeologists, First Nations organizations, archeology students and avocational archeologists contribute to the journal as a platform for sharing new ideas, interesting finds and research results.

The Midden provides a way to record and share the growing body of knowledge about B.C.’s dynamic past.

The ASBC membership is comprised of a variety of professionals, students and archeology enthusiasts. The primary chapter of the ASBC is based in Victoria, but there are members from across B.C., other Canadian provinces and the United States.

Membership is not restricted to practicing archeologists. Anybody with a general interest in B.C. archeology and history is welcomed and encouraged to join.

The Kamloops chapter is growing. If you are interested in learning more about the ASBC or joining as a local member, go online to asbc.ca.

The Kamloops chapter of the ASBC has several events planned, so stay tuned for more details.

You’ll find several members at the Kamloops Regional Farmers’ Market this Saturday.

Tk’emlúps te Secwepemc has generously loaned the society a sample of artifacts for educational purposes.

The market runs from 8:30 a.m. to 12:30 p.m. in the 200-block of St. Paul Street in downtown Kamloops.

Come find us this weekend to learn more about local artifacts and share stories about Kamloops archeology and prehistory.

Phoebe Murphy is a Kamloops-based archeologist.