Wildfire Tragedy in California

My heart weeps for those so suffering.

Driven from their homes by firestorms, not knowing if they will return to a welcome home, or to a smoking ashen ruin.

The world can be such a beautiful place. Southern California holds some of the greatest delights on earth. But with the beauty and splendor, there lurks insidious danger. The architecture and climate of many S.Cal locales lends itself to this kind of wildland fire event. Native chaparral is adapted to thrive in the xeric environment that is natural to so many of the areas that burned. And the notorious Santa Ana winds, so wild and unpredictable, are born and formed in the natural topography of the region. They come raging downslope, from the high desert toward the ocean, dessicating every bit of moisture from the air and from the plants, and the fuels on the ground. Under those conditions it only takes a tiny spark to start up an incendiary inferno.




In these circumstances most of the firefighters can only stand and watch it burn. The danger to human life is far to high to allow them to protect property. When the winds finally subside, the firefighters can move in and establish containment lines, hold the flames in check, and wait for the fire to burn itself out.



These guys were very lucky.

They got caught by the firestorm on an exposed ridgetop. On realizing that their escape route was cut off and their water supply interrupted, the team leader ordered them to deploy their emergency fire shelters. Fortunately, a helitanker was able to drop water on top of them before the fire became too intense. Their shelters protected them through the hottest period of the firestorm.

FIRE SHELTER DEPLOYMENT - PRELIMINARY SUMMARY REPORT

Orange County Fire Authority (ORC)
Twelve Firefighters Deploy Fire Shelters – All Twelve Survive Uninjured
October 22, 2007
Santiago Incident CA-ORC-07068555

This Preliminary Summary Report is intended as an aid in accident prevention, and to provide factual information within a short time frame. Information contained within may be subject to revision as further investigation is conducted, and other reports and documents are received.

Synopsis

Twelve OCFA firefighters were advancing a progressive hose lay on a hillside near a road cut along Santiago Canyon Road in eastern Orange County (Unincorporated). Upon reaching the top of the 200-foot hill, their hose line apparently ruptured, causing them to run out of water. As fire encroached upon their position, the firefighters deployed their fire shelters, and all twelve firefighters escaped injury.

Narrative

A wildland fire was reported near Santiago Canyon and Silverado Canyon at 1755 on 10/21/07. The Orange County Fire Authority dispatched a watershed fire assignment, and initial reports indicated a 20-30 acre fire. Firefighters held the main body of the Santiago Fire to the west side of Santiago Canyon Road, which was a critical control line for keeping the fire out of the communities of Silverado and Modjeska Canyons.

On 10/22/07 at approximately 1530, firefighters discovered that the fire had jumped Santiago Canyon Road approximately 200 yards south of Call Box SC-13. Two teams of firefighters immediately initiated two separate but coordinated progressive hose lays anchored on the eastern edge of Santiago Canyon road. One hose lay progressed along each flank. The hose team on the left flank consisted of two members from Engine-22, three members from Engine-9, three members from Engine-34, three members from Patrol-16, and one member from Engine-53.

The left-flank hose team had reached (or nearly reached) the top of the 200-foot hill when they lost water, apparently due to one or more ruptured hose lines. With fire below, the progressive hose team leader selected a level site at the top of the hill and ordered all twelve members to deploy their shelters. OCFA helicopter(s) made one or more high-priority water drops on the fire immediately adjacent to the deployed firefighters. The firefighters remained in communication while they were inside their shelters.

Once conditions were cool enough, all twelve firefighters exited their shelters and walked unassisted down the hill to Santiago Canyon Road. All twelve firefighters were evaluated on-site, and then transported to OCFA Fire Headquarters for further evaluation. None of the firefighters required treatment at a hospital.

Recommended Actions: All firefighters should review and practice Lookouts, Communications, Escape Routes and Safety Zones. All firefighters should regularly review and practice fire shelter deployment. Commanders should develop procedures for managing deployment emergencies.

Future Reports:

A full report is forthcoming pursuant to OCFA SOP AM 115.02

Poetry: How shall I serve them?

My friends, my loved ones --
how shall I best serve them?
Toward them, promises laid before God,
my sacred obligation:

To help bear their burdens.
To mourn with them in mourning.
To share their joy and sadness.
To extend compassion and charity
without reservation or hesitation.
To stand as a witness of that Divine One,
the perfect example for all.

