by Pam Houston
The FAA is installing a portable tower at the Durango Airport due to the volume of aircraft flying in the area in support of our fires. Also, the Rocky Mountain Type 1 NIMO has added a swing shift to their operations. Adding the third shift allows for an on-time transition between day and night forces and for adequate staffing during the times when the fires are most likely to be active.
Please do not call 911 unless it is an actual emergency. Smoke monitors are now in place in Pagosa Springs, Freemon’s Ranch and Creede. These monitors are identified as #78, #69, and #65 and can be accessed through the map located at: **** (NFS InciWeb).
By the time I make it back to my Oregon dorm, InciWeb reports that CODOT intends to reopen Highway 160 over Wolf Creek Pass tomorrow morning at 6:00 a.m. Highway 149 remains closed between Creede and South Fork, but traffic is now being escorted in and out several times a day. This morning, most residents of South Fork are allowed to return home. Anyone west of Highway 149 and/or the Rio Grande River (whichever is closest) remains under mandatory evacuation. In Oregon, in the relatively clean dormitory air, I put my head on the pillow and sleep like a stone.
On the morning of the thirtieth, as I’m pulling out of the rent-a-car facility at SFO, Greg calls to say Sheryl Crow has attacked Martina and injured her badly, that he has wrapped her in a towel and put her in the garage, but he doesn’t expect her to make it. By the time I hit the Monterey Peninsula, Martina becomes the first official casualty of the fire. I loved Martina, inasmuch as a person can love a chicken, loved especially the way she came running out of the chicken house to greet me whenever she heard my voice, and I’d like to cry for her but the truth is I’m too numb with fear and worry. There will be the question of what to do with Sheryl Crow (who Greg is calling Sheryl Crow née Manson) because nobody keeps just one chicken, but there are so many more pressing questions, I just can’t deal with that one.
By the time I get to Esalen, and walk up to the secret internet hot spot behind the physical plant, I find, for the first time, the words “Red Mountain” on InciWeb. Red Mountain is the mountain out my kitchen window. It is the mountain that frames my barn. Two new fires started yesterday by spotting near Red Mountain, but they are being controlled, I am assured, with helicopter drops of water and retardant. Red Mountain and the entire Papoose Fire are experiencing wind gusts of more than 50 mph, and so far this afternoon, Papoose crews have successfully contained four spot fires that started as a result of rolling debris and embers that blew across the fire line. There have been several blow-ups inside the Trout Creek drainage and fire behavior will continue to be extreme. As I feared, the fire has burned all the way around the back of Antelope Park, but it is staying up high in the spruce forest. At least for now, it does not seem to want to burn downhill into the groves of aspen, like the one that marks the back of the ranch.
InciWeb promises the night shift will be on patrol to extinguish any hot areas near Red Mountain. Structure protection is in place at Spar City (three miles southeast of the ranch) and Red Mountain Ranch (three miles due south of the ranch), as well as at Bristol Head Acres (three miles northeast of the ranch) and the Soward Ranch (less than a mile west.) The fire has now consumed 92,176 acres and is 4 percent contained.
After reading every word on InciWeb four or five times, I am given to understand that every single property on both Middle Creek Road and Spar City Road now has structural protection in place except my ranch. Is this good news, or bad? Has my address been deleted from some all-important database? I understand about chains of command, but it still seems like one of those guys a hundred yards from the bottom of my driveway would have, in all this time, glanced over at our house and said, “Hey maybe those guys need structural protection too.”
“I’ve got the hoses all hooked up and I’m ready to spray the roof if I need to,” Greg says on my contraband landline that evening, “and we have the creek right here which I figure is just as good as one of those temporary tanks. We got a few thunderclouds this afternoon. I don’t think any rain fell out of them, but I’m hoping it’s a sign of things to come.” Nothing about this summer has been like any other summer, and yet this could be the monsoon, working itself up as it always does, just in time for the ten thousand tourists who arrive on the Fourth of July.
