permafrost pathways Archives - Woodwell Climate

Sometimes it only takes a small push to start gathering momentum. That’s the idea behind the Fund for Climate Solutions (FCS) at Woodwell Climate. Launched in 2018, FCS is a competitive internal grant program that funds Woodwell Climate scientists to explore research projects that test out innovative ideas for climate solutions. Though each individual project starts small, nearly all FCS projects lead to new lines of inquiry, and a few have grown from their initial seed funding into some of our biggest research projects. From carbon monitoring to wildfire management to thawing permafrost, these three projects exemplify the surprising power of starting small.

1. Monitoring Rangeland Carbon

Rangelands represent a massive untapped natural climate solution, making up more than 30% of the land in the United States and holding 30% of the global soil carbon stock. Conservation practices, including adaptive livestock management, have the potential to enhance that carbon storage— but data was limited on just how grazing systems would respond to different techniques. Senior scientist Dr. Jon Sanderman and Associate Scientist Dr. Jennifer Watts applied for an FCS grant in 2019 to expand scientific understanding in a way that would prove useful for making management decisions.

That first project was successful, and today, Woodwell’s studies of rangeland carbon and other ecological co-benefits have expanded into a multifaceted research project that has received several subsequent grants. Watts and Sanderman are building tools that map and model carbon storage and the overall ecological health of rangelands across the U.S. and show how that storage could change under different management practices. Those tools have been adopted by both conservation groups and corporate partners to better understand the climate benefits of improved range management. They have continued engagement with ranchers and conservation communities across the American West, hosting workshops that bring land managers together to discuss the benefits—both environmental and economic—of improving carbon storage on rangelands.

2. Planning for Intensifying Wildfires

In Summer of 2018, Senior Scientist Dr. Brendan Rogers received an FCS grant to explore the possibility of fire management to mitigate carbon emissions from boreal wildfire. Though fires are a natural part of the northern landscape, wildfires in Alaska and Canada have been growing more frequent and intense as the Arctic rapidly warms. Left unchecked, these northern fires represent a large and broadly unaccounted for threat to emissions reduction goals.

Bringing fires under control as a climate mitigation tactic is now one of the Center’s core scientific goals. Collaborations with the US Fish and Wildlife Service and the Alaska Fire Service are underway to pilot fire suppression as a cost-effective method to keep carbon from entering the atmosphere. Senior Arctic Lead, Edward Alexander, has joined the Center to elevate Indigenous mitigation practices as practical policy solutions to address accelerating northern fires, and strategies are being shared across geographies to inform fire management in temperate and tropical forests as well. Woodwell Climate has also now joined Google’s AI Collaborative on Wildfires and has become an early adopter for the FireSat program led by EarthFire Alliance.

3. Permafrost Pathways

In the summer of 2018 Senior scientists, Drs. Sue Natali, Rogers, Linda Deegan, and Sanderman received an FCS grant to start work on an Arctic change and carbon observatory. Natali observed that while the Arctic was warming at a rapid pace, causing typically-frozen permafrost soils to thaw and erode, actual measurements of carbon emissions from thawing permafrost were sparse. She proposed constructing new carbon-monitoring towers to fill data gaps, starting with a field site in the Yukon-Kuskokwim Delta.

From there, the project gained momentum, and in 2022, Natali was awarded a $41 million grant from the TED Audacious Project to launch Permafrost Pathways. The expanded project not only continued and enhanced carbon monitoring across the Arctic, but also partnered with 10 Alaska Native Tribes and policy experts to advocate for change. Permafrost Pathways supports community-led environmental monitoring of permafrost thaw to help tribes develop a long-term adaptation plan, including relocation. In addition, project experts have been working to influence international policy and get permafrost emissions factored into global emissions models.

2025 marked the first year I went out in the field as a member of Woodwell Climate’s Permafrost Pathways monitoring team. I travelled around Alaska to our carbon monitoring sites, maintaining and installing equipment and taking static measurements of greenhouse gases — namely carbon dioxide, methane and nitrous oxide — in various degraded and disturbed permafrost landscapes around Fairbanks and west of Prudhoe Bay by the Arctic Ocean.