How many times I have failed
to serve those in need.

In blind selfishness, I cannot
see the needs of others beyond
my own bitter greedy demands.

What opportunities have passed,
because I could not see.

What great blessings might have been,
if only I had the faith.

Miserable servant that I am,
I continue striving to do my best.
Heavenly Father, please,
accept my flawed offerings,
bless my feeble struggles.

Snowshoes on Rampart Ridge

Looking forward to new tracks in the snow, I am revisiting other stories, written some years ago...


Snowshoes on Rampart Ridge


Bitter cold penetrates with a chill that cannot be dispelled, as we waddle along the trail, bundled in thick layers of clothing, clumsy burdensome snowshoes stealing all grace from our walk. Steaming clouds of frosty breath trail behind. Crusty snow emits weird squeaks and groans as our toes dig in.

We stop for a breather, at a vista overlooking the valley. Night in the deep woods is silent and brooding dark, swathed in a blanket of snow. Nature's array is spread forth before us in the moonlight, hundreds of acres of evergreen pines and spruces and firs, looming black and secretive in the still night air, climbing the hillsides and standing stern and motionless sentinels along the ridge tops.

Crossing a thick stand of brush, we stumble across a resting elk, who springs up in alarm at the disturbance. Which of us was frightened more? With sweeping strides and massive power, plunging headlong through the undergrowth at a thundering gallop, he escapes from our threat, and is gone from view almost before we realize what we are looking at. We stand there for a moment in amazed silence, gaping at each other like wondering fools.

Later on, crossing our trail like a silent wraith, a red fox flashes by and disappears into the chaparral. From time to time we hear a great owl, his muffled query floating across the dark forest, as he glides through the night sky, scanning the snow for prey.

We are the strangers here. This is no longer our world, we find no warmth in nature. We have too long allowed ourselves to be enticed away, wrapped in the insulating comfort of technology. In our complacence, we have been robbed of natural rapport with the forest. Now we stumble as aliens through this seemingly stark wilderness, interlopers for an hour, feeling as if we could barely survive a few miles trek through this unfriendly locale. To every creature of the forest, we are a threat and a foe. We don't belong.

In the end, we circle back to the car, arriving in relief back at civilization, anxiously looking forward to the comforts of home, and a long hot shower.


Symbols in the Snow

I think the fresh snowfall represents renewal. It is a tangible representation of the repentance process. New snow erases the old tracks and ruts, leaving a cold, clear surface upon which to begin again. It is a symbol of surpassing whiteness and purity, so clean and pristine. Waiting to receive whatever new impressions may come, tracks laid down over the smooth white surface. The snow uniquely records our passages and progress, the trail a chronicle of coming and going embedded in icy footsteps.

In my back-yard treks, I follow an established snowshoe trail climbing up to the nearby summit of the mountain. I have found that after each new storm it is far easier to follow the old track to the top, rather than break from the trail on a new course. Under the top layer of unpacked powder, the firmer base of compressed snow offers better support for my ponderous advance.

Over the past couple of months, my tracks through the snow have gathered in wandering footsteps of nearly every other creature happening by. Rabbits. Birds. Deer and elk follow the path, herd animals filing serially, each carefully placing feet precisely into the steps of the leader. I never see these creatures in the flesh, but they leave their tracks. I have been mighty curious about how the "footed-ness" of these animals might affect their gait. Do clumsy inept deer ever have trouble staying inside the lines? To my amusement, I sometimes find signs that these animals have as much difficulty navigating through the deep drifts as I. Occasional deep belly-marks. Errant tracks that diverge from the path, then join back. Though I suppose that with them, it is no laughing matter to forage in the desperate cold and barren winter-clad slopes seeking food.

I wonder about whatever unidentified dog-like creature happens to own those frighteningly large canine feet that also trail along in my footsteps. Sometimes the snow records the signs of their predation. Scattered tufts of fur and feathers. Bit of bones. Crimson blood spilled on the cold white snow. How much can such animals read from the tale of _my_ three-foot long treads. Are they ever watching me from among the trees along the bluff? Do they ever follow the scent of my slow and labored passage and dream about spilling more hot blood onto the cool clean snow?