During the Missionary Ridge Fire, I spent the last week of June and the first several days of July watching the big dark clouds form over Red Mountain, standing on the dog porch and willing them toward the ranch with my mind, my heart, every part of me. “Please,” I implored the sky, “please.”
Several wells in the area ran dry that summer. I stopped washing clothes, barely washed dishes, and took thirty-second showers no more than twice a week. Whether or not I helped with my conservation methods, I don’t know, but my well never even sputtered. Once the monsoon kicked in I put a five-gallon bucket under my roof gutter’s drainpipe, and if the roof collected enough to overflow that bucket, then it counted as a real rain. I would mark it on my calendar as such and carry the water to my thirsty pines. I picture Greg watching those same clouds now, willing them to open and drop their rain on Red Mountain, and the ranch, and all of the forest, spruce and aspen, in between.
The Red Cross Shelter in Del Norte will close Monday, July 1. The Salvation Army will provide a continental breakfast from 8–9 tomorrow for the last of the Red Cross clients.
Please use caution when travelling along Highways 149 and 160. Heavy fire traffic can be expected along the highways and within the communities of South Fork, Creede, and Del Norte. Please do not stop along roads to take pictures of the fire or firefighters as doing so could impede fire operations (NFS InciWeb).
On July 1, everyone wakes up to the news that nineteen firefighters have been killed in the Yarnell Hill Fire in Arizona. The Granite Mountain Hotshots are one of the most storied and highly trained groups of firefighting professionals in the world, and yet a fast-growing fire started by lightning overran nineteen of its members. When they realized the fire was upon them, the firefighters deployed their safety shelters, but the shelters were not protective enough to withstand the intense heat of the blaze. The Yarnell Hill Fire has the highest death toll of any U.S. wildfire since the 1991 East Bay Hills fire killed twenty-five people. It is the sixth deadliest American wildfire and the deadliest wildfire ever in the state of Arizona. Starting today, the Colorado Rockies baseball team will wear 19 on all of their jerseys to honor the fallen firefighters.
In light of the sad news associated with the loss of 19 members of our firefighting family from Granite Mountain Hot Shots on the Yarnell Hill Fire in Arizona, the morning update was delayed by a two-hour stand down issued by Incident Commander Pete Blume along with a moment of silence. The stand down was a safety precaution provided to firefighters to debrief the situation and honor those firefighters lost on the Yarnell Hill Fire. Incident personnel were given several options to meet their emotional needs. A Critical Incident Stress Management Team is available to those needing additional assistance. It is with a heavy heart that we continue our operations today on the West Fork Complex.
The emergency response community mourns the loss of the 19 firefighters that perished in the Yarnell Hill Fire in Arizona. The Rocky Mountain Type 1 Incident Management Team and firefighters working the West Fork Complex extend their deepest condolences to those affected by the tragic events of the Yarnell Hill Fire. We are keeping the firefighters who died, those that continue to work on incidents, and the families of all the firefighters in our thoughts.
Out of respect for our colleagues, the West Fork Complex will not issue any further statements on the Yarnell Hill Fire. The morning briefing occurred at 9:00 am and operations will continue as planned. We believe the best tribute we can give at this time is to continue to focus our efforts on maintaining public and firefighter safety in honor of those who have fallen. We thank you for your understanding in regards to the delay this morning.
With the 4th of July weekend ahead, motorists can expect to
see firefighting traffic along Highways 160 and 149. Please watch your speed (NFS InciWeb).
Fire Shelter: An aluminized tent offering protection by means of reflecting radiant heat and providing a volume of breathable air in a fire entrapment situation. Fire shelters should only be used in life-threatening situations, as a last resort (USDA Forest Service Fire Terminology).
Aramid: The generic name for a high-strength, flame-resistant synthetic fabric used in the shirts and jeans of firefighters. Nomex, a brand name for aramid fabric, is the term commonly used by firefighters (USDA Forest Service Fire Terminology).
Into the Black: Moving from outside the fire front to inside the burned area, which is sometimes the safest place to be in a flare-up (Glossary of Wildland Fire Terminology).
