Over the past few years, many rural Canadians have watched local bank branches quietly disappear. At first, these closures may seem like simple business decisions, part of a shift toward online services and centralized operations. But for communities along the Thunder Bay–Sault Ste. Marie corridor and beyond, the loss of local banking is becoming a serious threat to community wellbeing.

In Marathon, where my wife and I have lived for many years, we once had three financial institutions. Today, only one remains, and it is scheduled to close in May 2026. When our local branch closed, we were required to move our personal banking to Thunder Bay, a round trip of more than 640 kilometres.

Some transactions still require face-to-face service. Managing registered education funds, resolving account issues, or dealing with legal documentation cannot always be done online. Each time these needs arise, we must make the long drive.

For people in their early eighties, this is not a small matter. Long-distance travel requires frequent stops for rest and comfort. In winter, it can be dangerous. Public transportation is limited or nonexistent. Like many seniors, we are also subject to regular driver re-testing, and it is likely that one day we will no longer be able to drive at all.

We are fortunate. We were early adopters of computers and the internet. Many of our peers were not. For them, digital banking is not a convenient alternative; it is a barrier.

But this issue goes far beyond seniors.

Recently, I spoke with a local business owner about how they are preparing for the closure of our last remaining bank. Their answer was sobering. They now travel to Thunder Bay twice a week to conduct routine banking, making deposits, handling paperwork, and obtaining cash. That is two long trips every week simply to keep their business functioning.

On our own trips, we often stop at a roadside restaurant and service centre that includes a small gift shop and laundromat. When I spoke with the manager there, I learned that they too travel to Thunder Bay twice a week to obtain the cash and coins needed to operate. Their laundromat depends on coin-operated machines, yet ATMs do not dispense coins. With no nearby bank branch willing to provide this service to non-account holders, there is no local alternative.

These trips represent real costs: fuel, vehicle wear, lost time, fatigue, and risk. Over a year, they amount to thousands of dollars, costs that small businesses can ill afford. In effect, rural businesses are now subsidizing the banking system.

And again, this is not only a seniors’ issue. It affects everyone.

Young families trying to arrange a mortgage. Workers trying to correct a payroll error. New entrepreneurs seeking advice. People dealing with estate matters, powers of attorney, or unexpected financial problems. These situations are complex and personal. They require conversation, clarity, and trust.

Not everyone is comfortable navigating automated phone systems, security layers, and online menus to solve serious financial concerns. Many capable, responsible adults simply prefer to speak to a knowledgeable person who can listen and respond with understanding. That is not a lack of skill. It is a reasonable expectation.

What has been lost is not just a building or a counter. What has been lost is relationship banking: staff who know their community, recognize their clients, and understand local realities. Trust grows in those relationships. When they disappear, people are left to manage complicated financial matters alone.

The trend toward digital banking may make sense in large urban centres. In rural Canada, it often means exclusion.

A fully cashless, fully online system works well for those with reliable transportation, strong internet access, and high technical confidence. It does not work well for many seniors, people with disabilities, low-income residents, or those living in remote areas. When “digital only” becomes the norm, “access” quietly disappears.

What is most troubling is the lack of visible response. There appears to be little coordinated action from banks, provincial governments, or federal authorities to address this growing gap.

Yet solutions exist.

Other countries use mobile banking units that visit communities regularly. Shared community banking hubs could operate in post offices, libraries, or municipal buildings. Credit unions could be strengthened and supported to serve abandoned regions. Secure video appointments could be expanded for legally binding transactions. Governments could establish minimum service standards for financial access, much as we do for mail and health care.

None of these ideas are unrealistic. What is missing is urgency.

Rural communities are not asking for special treatment. They are asking for fairness.

We contribute to the economy. We support local businesses. We care for our neighbours. We volunteer. We raise families. We grow old with dignity. We deserve access to essential services, including banking.

When banks leave town, the cost is not measured only in dollars. It is measured in stress, lost opportunity, declining business confidence, and growing isolation.

If we allow this trend to continue without challenge, we risk quietly designing rural Canadians out of the financial system.

This is not inevitable. But it will become permanent if we remain silent.

It is time for governments, financial institutions, and communities to work together to ensure that access to banking remains a public good—not a privilege reserved for those who live near major highways and large cities.

Our communities deserve nothing less.