In late April this year, I returned to Toolik together with Dr. Jennifer Watts, Dr. Kyle Arndt, Christina Minions, Dr. Kelly Gleason (snow scientist from Portland State University) and photographer Jayme Dittmar to install an eddy covariance tower by a retrogressive thaw slump (here). Eddy covariance towers monitor and capture fluxes, or the exchange between land and atmosphere, of energy and greenhouse gases. Thaw slumps are areas of tundra that have collapsed due to thawing ice-rich permafrost. When the ice melts, the ground collapses, revealing old, buried carbon rich soils that begin releasing their carbon back to the atmosphere. The towers help us better understand how much carbon these features contribute to calibrate models of Arctic carbon emissions.

Spring is one of the best times to be in northern latitudes. Near endless days, the bright snow, the monochromatic stretches of landscapes, the binary experience of both intensity and complete stillness. Now suddenly, the interruption of a small group of people gathering, pulling around equipment, cords, cables, instruments, and then suddenly there is a new structure in the landscape and the people disappear. Off to a great start, we packed and organized our tools and equipment and headed from the wintery landscape of the north towards the onset of green-up to the south.

Back in Fairbanks, the bloom of birches in early June is one of my favorite sights. The dense stretches of light, delicate greenness and resinous fragrance from the new sprung leaves that are drowning in summer sunlight makes me almost feel all the carbon dioxide being sucked out of the air by the trees. This, again, makes me really appreciate the northern latitudes. The vastness that cradles your existence grounds you and at the same time lifts you with the intensity of the surrounding life. It is an energy that can only be felt at these latitudes. A form of mania that propels you onward without pause.

In late June the trip headed to Nome and Council where I, together with colleagues Dani Trangmoe and Dr.Kelcy Kent, maintain the tower there. With each site visit, not only do I get an improved grasp of the equipment, but also a better understanding of the surrounding landscapes, now even more chlorophyll-saturated peak green. I shuttled to Anchorage and then back up to Bethel with Trangmoe to join Dr. Jackie Hung and Christina Minions at the two towers located a 40 minute flight northeast of the town. Here, we upgraded solar structures, maintained and swapped equipment and hauled out old and damaged power supplies and misc. materials. I really appreciated the time being out there and the sense of community that comes with remote camps, although we only stayed out for about a week.

Afterwards we circled through Anchorage again on our way to the very top— the Arctic Ocean. I assisted Hung and fellow researchers from Woods Hole Oceanographic Institute and the Marine Biological Laboratory to collect greenhouse gas measurements from coastal tundra. The contrast of the flora and fauna against the infrastructures from the oil and gas fields makes for a surreal sight. From here I am going southward again, stopping at Toolik to check on the new tower and enjoy the buzzing environment that Toolik is offering during this time of year. The intensity of the arctic summers is reflected in the frantic work of scientists that all gather here to conduct a wide range of work.

At what other place in the world than Toolik would one be able to hike out on the tundra and do maintenance work on an eddy covariance tower in the morning, come back for a snack, go out in a helicopter to search for new areas of permafrost degradation, get a panoramic sight of thousands of caribou, come back to a hearty meal, and finish off the day catching some grayling at the river inlet by the Toolik lake. The beautiful clear light, the humming of mosquitoes, and the rippling sounds of the water give me a sense of belonging, a sense of home.

I spent my last weeks in Alaska in Fairbanks again, making boreholes in permafrost together with a magnificent team gathered from across the U.S. We can learn a lot from these seven-meter-deep boreholes. Not only studying the samples that we retrieve, but also how these permafrost soils evolve and change with climate change with sensors that monitor variables such as temperature, oxygen and soil moisture. The drilling was challenging and physically demanding, but at the same time something of a treasure hunt as each of the soil samples we were able to retrieve has the potential to unlock a wealth of information that can help us expand our understanding of the changing permafrost soils in the region. In the end it felt well worth the effort, especially being privileged to work with such a dedicated and knowledgeable group.

