Walking through fire
October 4, 2008
Trees burned like Roman candles, exploding , hissing, roaring off to my right. In front of me shadows split the air and turned on the tip of a wing – owls escaping the fire. Four squad members dressed in yellow Nomex (fireproof) shirts and green pants moved ahead of me gathering in the clearing. Behind me, six more firefighters pickaxes shouldered, two with chainsaws, another with a backfire unit. To our left fire crept through the underbrush.
A log the size of a tractor trailer burned purple from the center out. Above us the night air was bright with the sparks of embers, not stars. Smoke wafted up from the valley, feeding the frenzy in front of us. Behind us the roar and clank of bulldozers could be heard widening the trail they gouged as they moved up the mountain.
“Everyone here?” The squad leader called out. A quick head count.
“This okay?” he asked. I nodded.
“Get as close as you can,” I urged. He grinned.
“Not a problem.” He motioned to the men.
Ten men moved down to the trees – now 80 and 100 foot walls of flame. I could feel the breeze from the weather the fire was creating.
Side-by-side they lined up and arms around each other, equipment on the ground they smiled for the camera, a group photo. One for the folks back home. A snag fell, crashing through the wall and hitting the ground in a shower of sparks.
“Can you get all the flames in?” one asked, looking over his shoulder at the noise. I nodded.
10 more poses, two rolls of 36 exposures done.
I nodded. They picked up their gear and walked back up to the path. Behind us the headlights of the bulldozer split the smoke. I finished the roll of film and picked up my own Pulaski (fire ax) and headed off down the path.
*****
It was the summer of 1989 or 90. I forget now. But thousands of the 1.7 million acres of the Malheur National Forest in Eastern Oregon were burning and the Strawberry Mountain range was the staging area for thousands of firefighters. As a reporter I was assigned to cover the fire – and as a member of the crew I would also fight it. To be on the fire insurance regulations required I be certified to fight the fire. To be on the crew I had to fight the fire. I could take photos but would have to write about it during the four to six free hours a day I had to eat, sleep and shower. As a member of a night squad we tackled the mountain in pitch blackness, the trail often lit only by a dim flashlight or the edges of the flame. The ground itself burned and if you wanted to sit, you sat on rocks. It was the remarkable experience I’ve ever had. One word – surreal.
