Thursday, September 6, 2012

Neighbor Mountain Fire

I got the call about 11:00 in the morning.  A local mountain in Luray, Virginia was burning.  They were trying to put together a type II hand crew from Virginia.  It was about damn time.  I had learned about a week ago that the reason that I wasn't getting any calls on the local fire was that the guy in charge of updating the database for the callout list had failed to enter my information.  I was told that the information was entered back in October.  I knew something was wrong when crews from Florida and New Jersey were getting called out for Virginia fires.  WTF?  After my crew boss looked into it, they said that our crew didn't show that they had taken the refresher course for the year and were ineligible.  Uh, yeah.  That was also submitted last year.

After that got sorted out we are given a 15:00 go time.  We will be tying in with a crew from Galax, and one more from Salem.  As 15:00 approaches, I get another call.  We've been pushed back till 17:00.  Sigh.  Guess I'll go hang out with the pup some more before I leave him with the dog sitter.  At 16:00  I decide to start heading to Dublin.  On the radio I hear that there has been a major accident that has 81 backed up for 9 miles.  Hmm, guess I'll take the back way.  Come to find out later.  Someone had crashed a DOT truck at 70 mph.  It took a while to extract the remains.  On the way to the fire, we see the truck cut up into quarters on a rollback.

In Salem we pick up the rest of the crew and the dozer transport.  We now have everything and everyone that we are supposed to have.  We make the long uneventful trek to Harrisonburg, where we will be living out of a hotel for the next week or so.  Continental breakfast, air conditioning, showers, and a clean bed every night?  Yes, please.  Much more preferable to sleeping in the dirt and humidity of the dirty south.  Just outside of Harrisonburg we run into a natural disaster of a different sort.  The sky has turned black and the winds have started to pick up.  Standing in the parking lot of the Comfort Inn, we turn our backs to the 40 mph winds as they whip up the dust in the lot and try to wrench loose the branches of the surrounding trees.  The rest of our convoy joins us at the hotel.  They tell us that the winds and driving rain were trying to toss the vehicles across the road.  Moving inside to check in, we learn that most of Virginia has lost power.  The receptionist is overwhelmed with the influx of displaced residents without power.  The lights in the lobby flicker, as she fields phone calls while working the counter.  She has to relay the news that all the hotels and motels in the area are full.  The closest openings are in Tennessee.

05:00 comes quickly.  Boots and nomex are pulled on, and we trudge down to the breakfast area.  There is a decent selection of hot and cold breakfast food.  CNN is on, it relays the latest news of the Colorado Springs fire in Waldo Canyon.  It is visual confirmation of what my sister has been telling me.  The fire has started to make its way through Woodland Park.  Kelly has told me her family had been evacuated.  Larissa tells me about the displaced families currently taking up residence in her home.  Apparently part of the Air Force Academy has also burned.  Everyone including my old SAR team in Teller County keep saying how bad things are.  Houses are burning due to being in non defensible areas.  They are at the end of narrow drives surrounded by woods.  There is no way to protect them without endangering firefighters.  I hope, for personal reasons, to be sent to Colorado after Harrisonburg. No time to think about that now.  We have our own fire to take care of.  Coffee cups are topped off, muffins are stuffed into cargo pockets and we make our way to the trucks.  Off to Incident Command to get our orders and supplies for the day.

We follow the winding road to Luray, arriving at a sea of tents, trailers, engines, and buses.  We get our orders for the day as well as our lunches, water, and various other equipment.  The most important item on this tour will be pre-wrap.  You spend 12 to 16 hours in your boots on side sloping terrain.  Nothing will stop you quicker than blisters.  Over the past year of fire fighting, and my experience in hiking, I have developed a system of wrap, band aids, and duct tape to prevent any sort of rubbing.  The boots that I have been using for the last year have tried to kill me.  Why did Danner think that putting a thick seam across the top of your toes was a good idea?  I've owned 3 or 4 of their hiking boots and figured that they would be a good choice for wildland fire boots.  Sadly I was mistaken.  If you value your feet, stay away from Danner's Flashpoint boots.  For a 300 dollar boot, you would have thought that they would have done a little better job with their design.  Oh, well I paid under 100.00 for them and they got me through the season.  Back into the trucks and off to the staging area for the day.  Time to prepare the first timers for their first walk in the woods.

