Dustan Mueller had come to expect the unexpected. The US Forest Service deputy fire chief had been deployed thousands of miles from home to battle an out-of-control blaze in the wooded bogs and swampland of Alberta, Canada.
In the dry moisture-hungry forests of northern California he was used to, a favorably-timed rainstorm would likely mean an end to the fire. But in this marshy terrain, even a late-spring storm could do little to slow the flames: two days after being doused, the conflagration roared back to life, churning through thick bands of desiccated moss and the stands of black spruce and aspen.
“It is nothing like what we have in California,” said Mueller, now back in the US after leading an American team of federal wildland firefighters to tag in on one of the 2,765 fires that have erupted in Canada this year. “The trees are like little matchsticks – and just as flammable.”
Canada is in the midst of a record-shattering fire season that has left more than 14m acres charred and stretched emergency resources to the limit – with months to go before the season ends.
Across Canada this week, 161 fires are burning, with 78 of them considered to be out of control.
And the effects of these large fires aren’t just local: thick smoke blanketed swaths of the US in early June while this week, Chicago and Detroit briefly had the most unhealthy air in the world as a new wave of ashen air drifted south.
The choking haze reflected a stark reality: wildfires are immune to borders – and in turn, the response has been international
US, Australian, New Zealand, South African, French, Spanish, Portuguese, Mexican, Chilean and Costa Rican firefighters have joined the struggle in Canada, highlighting how countries around the world are contending with shared and intensifying catastrophes fueled by the climate crisis.
But key differences in approach have prompted new questions about best practices in the face of a global challenge. Along with new types of terrain, US firefighters in Canada have encountered different techniques in the early stages of a burn, a new set of safety protocols, and contrasting requirements for protective equipment.
As federal firefighters who have worked across the US, Mueller and his team were accustomed to dropping into new jurisdictions and containing flames on a variety of vegetation-types. But Canadian policies, determined by each individual province, required some shifts in strategy.
In California, where mountain towns and communities are tucked into the most vulnerable forested canyons, a layered matrix of agencies act quickly. The “initial-attack phase” is seen as essential to stop ignitions turning into infernos. But Mueller and his team found that in Canada, far fewer firefighters were sent in early.
“With so many fires across the whole country, resources are scarce,” he said. With a system under pressure, different priorities were set. Some blazes – especially those considered too difficult or dangerous to contain – are left to run their course. “It burns wild and free up there.”
Even when communities aren’t threatened, firefighters in California are also tasked with protecting assets, which range from large stretches of private property to highly valuable timber forests.
“[Canada’s] main values at risk are a lot different than what ours are,” said Mueller. “Down here, after human life, trees are a valuable resource because they are worth a lot of money.”
A strong culture of fire suppression has defined US strategies over the last century, leaving forests dangerously overgrown.
Fire is a natural part of ecosystem in the American west, where the tall trees have evolved to thrive with slow-burning flames that clear the undergrowth and renew the soil.
But crowded stands, left more vulnerable to the effects of drought, disease, and insect infestations, are littered with dead and drying trees.
The climate crisis has turned up the dial, producing a new kind of wildfire that burns hotter, faster, and leaves little in its wake.
While there’s been a slow shift to bring healthy fires back to the forests – experts have criticized US agencies with causing more devastation by not letting enough land burn.
Canadian crews also have different requirements when it comes to protective equipment, and aren’t required to carry fire shelters – small aluminum foil-lined sack designed to reflect radiant heat, that a firefighter can climb inside when there are no other options for escape.
While the tool is considered an essential “last-resort” protection by American agencies, Canadian strategies focus on ensuring firefighters aren’t put in situations where they might have to rely on the devices. The shelters aren’t always reliable, especially in the types of terrain where Canadian crews often fight fire.
“The overall goal is to save human life – and that includes their own firefighters not just the public,” Mueller said.
That ethos is also applied to working conditions.
Even though the 4.30am sunrise and 11.30pm sunset allowed for more daylight hours on the fire line, the American firefighters found they had to cut their typical shifts short.
“We were used to operating in a 24-hour environment,” Mueller said, but he and his crew had to head out after a 12-hour mark, in order to abide by Alberta rules, which mandate periods of rest to protect against stress and fatigue.
Wildfire ecologist Robert Gray said that on-the-ground realities dictate the difference in strategies between the two countries and this has led to incorrect assumptions that Canadian crews take fewer risks.
“The values shared between Canadian and American firefighters are the same: if a fire is threatening your community or critical infrastructure they attack and defend,” he said.
In Canada, there are rarely dramatic images of fire crews rushing to save burning communities, largely because the bulk of the country’s wildfires burn in relatively remote locations.
“In California, you see these structural fire crews battling wildfires. They’re gonna make a stand, come hell or high water, they’re gonna save this house,” said Gray. “You just don’t get that in Canada. In the massive fires, they’re just too hot – you can’t get close to it anyway. Instead, you stand off at large distances, build a big box and do burnout to contain it.”
Hot, dry weather in Canada is expected to last months, but high-risk conditions are likely to arise elsewhere and countries may soon have to call their firefighters home.
There is also broad recognition by the international science community that an increase in catastrophic fire means an increase in carbon emissions, fueling a vicious cycle of intensifying climate conditions.
Accordingly, crews across the world are often ready to battle blazes wherever they are burning.
Mueller said after 17 days in Alberta, he and his team were relieved by an Australian one. Mexican hand crews had already started to show up to aid in suppression. “It was four nations on one fire – pretty cool.”
Crews from 10 different countries are currently fighting fire in Canada. And while nation-to-nation agreements are most common, crews aren’t always deployed by countries – states and provinces have their own sets of agreements, especially among neighbors.
In Washington, which shares a border with British Columbia, compacts have been in place for more than 100 years, according to state forester George Geissler. The state quickly mobilized when provinces across Canada called for resources, sending everything from crews to airtankers.
Such state-level agreements are often easier and more efficient to implement, and the flow of help goes in both directions, he said.
There are still big differences in how each agency approaches fire suppression and mitigation, but Geissler said that at every level – from small community stations to international agencies – open communication produces the best outcomes. “All of us are comparing notes,” he said.
“Canadian firefighters only work 12 hours a day – and that’s a good thing,” he said, championing a budding movement in the US to provide better care and pay for federal firefighters in the face of a looming crisis.
Among the American wildland firefighting community mental issues abound. Ferocious fires are harder to fight, requiring longer stretches of time and increasingly dangerous work. There are more injuries and more deaths, and many of those who return home at the end of the season are scarred by PTSD. Recent surveys show that the job is inflicting deep wounds on marriages, producing higher numbers of drug and alcohol dependence, and that more firefighters are dying from suicide than on the fire line.
The increasingly international nature of firefighting efforts reflect how threats are growing for the public around the world – and not just for those who live in high-risk areas. “Even if you might not have a fire near you, you are going to feel the effects of fire,” said Riva Duncan, a retired fire staff officer for the USFS and the vice-president of the advocacy group Grassroots Wildland Firefighters which is pushing for legislation to increase pay and essential benefits for federal wildland firefighters.
So far, the US fire season there has been quieter, thanks to an incredibly wet winter in the American west. But conditions are expected to change. Soon, there may not be as many crews available to go north. And the US will then be welcoming help from around the world.
“While our system here is absolutely amazing, there’s still a lot that we are trying to get done,” she said. “It truly is a global problem.”
