It was a beautiful day when we hit the road, heading north toward La Ronge. The skies were mostly clear, the air no longer smelling of smoke. It was the kind of day that made it hard to imagine the chaos that had unfolded just weeks before.
Wildfires, made worse by a dry spring, forced thousands of Saskatchewan people from their homes.
With the worst of the danger behind, at least for now, we wanted to see what was left behind — in the forests, the communities and the people’s lives — after the flames moved on.
We started seeing the first signs of fire a few kilometres south of Weyakwin. Small patches of burnt forest grew into large, blackened swaths.
The sides of the highways were like graveyards full of skeletons that used to be trees. In some spots, scorched trunks leaned and toppled like fallen matchsticks. In others, the fire had burned so hot that only charred stumps remained.
The flames did not just devour forests. They took homes, too.
Gregg Charles and his wife have been living in a tent in a family member’s backyard in Air Ronge. Their cabin, 40 kilometres south of the village, burned to the ground.
“It’s always been my home. My parents were trappers over there,” Charles said.
“Sewing, beadwork, even a leather jacket [my wife] made for me, all those are lost.”
Both were raised on a trapline. He isn’t interested in staying in a city. He belongs in the wilderness.
Charles is optimistic their living situation will improve soon. His community is working on finding a place for them.
“I’m just thankful that me and my wife and my other family are OK, that’s the main thing,” he said.
“We can lose structures and stuff like that, we can rebuild. But if you lose a life you can never see that person again.”
Bob Forward also has strong connections to the area.
His family started coming to Nemeiben Lake, just north of La Ronge, in the ’70s. His cabin there has been their home away from home ever since.
The sky was clear when we met him at a boat launch as he prepared to check on the cabin for the first time since the fire came through. He didn’t know what was left of it.
After a short trip, the worst was confirmed.
“There’s no cabin there anymore,” Forward said as he pulled up to his dock.
“It’s gone.”
He made his way through what remained, choking up as he pointed out part of a door that he built with his father-in-law. Nearby, a few of his wife’s books were nothing but crumbling ash.
So many memories, gone in an instant.
Heading out by boat to survey wildfire damage
“It’s tough to see. There’s a lot of years of work here,” he said, blinking back tears.
“All my relatives that would come over from the U.K., this is one thing they always wanted to do, is come to the cabin.”
Bob said he does not plan to rebuild. Once the area is cleaned up, he will see if anyone is interested in taking over the lease on the land.
“We know it’s climate change. I mean, we’re probably a big part of what’s happening here, because boats and snowmobiles are just terrible on fuel, right?”
Further south, in Air Ronge, Randy Johns had nature’s strength on his mind.
We met him outside Boreal Heartland, where he was busy catching up on orders delayed by wildfire evacuations.
The company harvests and produces teas, seasonings and dried wild mushrooms gathered from the boreal forest.
He took us to a spot close to the community that was hit by fire, pointing out plants already poking their heads out of scorched patches.
“What fire weed does is it grows where there’s been a fire, or the ground is disturbed, and it prepares the forest for its regeneration,” Johns said, pointing out a tall leafy green plant.
“The evolution of the boreal forest has been based on fire, based around fire. So it’s certainly not a new thing, and it’s part of the natural cycle.”
Johns is concerned the fire cycle is changing and maybe becoming more frequent.
“If you would have caught me a week ago, I would have been more emotional about it,” he said. “Now it’s about moving forward.”
The call of a loon welcomed Shelly Lawrence home. She had left during the evacuation of the area around Narrow Hills Provincial Park, where the fire swept through.
Lawrence, co-owner of Rainbow Lodge at Piprell Lake, still can’t quite believe the lodge was spared. It stands like an island surrounded by a sea of blackened forest.
“We’re so grateful that the resources were available for us, maybe because we were the first ones with the fire, but without that sprinkler and those resources, we probably wouldn’t be here today,” she said.
It’s a different story at a nearby campground, just a two-minute drive away.
You can see the outlines of scorched campsites, along with skeletal remains of campers, RVs, bed frames and sinks, surrounded by blackened trees.
Lawrence said she was able to talk with some of the firefighters who helped save the lodge.
“It was great to meet them and give them a hug,” she said.
“It’s hard to know how to pay them back, but we definitely want to go forward and pay it forward.”
How a wildfire destroyed the Piprell Lake campground
The provincial park is closed for campers this season, but Rainbow Lodge (which sits just outside the park) is open for business.
Lawrence is hoping visitors will still make the trip. Her business depends on it.
Visitors are also welcome at Prince Albert National Park this season.
Dustin Guedo, a vegetation and fire ecologist with Parks Canada, is always thinking about how to protect Waskesiu and the surrounding land. It’s been a dry spring, but rain has brought some relief to the area.
It’s important to protect sites like the water treatment plant, Guedo said, so they remove anything that could fuel a fire from within 10 metres around the building.
Another measure is the community fuel break, just south of Waskesiu. They created a break in the forest, removing all the conifers, to create a safety zone around the town site.
In the aftermath of the fires, what stands out is not just what was lost, but how people are coming together to rebuild, support each other and get ready for the next time.
“The last four or five years have been some of the largest wildfire seasons we’ve encountered in Canada,” Guedo said.
“It’s something that we are preparing for every year now.”
