By Jay Inslee Climate Week this year coincides with clear skies in Washington state for the first time in almost two weeks. In just a few days in early September, Washington state saw enough acres burned -- more than 600,000 -- to reach our second-worst fire season on record. Our worst fire season came only five years ago. Wildfires aren't new to the west, but their scope and danger today is unlike anything firefighters have seen. People up and down the West Coast -- young and old, in rural areas and in cities -- were choking on smoke for days on end, trapped in their homes. Fires like these are becoming the norm, not the exception. That's because as the climate changes, our fires change. Climate scientists tell us that if greenhouse gas emissions continue on their current path, later this century the average year in Washington will eventually be warmer than the single hottest year of the 20th century. The heat leaves our land and vegetation dry and primed for ignition, with blazes for which our landscapes are not evolved to cope. We're seeing more acres burned, and more days with our state swathed in hazardous smoke and ash. Rain, cooler weather, and heroic firefighting efforts have finally tamped down the fires and poor air quality; but the burn scars remain, and they are most acutely felt by those who lost homes, businesses, and loved ones in fires this year. I have seen the chaos firsthand in recent visits to burned areas both east and west of the Cascade Mountains. As communities in Malden, Bonney Lake, and Graham, Washington, recover from the damage done this month, it's not enough for us as leaders to help our towns recover from one devastating event after another. We need a plan to stop these increasingly ferocious natural disasters from becoming uncontrollable. The situation demands that climate change be front and center in this plan -- because it is the root and stem of the new challenges we face in disaster response. While wildfires are the most recent, and some of the most visceral images of climate change, they are unfortunately just one manifestation of a climate crisis with far-reaching implications. From the woods and prairies to the oceans, rivers and streams, we see the damaging effects of climate change. West Coast marine waters are acidifying at twice the global rate, our streams are becoming too warm to support salmon, and our agricultural productivity is falling as a result of record heat. But we cannot give in to defeat and pessimism. This is not a lost cause. There is broad consensus on what we need to do to slow and turn back the effects of human-driven climate change: all hands on deck for a global decarbonization that grows jobs and protects communities. Every year, Climate Week gives us the opportunity to highlight this urgent need. But we need every week to be Climate Week. Given the science, knowledge and tools at our disposal, it is unacceptable that more has not been done to address the terrifying implications of climate change in the 21st century. We have no more time to waste. We face a powerful oil and gas industry that has sunk its claws into Congress and numerous state governments, and a presidential administration backed by a major political party dedicated to protecting polluters and spreading lies and confusion about the science. On the flip side is the urgent and painfully clear scientific consensus, coupled with the fact that the majority of Americans support action now on climate change. This is a battle that we can -- and must -- win, beginning with our votes in November. And winning the fight won't just protect our communities from the dangerous effects of climate change. It will create enormous new economic opportunity. The latest jobs report from E2, a national nonpartisan group of business leaders and investors focused on sustainable energy policies, shows there are already more than 3 million clean energy jobs in America today. If we can find the will to massively accelerate the development of renewable resources, we can create millions of more jobs. If 2020 has taught us anything, it's that facts are stubborn things, and denial can be fatal. The federal government's failure to accept the reality of the Covid-19 crisis once again demonstrated why aloofness is no replacement for proactive leadership. While we know this administration would be wise to change its destructive path -- by bringing our country back into the Paris Agreement on Climate Change, by putting in place strong clean car standards, or by restoring key environmental protections razed by Trump's cronies -- we know they won't. However, public opinion is clear even after years of misinformation and downright lies. There is not enough oil money in the world to stop the American people from rising up for what's right, and it's time to hit back. Let this Climate Week be a reminder not merely of the long road ahead, but of our own power to make that journey together. Start now, so that in Climate Week 2021 we'll have a little less distance to cover.