2025 also marked my tenth year of working in the Arctic. As a junior scientist, I remember reading and hearing about Woodwell Climate’s work in the Yukon-Kuskokwim Delta long before I joined the team. I remember spending a full summer on the Delta by the coast, learning about and experiencing firsthand the effects of both permafrost thaw and coastal erosion. Knowing that Woodwell’s first eddy covariance tower was installed in this region around the same time, and that it has been collecting data ever since, has given me a sense of perspective not only on my career, or the Permafrost Pathways project for which this tower was the springboard, but also the future of the Arctic landscapes that I have come to love.

I am grateful to have been given this perspective, and to work in and celebrate all these unique and beautiful places. If it wasn’t for the people and the relationships built through this work, we would know much less about these complex and fascinating landscapes. It is through these encounters with people and the environment that we can not only deepen our understanding but also gain connection. These encounters and interactions give a sense of belonging as a part of something bigger.

Summers in the Arctic-boreal region are becoming increasingly defined by fire. In 2023, Canada endured its worst wildfire season in history, with nearly 200,000 Canadians displaced. Fast forward to summer 2025, and the country faces its second-worst wildfire season on record, with 470 outbreaks deemed “out of control” by August. Siberia and Alaska are also confronting active fire seasons.

For Arctic communities, the physical impacts of smoke exposure, the toll of evacuations and destruction, and the threats to cultural traditions compound the danger of extreme fires. But Indigenous science and cultural traditions offer a path towards justice and resilience.

Climate change and colonial histories fuel the fire

Climate change has created hotter and drier conditions in the north, increasing the frequency and intensity of Arctic-boreal wildfires. These wildfires amplify global warming, creating a feedback loop by burning deep into permafrost, a carbon-rich soil, and releasing stored carbon dioxide and methane into the atmosphere. A recent study led by Permafrost Pathways researchers found that wildfire has contributed to the Arctic’s shift from a net absorber to a net emitter of carbon. That increase in emissions in turn fuels even more fires. Between 2003 and 2023, the Arctic-boreal region saw a sevenfold increase in extreme wildfires.

“Things have really changed in our traditional territories,” said Woodwell Climate’s Adaptation Specialist, Brooke Woods. Woods is a Tribal member from Rampart, Alaska, and she currently lives in Fairbanks, Alaska. “We had two fires close to Rampart this summer. We’ve had back-to-back fires over the past three summers. Growing up, I don’t ever recall back-to-back wildfires surrounding our communities.”

The increase is also due, in part, to increased lightning strikes, which are occurring more frequently as warming temperatures further destabilize atmospheric conditions, leading to more storms that produce lightning.

“Our summers are drier and we’re having more severe heat events as well as more intense lightning and thunderstorms now, too,” said Woods. “When we had the fire in Rampart, in the midst of this wildfire, one of the storms actually produced 1600 lightning strikes across Alaska.”

The history of colonialism in North America has also played a role in today’s extreme wildfire regimes. For millennia, Indigenous Peoples across the Arctic practiced cultural burning—using small, controlled fires to manage the land, reduce dry fuel buildup, and prevent large, catastrophic wildfires. These practices not only protected ecosystems but also supported biodiversity and were deeply rooted in cultural knowledge and tradition. However, colonization disrupted these systems as Indigenous communities were forcibly removed from their lands, and cultural burning was often banned and criminalized altogether.

“Elders risked jail time for burning,” Dr. Amy Cardinal Christianson told Chatelaine Magazine. Christianson is a Metis wildfire expert and Policy Advisor for the Indigenous Leadership Initiative who co-hosts the podcast Good Fire and serves on the board of the International Association of Wildland Fire. “That’s how badly they knew that the land needed to burn.”

This erasure, combined with colonial fire suppression tactics, has led to the accumulation of flammable undergrowth that makes the land more vulnerable to intense and widespread fires.