Indelible Tracks

This evening I took a hike up the backyard mountain to look at the fall colors. About half a mile up the mountain, the road runs out and narrows down into a fair hiking trail. A ways further, and it fans out into a dozen faintly defined meanders through the PJ.

If you wander through the mixed Juniperus scopulorum and Pinus monophyllum long enough, detouring around the scattered patches of Arctostaphylos, you can hook back into the mountain road that crosses the saddle and descends into the next valley. Beautiful vistas all around. I usually find the trail virtually untracked by humans, and a nice hillside to watch the sunset.

Some time in the last couple of weeks, an ambitious soul on an ATV took it upon himself to blaze the foot trail through.

Nothing tragic about this. It was always an unremarkable spot, nothing special to distinguish it from mountainsides and ridges all around this area. But it was untracked before. I presume that it never will be again — not in my lifetime.

I’ve seen this happen before in other areas around this neighborhood. Opening one track starts it. Where one ATV operator sees tire tracks, it apparently signals a green light to traverse the same ground.

There’s no reason to make new trails in this area. There are hundreds of miles of dirt trails to explore. Ripping a new one across formerly pristine territory is just senseless destruction.

Fall Colors!

We have had a couple of wintry storms here over the last few days. Frosty mornings. Most of the leaves are gone already.

A project here, every spring, to plant a garden. Last year Dad put up a little plastic greenhouse to see if he could save his tomatoes. In Hideaway Valley, the season is just long enough to grow up huge bushy plants with loads of green fruit on them, then along comes a hard freeze overnight and spoils all.

Last fall, we tried to nurse the plants through early frosts with propane heaters. I am not sure how much the fuel costs, but we probably burned up $50 worth of propane trying to ripen $10 worth of tomatoes. And in the end, they all froze anyway.

This year the vines all froze last week in the first hard frost. I went into the greenhouse and picked off about half the green fruits and brought them in the house. About 10 gallons. I buried the rest of the fruit underneath the dead vines, thinking maybe it will insulate them and keep the tomatoes warm from ground heat.

We haven't had much luck trying to ripen the green fruit. It just doesn't have enough time on the vines here.

I think we picked about three red-ripe tomatoes this year -- but thousands of green ones.
 
"...True love is the greatest thing in the world-except for a nice MLT - mutton, lettuce and tomato sandwich, where the mutton is nice and lean and the tomato is ripe." (Princess Bride)

Remembering

Another year has passed since that horrific day.

I will never forget the images of the planes crashing into those towering buildings. And the thundering wreckage of waste and destruction. The screaming nightmare of humans leaping from the
windows.

I reiterate again today my resolve from that day.

If such a people live on this earth with the will to commit such unthinkably evil harm against the innocent and defenseless, then we can never peacefully coexist.

Either my people or theirs must cease to live.

This has nothing to do with retribution or vengance or bigotry. It is a simple question of survival. As in the days of the flood of Noah, those who would perpetuate such evil must be wiped out, to make way for those who would establish and sustain a more righteous tradition.

Firefighting 2007

Several major fires in this region so far this summer.

I missed working on the Milford Flats fire that charred a huge patch of central Utah in June. We were keeping busy at the time, trying to eradicate noxious weeds in the Manti La Sal National Forest.

In July we had a very close call with the Salt Creek fire that burned within a mile of homes in my neighborhood. I spent a big chunk of time working on that incident. Most of my work involved manning and operating the water tender. It is basically a big water tank on wheels. Water tenders are vital to fire operations in this area because there are so few places with available water resources. The tenders shuttle water from local sources out to the fire to replenish the small water supply carried by tactical firefighting engines.

Indianola Valley Fire Department Tender 18

The water tender can also bring water in to provide local resources for helicopters. There were several helicopters and small planes dropping water and chemical fire retardant on hot spots during the Salt Creek fire.

One of the most impressive aircraft at the fire...

Sikorsky SkyCrane helitanker

Also in use were fixed-wing retardant bombers like this one...

And smaller aircraft...

As well as bucket-carrying smaller helicopters...

Sometimes there is no nearby source for the helicopters to draw water.


So we deploy these big plastic pools that hold 6000 gallons. The water tenders bring water from available sources and replenish the supply in the pool, while the helicopter dips the bucket into the pool and carries another drop to the fire.

