Wildcat Smoke

Day 328: The Wildcat Fire is just east of Mount Rainier National Park's eastern boundary (Park is the tan area on the map), but that does not mean it is not affecting me. Although the AQI is still in the "moderate" range where I live, I can smell and taste the smoke. The background photo here should have a Mountain in it. I cannot see even a vague outline. And yes, there have been days when past fires in the area have rendered it significantly worse, to the point even that I could barely see the line of brush in the foreground of the image, when you're having trouble breathing, the numbers really don't count for much. Wildcat started as a lightning strike and seemed manageable at first. Then wind came up and spread it to 5542 acres yesterday. More lightning is in the forecast over the next several days, and although there will be some precipitation, it will be minor. The chance of new fires is high.

Bad Air

Day 310: I'm roughly 150 miles from the fires in Kelowna (British Columbia), but the smoke from them drifted in here overnight, and the Air Quality Index now stands at 170 (unhealthy) for my location. The Mountain has disappeared from view and although the hills behind this tree line were faintly visible an hour ago, they are now also occluded by thick smoke. I'd hoped we were going to get through this summer without a smoke event: an unreasonable expectation given the way climate change is progressing. That leads me to the subject of today's post.

You might think that the prevalence of bad behaviour in modern times is due to the political scenario, but it's my opinion that it's driven by the awareness, conscious or unconscious, that our planet is slowly dying, and that we have no one to blame but ourselves. Climate-change deniers can spout the party line all they like, but they are not fooling me. Their greed and lust for power comes from a deeply rooted self-preservation instinct and, whether they want to admit it or not, the evidence in wildfires, strong storms, rising ocean temperatures and such plays on their minds subliminally. As a drowning man would push another under to grasp at a straw, so do the climate-change deniers shove others aside so that they can grab the biggest, the best, the most in the hopes of saving their own hides. But in a dog-eat-dog world, the last dog standing is doomed to starvation regardless. Humanity, my friends, is on its way out.

Goats In Smoke

Day 334: While I was down at Lodi Creek, Joe and Sharon were counting goats. The final tally was something over 20, as I recall, arranged in several small groups along the ridgeline. Some were resting. Others were looking for forage among the tough scrub characteristic of this habitat, but all looking quite well-fed. Oreamnos americanus is particularly suited to this environment. Their hooves are equipped with flexible inner pads which act like suction cups and give them grip on the smooth, slick surfaces of rock slabs and ice. They also have dewclaws which add stability and traction. Their wool...well, lemme tell you about that, okay?

I've been a spinner for a long time, and back in the days when I was a bit of a mountain goat myself, I spent a lot of time climbing the same scree slopes and rocky ridges which Oreamnos finds so attractive. I often found clumps of their wool on the ground.  I knew that the native peoples of the area had used it for clothing and insulation, so I set about collecting as much of it as I could find. After I'd gathered roughly a gallon Ziploc full, I began trying to clean it for spinning. First, I removed the long guard hairs which protect the soft undercoat. That reduced the volume of material by about 50%. Then I started trying to pick out the larger bits of goat dander and found that for every flake of dandruff I pulled out, two or three soft hairs came with it. It soon became clear to me that the yield from a gallon of wool was probably going to be a little string about six inches long once it was spun up, so I abandoned the project with a new and refreshing perspective on the diligence of hunter-gatherers. Trust me, it would have taken a long time and a lot of walking to gather enough wool to make a pair of mitts or a hat. No, I think I'll buy my wool in bags, cleaned and processed and ready for the wheel.

