Volunteers take a short break from fighting the fire in Goodlow, British Columbia. As Canada endures another heavy wildfire season, a group of resourceful farmers in British Columbia became an ad hoc fire brigade to help a neighbour. Nasuna Stuart-Ulin/ the New York Times
Volunteers take a short break from fighting the fire in Goodlow, British Columbia. As Canada endures another heavy wildfire season, a group of resourceful farmers in British Columbia became an ad hoc fire brigade to help a neighbour. Nasuna Stuart-Ulin/ the New York Times
GOODLOW, British Columbia — Smoke was darkening the skies, and flames from an out-of-control wildfire ripping through this remote stretch of western Canada were creeping ominously close to the farm that has been in Jake van Angeren’s family for 70 years.
Official evacuation alerts had sounded in Goodlow, an agriculturalcommunity near Alberta in northeastern British Columbia, setting off a chain reaction among families who had packed their bags ready to be ordered to leave as wildfires this month swallowed up swathes of land.
But not van Angeren. Instead, he and his neighbours filled up water tanks, unravelled hoses, cleared strips of land of combustible plants to create a firebreak and then stepped towards the flames.
They saved the van Angeren farm.
Canada’s wildfire season, which generally stretches from April to October, is in full swing in the western part of the country, consuming nearly 3.6 million hectares so far across four provinces and forcing thousands of people to make difficult choices, sometimes at a moment’s notice when flames approach.
Jake van Angeren reading a letter written by his grandmother to his father, while looking through some family memorabilia in Goodlow, British Columbia. Photo / Nasuna Stuart-Ulin, the New York Times
Some are told to leave by officials. Disobeying an evacuation order can carry fines of thousands of Canadian dollars, as well as jail time.
Some leave on their own, fearing for their safety. At least 30,000 people in two western provinces, Saskatchewan and Manitoba, have fled in recent weeks.
But there are others who choose to stay, including many farmers who do not want to surrender their livelihood to fire.
“If we would have walked away, I would have lost everything,” said van Angeren, 20, who inherited his grandfather’s 263ha property, where he mainly raises cattle and grows feed, after his father died four years ago. “I wouldn’t leave till the very bitter end.”
In the sparsely populated region where van Angeren lives, lightning ignited a fire that burned 4450ha, and embers carried by strong winds set off smaller fires close to agricultural plots like his.
Some farmers in Goodlow say they have become increasingly frustrated with the province’s wildfire service.
While they know the service is stretched thin as it fights the many fires that typically break out during wildfire season, they say the response time is often agonisingly slow in less populated areas — like where farmers live.
Jake van Angeren’s neighbour, Scott Hender, has a shed with communal fire gear available on his property in Goodlow, British Columbia. Photo / Nasuna Stuart-Ulin, the New York Times
“The fire might be going for a couple of days before forestry can mobilise equipment and men to get to it,” said Scott Hender, who had helped fight the fire threatening van Angeren’s farm.
So farmers say they have taken matters into their own hands, becoming unofficial fire brigades and leaning on their knowledge of their land and their access to heavy machinery and water.
That dynamic was on full display in Goodlow, a tightknit collection of farms where one or two phone calls can make a lot of things happen, van Angeren said.
About 80 neighbours sprang into action over four days after the fire struck on June 5.
They focused on quickly creating fire breaks by tilling the soil with large tractor-like machines, called disc harrows, and clearing any combustible vegetation to deprive the blaze of fuel.
To reach one fire spot near a creek, neighbours uncoiled a long hose hooked up to a water tank and ran into the woods using a chain saw to clear a path.
Volunteers bring a water truck to help fight the fire ripping through Jake van Angeren's cattle farm. Photo / Nasuna Stuart-Ulin, the New York Times
Dense smoke obscured the horizon in almost every direction, stinging eyes and drying throats.
“None of us are smokers, and it’s like a two-pack-a-day habit here, just breathing the smoke,” said Scott Roberts, another farmer who was pitching in.
The farmers who came to help brought their own supplies, including hoses, nozzles, water tanks and generators.
“We had more equipment than we had people to run it,” Roberts said. “It was incredible.”
His wife, Kathy Roberts, and Lynne Sha, van Angeren’s mother, served bowls of chilli and buttered buns from the back of a ute.
As night fell, van Angeren and a few friends strategised their next move over beers against the glow and crackle of the wildfire.
A change of winds caused it to flare up, and the men hopped in a truck, cutting across a field to get to a water supply.
Some worked to soak as much of the land as they could, while others used a plough to turn the soil and create a new firebreak.
Headlights illuminated a mix of flying bugs and falling ashes as temperatures dropped overnight and the fire appeared to be dying down. Van Angeren eventually got to bed at around 3am.
Later that day, with the nearby fire largely extinguished, provincial forestry workers showed up to see how van Angeren’s farm had fared, put out some remaining hot spots and install fire protection material, including temporary sprinklers, on top of some of the buildings.
Van Angeren said he feels a deep sense of attachment to his land — he has relatives buried on the farm.
“Your farm kind of means everything to you,” van Angeren said. “It’s just the way of life.”
