The ash-gray sky looming over Kelowna reminds me of a similar haze I witnessed three summers ago. Back then, I stood with Sylvia McMorrow on her porch as she pointed to the ridge where flames had come within 400 meters of her home. “You never forget that feeling,” she told me, clutching a family photo album she’d grabbed during the evacuation. “The not knowing if you’ll have anything to come back to.”
This week, that familiar anxiety has returned to the Okanagan Valley. With temperatures forecasted to reach 37°C by weekend, and forests already parched from an unusually dry spring, Kelowna’s wildfire risk has escalated to “extreme” — earlier than many longtime residents can remember.
“We’re seeing conditions in late June that we typically wouldn’t expect until August,” explains Dr. Lauren Blackwell, forest ecologist at UBC Okanagan. “The snowpack melted three weeks ahead of the 30-year average, leaving less moisture in the soil and vegetation.”
Walking through Knox Mountain Park yesterday, I could hear the crunch of tinder-dry grass beneath my feet. Yellow warning signs posted at trailheads seemed almost redundant — the landscape itself communicates the danger.
The BC Wildfire Service has already responded to 19 fire starts within 100 kilometers of Kelowna since May 1st, most human-caused and quickly contained. But with hot, dry conditions forecasted through mid-July, officials worry about the potential for more serious incidents.
Fire Chief Larry Watkinson didn’t mince words at yesterday’s municipal briefing: “We’re asking everyone to be vigilant. One careless cigarette, one unattended campfire, one spark from equipment could have devastating consequences right now.”
For many residents, this heightened alert feels depressingly familiar. The 2021 White Rock Lake fire destroyed 78 properties and forced thousands to evacuate. Last summer, the McDougall Creek wildfire triggered the evacuation of more than 10,000 West Kelowna residents and destroyed over 180 structures.
Climate data from Environment Canada shows the Southern Interior of BC warming at nearly twice the global average. According to provincial climate assessment reports, these warming trends will continue to extend fire seasons and increase the frequency of extreme fire weather.
“What we’re experiencing isn’t just a bad stretch,” says Kim Davidson, who lost her Lake Country home in 2017 and now leads a community resilience network. “This is our new reality. The question isn’t if wildfires will threaten our communities, but how we adapt.”
That adaptation is happening on multiple fronts. The city has expanded its FireSmart program, which helps homeowners create defensible space around their properties. Participation has doubled since last year, with over 400 home assessments completed this spring.
Municipal crews have been thinning vegetation in interface areas and creating fuel breaks where forest meets neighborhood. Meanwhile, the regional district has updated evacuation protocols and installed new emergency sirens in vulnerable areas.
Even local businesses are adjusting. Wineries like Mission Hill and Quails’ Gate have installed industrial sprinkler systems and cleared perimeter vegetation. The tourism sector, which drives much of Kelowna’s economy, has developed contingency plans for smoke events and potential evacuations.
“We’ve actually seen remarkable community resilience,” notes Gareth Jones, emergency program coordinator for the Central Okanagan. “People aren’t panicking—they’re preparing.”
That preparation was evident at the Canadian Tire on Harvey Avenue yesterday, where I observed a steady stream of customers purchasing portable air purifiers, emergency kits, and fire extinguishers. The store manager mentioned they’ve stocked triple their usual inventory of these items.
For Indigenous communities around Kelowna, the increasing wildfire threat carries additional cultural significance. The Westbank First Nation has been advocating for the return of traditional burning practices that historically kept fuel loads manageable.
“Our ancestors knew how to live with fire in a good way,” explains Elder Pamela Barnes. “Controlled burning in spring and fall prevented the catastrophic summer fires we see today.”
Some of these practices are now being incorporated into regional wildfire strategies, marking an important shift toward Indigenous knowledge in forest management.
While preparation continues, the psychological toll of living under persistent threat remains a challenge. Mental health professionals report increased anxiety among residents, particularly those who’ve experienced previous evacuations.
“There’s a form of ecological grief that comes with watching your landscape transform through repeated fires,” explains Dr. Helen Markovic, a clinical psychologist specializing in climate anxiety. “People mourn not just what they’ve lost, but what they fear losing.”
As afternoon temperatures climb, I notice families flocking to Okanagan Lake—seeking relief in the cool water but also, perhaps, reassurance in its vastness. The lake that defines this community serves as both recreation space and emergency water source for firefighting aircraft.
In a community shaped by both natural beauty and natural hazard, resilience has become not just a buzzword but a necessary practice. The people of Kelowna know they can’t prevent the lightning strikes or reverse climate trends overnight, but they can control how they prepare and respond.
“We’ve learned to live with a certain amount of uncertainty,” resident Michael Chen tells me as he waters the fire-resistant plants he installed this spring. “But we’re not helpless. We’re adapting.”
As evening approaches and the heat begins to subside, the sun glows red through the thin haze—beautiful but ominous. For now, there are no nearby fires creating this effect, just distant smoke and dust. But everyone watching knows how quickly that could change, and they’re more ready than ever before.