She'll Be Comin' Round The Mountain

Day 332: It started out like any other Botany Friday, if perhaps a bit smokier than usual. My botany partners got up at 2 AM in order to make the long drive to pick me up at 5:30 (I got up at 3:30), and if we hadn't been delayed by road construction, we'd have been at Sunrise at 7:30. The air seemed to grow thicker with smoke as we progressed eastward, but thinned as we gained altitude. It was less smoky at Sunrise (6420') than it had been in the valley, and as we climbed up to Frozen Lake, we noticed a slight improvement in air quality. However, by the time we were ready to return to the car, more smoke had moved in from the east, thick enough to smell and taste. In the distance, we spotted the billows of a rising cloud in the vicinity of Packwood, and later confirmed that it was in fact the smoke plume from the 150-acre Goat Rocks Fire (update 6 AM 10 Sept. - fire is now at 1200 acres). Meadow Rovers were recalled from duty due to the rapidly rising air quality index shortly before we arrived back at the car. Not long afterwards, an alert went out from area cell towers saying that a Level 3 evacuation order had been issued for Packwood residents, "Leave now!" Highway 12 was closed from Skate Creek Road to White Pass. We figured we could still come back through the Park, but found Hwy 123 closed at Cayuse Pass. Our only option at that point was to complete a full circle around the Mountain in order to get me back home, adding roughly 100 extra miles to my botany partners' driving day. Did we find any new and interesting plants? Nope.

Smoke Walk

 

Day 339: I'd reached my tolerance for being pent up indoors, so on the excuse of blog photography and the possibility of mushrooms, I headed up the road at a slower-than-usual pace. I did not find 'shrooms of any sort, nor did I find the fireweed which would have given me a reason to discuss fire ecology as it relates to certain plants, and by the time I'd straggled back home again, I'd decided that staying indoors wasn't such a bad idea after all. Yeah, won't do that again any time soon. Much as I hate to admit that I'm in a "sensitive group," them's the facts. That said, we think of smoky air in terms of ourselves as humans, but the critter community is no better adapted to breathe it than we are, and among the birds, the beasts and the bugs there are also sensitive individuals. How do your pets cope with this? Do you have, as I do, a cat with a heart murmur? Do you have a dog whose age or obesity makes breathing more difficult than it would be for a healthy puppy? Nor are these populations the only ones to suffer. Smoke particulates can accumulate on leaves, blocking the stomata which allow plants to "breathe." Returning from my brief smoke-walk, my skin feels oily, my hair feels weighted, and if my breathing is somewhat more shallow and laboured at the moment, my lungs will clear themselves after a few hours indoors. The chickadees and nuthatches, the cattle in the pasture, the very trees around my home don't have much choice.

Today's Smoke

Day 334: It was worse during the Alder Lake Fire of 2015, worse for a few days in 2018 and 2019 when smoke from eastern Washington was carried across the Cascades and into my valley. And it is certainly better than what is being experience presently by residents of Oregon and California, but for all of my empathy toward their plight, the knowledge does not make it any easier for me, sitting here in my living room, to draw breath. The Mountain has disappeared behind the curtain and my neighbour's house is greyed by a thin veil. The stink of burn is heavy in the air outdoors and to some extent, seeps through the minute cracks which allow air circulation in my home. No house is air-tight; its occupants would suffocate if it was constructed so. Air quality is slated to worsen before it improves, as are so many things in the present climates, both literal and figurative. At least the smoke's term is limited.

Update: the top photo was taken at roughly 11:15 AM. The one below was taken at 6:45 PM. It's nasty out there.

A Brief Respite

Day 310: By mid-afternoon yesterday, the brief respite we had from wildfire smoke was in retreat against a new onslaught. Although the Mountain hadn't been clearly visible at any time in the previous 24 hours, you could at least distinguish glaciers from rocks, and that for the first time in two weeks. But as the saying goes, all good things come to an end. This morning once again, there is no Mountain on the horizon, only a blurry red disk rising in the east. I consider myself to be in good physical condition, yet the smoke in the air impairs my breathing, leaves me feeling tired, worn and, if the truth be told, not at full capacity mentally. On the other hand, I am grateful that it isn't worse. Ranger friends have been evacuated from both Yosemite and Glacier due to the wildfires there. As tinder-dry as the Pacific Northwest currently is, all it would take would be one lightning strike, one careless toss of a cigarette, one fool leaving a campfire smoldering, and we'd go up in a puff.