By Jay Inslee My first interaction with an orca whale took place when I was 5 years old. I was fishing on a boat with my dad in the San Juan Islands, a place known for some of the most breathtaking water views in the country. The fog circled our boat like it does most Washington mornings. It was quiet. Suddenly, an unearthly sound enveloped us--I heard a deep whoosh that sounded like a giant creature breathing. I asked my dad what it was. He said the fog was too dense to tell but he imagined it could be a killer whale. He was right. The orca started to glide next to our boat. I felt its sound vibrate deeply in my chest and it swam around our boat two or three times. To my delight, I watched its black dorsal fin rise out of the water like an apparition. The fin was almost 6 feet tall. As a young boy, I was impressed--the fin was taller than me. That was the first time I connected to a life force bigger than myself. When I heard that orca breathe, my reverence for the wild truly began. My memorable moments with nature stretch throughout my entire life. My dad was a teacher and led Student Conservation Association groups in the summer, something I fondly remember taking part in. My dad took children from all over the country up into the Washington mountains to do trail and shelter work. I took my wife, Trudi, water skiing on Lake Sammamish for our first date in 1968. We raised our sons to appreciate the beauty of our state and spent years kayaking, cross-country skiing and fishing together. Now, we teach our grandkids the importance of connecting with the outdoors. Outdoor experiences are constantly in demand in Washington, especially around our more than 100 state parks and state-park properties. I joke that I want a governor-override button on the state park reservation system for cabins at Cama Beach just so I can get in. But even I can't get a reservation there. What resonates with me about the outdoors is that it refreshes the senses. It heals. There's something about fresh air that makes me feel optimistic and connected. And as long as you're wearing a good hard-shell jacket, being outside on a rainy Washington day is better than being inside. You're connected to the rest of life when you're outside. Part of our state government's responsibility is to develop and foster great outdoor recreation opportunities. But the question I think about every day is whether or not the ravages of climate change will propel us into a time when we will have nothing left to connect to outside. When my grandkids reach my age, what glaciers will we have left? What animals will be extinct? What months will prove too hot or smoky to go outside? Will snow no longer top the peak of Crystal Mountain? The world knows Washington state for its lush beauty and unique outdoor experiences. You can sea kayak in Puget Sound. You can hike through the rainforest at Olympic National Park. You can explore the geography of the Ice Age floods in Central Washington, dig clams in Long Beach under a costal night sky that highlights the Milky Way, and see the northern lights if you're lucky. Washington has it all and we must work to make sure we always have it. But we know it's difficult to convince people to take climate change action if they haven't experienced the natural world. How do you tell someone we need to put a price on carbon when they've never hiked a trail to Mount Ellinor or enjoyed the view at one of our coastal state parks? To keep our state healthy, we need to keep outdoor experiences a priority. We need to develop our land wisely. And we need to understand that in a growing economy, we can't do things the way we always have and expect to keep the same outdoor opportunities. We've made such an incredible impact on the landscape here. But today, more people travel farther to get to work. And wilderness areas have dwindled significantly over the past decades. That makes it harder to experience something as simple as a hike. We need climate policy that directly protects the outdoor experience and the health of Washingtonians. As governor, fighting climate change drives many of my priorities. Earlier this year, I signed the most progressive clean energy bill package in the nation. Washington state is passing legislation that invests in alternate renewable energy sources and creating clean transportation technology. We'll keep fighting for clean fuel standards so we can lower our carbon emissions and minimize harm to our oceans as ocean acidification threatens them. States are leading the nation in climate action, despite an absence of federal leadership and attempts by the current administration to roll back many environmental protections. The chance of losing our greatest natural places must motivate us to act. It's up to us to not only care and upkeep the land we fiercely love--we must also intentionally create new ways to protect our wildest places from climate threats. Only then, will our efforts matter to current and future generations. We must protect what we love. We must protect what we value. And that doesn't happen accidentally. It requires action. It's a choice. That's why we must experience what we may lose. We must connect to the world around us. Only then, will we understand the power of connecting to something greater than ourselves.

By Kate Brown and Jay Inslee Brown is governor of Oregon. Inslee is governor of Washington. The only stoplight on Interstate 5 between Canada and Mexico is on the bridge over the Columbia River. As the governors of Washington and Oregon, we know that for too long the antiquated bridge has held our region back, literally and figuratively. More than 138,000 vehicles cross the I-5 bridge each weekday. People travel between Vancouver and Portland for work, recreation, shopping, and visiting friends and family. The bridge's importance to the entire region and our connectivity cannot be overstated. This crucial link has become a major congestion point, and instead of moving the entire region full speed ahead, the bridge has become a symbol of traffic and frustration. Congestion can be so severe during morning and evening commutes that speeds on this interstate highway can be reduced to 15 miles per hour. We've been stuck behind the traffic accidents -- the rate of which quadruple during bridge lifts ­-- and stuck behind one of our country's worst freight bottlenecks that constrains the economy. We've been stuck with insufficient high-capacity transit and active transportation options even as our population centers grow. And we've been stuck behind a century-old structure built on river sand that's susceptible to damage in even moderate earthquakes. None of that benefits Oregonians, Washingtonians, and the millions of people who drive this stretch of highway every year. For safety, traffic relief and jobs, we are recommitting to replacing the I-5 bridge. We are dedicating $44 million dollars to reopen a project office and begin a transparent, data-driven process that builds on previous work and truly listens to the community's needs. We never stopped fighting for this bridge and much has been accomplished in recent years. In 2015, we secured over $98 million for key infrastructure like the I-5/Mill Plain Boulevard interchange that's an integral piece of the project. In 2017, we re-established a baseline of planning information to help move the project forward. And this year, we secured an important extension from the federal government to keep our funding options open. Share your opinionSubmit your essay of 500-700 words on a highly topical issue or a theme of particular relevance to the Pacific Northwest, Oregon and the Portland area to commentary@oregonian.com. Please include your email and phone number for verification.Through our renewed efforts, both Washington and Oregon will save money by using some of the technical planning work from the previous project. This includes using or updating geotechnical evaluations, pile-drive tests, and foundation work, as well as archeological and historic property studies. We've jointly instructed our departments of transportation to assign dedicated staff to establish the program office and keep the work on track to meet important milestones. As these efforts are vital to the entire region, we will engage the public at every step in the process. We have an obligation to not just share accurate and timely information, but also listen to community ideas and concerns. We are committed to public engagement through neighborhood meetings, open houses, public festivals, and community group presentations. Regular updates will also be available on the project website, and through email and social media. We've worked hard to align our states for a restart of this project, and we're encouraged that leaders in Washington and Oregon have expressed an interest in coming back to the table, including a new joint legislative action committee. Leadership requires the humility to listen and the courage to act, and these lawmakers are helping us think through foundational principles important to both sides of the river. As we take this next step, we encourage the community to join us in giving this bridge the green light it needs to move the entire region forward.