The Fontainebleau Forest up in Flames

An intense few days

What an intense few days we’ve had.

We live beside the Fontainebleau forest, in the area known as Les Trois Pignons. If you saw the news this week, you may have seen our sleepy little village front and centre of a horrific forest fire the last few days.

A forest full of stories

This forest is unlike any other I know.

Massive sandstone boulders rise from the trees in the strangest shapes. It’s a world-famous destination for bouldering. For us, it’s something more personal.

It’s a maze of winding trails and giant rock formations. A giant sandbox tucked between the trees just beyond the hill. You can squeeze through hidden passages, discover prehistoric carvings, and stumble across old shelters tucked into the stone there are even sites where the resistance hid arms during the german occupation. Millions of years ago, all of this lay beneath an ancient sea.

It’s where we run. It’s where we ride our bikes. It’s where we picnic, play, and unwind. It’s part of why we love it here.

Sitting with uncertainty

I’m still trying to process what happened. The emotions feel complicated.

The last few days were filled with uncertainty. Facing the possibility of losing your home changes the way you see everything.

You suddenly have to decide what matters most. What could you carry if you only had a few minutes? You look at everything you’ve collected over the years and realise you can’t possibly take it all. You have to choose what stays and what goes.

The grief begins long before anything actually happens. You start mourning a life that may never actually disappear. At the same time, you notice how much you could live without. Some possessions suddenly lose their importance. That realisation is strangely freeing, even if the reality would be heartbreaking.

Living on the edge of that uncertainty is exhausting. I want to tell myself it’s just the relentless heat that’s grinding me down, but no, although it certainly isn’t helping.

When the fire came closer

Living in a constant state of high alert drains every ounce of energy.

On the second day, the fire moved toward the tree line at the edge of our neighbourhood. We threw a few days worth of clothes, and a stuffed animal for each kid as quickly as we could. Then we sent them to stay with their aunt and uncle, far from the flames and the smoke.

Knowing they were safe allowed us to focus on what came next. I don’t think we could have prepared near as calmly otherwise.

Watching them drive away was unnerving. I didn’t want them to feel anxious or traumatised.

A few days later, the fire is finally under control. The evacuation zone stopped just three blocks from our house.

Now were in this strange state.

We have to unpack the suitcases we stared at for days. Those that sat in our living room, ready to grab at a moment’s notice. We have to find our way back to normal, even though nothing quite feels normal yet.

Our home was spared, and we’re deeply grateful. Yet the stress we lived through doesn’t simply disappear because the danger has passed. All those feelings still happened. Our bodies are keeping score.

I (we’ve) found it hard to concentrate today. My body aches from the tension of the past few days. I could happily spend several hours on a massage table.

Grieving what we’ve lost

One thing we are all grieving is our beautiful forest.

Many of our favourite places will never look quite the same. I know the forest will recover. Nature is resilient. New trees and plants will slowly reclaim what has burned.

But it will become a different forest.

The paths will change as plants fill in empty spaces. Familiar landmarks may disappear or be harder to recognise and find. We’ll have to learn its landscape all over again.

I’m sure, in time, we’ll learn to love its new version. But for now, we’re mourning the place we’ve known for so many years.

I’ll leave you with some images to give you a taste of the landscape from over the years. You’ll see for yourself just how unique and beautiful it is followed by a few from the days of the forest fires as a bit of a diary entry for the future.