Smoke, displacement, and cultural survival

Increasingly active Arctic-boreal wildfires are not just environmental disasters, they’re also cultural and human crises.

Wildfire smoke—which can contain soot and high levels of mercury— threatens the health of Arctic communities and can put vulnerable groups, like elders, young children, and those with pre-existing health conditions, at prolonged risk well after the fires have gone out.

“In my baby’s first year of life in 2023, we had such bad air quality [in Fairbanks]. It impacted his respiratory system, and it was just so hard for him to be able to nurse,” said Woods. “I was even considering driving 300 miles to the next urban area to get him to clean, healthy air because there was also a fire in Rampart. It impacted our safety in both of the places that we call home.”

The mental toll of wildfires can also be just as devastating as the physical impacts, as communities must navigate evacuation logistics, loss, and displacement with very little governmental support.

“Communities are thinking about how the wildfire crisis is real—it’s driven them from their home and maybe destroyed their home—they’re thinking ‘what else am I going to lose’?” said Edward Alexander, Senior Arctic Lead at the Woodwell Climate Research Center, Chair of Gwich’in Council International, and Co-Chair of the Arctic Council’s Expert Group on Wildland Fire. “Then, becoming unhoused… people lose their jobs, their businesses, or their investments. They lose forward momentum in their life.”

In addition, evacuation is far more complicated in the Arctic. Many remote communities and villages in Alaska and Canada either have only one main road or aren’t connected to road systems at all, making them accessible only by plane or boat, which presents a logistical and financial challenge for mass evacuation. The combined impacts of smoke, heat, and economic insecurity can also present impossible choices.

“If you look at not only the health disparities but your income, what can you afford to keep yourself healthy?” said Woods. “Can you afford air filters for your home? Can you afford and have access to air conditioners with filters? Because not only are you battling the smoke, but you’re also battling this heat. So just navigating those at different income levels can be very complex.”

Fire doesn’t just destroy infrastructure and threaten health and well-being, it also disrupts Indigenous ways of life, cultural connections to land, intergenerational knowledge sharing, language revitalization, and cultural history tied to specific places like hunting trails, fish camps, and seasonal migration.

“When we were still able to subsistence fish in Alaska, and had wildfires at the same time, there were community members in Rampart that were not able to meet all of their subsistence needs due to wildfires,” Woods said.

Traditional solutions for modern problems: A return to cultural burning

In Good Fire, Christianson discusses ways to restore the modern world’s broken relationship with fire and the need to integrate systems that not only respond appropriately but are also proactive and predicated on Indigenous Knowledge and expertise. This is where cultural burning offers a way forward—a way to view fire not as a threat, but as a critical tool for keeping land healthy and communities safe.

The First Nations Emergency Services Society (FNESS) and the Indigenous Leadership Initiative (ILI) recently released the “Create a Cultural Burn Pathway” workbook to support Indigenous communities in creating cultural burn programs to reduce wildfire risk and maintain healthy connections to the land.

“Fire doesn’t have to be scary,” said Christianson in a video produced by the Indigenous Leadership Initiative. “It doesn’t have to be something we live in fear of every summer. We can have a better relationship with fire that can have really important benefits.”

Traditional burning is a culturally grounded, community-empowered, and ecologically practical approach to managing and mitigating wildfire risk in the North, born from generations of Traditional Ecological Knowledge. Unlike conventional fire suppression, which often seeks to eliminate fire altogether, cultural burning is a proactive, place-based practice rooted in Indigenous governance, values, and ecological understanding. These approaches aren’t about fighting fire—they’re about embracing it to foster sovereignty, revitalize knowledge, and deepen connection to the land.

Beyond the health of the land and forests, cultural fire also contributes to cultural resilience and maintains Indigenous connections to land and community. Cultural burns ensure practices are guided by traditional protocols and adapted to local ecosystems. Community members, including youth, are involved—passing knowledge between generations and restoring cultural roles that were disrupted by colonization.

