Not everyone reading today’s wildfire headlines will understand what northwestern Ontario is like.

I spent the first couple of decades of my life in Thunder Bay on the shores of Lake Superior. Every season was spent somewhere far beyond the city—camping, fishing, hiking, exploring the bush. Even now, every summer, my heart tugs at me to go back.

It is some of the most beautiful, peaceful and restorative country on earth. Vast stretches of true wilderness dotted with small towns and First Nations, often connected by a single highway. One road in. One road out.

When wildfire cuts those roads, people aren’t simply inconvenienced. They can be hundreds of kilometres from the next community, with very few options for escape. The same is true for the wildlife that has nowhere else to go.

That reality is hard to appreciate until you’ve stood in that landscape. The distances are immense. Help isn’t just around the corner.

Outside Thunder Bay itself, roughly 100,000 people are scattered across this immense region. Many are now living with evacuation orders, road closures, smoke, or the constant uncertainty of what tomorrow will bring.

My heart goes out to everyone forced to leave their homes. And my heart aches for the forests, lakes and quiet places I know so well. Boreal forests do recover, but they recover on nature’s timetable, not ours. Some places will take decades before they resemble the landscapes so many of us remember.

Thinking today of everyone in northwestern Ontario. Stay safe.