Empty hotel rooms, empty tennis courts, empty parking lot, empty grounds. Jacquelyn Jaech, co-owner of Harmony Meadows Tennis Resort, surveyed her property, deserted except for three Cavalier King Charles Spaniels playing at her feet.
A smokey haze from the Little Giant fire — a 148,000-acre wildfire that's only 21% contained and has destroyed at least 35 structures, as of Tuesday — settled on the surrounding hillsides. The smaller Stormy Mountain fire blazed nearby.
We haven't made a dime since the fires," Jaech said last week. "All the businesses are struggling."
Much of Washington has been on fire since July, with Spokane suffering catastrophic wildfires earlier this month. Thirteen large fires are currently burning, per the Washington State Department of Natural Resources, and a total of almost 1,400 have been counted across the state this year.
Businesses serving the region around Lake Chelan, a tourist destination, are watching their revenues wither. Evacuation orders are underway to the west of the lake. Visitors who frequent Chelan for fun in the sun are largely staying away. They've called off their plans to wait out the smoke.
"Wildfire impacts our community long after the fires are gone," Chelan Mayor Erin McCardle told The Seattle Times Tuesday. "Smoke can mean canceled trips, fewer visitors, and a significant hit to the local businesses and employees who depend on tourism."
It's an increasingly common phenomenon for the area, which was torched during the Pioneer fire two years ago that racked up around $100 million in suppression costs.
The wildfires spell bad news for business owners, who rely on their seasonal earnings to keep them afloat through the colder months. But as summer approaches its end, the blazes continue to burn. While local businesses adjust to the infernos, they're bracing for harder winters.
"In a seasonal world like we live, if we don't get to a certain level in the peak season, then the offseason is a different animal," said Brun Garfoot, co-owner of Lake Chelan Boat Company.
'This year is exceptionally tough'
On Thursday afternoon, Chelan saw a few traces of normalcy. Boats still zipped across the lake, and sunbathers soaked up rays on water tubes and chairs — though not nearly the crowd expected on a summer weekend.
A 90 degree day on Lake Chelan is normally a dream come true for Seattleites. Reality quickly set in with a fire danger sign featuring Smokey Bear, which warned of extreme risk. In the distance, smoke obscured the mountain views.
Garfoot walked a wooden dock over the lake, surveying his fleet. Lake Chelan Boat Company ferries tourists and residents year-round, bringing groceries, mail and prescriptions to far-flung enclaves.
"This whole area relies on people making the decision to come hang out with us," Garfoot said.
Peak season runs from June 15 to September 15 for Garfoot. He estimates that, in a typical August, a couple hundred people are brought to and from Stehekin, a remote lakefront community, each day.
With the encroaching wildfires, however, it's not a routine August.
"We'd be lucky right now if we were getting 25% of that," Garfoot said. "I would be shocked if everybody's not nervous."
Lake Chelan Boat Company was established in 1889. Garfoot, 52, has ridden those boats since the days of his youth, growing up in Stehekin. He took over in 2019.
"This year is exceptionally tough," Garfoot said. He pointed to excess driftwood floating in the water — vestiges of the state's disastrous floods in December.
Garfoot is holding out hope for next month. He enjoys the fly-fishing and weather that usually accompanies September. If luck is on his side, maybe it'll include smoke abatement, too, he said.
"We survived COVID," Garfoot said. "We survived the Pioneer fire in 2024."
"So far, we've survived the Little Giant fire in 2026."
Ghost towns
Some local businesses were relative ghost towns.
Overlooking the blue water in the distance, Succession Wine's many outdoor tables sat empty, despite its heavily-laden grape vines. Customers slowly trickled in — a couple sipping on the patio, a woman making a purchase at the register.
Up the road, Jeremy and Jacquelyn Jaech, the husband-wife pair behind Harmony Meadows, haven't seen the same creep of patrons. Instead, they predict a ruined season.
The resort opens its doors from May through September. In July and August, Harmony Meadows ordinarily hosts a wedding each weekend, plus tennis camps, clinics and private lessons.
But "every guest we had canceled their room," Jeremy said. "Nobody is signed up for clinics."
After working in the Seattle area's tech industry, the couple bought a shuttered agritourism site, Banjo Creek Farms, in 2015. They razed it, building tennis courts, facilities and 13 hotel rooms.
The usual hustle and bustle is absent.
Because of the lack of customers, they closed Love-All Café, an on-site café that sat in darkness on Thursday.
"We just couldn't afford to keep it open," Jacquelyn said. The café staff was laid off. The intern left early.
The timing of the wildfires is unfortunate: The owners are on the hunt for a buyer, so they can spend more time in California.
"This especially hurts," Jacquelyn said. "It's hard to attract a new person to carry on our legacy if we don't make any money."
Her husband added: "Who knows how long we'll have this thing before we actually sell it?"
'Just heartbreaking'
Though Cle Elum is nearly 100 miles away from Chelan, the region's ongoing wildfires couldn't be ignored. Whiffs of burning wood hung heavy in the air.
At a gas station, passengers exiting a parked van remarked among themselves: "It's pretty bad. Hope it's better in Wenatchee."
It was, in fact, worse in Wenatchee.
Theresa Samuelsen, executive director and camp director of Camp Fire North Central Washington Council, was forced to cancel weeks of summer programming at Camp Zanika Lache, a coed resident camp on Lake Wenatchee.
"It was just heartbreaking," Samuelsen said Friday, her voice catching with emotion.
The camp was founded in 1932. Samuelsen, 62, took the reins in 2007. She looks after 120 campers each week, who take part in themed sessions.
In late July, during session five, camp ended one day early because of the encroaching smoke. Samuelsen recalled the U.S. Air Quality Index, a tool that measures air quality, reached around 900.
A satisfactory level ranges between 0 to 50, per the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency.
"This year, the smoke is really bad," Samuelsen said. "I've never seen it this bad."
By session six, skies were blue. "It looked like it was going to be OK," Samuelsen added.
It was only a temporary respite. Conditions worsened, and camp was canceled on the second day. Sessions seven and eight — the last two of the summer — were also called off.
For Camp Zanika, it's "a financial struggle," Samuelsen said.
Her organization is a nonprofit, so the money made during the summer goes toward bills, maintenance, insurance, charter fees, rent, inspections and off-season staffing for the rest of the year.
The camp lost out on $199,000 in revenue, Samuelsen said. Some parents have opted to donate their portions of tuition or prepay for next year's sessions.
Now, Samuelsen is fundraising to meet payroll and help affected families.
"We don't really know what the long-term impact will be, but we're doing everything that we can to make sure Camp Zanika is here for next summer," she said. "Who knows when the smoke's gonna end?
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