On the evening of Labor Day, a fierce storm of dry, dusty wind swept over our camp near the Mt. Rainier wilderness. For several hours we heard the wind gusts approaching up the canyon, roaring louder than a freight train, each one flattening our tent like a taco. A huge tree came crashing down, making the earth jump. Above our tent, another large tree swayed precariously against a pale night sky. While we waited out the storm, dust and grit swirling in our faces, fires broke out across Oregon and Washington, spread quickly by the dry eastern winds.