Welcome to the Climate Fwd: newsletter! Join us on Thursday for the debut of Netting Zero, a series of virtual events looking ahead to key international climate negotiations next year. The first panel, Applying Covid-19’s Hard-Earned Lessons to Climate Change, will be moderated by Hannah Fairfield, who leads the Times climate desk. You can register here. (And find the website version of this week’s letter here.) |
 | | Smoke from brushfires in Tijuana, Mexico, in June.Guillermo Arias/Agence France-Presse — Getty Images |
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How wildfires make Covid more dangerous |
As the coronavirus continues its assault on the United States, it’s easy to forget about other hazards. But public health officials warn that it would be a mistake to ignore a related threat: wildfire smoke. |
“There is the strong potential for interaction between these two different types of disasters,” said Sarah Henderson, senior environmental health scientist at the British Columbia Centre for Disease Control. The danger is particularly high in Western states, where Covid-19 case numbers are rising. |
There are several ways that smoke exposure could make the pandemic worse, Dr. Henderson said. “When your immune system is overwhelmed by particles, it’s not going to do such a good job fighting other things, like viruses,” she said. |
Scientists fear that the immune effects of smoke may even linger for months. A recent study in Montana found that smoky summers led to more severe flu seasons the following winter. |
Smoke particles can also gunk up the hairlike cilia that clean our lungs, making it harder to clear out viruses. And both smoke and Covid take a toll on the body’s respiratory and cardiovascular systems. “It’s kind of a double whammy,” said Dr. Henderson, who holds a Ph.D. in environmental epidemiology. |
Together, these interactions could increase the number of people who contract Covid and make the disease more severe in those who do get sick, she said. |
In an editorial in the American Journal of Public Health, Dr. Henderson offered a sense of the potential consequences by applying what scientists have learned about the effect of air pollution on mortality from SARS, which is caused by another type of coronavirus, to a smoke event like the one that engulfed Seattle in the summer of 2018. The results suggested that if the same smoke episode had occurred in the spring of 2020, Covid case numbers and deaths in Washington State would have been roughly 10 percent higher. |
It’s not possible (or ecologically appropriate) to extinguish all wildfires, so we often have little choice but to cope with smoke. Experts say preparation is key, particularly for vulnerable individuals like children, older people, expectant mothers and those with underlying health conditions. |
Community clean air shelters, which offer respite from smoke in normal years, are now risky because of the pandemic. So, public health officials advise staying home as much as possible, something we’re all too good at by now, with windows and doors closed. |
If your house has forced air, the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention recommends installing a filter that will scrub out harmful particles (with a MERV rating of 13 or higher) and setting your system to “recirculate.” If not, select one room of your home, ideally the coolest one, and use a portable air cleaner. These can be purchased or else improvised by stacking a furnace filter behind a box fan. |
While cloth face coverings can help prevent the spread of coronavirus, they don’t offer protection from smoke. Only properly fitting N95 respirator masks filter out dangerous particles, and those remain in short supply in many places. |
Instead, Dr. Henderson recommends tracking changes in smoke conditions, which can vary as the wind shifts. “Take advantage of those periods where it’s not smoky to get fresh air,” she said. “But then, when it is smoky, batten down the hatches.” |
 | | My breezy home for two nights.Henry Fountain/The New York Times |
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A reporter goes into the wild |
Like most everybody else, journalists at The New York Times have been largely locked down for months. That has meant reporting by telephone, email or Zoom. |
But for stories about climate change, even more than some other subjects, it’s important to get places and see things firsthand. So, with lockdowns easing a bit, the climate team has been thinking more about how to get back out on the road, safely. |
Air travel is still an iffy proposition, but I live in Albuquerque, so for a story about the persistent drought in the Southwest, I could literally get on the road. And I did, driving 350 miles to the Rockies in Colorado to meet with a scientist (socially distanced, of course) to talk about snowpack and drought. You can read the article here. |
In planning the trip, I realized I’d have to spend at least one night away from home. And like airplanes, hotels were, to me at least, still an iffy proposition. |
I still had a tent, sleeping bag and other gear from my last camping trip, more than a decade ago. I even had a small cookstove to make dinner and morning coffee (takeout food on the road is always an iffy proposition). |
I searched online and found an available site at a national forest campground on the shores of Green Mountain Reservoir in Colorado. This was sounding better and better. I planned to spend a second night; it would be my little Rocky Mountain getaway. |
Unfortunately, I hadn’t considered the weather. When I arrived at the campground in the late evening, the wind was howling steadily and clouds were spitting rain. After an hour of struggle, with dusk descending, I finally got the tent set up and made it secure enough that it wouldn’t blow away. |
Then, in the dark I managed to heat dinner, cleaned up a bit, and headed to my sleeping bag, which was on an air mattress. |
Which had, apparently, a finicky valve. |
So after tossing, turning and sinking to the ground most of the night, with the tent flapping in the wind, I dragged myself out at 5 a.m. to heat some water. But I’d failed to put the matches away, and the wind had carried them off. No coffee for me. |
The second night was better. The wind had calmed, and overnight the skies cleared. The stars were beautiful. I managed to fix the air mattress. But overnight the temperature dropped to near-freezing. I spent the night tossing, turning and shivering. |
Still, the next morning I managed to make coffee and sat for a while listening to the water lap against the shore and admiring the view of the distant mountains. Even amid a pandemic, life could be pretty good. |
I packed up and hit the road for home, promising myself that I’d do it again at some point — with a new air mattress and a warmer sleeping bag. |
 | | Henry Fountain/The New York Times |
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