“Fire is a natural phenomenon, a regulator. It's something we've always been aware of and have adapted to. In my youth, fires occurred roughly every ten years—the larger ones slightly more often. But today, large fires that once happened every hundred years happen almost annually.”

Dale Tomma speaks with a voice that expresses the grief of having seen his homeland scorched by flames. He’s our guide for the day, and a member of the Skwlāx nation who've been living in the area for millennia. Behind his gaze lies the despair of a people who, for years, have had to deal with increasingly destructive fires.

I’m in British Columbia, in Revelstoke, a popular destination for outdoor enthusiasts. This year, however, Revelstoke doesn’t appear to be a natural paradise, as it’s been experiencing its worst forest fire season in recorded history for the last few months. It’s not an anomaly; on the contrary, it’s a new reality the locals have to face and no longer begs the question of whether it’ll happen again.

The question, for me, is what this means for the outdoor community, for those who help fight the fires, for the First Nations, and for the tourists who come every year to hike, climb, ski, and renew their spirit. Do we have to give them up if it means protecting nature? Do we need to leave the forest to regenerate on its own, far from any human activity?