16 September 2026

Wildfires don’t just burn, they choke

Every year, these disasters leave their mark on my community

Illustration by Charlotte Trounce

My brother messaged: “Just watching the news. Are you OK? Are the fires anywhere near you?” The last thing I’d anticipated when moving to British Columbia was being tangentially involved in a story broadcast in the UK.

The wildfires in the Okanagan Valley this August were to the north, west and south of me, but mercifully never threatened the part of Vernon where I live. Susie, one of the receptionists at my clinic, was not so lucky. She and her husband, Andrew, live in a lakeside community just outside town and were on evacuation alert, meaning an instruction to leave could be imminent. But wildfires are so fierce they create their own weather systems. A sudden, strong wind reversed the direction of the nearby fire, putting Susie’s community directly in its path. It happened at bewildering speed and cut off their escape route – also the route by which firefighters could get to them.

After being affected by a previous wildfire, in 2021, they had invested heavily in sprinkler systems, fire hoses and generators (one of the first things to go is electrical power). Susie and Andrew spent a terrifying day dousing their house and extinguishing fires that flared around it, disorientated by impenetrable smoke and a continuous din she likened to an express train, punctuated by deafening booms as neighbours’ propane tanks exploded. A squadron of six water bomber planes made repeated sorties. They managed to save their home; some neighbours lost theirs. After the fire came the task of repelling boat-borne looters.

The psychological and emotional consequences of such experiences are both readily imaginable and difficult to comprehend. Other health impacts were more palpable. Dense smoke smothered the valley for the best part of a fortnight, dimming the sun to a pale disc and virtually halving temperatures. Several patients with asthma and chronic obstructive pulmonary disease came in with exacerbations. Levels of fine microparticles, known as PM2.5s – which take toxic chemicals deep into the lungs and can enter the bloodstream – were extremely high.

I swiftly became acquainted with symptoms in otherwise healthy people: oppressive headache, sinus inflammation, eye and throat irritation. Residents were advised to minimise time outdoors to reduce exposure. Those with access to air filtration could improve indoor air quality; sports centres and public buildings were badged as clean-air refuges. The government engaged the Red Cross to distribute N95 masks, which are effective against PM2.5s, free of charge, though the scheme wasn’t well publicised and I saw few in use.

We were fortunate to have no fatalities in Vernon, but an 80-year-old woman died while attempting to leave Summerland, a town further down the valley, where 12,000 people were evacuated. While her cause of death has not been confirmed, it has been officially attributed to the fire. PM2.5 pollution can provoke rapid complications in people with pre-existing heart or lung disease – to say nothing of the stress of fleeing ahead of a whole mountainside ablaze.

Fires are a part of the natural cycle in the boreal forest that covers much of Canada and have long been a challenge to inhabitants of the Okanagan, but their frequency and ferocity have accelerated with global heating. Ned, a 60-year-old patient and lifelong Vernon resident, dates the change to 20-odd years ago. “We got off last year and the year before that. But most every year since 2003 there’s been bad fires.”

Susie, my receptionist, is notable for her cheerful personality. She is thankful she and her husband survived. And, looters aside, Susie drew great comfort from the community response – donations of supplies, offers of refuge, discounts for evacuees at all manner of businesses. Their roof will need repair, and there’s water damage to put right, which she reckons may take a year. Listening to her, though, I couldn’t help but wonder how long it might be before the fire hoses and generators are brought back into action again.

[Further reading: Sydney Sweeney has made a deal with the devil]