Close Call

October is fire safety month, and with that in mind I'm sharing a recent experience of mine that many people of a certain latitude have had, and of which all are fearful. Part of living in an isolated location is that often the unsettled expanses are filled with trees. A lot of trees. The trees, normally so wholesome, become deadly if ignited. Of course I am referring to forest fires and the danger they pose to Northern Residents.

A few weeks ago there was a day unlike any I have lived before. Having only ever inhabited densely populated and therefore sparsely forested regions, I had never considered what it would be like to have two forest fires burning within 50 kilometres of my home; this is what I was facing one day not long ago. I write about it in retrospect partially because I was waiting to see what would come of it all, but also because I was hesitant to post the potential danger and cause my mother to worry from two provinces away. Fortunately, neither blaze reached my Northern Town, but for a few days we were at the mercy of the spreading flames and shifting winds and left to wonder if they would reach us.

One day in particular was noteworthy. It was fairly windy, and when I took the dogs out the scent of campfires was heavy in the air. The sky was completely grey, which at first I mistook for impending rain. Looking around me I realized that what was above me was not a raincloud but a dense blanket of smoke drifting continually from the west. I could see the edges of the smoke to the north and south; the sky was actually a lovely blue. Even the setting sun was filtered by the hovering mass, and small bits of ash were starting to collect on the back stoop and windowsills. This was no campfire, that much was clear; somewhere out there an inferno was burning. I had no idea how close it was, how expansive it was, or whether there would be a need to evacuate. All I knew was that if the winds remained constant we would be in its path of destruction.

On that blustery day the fire apparently gained about 100 kilometres on us, but in the end it stopped well short of town. The winds died down and we happily received a few afternoon showers. Another fire was reported to the north of us a couple days later but it was smaller and contained. Both eventually petered out. The threat was over.

With the smell of woodsmoke fresh in my nostrils, I couldn't help but mull over the fact that we humans are not as in control of things as we think. All around the world people face overwhelming natural forces; hurricanes, tornadoes and earthquakes seem to be daily occurrences these days. However, that smoky day was the first time that it was my family and belongings that were in jeopardy. If that fire had burned its way through town there would have been nothing to do but evacuate with what we could carry and re-build elsewhere. A daunting prospect, to be sure, but I was happy to discover that I was not as concerned about our home and its contents as I might have thought.

On the way to my community there is an extensive section of bush that has seen flames in the last few years. The blackened skeletons of spruce tower over the saplings straining to make their way closer to the sun. The regrowth is green and dense; a lush contrast to the barrenness above. Life moves on. Which is exactly what we would have done if our home had been razed by a forest fire, or any other disaster. Life is not about having nice things; life is about relationships, experiences, and the freedom to have both in unlimited quantities. Living Up North is one of life's experiences that I am really enjoying, so I'll have to accept the possibility of forest fires and move on. No worries, Mom, I'm fine!

Post Script: I wrote the first draft of this post last night and was too tired to finish it, so I saved it for today to complete. When I took the dogs out before retiring what did I smell, but the unmistakeable odour of burning wood! Of course it's possible that someone nearby was having a fire; it was too dark to see where the smoke was coming from, but it is also possible that we are again in the vicinity of a forest fire. I don't smell anything today, but it's not windy so that may explain the absence of smoke.

From spring until autumn this uncertainty will be my reality, as long as I am Up North.