The best resource for spotting and tracking the blazes that emerge in summer is the map from the Northwest Interagency Coordination Center, one of 11 sites nationally set up to gather information from federal and state fire agencies. Click on the "Large Fire Map" on the right side of the page. (Also useful: InciWeb.) These fire maps trace the perimeters of each fire; the state’s Department of Natural Resources has a similar website that has information on the first reports of a fire and whether the cause is known. 

Smoke doesn't discriminate along national borders. Many of Seattle's hazy days are due to blazes in Canada, so tracking the situation there can give a fuller picture of what Washington is going to feel like. The BC Wildfire Service maintains a map similar to the US version, with red dots denoting "out of control" fires. An Alberta map is also available.

Don't overthink it—if you see something that looks a little or a lot smoky, 911 is always a good call. You can contact 800-562-6010 to report wildfires on Department of Natural Resources land, but it's not always easy to tell which federal, state, or local jurisdiction handles a particular acreage.

Err on the side of caution and use the old 911 standby, but you can also contact the closest ranger office to make an additional report—here are links for Mount Baker–Snoqualmie, Okanogan–Wenatchee, Gifford–Pinchot, and Olympics national forests.

When the forests burn, Seattle gets teary-eyed—for more than one reason. But hazy air may have nothing to do with Washington wildfires. Smoke from Oregon, Northern California, and even British Columbia can drift into our city limits. If that seems extreme, consider that western wildfires have the ability to mess up the air on the East Coast, thousands of miles away.

While the usual weather report comes in the form of temperatures and precipitation predictions, the air quality forecast is all about the AQI, the Environmental Protection Agency’s 0–500 scale. The state Department of Ecology offers a simple five-day forecast map, though they also contribute to the Washington Smoke Blog, a partnership that includes tribal organizations, the US Forest Service, and the state Department of Health. Whether you're staying in Seattle or traveling the state, you can get an idea—but not an exact prediction—of how smoky it will be.

First step: stay inside. Next move: filter. Dan Jaffe, a professor of environmental chemistry at UW Bothell, notes that we’re lucky to live in a time where effective filtration is relatively cheap. He tried attaching a MERV-13 filter, plentiful in hardware stores and online (and relatively affordable), to a box fan; he used a particle counter to prove his simple hack did a great job, though the exact filter number is key.

Do you need an air purifier? Dedicated machines are great, says Jaffe, but the price point can be a turnoff, and they clean a limited amount of air. If you have one with a HEPA (high-efficiency particulate air) filter—which is even better than a MERV-13—you can designate one room the “clean” area and close off doors to the rest of the house.

What is this, an episode of Mad Men? Of course smoke is bad for the lungs—and considering we humans need to inhale a good third or half a liter of air every few seconds, we can’t escape dirty air. Jaffe notes that hazy air is “an amazing toxic array of different chemicals.” Particulates in smoky air can damage the alveoli in lungs, which in turn tax the heart. Not great, Bob.

If it feels like it's getting worse, well, it is. “In 2018 we broke the highest ever particulate concentration that we had ever seen in the 26 or so years we’ve been measuring,” says Jaffe. And then the 2020 numbers were more than twice the 2018 ones, and in 2024 Washington counties that track smoke particulates all got F grades in American Lung Association’s State of the Air reports. Though Jaffe notes that “the dose makes the poison”—meaning standing next to a burning wood fireplace at home all day would be much worse than a quick trip through hazy air. 

While lightning can start them, a whopping 80 to 90 percent of wildland blazes are caused by some form of human activity, from deliberate arson to careless campfires—which is why fire bans and recreational land closures arise in summer across the Pacific Northwest. S’mores: now a winter food.

These days, fire suppression—like dumping water or even foam—is usually the game plan; but when it works, it actually allows dry fuel to build up, making for occasional giant burns. (Plus you can't always get a water-carrying helicopter in the air when it's smoky.) But Native Americans lived through plenty of dry seasons before white settlement, and they had their own tools, including the flames themselves. “The First Nation people used fire all the time to improve habitat for game, berry patches, and more,” says climatologist Bond; regular controlled burns reduced the fuel load.

Washington conflagrations are tackled by a number of agencies, usually in cooperation; the National Interagency Fire Center coordinates with the US Forest Service and partners, while the state Department of Natural Resources has 1,300 employees trained in fire response. (Plus about 250 incarcerated Washingtonians join in optional, paid positions.) They create fire lines—a stopping point where a fire runs out of fuel—and backfires, or protect buildings threatened by the flames.

While it should be obvious that hikers shouldn't mosey into an active fire—right?—it isn't always clear what's safe for outdoor recreation. For one, a heavy smoke forecast should discourage anyone with a respiratory condition; exertion in poor air can harm the lungs.

But what about avoiding new fires while off the grid? Look for Red Flag Warnings on weather forecasts (they'll appear on any forecast from NOAA); the alerts note that warm temperatures and high winds are afoot, making the conditions perfect for a new blaze to take off. If you smell or see smoke while hiking, turn around; quickly developing fires can cut off road access, delaying or preventing Search and Rescue operations from reaching hikers.