Which is why, according to Alexander, placing the emphasis on the health of the forest, ecosystems, and community overall, rather than on controlling fire, should be the real goal.

“We should be thinking a little differently,” Alexander said. “Cultural fire is a tool, but fire is not the emphasis. It’s the health of the forest, it’s the health of the land, it’s the health of the animals and birds, it’s the health of our peoples and communities. That’s the emphasis.”

From ‘wildfire to mildfire,’ Indigenous fire stewardship as a path forward

Cultural burning is just one part of the solution, which will involve moving away from colonial fire suppression methods altogether and supporting Indigenous-led fire stewardship models with meaningful changes in policy and funding. Woods says she’d like to see Indigenous-led fire programs represented as part of a broader recognition of Indigenous sovereignty in the North.

“I’d like to see more local people leading the work rather than just renting out their equipment or hiring them as boat captains,” Woods said. There are more opportunities for Indigenous People to help their own communities. I feel there’s always time to course correct and really acknowledge and honor the 229 Tribes of Alaska and their practices that have maintained very healthy land and ecosystems for so long.”

In Alaska, Indigenous-led wildfire initiatives—like the U.S. Bureau of Land Management (BLM) Emergency Firefighter (EFF) program—create opportunities for local members of Alaska Native communities to join crews and integrate their traditional knowledge and expertise of the land to help keep their communities safe. In Canada, Fire Guardian programs—which Dr. Christianson has long been advocating for—aim to get good fire back on the land through Indigenous stewardship and traditional practices.

Alexander says he hopes recognizing cultural burning and other forms of Indigenous Knowledge as legitimate science will help prioritize them in land management.

“It’s critically important science that we need to help us manage the wildland fire crisis in the circumpolar north,” said Alexander.

Alexander imagines a future where wildfire becomes mildfire. Where communities in the north are adequately resourced and wildfire management becomes proactive and rooted in Indigenous Knowledge and expertise, while prioritizing and supporting sovereignty.

“Indigenous fire management looks like a vibrant landscape where you don’t have severe wildland fire, but you have increased biodiversity, where the vegetation is more nutritious for the plants and animals, and that permafrost and other hugely important resources are protected,” Alexander said. “I also think that it’s an integral part of respecting the sovereignty of Indigenous Peoples, of respecting the self-determination of Indigenous Peoples to manage our territories how we see fit, and I think that it’s a really critical approach that we need to all be listening to. Our collective future really depends on it.”

In the northern ecosystems of the Alaskan boreal forest and tundra, wildfire is a natural – and even necessary – process. But as temperatures rapidly warm, wildfire frequency and severity in the state are breaking historical records.

Scientists at Woodwell Climate Research Center are studying the effects of these increased fires on the ecosystem. In a study published earlier this year, a research team led by Research Scientist Dr. Scott Zolkos examined the relationship between northern wildfires and one concerning byproduct of them: mercury pollution.

Higher temperatures, more wildfires, more pollution

In the last 25 years, Alaska has experienced some of the worst fire seasons on record. One of the reasons behind this is that climate change is hitting the north harder than other regions.

Northern latitudes, including the Arctic and boreal regions, are warming three to four times faster than the rest of the planet. As warmer temperatures melt snow earlier in the year and dry out soil and vegetation, the fire season lengthens and intensifies. According to Woodwell scientists, 2024 was the second-highest year for wildfire emissions north of the Arctic Circle.

“It’s really sort of a new phenomenon, the level of burning we’re seeing in the tundra,” Dr. Brendan Rogers, Senior Scientist, says.

Increasing fires means increasing air, water, and ecosystem pollution from the byproducts of burning vegetation and soils. Mercury is a toxic pollutant in wildfire smoke, but there is sparse research on mercury release from northern peatland wildfires which means scientists don’t yet have a great understanding of how increasing northern wildfire activity could counteract efforts to curtail human-caused mercury release. To understand these impacts, Zolkos and collaborators studied areas of the Yukon-Kuskokwim (YK) Delta in southwestern Alaska— a peatland environment that burned in 2015. The summer of 2015 made history as one of Alaska’s worst fire seasons, with over 5 million acres of land burned.

