I joined the Landscapes of Climate Change Lab in May 2026 as a recipient of UBC’s Work Learn International Undergraduate Research Award, working under the supervision of Professor Michele Koppes and Dr. Holly Chubb. This summer’s research centred on Q̓welq̓welústen (Mount Meager), the site of Canada’s largest landslide in recorded history, and the resulting flood risk to communities in Lil’wat territory and the Pemberton Valley.
At the beginning of July, our team headed to the Lillooet River Watershed to observe these changes firsthand, and collect data in the field. We combined drone surveying, water monitoring and sampling with knowledge shared through our collaboration with Líl’wat Nation.
What We Did and How We Did It
On June 30, we flew a LIDAR drone over the Qw’elqw’elústen landslide deposit and along the Lillooet River. We worked from a high point overlooking the valley, with a clear view down to the river and the deposit on the far side. From there, the drone collected detailed elevation data that enables us to map out the shape of the deposit, the river channels, and the surrounding terrain. It will be useful for future analysis of erosion, sediment transport, and how the landscape is changing over time.
collected water samples and measured turbidity along the Lillooet River to track water quality and sediment transport.
On July 1, we travelled along the Lillooet River and collected water samples at a series of locations from the top of Keyhole Falls to the bottom of the valley. Our goal was to understand how suspended sediment concentration changes along the river. At each site, Michele placed the turbidity sensor in the water, Holly checked the instruments and monitored the readings, while I recorded the field information. Our division of tasks helped ensure that the sensor was used consistently and data was recorded accurately.
Turbidity measurements helped us compare how cloudy the water was at different locations along the river. We also collected water samples so the results could be analyzed back at the lab. At the same time, we attached trail cameras to trees facing the river. We secured the camera, adjusted its angle, and confirmed that it had a clear view of the channel. The camera will continue taking images over time, helping us track changes in water level, colour, and flow conditions.
On July 3, we installed an ISCO automatic water sampler near the FSR bridge. The sampler uses an intake tube to draw water from the river and store it for later analysis, allowing samples to be collected automatically at the same time every day, even when we are not on site. After positioning the sampler and setting up the equipment, we tested the system to confirm that it could successfully draw water from the river. Over time, the ISCO will provide water samples that can be analyzed alongside the turbidity readings and trail-camera images to track changes in river conditions and sediment movement.
What was especially fascinating was that we co-hosted an opening ceremony with the Líl’wat Nation on July 2. This gathering provided an opportunity for us to introduce the project and explain the purpose of our research, so community members could better understand the work taking place on their territory. We were grateful for the knowledge and perspectives they shared with us, and they have shaped how we understand and carry out this work now.
One thing that stood out to me was hearing how directly people’s own knowledge connects to what we’re studying. Our project is looking at Qw’elqw’elústen (Mount Meager) and how Líl’wat oral history passed down about the mountain’s ancient eruption and the landslides that followed align with the geological records. When some of these stories came up during the ceremony, a few community members recognized them right away, saying things like “I know that story.” That moment made it clear this isn’t just about collecting information from the community, it’s about work the community already holds, in a form that long predates our research.
What stayed with me most was the reminder that the project stands on respect, communication, and genuine collaboration with the Líl’wat community.
Personal reflection
Before the fieldwork, my understanding of the watershed was shaped by maps, literature, satellite imagery, etc which is a bit abstract. I don’t think I’d really understood what “landscape change” meant until I was standing in the middle of it. Standing at the landslide deposit, walking the river channels, seeing how much the ground itself could tell us that a satellite image could never capture.
Knowing the changing of sediment, rivers and slope stability puts nearby communities at risk, making the project feel like it benefits people. That was probably the biggest shift in how I think about research: it is not just about understanding the physical processes for their own sake, but also about providing information to people who live in this watershed that they can actually use.
The season also had its own moments of chaos. On our last set of batteries, strong winds caught the drone, causing it plummet off the cliff. We drove down the mountain road, searching for a place we could reasonably climb down, and eventually found a route. Five of us scrambled bare-handed over rocks and pushed through the shrub until we reached the riverbank below. Fortunately, we found the drone, and even better, we managed to repair it. That’s the thing about fieldwork, out in nature, the unexpected is always around. We just have to adapt as it comes.