Aerial Assault

Day 4: These are a few of the scenes I captured yesterday of the DNR staging area for their aerial assault on the 8 Road Fire. Two helicopters were bucketing water from a nearby lake, and another was carrying retardant tanks. The support crew for the flights remained on the ground until sunset and then pulled out, despite the fire having grown from 30 to 150 acres during the day. I do not pretend to understand the logistics of wildland firefighting, and I know there are aviation rules which must be followed regarding night flights. However, I did expect to see the crew back in the pasture this morning, but there is nothing out there presently except cows and a lot of smoke. The wind has now shifted and is carrying it into my valley. I cannot see the hills through it. While I still don't believe my valley is in any danger of being evacuated, I have my go-bag by the door and a kitty carrier within easy reach. We are not expected to get precipitation until Sunday, and even that won't be much (if any).

Moving Up Stahl

Day 321, Fire Update: Wrongside Up Larry from DNR was back today, fortunately accompanied by David, a more communicative representative of USFS who, when he saw me trying to configure my head to the upside-down map, provided me with a hand-held copy he retrieved from his truck. He said, "It's about 50-50," referring to the number of people who want the map oriented to the terrain instead of "north up." I think a poll by profession would show that about 50% work in map-dependent fields. Larry, for all of his current employment, clearly belongs in the other half.

The fire has not increased in acreage since yesterday, despite the strong winds which kept fire crews in camp all day yesterday. It was simply too dangerous to be in the field. David explained that during an on-site discussion of potential hazards, a gust passed through and took down forty or fifty fire-damaged trees in one great crash, effectively ending any debate. Three-quarters of an inch of rain has at least cleared some of the particulates out of the air, but the fire continues to advance along the ground, leaving burned-out zones behind it. One professional projection says that it is likely to increase to 700-800 acres before it reaches a line where it can be controlled. Wrongside Up Larry said, "Maybe even 4000." Of course his credibility is somewhat suspect as far as I am concerned.

For now, the fire is creeping slowly up the side of Stahl Mtn. (photo) and southeast toward Pleasant Valley. One new hot spot has been reported on the western flank.

Better Communications

Day 318: Larry, the DNR mouthpiece mentioned in yesterday's post, was replaced today by Doug (DNR) and Mark (USFS), a wisecracking pair who were more informative than their predecessor, if not addressing me in quite the same "kindred spirit" as Christian had done. After a greeting from Mark of, "Hi, ma'am! Are you local?" to which I responded immediately with a laughing, "I sure wish you guys would turn that map 'north up,'" we got along famously. Mark responded to my complaint with a chuckle, "Yeah, I noticed that, too. I don't know why they did that," and went directly to the map, removing it from its staples and turning it up into the proper orientation. "Thank you!" I said. "I was getting sick to my stomach looking at it upside-down." "Me too," he agreed. I knew I was going to like this pair based entirely on that initial contact.

The men confirmed what I already knew: the fire grew by over fifty acres overnight, now at 225 and spreading steadily to the southeast and up the northeast flank of Stahl Mtn. The residents of Pleasant Valley have been put on Level 1 evacuation alert, a "get ready" status in case the smoke reaches hazardous concentrations or the fire spreads more quickly than anticipated. Level 2 would mean voluntary evacuation to a shelter or to be ready to evacuate at a moment's notice. Level 3 means mandatory evacuation. The town of Morton is currently prepared to shelter evacuees under either Level 2 or Level 3 alerts. There is less of an inversion today, so the breathability of the air here at home is substantially improved from last night when I was hacking and coughing every few minutes. As I have told friends, I will evacuate either when forced to by a Level 3 alert, or when breathing becomes too difficult.

In other news, we have heavy rain in our forecast starting Friday. This could be good for the fire, but bad with respect to the potential for creating debris flows like the one we had on Tahoma Creek just two weeks ago or flooding on major rivers. Fire, earthquake, debris flow, the possibility of flood...what's next? Foes or famine? Or maybe a plague of locusts? Seems we're running the whole gamut.

Buprestis Aurulenta, Golden Buprestid

Day 317: First an update on the Alder Lake Fire...Christian, the young firefighter who has been my point of contact for the last several days, was called back to the line and his position of providing public information was turned over to an older gentleman from the Dept. of Natural Resources. Despite the fact that I was delivering a large container of chocolate-chip cookies for the crew at Spike Camp, the rapport I'd built with Christian as a kindred spirit was notably absent in my dealings with the new man. He presented a by-the-numbers scenario meant to mollify the concerns of locals, and despite a few leading questions from me was not particularly forthcoming. That said, I know when the wool is being pulled over my eyes, and therefore I will give you my personal assessment of the fire rather than the "party line."