Later today, as I give a lecture in a large white circus tent on the edge of the Pacific, rain falls for the first time in two months, not on or near the ranch, but on the eastern part of the West Fork Fire, slowing it considerably. According to the infrared photos, some areas of that fire have not moved significantly in more than six days. The Papoose only received a tiny amount of rain, and that only on its northern extremity, almost twenty miles from the ranch. There are thunderstorms in the forecast for the rest of the week, but the percentages decrease as the temperatures rise. By the end of the week there’s only a 10 percent chance any moisture will actually hit the ground. Firefighters on the Papoose will take advantage of the moisture that fell to secure the northwest area of the fire, using a combination of dozer lines, hand lines and water drops to construct secure lines around structures. As of 8:00 p.m. there have been no known structures lost on the West Fork Complex.
By July 2, the tone on InciWeb changes from the cautious optimism of the last few days to something you would almost call a swagger:
With the West Zone of the West Fork being essentially secure, aviation resources will be repositioned to other areas of the fire and will be available to support ground resources when requested. In areas where structure protection has been completed, firefighters will test pumps and sprinkler systems to ensure they are still operational. During structure protection, limbs, branches, and other vegetation was removed from around homes, propane tanks and other structures. Firefighters will begin to chip this material so that it is not creating a fire hazard. The strategies for operations on the fire include continuing protection for structures and high value resources, as well as confining the fire to areas where it will not pose an issue for the local area during the remainder of the summer (NFS InciWeb).
I wonder if the Forest Service considers my barn a “high value resource.” I wonder if you are in possession of a low value resource, how you would ever know. Just today, for the first time, I can feel my humor returning. I am starting to believe, against my worst-case-scenario-prone nature, that the ranch is not going to burn down after all.
Evacuations in several areas of Mineral County are being lifted. Residents are warned “to remain vigilant and be prepared to evacuate at a moment’s notice in the event that fire activity changes.” I find it odd that InciWeb fails to comprehend that most of us will be prepared to evacuate at a moment’s notice for many years, if not the rest of our lives.
Finally, at two o’clock in the afternoon on July 3, while I’m walking past the physical plant at Esalen, a rogue strand of internet buzzes in and on Weather Underground I see a green blob over the ranch that indicates rain.
“Lightly at first,” Greg says, “and then hard enough to run in rivulets off the roof, and then for about six minutes right before it quit it was a real frog strangler.” I can hear in his voice he has been both laughing and crying.
“It isn’t enough to put out a hundred-thousand-acre fire,” he says, “but it’s enough to clean the air and enough to go out and smell and taste and dance around in, enough to make me believe Mother Nature might not hate us so much after all.”
The Joint Information Center closed as of last evening due to call volume slowing down. For fire information, please contact the appropriate zone office. Isolated thunderstorms are forecasted with winds from the northwest. Increased moisture will slightly improve chances for wetting rains. True monsoonal moisture still appears most likely to arrive at the end of this week, which is near average timing for southern Colorado (NFS InciWeb).
Six minutes of frog strangling notwithstanding, on July 3, the fire grows beyond the 100,000-acre mark to 106,637, with nearly all the new growth coming on the Papoose, burning heavily in beetle kill and old logging slash. Sustained winds of 20 to 25 mph push the fire farther into Trout and Copper creeks, just west of Red Mountain
The last time I was in Copper Creek Canyon, I was shocked at the density and sheer volume of the standing dead spruce. Even that day my thought was, this forest needs to burn, and today, standing here next to the physical plant at Esalen, looking across a sea of bright red opium poppies and giant moss-covered oaks to the giant kelp beds rising and falling with the Pacific, I feel, all the way to my core, that what in the smallest frame has been a summer of total devastation in my corner of the Rockies, has in a larger frame been Mother Nature bravely and tenaciously trying to save herself.
In anticipation of the Fourth of July, fire restrictions for the Rio Grande National Forest have increased to Stage 2. Fourth of July festivities in Pagosa Springs are bringing up to 10,000–12,000 visitors over the weekend. Please be cautious of fire traffic and come visit us at the town park booth. Tonight will be the last night shift for this fire. Starting tomorrow we will publish the daily update once a day at 9AM, with tweet and blog entries throughout the day (NFS InciWeb).
