Around mid-afternoon I looked up from my laptop and noticed that the quality of the sunlight had changed. Across the street, all the buildings seemed to have shifted their colors towards the orange side of the spectrum. Curious… I left the porch of the Bridgeport Memorial Hall, where I’d been stealing electricity and writing articles, and turned my gaze to the west. Sure enough, a procession of smoke clouds was rolling into town, and I could smell the acrid tang of scorched forests.

I moved to the library steps and used their wireless server to scan the internet for information. The ash that rained down on my keyboard was mildly distracting, but I discovered a news item concerning a small fire southwest of Yosemite National Park that had recently erupted. I’d planned to do some backpacking tomorrow in the northeast corner of the park – my final trip of the season – and I hoped all this smoke wouldn’t ruin my scenic views.