The size of the fire has been reevaluated following an infrared survey and now stands at 173 acres. It continues to move eastward and up the ridge. These are simple facts. Spike Camp is being pulled back to Pleasant Valley tonight, and the fire is going to be allowed to burn to the east over several ridges as crews put in one or more dozer lines 50-60 feet wide between Pleasant Valley and the first ridge west of it. According to the DNR representative, this has been deemed to be the most effective way of stopping the blaze, and in fact that may be true at this point. However, it also tells me that they have lost control of the eastward progression and are now falling back on one of the contingency plans Christian explained several days ago, a plan they had hoped to avoid using.

Now for today's nature lesson! I've always wondered what these beautiful metallic green beetles were called, so after photographing this one at Paradise day before yesterday, I did some research and then submitted the photo to BugGuide.net with a tentative identification which was confirmed by one of the staff entomologists. It is Buprestis aurulenta, aka Golden Buprestid (pronounced "boo-press-tid"), a type of wood-borer which feeds largely on dead or dying trees, and on other wood such as lumber. It leaves an oval hole behind as evidence of its visit. This particular specimen was large for the species, slightly over three-quarters of an inch long. My mother always called them "beauty bugs" which, I have to admit, is a lot easier to wrap your tongue around than "Buprestid."

Not Good At All

Day 315: Let's start the day off with a bang...literally. At 7:33 AM, I heard a loud growling rumble which I initially thought was an earthquake. A minor rattling accompanied it, more like a reverberation than a shake. It was over in just a few seconds, causing me to re-evaluate my supposition, and upon review, I decided it had been an explosion, and of course I immediately associated it with the Alder Lake Fire. As I sat down to compose an email, I thought, "Maybe I ought to check the Pacific Northwest Seismic Network before I draw any conclusions," and lo and behold! There it was, a 2.9 quake, epicentered only a few miles from my home. Never a dull moment around here!

After putting in a full day at work, I decided to swing by Lillie Dale Road to check on the fire, and there discovered the same young firefighter standing duty by his truck and talking to a crowd of onlookers. He greeted me with a "Howdy, stranger!" and immediately took me aside to explain the fire situation in more detail. I was dismayed to learn that it is progressing eastward, and that it has now spread to 150 acres. The good news is that the Dept. of Natural Resources has now joined the fight since the blaze has crossed over into DNR land.

As my erstwhile "interpretive guide" ran his finger across the map, showing me where crews were actively working and where he had gone in on foot to scout a possible firebreak, I noticed a difference between his map and mine. "What about this ridge? Isn't there a spur road going out it? It comes to a T right along here." I traced the ridgeline for him. "Are you sure?" he asked. I replied, "Yeah, I have it on the old Gifford Pinchot map." He paused for a second before responding, "I'd like to see that map. Could you bring it down tomorrow?" I said I'd be glad to do so.

There's a reason I'm known to several friends as "Mapping Crow," a play on my geocaching moniker. I find maps more fascinating reading than any work of literature I ever held in my hands.Could it be that my map shows something they need to know? I double-checked when I got home. There it is, a short spur which T's off into the 017 and 015 along the crest of the ridge. I'll have my map in his hands at 8 AM tomorrow when he resumes his watch.

Sundew With Seed Pods

Day 2: The heavy rain and blustery winds of last week had an unanticipated effect on the Sundews of Lake St. Clair. Three-quarters of the way through a 12-mile paddle, I swung by to say "Hi" to my little friends in Site #2 and couldn't find them or the structure on which they'd been growing. A nearby "island" was in its accustomed spot, but the chained-together logs were nowhere to be seen. Site #1 was intact, and I made many trips back and forth between the two locations as I tried to pinpoint any evidence of my precious Droseras, and only succeeded in finding one solitary specimen. Where had they gone?

The mystery was solved when I gave up searching and began paddling back toward the confluence of the lake's four lobes. A quarter of a mile south of where I'd last seen it, there was the "raft" of logs strung out but still chained together, and to my utter delight, one of them was simply covered with Sundews, far more than I'd seen last week. It made no sense to mark the location with the GPSr, not with the colony on a winter cruise. I'll simply have to remember some of the "raft's" distinctive features and search for it each time I go out.

My readers will be happy to learn that my documentation of this species has been referred to both the Rare Plant Care and Conservation Program and to the leading Washington State botanist who works with the Dept. of Natural Resources on rare plant issues. These Sundews are well on their way to having the protection they deserve.