The research team used peatland soil samples that were collected between 2016 and 2018 by undergraduate participants of The Polaris Project to measure mercury. They then used the new mercury data together with organic carbon and burn depth measurements from another recent study to develop models that predicted mercury emissions from the 2015 wildfires.

Measuring mercury release

Mercury continuously cycles through the environment in air, water and soil, often changing between liquid and gaseous forms. It enters the atmosphere as emissions from human activities like the burning of fossil fuels and natural processes like wildfires and volcanoes. High levels of mercury can accumulate in the ground when vegetation takes up mercury from the atmosphere, then decomposes and deposits it into the soil. In northern peatlands, mercury has been accumulating with organic matter for thousands of years.

Mercury emissions occur when wildfire burns organic matter in soil and releases mercury that is bound to it back into the atmosphere. With increased temperatures and wildfire activity, the stabilization accumulation of mercury in the soil is threatened – and so is air quality.

“There are huge mercury stores in northern peatlands,” Zolkos says. “If peatlands burn more, it could potentially offset global efforts to reduce human mercury release into the environment.”

Zolkos and collaborators found that levels of mercury in peat in the YK Delta were similar to those in peatlands elsewhere in the north. Using an atmospheric chemical transport model developed by collaborators, the researchers also found that mercury deposition within 10 kilometers of wildfire sites was two times higher than normal, even though the majority of emissions from the fire traveled beyond Alaska.

With this information, Zolkos believes that increasing fire activity has the potential to unlock large amounts of soil-bound mercury in the North. The challenge now is figuring out exactly how much mercury is being released and where it ends up.

As a step to understanding this, Zolkos is leading a pilot project to develop an atmospheric mercury monitoring network across wildfire-susceptible peatlands in Alaska and Canada. Twenty-six air samplers, which collect mercury molecules in the air, were deployed at seven sites in Arctic-boreal peatlands across Alaska and Canada during the summers of 2024 and 2025. After the 2025 summer season is complete, the samplers will be sent to a lab at Harvard University, where Zolkos will measure their mercury content.

“Our goal is to work with collaborators to deploy these simple and cost-effective samplers that capture mercury in the atmosphere,” Zolkos says. “And from that, we can back-calculate the concentration of mercury in the air to understand wildfire impacts.”

By studying trends, Zolkos can compare levels of mercury in the air in areas affected and not affected by wildfire. And with added contextual data, scientists can model how much mercury might have been released from the soil and vegetation by wildfire.

Understanding wildfire impacts on air quality

In addition to containing mercury, wildfire smoke also emits particulate matter (PM2.5). PM2.5 refers to particles that are smaller than 2.5 micrometers in diameter – thirty times smaller than the average human hair. When breathed in, they can affect the heart and lungs and cause a variety of health problems, including aggravated asthma, decreased lung function, and increased respiratory symptoms.

Together with collaborators from the Permafrost Pathways project, Zolkos is also collaborating with Alaska Native communities to install PurpleAir sensors, a system of particulate matter monitors, to support tribally-led wildfire air pollution monitoring. This project helps to address monitoring needs in Alaska, where nearly 90% of rural communities reached or exceeded unhealthy levels of PM2.5 at least once due to wildfire in the last two decades.

“It’s a really great opportunity to work together with Alaskan Native communities and also to share knowledge, learn from them, and try and help them with any needs that they have for environmental monitoring,” Zolkos says.

So far, particulate matter sensors have been deployed in Pond Inlet in Nunavut, Canada, Churchill in Manitoba, Canada, and Akiachak, Alaska.