I arrive home on the morning of the Fourth of July. Neither the West Fork Fire nor the Windy Pass Fire is growing at any significant rate, but damned if our Papoose Fire isn’t still running. Today it burns up the rest of the trees in Copper Creek and pops out the other side, and now it’s eating up the trees we can see at the base of Copper Ridge, the very place I hike every summer on my way up to Red Mountain. InciWeb reports that high afternoon winds will heighten the potential for spreading and spotting. I stand in my kitchen watching the flames outside my window. The fire is as close, at this moment, as it has ever been to the ranch, to my pasture, to my barn, to my little stand of aspen: well under a mile.
We are no longer the number one priority in the country and firefighters are leaving the area at the rate of fifty per day, along with several fixed-wing planes and helicopters as they are reassigned to other fires. I try to make my brain experience this as good news.
On the night of the Fourth, the smoke clears and the stars come out. Scorpio, Cygnus, the Summer Triangle, Cassiopeia, Cepheus, the whole Milky Way. It’s better than fireworks, which have been cancelled, thank God, all over the state. I go to sleep with all the windows open and wake at first light choking; Bristol Head has disappeared behind a layer of heavy smoke. But the chance of precipitation this morning had been raised from 20 to 40 percent. These are the kinds of numbers I have begun living for.
A report of a small pump house that burned just east of the Rio Grande Reservoir has been confirmed. There had been rumors of a bunk house burning, but after further investigation, it was determined it was a pump house which burned during earlier fire activity. The Hinsdale County Sheriff has made landowner notification. This is the only known structure that has burned in the fire to date (NFS InciWeb).
Life begins to return to normal, though I continue to check InciWeb daily. Most mornings we are smoked in terribly, but by early afternoon, the wind picks up, the valley floor clears and it’s even possible to take a pasture walk. The fire has consumed 110,028 acres, which equals almost 172 square miles. Personnel has been reduced to 1,169 and we are down to 56 engines and 17 water tenders, and for some reason back up from 10 helicopters to 12. Containment is listed at 20 percent.
On July 6, the number of buildings threatened by the West Fork Fire is reduced from 441 to 261. This is a statistic we have not had before, and I wonder whether either
of those numbers includes mine. Moisture is predicted to increase steadily each day as far as the forecast reaches. The monsoon has come to save us, like a clock, right on time.
Incident Commander Beth Lund of the Type 1 Eastern Great Basin Incident Management Team assumed command of the West Fork Fire East Zone from Rocky Mountain Incident Management Team (Type 1) from Commander Pete Blume at 6:00 am this morning (NFS InciWeb).
The new incident commander (the first woman’s name InciWeb has mentioned since this whole thing began) has been put in charge of—I try not to react—“mop up.” She calls a town meeting and reminds us containment is not and never has been the goal of this firefighting effort; management is. Their number one priority, she says, has been to protect structures, and they have lost only one outbuilding. “So far,” she adds—though whether this is a joke or an afterthought, I find impossible to tell by her tone. She repeats Pete Blume’s warning that the fire most likely won’t go all the way out until the snow flies.
Firefighters are transferring by the hundreds now to blazes in Oregon and California, our monsoon seems to be building steam, and the faces of my neighbors have softened since the last town meeting. Commander Beth Lund’s whole team is considerably more relaxed than Pete Blume’s. And yet, each night, the infrared photography still shows the hottest part of the fire being the swathe of forest right up behind the ranch, below Copper Ridge as it wraps around to Red Mountain.
When I ask Beth Lund what will keep that finger of fire from backing down the hill toward the ranch when the winds clock around to the south, she knows exactly who I am and where I live. “Your little aspen grove at the back of your property will save you,” she says. “Aspen trunks are all full of water. I’d rather have a 100-acre stand of aspen between me and a fire than a line of the best hot shots in the business.”