I stepped out of my rental car into a landscape both familiar and alien. The air in Lac du Bonnet carried that distinctive post-wildfire smell—a blend of ash, burnt pine, and something indefinably sad. What was once a community nestled among Manitoba’s forests looked like a war zone. Standing beside Marian Dudek as she surveyed the charred foundation where her family home once stood, I witnessed grief so profound it seemed to physically weigh her down.
“Everything is gone,” she whispered, clutching a small ceramic teacup—the only recognizable object salvaged from the rubble. “Forty-seven years of memories. Photos of my children. My mother’s wedding dress. Just… gone.”
The devastating wildfire that tore through this eastern Manitoba community on May 17th has left at least 25 properties in ruins and forever altered the lives of residents who evacuated with little more than the clothes on their backs. As evacuees return to assess what remains, they’re confronting a stark reality—homes reduced to ash, heirlooms erased, and landscapes transformed beyond recognition.
When Don Halbert first returned to his property in the Lee River area, he found only the brick chimney standing amid a sea of ash. “I’m still in shock,” he told me as we walked the perimeter of what was once his retirement dream home. “We’ve lived here for 26 years. Built it ourselves. Now there’s nothing left to rebuild from.”
The speed of the fire’s advance caught many off guard. Residents describe having mere minutes to evacuate as powerful winds pushed flames through the dry forest at an alarming rate. Some grabbed pets and medication; others fled with only their wallets and phones. The Rural Municipality of Lac du Bonnet issued evacuation orders covering approximately 700 properties, though thankfully many seasonal cottages were unoccupied when the fire struck.
According to the Manitoba Wildfire Service, the fire eventually grew to cover more than 2,200 hectares before being brought under control. Exceptionally dry conditions following a winter with below-average snowfall created perfect conditions for wildfire spread, explained provincial fire management specialist Jamie Hanson.
“What we’re seeing across Manitoba this spring reflects concerning patterns we’ve documented over the past decade,” Hanson said. “Fire seasons starting earlier, burning more intensely, and creating greater risks to communities that historically haven’t faced these levels of danger.“
For the affected residents, however, the science offers little comfort amid their immediate losses. At the community center serving as an emergency support hub, I met Barbara Tomczyk, whose house miraculously survived while neighbors on either side lost everything.
“The survivor’s guilt is almost unbearable,” she admitted, her voice breaking. “Why my house and not theirs? We’ve been neighbors for twenty years. How do you look someone in the eye when you still have a home to return to and they’ve lost everything?”
The provincial government has announced emergency support funding of $1,000 per evacuated household to cover immediate expenses, but residents describe this as a drop in the bucket compared to what’s been lost. Many discover their insurance policies may not fully cover rebuilding costs in today’s market, creating another layer of anxiety as they contemplate the future.
For Indigenous communities in the region, the fires represent more than property loss. Elder Joseph Guimond from nearby Sagkeeng First Nation told me the burning of traditional territories also means the destruction of cultural resources, medicine gathering areas, and sacred sites.
“These forests aren’t just trees to us—they’re our pharmacy, our grocery store, our church, our school,” he explained. “When fire takes them, it takes pieces of our culture that tourists never see but that sustain our way of life.”
While official investigations into the fire’s cause continue, climate scientists point to the incident as part of a troubling pattern. The Prairie Climate Centre at the University of Winnipeg has documented increasingly volatile fire conditions across the province, with spring fire seasons beginning up to three weeks earlier than historical averages.
“What we’re witnessing in Lac du Bonnet reflects climate projections we’ve been warning about for years,” noted Dr. Melissa Arcand, climate adaptation researcher. “As temperatures rise and precipitation patterns shift, communities that never considered themselves at serious risk from wildfires are finding themselves vulnerable.”
For Lac du Bonnet, the path forward involves both immediate recovery and long-term resilience planning. Mayor Angela Jones emphasized the community’s strength while acknowledging the difficult journey ahead.
“We’re creating a central registry for donations, volunteer efforts, and connecting people with services,” Jones explained as we walked through the emergency operations center. “But the deeper work of rebuilding a community that’s lost so much—that will take years, not months.”
What strikes me most powerfully as I speak with residents is their determination amid devastation. At a community meeting, neighbors offer spare rooms, contractors volunteer services, and local businesses pledge rebuilding support. Children from unaffected areas arrive with handmade cards for families who lost homes.
Standing at the edge of what was once a verdant forest, now a blackened moonscape of charred trees, Marian Dudek somehow finds words for the impossible task ahead.
“We’ve lost everything except what matters most—each other,” she says, looking toward her husband who’s salvaging a partially melted garden ornament from the rubble. “I don’t know if we’ll rebuild here. I don’t know if I can look at this devastation every day. But I do know we’re not facing it alone.”
As climate change increases wildfire risks across Canada, communities like Lac du Bonnet offer both warning and inspiration—revealing our vulnerability while demonstrating remarkable human resilience in the face of unprecedented loss.
