Wildfire In The Neighbourhood

Day 3: This is not news anyone wants to hear, or activity anyone wants to see. Yesterday afternoon, a fire started in Elbe Hills just over the other side of the ridge and roughly two miles to the north of me. It was a hot, windy day, and toward evening, it was determined that the risk of injury to firefighters was too great to continue battling it into the night, and the crews were withdrawn. This morning, the Dept. of Natural Resources sent them out again, using the pasture across the road from me as one of the staging areas for the incident. At least three helicopters are in use, two of which I've seen lift off dragging buckets, presumably to fill in a nearby lake for aerial drops. Several other pieces of equipment are also parked in the pasture. Ground crews and loading crews are operating from the area. The good news is that the wind direction remains such that it is carrying smoke and potential fire-spread away from my location. The bad news is that we have no precipitation forecast until the end of next week at the earliest. It is worth noting that I have recorded a mere 0.77" of precip, largely as fog/dew, in the last five and a half months. Months! That is a truly frightening statistic for the Pacific Northwe't. Although I don't expect the fire to spread this direction, I will have a go-bag packed in case Tippy and I need to evacuate.

"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.