“The complex impacts of wildfire on Arctic and global communities is not something that can be solved by taking a measurement and seeing a number alone. These climate health impacts require a more holistic way of thinking and doing research” Dr. Sue Natali, Senior Scientist and lead of the Permafrost Pathways project, says. “What gives me hope is that the Western scientific community is now listening and hearing more from Indigenous partners to co-produce research to support climate resilient communities,”

As the Arctic heats up three to four times faster than the rest of Earth, hotter temperatures have super-charged northern fires, causing them to burn more area, more frequently, and more intensely.

These fires have a range of harmful impacts on communities, ecosystems, and wildlife in the north. When it comes to carbon, they represent a unique now-and-future threat to global climate. That’s because much of the boreal forest, which circles the high northern latitudes, is underlain by carbon-rich frozen ground called permafrost. Stocked with carbon from dead animal and plant matter that’s accumulated over hundreds to thousands of years, permafrost functions as Earth’s “deep freezer,” keeping the planet cool by keeping carbon out of the atmosphere.

When permafrost thaws, microbes begin to access and break down the once-frozen carbon, releasing it to the atmosphere where it contributes to warming. Wildfires accelerate this process by burning off the organic soil layer that protects permafrost— opening the door on the freezer. And as temperatures in the north rise and boreal forests dry out and experience greater climate stress, the fires these forests evolved with have become more frequent and severe, with consequences for both permafrost and our climate.

Why are boreal forests important to climate?

The boreal forest, the largest forested biome on Earth, covers large stretches of North America, Europe, and Russia and stores 25% of the planet’s terrestrial carbon. Roughly 80% of this carbon is stored belowground in the form of soil organic matter and permafrost. So when the forest burns, the carbon released from the trees is just the tip of the iceberg. Eighty percent or more of carbon emissions from boreal fires in North America and in central Siberia come from belowground combustion of soil organic matter.

Boreal forests have been reliable safekeepers of this belowground carbon historically by providing an insulating soil organic layer that protects permafrost. But increasingly severe fires are changing that picture.

What happens to permafrost when the boreal burns?

Wildfires threaten this belowground carbon in boreal forests in multiple ways, both during and long after the fire itself.

As a fire burns, it combusts the carbon stored in trees and plants, releasing it into the atmosphere along with smoke and harmful pollutants. Intense fires also burn through duff and soil layers that carpet the forest floor.

Burning these insulating layers exposes the permafrost below to warmer temperatures for years after a fire. A recent synthesis study led by Postdoctoral Researcher Dr. Anna Talucci of Woodwell Climate found that in burned sites across the boreal and tundra regions, the depth of seasonally thawed ground increased for two decades after a fire.

That means that long after a fire is extinguished, permafrost is still thawing and releasing carbon in the form of carbon dioxide and methane. Where this ground is rich in ice, it can sink and collapse after a fire, causing ponding, erosion, and creating bogs and wetlands that release methane.

All of this carbon released to the atmosphere contributes to further warming, which in turn contributes to drying forests, hotter temperatures, and more lightning ignitions in the boreal forests. That’s because warming has boosted both lightning ignition efficiency, or the likelihood that lightning starts a fire, and the number of lightning strikes in the region.

Average yearly burned area across Alaska and Canada has roughly doubled since the 1960s. Emissions from Canada’s 2023 fire season exceeded total fossil fuel emissions from every other nation except the U.S., China, and India for that year. And the frequency of extreme wildfires across the circumpolar boreal region increased seven-fold from 2003 to 2023.

These trends, amplified by the permafrost-fire feedback, worsen both Arctic impacts and global emissions and could hamper our ability to meet agreed-on climate goals.

Gaps in boreal fire research

Wildfires in boreal forests are already weakening the region’s carbon storage capacity, signalling a crucial shift in the global climate system. Addressing critical gaps in our understanding of the fire-permafrost feedback will help prepare for such shifts and their local and global implications.

Research teams including Permafrost Pathways and collaborators are refining tools to predict what increasing fires mean for regional and global carbon emissions and climate targets. Such insights are needed to inform the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change’s (IPCC) inventory of global emissions, which does not yet include fire emissions or fire-caused permafrost thaw emissions. Efforts to better model and predict the complex interactions between permafrost and fire are also critical to informing adaptation and management responses.

