Every skier has experienced waking up and checking the forecast, only to roll over and go back to sleep or text the chat that the plan has changed. For one reason or another, we all make concessions in a sport that’s weather-dependent.
However, even on the days when we begrudgingly take out narrow skis, undoubtedly we’ve also had the thought, ‘at least, I’m skiing!’ Because truly, being able to ski every day, every week, or even a few times a year is a privilege, especially in a rapidly changing climate.
And if nothing else, wildfire season has put all of that in perspective.
As of July 2026, more than a million acres in the state of Oregon had burned in wildfires. A record-low snowfall winter put the state in a waiting game; when would the wildfire season start, and just how bad would it be? It turns out, the answer was mid-July, and bad.
Other places in the West, and even out East, have also felt the effects of wildfires this summer. Burns across Colorado, Utah, Idaho, BC, and even Ontario, have clouded the sky with smoke and sent the AQI skyrocketing for days at a time.
The Akawa Butte fire, just north of Sisters, Oregon, broke out on July 16, 2026. Around the same time, the multiple fires that would become the 200,000+-acre Rowe Creek Complex fire also began burning.
In the following days, the AQI in Bend, Sisters, Redmond, and the surrounding areas rose steadily into the 100s, 150s, 200s, and higher. Sensitive groups were encouraged to stay inside. My friends and I wavered about plans to go camping and paddling near McCall, Idaho, for the weekend, worried it would be too smoky, too.
I spent several evenings doing little projects around my house, playing string instruments for my cat, and listening to the hum of my air purifier as it chugged in the background, trying to satisfy my ADHD brain without my usual method of going for trail runs and jumping into the Deschutes River after work. Although it was only a week or so, I found myself in a spiral, wondering if the rest of the summer would also be marked by arguing with Reddit about whether running 4 miles in 140 AQI was a bad idea. (It probably is.)
We did end up going camping in Idaho the following weekend, where the smoke had largely cleared. However, as we drove back to Oregon late Sunday night, smoke filled my truck, and the night sky around us was lit by flames on the horizon. Our drive took an hour longer than usual, as the Bench Fire grew and closed the road through the Warm Springs Reservation, and rerouted us.
The cooped-up feeling made me think of times in the winter when I haven’t been able to ski due to injury, conditions, or otherwise. Even in those times, there’s often still something I can do for fresh air, movement, and a little dopamine. I found myself feeling more grateful thinking about groomer laps, tours into sh*tf*ck snow, even testing base layers by trail running before it had snowed last fall, and for the clean air I’d breathed in doing it.
The wind had changed direction by the time we got home, and the air quality was much better than it had been when we left. But that uneasy feeling that it will return has not left.
Even if it’s not this year, a summer when we can’t bike, trail run, or enjoy the outdoors because of air quality is a looming possibility as the Earth gets warmer and drier and weather events intensify.
Wildland fire crews are hard at work to contain the Akawa Butte, Rowe Complex, and Bench Fires, and the wind changed direction, which has miraculously kept the smoke mostly out of Bend. For now, I’ll be running, biking, and appreciating every smoke-free breath I can get.
Related: Inside the Huge, 100-Plus Inch Blizzard at Ski Portillo