In wildland fire you pretty much are getting paid to hike around with 40 pounds of gear and some sort off tool for beating and scraping the ground.  In the south most of that 40 pounds is water.  When dealing with 80 percent humidity, dehydration is a huge problem to juggle.  Get behind in your drinking and you will never recover.  You have to force yourself to drink even when you don't think you are thirsty.  Dehydration headaches are completely debilitating.  Heat exhaustion will straight take you out.  Later in the week we learn that crew member from Texas went down from heat exhaustion.  Working in the mountains makes the extrication even more difficult.  We constantly remind the new guys to drink and take more water then they have been packing during the water refills.  Just in case, some of us pack extra water in for the off chance that others will need it.  The day brings the usual for a hand crew.  Mop up.  Wandering around in the woods looking for residual heat that may become a problem if it goes unchecked.  Embers can reignite unburned fuels or be blown across the fire line, allowing the fire to go unchecked.  It is a slow and tedious process.  The crew takes to it well, especially the new guys.  We spend the day digging out burning embers and dousing them with portable water packs.  We scan the terrain for any signs of fire or heat.  A puff of smoke, a swarm of gnats, all can indicate fire smoldering underground.

After a day of hiking in the woods, it's back to camp for dinner and an after action review.  The crew is excited to have completed their first day, although some are disappointed that they have yet to see the actual fire.  Dinner ends up being a sour affair.  13 hours on the line and we are greeted with a small chicken biscuit and some cold fries.  After dinner we are still hungry and make plans to find additional food in town.  We make our way back to Harrisonburg and check out the local mexican joint.  Finally full, we make our way back to the hotel for a short night of rest before starting the day again.

As the week progresses, it has it's share of boredom and excitement.  Those new to fire become quite familiar with hurry up and wait.  Others try to become comfortable with the chainsaw, while secretly hoping that the squad sawyer will show up and take over the job.  The heat and humidity take a toll on those unaccustomed to running a chainsaw let alone all day.  We finally see fire and begin to prep the fire lines.  Quick lessons are given on how to dig line in preparation for using the drip torches to light off the line and starve the fire for fuel.  I feel bad for the first timers when I learn that they may not be allowed to reap the fruit of all their hard work burning.  There is talk of a Texas crew that had just shown up being allowed to burn.  In the words of Donnie Garmin "*uck if I'm gonna let that happen!"  Dinner continues to get better as the IC turns to local venders.

The days are filled with hiking, digging, and helicopter watching.  We pull burning stumps and snags with the winch of the dozer. We also catch our truck on fire as the transmission burps onto the exhaust on a steep hill.  The Bronco is engulfed in smoke and the back glass won't roll down, preventing access to the extinguisher.  A small fire starts on the ground as everyone scrambles for tools and extinguishers to combat the fire.  In the end the truck is pulled out of service.  We then have the new task of fitting full size Bronco full of crap into a small Jeep Cherokee.  To add to the fire line casualties, we end up killing one of the saws.  At home our crew boss tells us that he would love to tell us good job but we did burn up up his truck and a saw.  Ha ha!

We watch as the helicopters as they drop water and ping-pongs.  One day one of the incendiary ping-pongs is blown across the line and into the green, starting a spot fire.  Later in the season I come to meet the crew that watched that fire start on my tour in Idaho.  More mop up, more burning, more hurry up and wait.  We love every minute of it.  At the end of the week we are tired and sore.  The majority of us can't wait for the next fire.













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