The region’s vastness, as well as geopolitical conditions, presents challenges to collecting field data. Here, modeling can help scale the insights from what field data is available. And developing more accurate fire maps in Alaska and Siberia, where less burned area satellite data exists, could equip researchers and communities with better near-real-time information. Long-term monitoring efforts that study pre- and post-fire conditions, such as those led by Łı́ı́dlı̨ı̨ Kų́ę́ First Nation at the Scotty Creek Research Station, are providing critical insights about fire’s acute and long-term effects on permafrost.

What we can do: solutions that support resilience

The impacts from widespread severe northern wildfires transcend boundaries, affecting health and ways of life for communities living in the Arctic and around the globe.

But there are solutions at hand. Cultural burning, an important practice for many Arctic Indigenous communities, can help boreal forests build resilience by removing fuels with low-intensity seasonal fire. And collaborative management approaches that suppress fires in permafrost regions have been shown to be a cost-effective climate mitigation tool that has co-benefits for human health and the global climate.

But the most important solution to help keep the global wildfire-permafrost feedback loop in check is to reduce greenhouse gas emissions. Lowering overall emissions will slow rising temperatures in the north and give communities, boreal forests, and other ecosystems a better chance to recover and to adapt.

Explore these 15 maps by award-winning Woodwell Climate cartographers Greg Fiske and Christina Shintani. Created in 2024, each tells a story about the immense beauty of the high north, the dramatic changes unfolding as the Arctic continues to warm three to four times faster than the rest of the world, and the equitable solutions being developed to address climate impacts in the region

1. Relationships matter

That Woodwell’s delegation secured thirteen Congressional meetings—five of them with Members themselves, including leadership of key committees and caucuses—is a testament to the Center’s credibility and the depth of relationships that the Government Relations team is building. A summer of high-profile Supreme Court decisions, the end of the fiscal year looming, and a tumultuous election cycle all contributed to a chaotic energy on the Hill in September, and legislators were only in session for three weeks between their summer recess and a break for election activities. Despite those pressures, Uttley says lawmakers and their staff were enthusiastic and engaged.

She attributes that to months (years, really) of relationship building grounded in a “here’s where we agree, and here’s how we can help” approach. An enormous amount of time and thought goes into crafting meeting agendas and materials that meet legislators where they are, address their needs and interests, and highlight common ground and opportunities for progress.

Consistency is also key, Uttley says. While individual Members come and go, and the political climate shifts, Woodwell Climate’s annual fly-in and growing year-round presence in Washington, D.C. are reminders that we are a reliable resource of information, and in it for the long haul.

2. Caucuses and committees are impact amplifiers

Meetings with individual legislators and/or their staff can be incredibly productive, but time is limited. Briefing an entire committee or meeting with leadership of a caucus group can be an effective way to get scientific expertise and policy priorities to many legislators at once. For example, part of the Woodwell delegation met with leadership of the bipartisan Climate Solutions Caucus (more than 60 members), staff for the House Sustainable Energy and Environment Coalition (100 Democratic members), and staff for the Conservative Climate Caucus, which has more than 80 Republican members, all interested in pragmatic climate solutions. These larger groups are also less susceptible to disruption through election cycles, which creates opportunities to work on policy agendas with a longer runway.

3. Accessible information makes a difference

Maps on the table, personal accounts of climate impacts, data tailored to a legislator’s district, and plain language science summaries were all on display during the fly-in, and Uttley says the Center’s commitment to making climate science relevant and accessible is a distinguishing feature that opens doors and builds relationships.

“To be able to find hooks and make climate science accessible for such a range of audiences on so many different topics is really impactful,” Uttley said.

Overall, Uttley said being in the room as scientists, community members, and policymakers —and seeing the energy they all came away with—left her with one overarching takeaway: Change is possible and “the Climate Science for Change motto is actually lived; it’s not just something we say.”