The sun was dropping hot and orange behind the mountains just as our car was bouncing to the summit of Mount Seven.

It had taken half an hour of climbing up a bumpy, gravel service road, dodging a family of marmots and navigating narrow switchbacks, all the while hoping we would make it to the windswept peak in time to witness the sunset.

We made it just in time — and were left speechless staring over the smoke-filled Columbia Valley.

For a moment. Suddenly, nature of another kind called. Norah, our 8-month-old daughter, squawked for a new diaper. My wife swooped her over to a nearby picnic table, and soon Norah was changed and put in fleece jammies — ready for bedtime at 1,942 metres above sea level.

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