183 Acres, Moving East And Up

Day 316: The Alder Lake Fire is now at 183 acres and spreading to the east and up the slopes of Stahl Mtn., a 3716' peak to the southwest of the town of Elbe. Christian, the young firefighter who has been my point of contact for the last several days, says that they have been given the go-ahead to put in a helipad in anticipation of air support. Poring over our mutual map collection, we determined that the spur roads on my ancient "Mount Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest" recreational map (now Gifford Pinchot National Forest) and 7.5' USGS topo were in fact on his topo after all, hidden under the hand-drawn felt-tip lines showing where the fire crew has punched in a line with bulldozers. The fire is presently being held at that line, and at the 74 Road on the bottom, although it is only a few hundred feet from second-growth timber on the west end. "Our guys are watching it very closely to keep it from breaching the road," he told me. Half an hour earlier, I'd watched a rollout in a gully which came dangerously close to that point.

Of more concern is the fact that it's sweeping up-slope toward Stahl. A new column of smoke on the east end (obscured by lower smoke in this photo) seemed quite active. The columns indicate where there is a consolidation of fuel; in fact, the fire is creeping along the ground beneath the canopy and only sends up a "smoke-signal" when it hits a concentration. While talking with Christian and his crewman, I had an ear to radio conversations. "Fire behaviour is increasing in the upper east corner. We're going to have to pull our guys out of there pretty quick." In the background, the growl of bulldozers and crack of falling snags echoed across the placid lake. A spotter plane flew close along the eastern margin of the blaze, circled around for a second pass.

I asked Christian, "Aren't you about due to go back on the line?" He told me he'd be down for a few more days. "They like what I'm doing here, and I like teaching people, but yeah, I'll be going back up pretty soon." I fought down a mothering instinct I didn't know I had and stopped short of hugging him. "Good luck," I said. "Good luck."

"We're Getting Our Butts Kicked Up There"

Day 314: "We're getting our butts kicked up there." The young crewman taking a break after nine straight days on the Alder Lake Fire explained to me in detail the logistics and contingency plans in place, indicating on the topo map specific problem areas, attack routes and established fire lines when he realized I was no stranger to map-reading. Now at 110 acres and still spreading, one of the primary issues in fighting this blaze is the steep terrain. "No dozer wants to go in there," he said. "We're hand-digging the line." Yesterday a snag came down unexpectedly, missing one of the crew by a scant three feet. You can't move out of the way quickly when you're fighting for every foothold, encumbered by heavy protective clothing and equipment.

Earlier this morning, a wind from the east carried the fire westward. As the day warmed, it shifted back to come from the west, blowing the flames east again. The fire has gone into second-growth on the back side of the ridge as well, but the crew has cleared a break, following a disused spur off the 7409. A contingency containment plan outlines creating a "big box" scenario, back-burning lines both to the east and to the west, effectively walling the fire within the confines of fuel-free boundaries. That means the smoke is likely to get worse before it gets better unless the present inversion lifts.

The top photo was taken today, the bottom one just four days ago. That's not fog, not cloud blanketing the foothills. Those peaks are shrouded in smoke, smoke which is drifting up-valley so thickly that I can't see half a mile from home. The Alder Lake smoke coupled with that of the eastern Washington fires obscures the views from high points like Paradise and Sunrise in Mount Rainier National Park. Even at Longmire, it's almost impossible to see the Mountain.

It's going to take more than a sprinkle of rain, more than a few days before Smokey Bear's sign drops from "Extreme" to "High." It's going to take a flood-generating downpour before the Bear can relax under the placid green of "Low." For now, old firefighters are "coming out of the woodwork," the young crewman told me, taking their pack tests, getting their Red Cards, leaving comfortable retirements in an attempt to do the job Nature seems reluctant to do: put out the fires which are ravaging our state.