Canada is burning

The worst fires in Canada's history have stretched resources to the limit. Firefighters from across the globe have answered the call for help.

Across a smoky tarmac at a small airport in regional Canada, funk music blasts through the open roller door of an industrial building.

Inside, men stand alongside long wooden benches, meticulously checking strips of fabric.

They're quiet, concentrating, hands moving methodically along metres of colourful parachutes.

Stretch out, inspect, untangle, smooth, fold, pack.

The sounds of James Brown and Curtis Mayfield fill the air. So too does a sense of anticipation. Any second, the gong hanging from the ceiling of the warehouse could ring.

Within minutes, they'll be in the air, parachutes strapped to their backs, ready to jump out of a plane into remote forest at the head of a raging wildfire.

A crack team of rapid deployment parachuting firefighters, the North Peace Smokejumpers exist to get to British Columbia's most remote or hard-to-access blazes, quickly. From this airport base in Fort St. John, they can reach anywhere in the province within two hours.

"Some seasons we sit around kind of — I wouldn't say hoping for [a fire call] because obviously we're not wishing wildfires on the landscape — but you do get a little squirrely sitting around at base," says smokejumper Max Forrester.

But this year that hasn't been an issue. "It's by far our busiest season ever, by leaps and bounds," says James Bergen, wildfire officer for BC's Smokejumper program.

Canada's 2023 fire season has smashed all records. Almost 6,000 individual fires have broken out all over the country. Fifteen million hectares of forest — an area more than twice the size of Tasmania — has been charred. Smoke from the fires has created apocalyptic images as far afield as New York and has even drifted into western Europe.

"By far, it's the worst forest fires in [Canada's] recorded history," says Steven Guilbeault, Canada's Minister of Environment and Climate Change. The culprit is undisputed. "The link to climate change is very clear."

Even after non-stop jumps since May, and five years before that, Max still feels an adrenaline rush every time he gets ready to drop out of the Turbine DC-3 aircraft.

"I don't think it ever really goes away," he says. "I'm less terrified now and just more excited. The actual jump's pretty chill. It's sometimes our drop zones are a little spicy and those are kind of the days you get a little more nervous."

The unpredictability is what he loves. "You never really know where you're gonna end up," he says. "You can jump on a little single-tree lightning strike with two or three other folks. Or you can end up emptying the whole plane on a big fire that's kicking chickens, end up spending a couple weeks out there."

Along with their parachutes, each team member jumps with 30kg of personal gear strapped to them. Equipment like hoses, pumps, chainsaws, food and drinking water drops separately, floating to earth with its own parachute.

Unlike in Australia, smokejumpers don't rely on trucks and tankers for water to douse flames. Instead, they plug hoses and pumps into one of BC's many rivers, lakes or ponds.

The uniforms they need aren't the kind you can buy off the shelf — everything is designed, manufactured and maintained in-house by the smokejumpers themselves.

They're also responsible for the meals they eat while camping out on the fire ground for up to a week, sometimes longer. The menu is gourmet, always with a side of healthy competition.

"My specialty is I do a baked brie and I just like roast some garlic and add dried tomatoes and rosemary in it," says French-born crew supervisor, Ben Bouchut.

Sushi or Canadian poutine (hot chips with cheese curds and gravy) are crowd favourites. "It changes everything when you know at the end of the day, you're going to have a good meal," he says. 

To deal with BC's most destructive wildfire season ever, smokejumpers from the United States have been called in as back up. Even then, resources feel stretched.

"We're still not able to keep up with how many fires we're having to go to," says Ben. "Barely keeping up with gear, and people are just working on and on and on, non-stop."

The United Nations of firefighting

Three-hundred kilometres northwest in the neighbouring province of Alberta, another group of firefighters waits to be called to a job. The same dense, grey haze of smoke fills the sky, but the soundtrack is different.

As teams mill about a dusty paddock under an obscured morning sun, a slow, soulful chant begins. "The entertainment," someone with an Australian accent says, laughing.

Clad in navy uniforms, a group of South African firefighters appear from behind demountable accommodation, marching in formation as they sing, their voices swelling in powerful harmony.

Hands clap and boots stomp.

It's a beautiful euphony of singing, dancing, clapping, whistling and hollering.

The song reaches a crescendo, then a round of applause breaks out around the camp. "That's a really lovely way to start our day," says Canadian firefighter Nicole Selmer. "Thank you so much South African crews, beautiful." 

That's the way every morning starts at the Keg River fire camp, a temporary home to several hundred international firefighters who've answered Canada's call for help.

"The song [provides] the morale and motivation for us to go to fires to fight and to unite us [with] different cultures," says Katleho Success Mahlaba, one of the lead singers. He's one of around 5,000 international firefighters from a dozen countries Canada has called upon to bolster efforts to extinguish flames and save lives and property.

Canada is no stranger to fire, but this year is exceptional. Never before have so many fires burned across so many provinces. The season started unusually early and has maintained an unprecedented level of intensity throughout.

Across the country, around 200,000 people have been forced to flee their homes. Just last Friday, Yellowknife, the capital city of Northwest Territories, was evacuated. The same day, the entire province of British Columbia was put in a state of emergency.

This week, a sixth deployment of Australian firefighters will fly out as the season stubbornly continues, adding to the 627 who have already been sent. Once they arrive, Canada's central fire agency dispatches them to whichever province needs them most.

Many will sleep in tents for their six-week long deployments. The Keg River camp has demountables — comparative luxury.

"We're so lucky," laughs Kerryanne Cummins, a tree-feller from the New South Wales Forestry Corporation based in Tumut. "We've got a bed, we've got aircon and we've got excellent hospitality, so happy days."

This far north, the work days are long. "It's daylight for three-quarters of the day," she says. "You might be fighting the fire for 10 to 15 hours and not realise that, oh my goodness, it's 8.30 at night and the sun's still in the middle of the sky."

Over 14 years, Kerryanne has rappelled out of helicopters into remote firey bushland, operated tankers and led strike teams through the Black Summer bushfires. Here, she works a chainsaw felling hazardous trees.

"It is life or death," she says matter-of-factly. "I've had buddies killed 10 years ago or so. Every day you get back and you take a big, deep breath and go, 'Oh, made it.'"

The job demands constant awareness of environmental dangers. In Canada, that comes with an extra element. "In the back of my mind just here I'm like, oh, bears, moose, cougars. I don't really want to be stalked by any of them," Kerryanne laughs.

Conversations about how this fire season compares to previous ones, both in Canada and in their home countries, is common at camp.

"Overall, I really believe that wildfires around the world have increased," says Californian firefighter Rudy Blancas. "It's astonishing to us, but it's not like we didn't see it coming. Climate change has something to do with it. Fourteen years, [I've] seen it."

Canada is the world's fourth-largest exporter of oil and gas. The fact they're burned in a different country isn't helping the country escape the impacts of climate change.

"What we're doing now collectively, and that includes in Canada, is leading to the type of climate impacts we saw over the summer," says Minister Guilbeault.

"It sometimes can be difficult to understand what climate change is unless you're living it."

Robert Laboucan is living through the effects of this disaster. An hour down the road from the Keg River camp, he, his partner and their five children have been living in a motel room since early May, when their house in the nearby First Nations community of Fox Lake went up in flames.

"It was just too hard to believe," he says. "I was just begging my kids, please pack your bags. We won't be coming home."

There are hundreds of motel rooms in this town of High Level. They're all full, many with displaced families like Robert's. 

His youngest son, Ronan, was born the day after the evacuation. The motel is the only home he's ever known. Robert's older kids now have no choice but to spend their days playing under smoke-filled skies in the concrete carpark.

"So sad," he says, a tear rolling down his cheek.

A death in the family

Back across the border in British Columbia, a group of young Canadians bounds enthusiastically out of utes into a forest clearing, before grabbing axes from the vehicles' trays. Below crimson work shirts they sport enormous belt buckles emblazoned with their team's name: Princeton Sierras Unit Crew.

For up to seven months of the year, they spend 24 hours a day by each other's side, working, eating and sleeping.

"You immediately get your 20 best friends for the summer," says 28-year-old Devin Oakes, the group's leader. He got into wildland firefighting eight years ago, after seeing his older brother doing it.

"I sought out wildfire. I thought it was a no brainer to seek out a career where you're outside every day and you're working in a team environment. I got my first taste and … I basically got hooked."

Most of his crew, though, aren't career firefighters. Many are university students saving for the next semester or winter sports enthusiasts saving for the next dump of snow. But they all love the work.

Rain has finally brought a break in the extreme weather where they're stationed near the town of Vanderhoof in central BC, so they're finally able to attack the edge of a blaze that days before blew up.

It's a race against the clock. "In four days' time the hot weather will return, the winds will return and potentially this thing could blow out somewhere."

Right now, the ground is damp and boggy. Smouldering away, with barely a hint of any flames, it doesn't look the slightest bit dangerous. But there's a silent killer lurking under the ground in these charred forests.

Thanks to a layer of flammable peat, Canada's fires continue burning, even after decent rains. It means a change in the weather can whip up a raging inferno in minutes. And if it gets into the roots of an already-blackened giant pine tree, things can turn deadly.

Just a week earlier, 19-year-old firefighter Devyn Gale was killed by a falling tree while battling a blaze bearing down on her community in BC's south.

The Sierras didn't know her personally. But as they work their way through the forest, tagging potentially hazardous trees to cut down, the thought that it could have been one of them looms large.

"It's tough," says Fraser Stewart-Barnett, holding back tears. "Really, it's a big family even beyond the 21 of us working out here today and it's really hard to lose a member of your family like that."

Talk of "family" is common amongst firefighters in Canada, even those who've travelled halfway across the world to be here.

"We're all one big family when it comes to firefighting," says Kerryanne Cummins, back in Alberta.

As the planet warms and fire seasons everywhere get longer and more intense, these international deployments look set to become more and more common.

"It goes to show that we're all in this together now," says American Rudy Blancas.

The Australians in Canada are already thinking about the bushfire season ahead back home. With the drought-bringing El Niño weather pattern predicted to return this year, Kerryanne wonders if Australia has the resources to get through the summer unscathed.

"I know that we are going to have a bad fire season," she says. "We are hoping that we can call on the Canadians then and they can support us."

Even if it means going straight from one season to another with little to no break, Devin Oakes says Canadians will answer the call.

"I know that there's a lot of folks here in British Columbia that'll be putting their hands up to return that favour," he says.

Watch 'Canada On Fire' on Foreign Correspondent on ABC iview.