For the last week we have been working on the Lowry Canyon fire.

Location of Lowry Canyon fire.

It is a curiosity that the valley east of the fire is named "Japanese Valley". Several stories circulated about an internment camp that was located here during WWII, but I have never heard of it before, and was skeptical. I know about the big camp that was at Topaz, but didn't know of any such in Sanpete County.

The fire started from a lightning strike last week, and was burning in Juniper and Oak chaparral in the wild mountain area between Gunnison and Scipio. No homes or properties were threatened, so the strategy for firefighting was mostly just to keep it confined to the top of the mountain, and prevent it from spreading down through any of the nearby valleys.

Here's a news story from the Salt Lake
Tribune

Another news article, from the Sanpete County Messenger

Indianola fire dept. back to normal after baptism by fire
By Suzanne Dean
9-29-07

INDIANOLA—The Indianola Valley Fire Department (IVFD) is back to its routine of training meetings and fighting routine fires after a baptism by fire, at least figuratively, this past summer.
Established two years ago, IVFD volunteers, who specialize in wild land fires and fire in urban interface zones, tested their mettle in three state-level fires—Milford Flats, Salt Creek and Lowry fires.
In the Milford Flats fire, said to be the biggest forest and wild land fire in Utah history, and in the Salt Creek fire, which threatened populated areas in Sanpete County, the IVFD firefighters got to rub shoulders with Type 1 teams, the crackerjack national teams that are sent in to fight the most serious fires.
“They were very willing to teach and share, and very appreciative of what we did and how we did it,” said Graciela Torino Myers, IVFD public information officer and volunteer. “We had the satisfaction of being appreciated.”
Three IVFD volunteers spent five days fighting the Milford Flats fire, which led to two deaths and scorched 160,000 acres in Sevier, Millard and Beaver counties.
“Bless their hearts,” Meyers said of the three volunteers. “They came home, took a shower, had one night at home and then were called out on the Salt Creek fire.”
On July 19, several IVFD volunteers, with support from a Utah County fire team, were fighting a routine fire near Eagle’s Landing near the Sanpete-Utah County border.
That’s when they were alerted to a forest fire moving from Salt Creek Canyons up mountain draws into the hills above the Indianola Valley.
“They went from one fire to the other without touching home,” Meyers said.
All 13 certified IVFD firefighters worked on the front line of the fire. Some of them even came off their assignments “with retardant on their uniforms,” she said.
One of their main duties was constructing hand lines, or trenches, to stop the fire’s advance.
They also stood by the county’s tanker truck at the Hilltop command post and supplied water to fire engines from a host of fire departments. Those trucks then drove into the fire area and used the water to put out flames or to wet down vegetation to reduce its vulnerability to fire.
IVFD also played a big role in “mop up,” which primarily involves “cold trailing,” several firefighters walking in formation across burned area feeling the ground to make sure it’s cold.
When firefighters saw a wisp of smoke, they dug at it with picks to cover it with dirt and sprayed the site with water.
“More than one fatal fire has been assumed to be contained, only to blow up later and unexpectedly trap people,” Meyers said.
That’s why there’s an adage in firefighting that says, “A fire department is only as good as its mop-up capability.”
The Salt Creek fire exacted a big commitment from the IVFD volunteers. They left home at 6:30 a.m. to attend a briefing at Juab High School in Nephi, where they got their assignment for the day.
They fought the fire until after dark and then returned to Nephi to do paperwork. They got home about 11:30 p.m.
Since its founding, the IVFD has always brought one of its engines to the Fairview Parade on July 24.
This year, Meyers rode in the parade in a Volkswagen Jetta decked with signs that read, “Indianola Valley Fire Department—Sorry we missed seeing you. Our four trucks and crews are fighting THE FIRE.”
Meyers said she got a tremendous response from the crowd.
The Salt Creek fire not only taught IVFD firefighters new skills but also helped them identify equipment that would support their mission of preventing and fighting wild land and urban interface fires.
The Salina Fire Department brought two “pumpkins” to the fire. The big orange devices look like giant versions of a child’s inflatable wading pool.
The pumpkins hold 5,000 and 6,000 gallons of water. They provided a water reservoir where helicopters swooped down and refilled their buckets.
The IVFD looked into acquiring one, managed to get it, and about a month later took it to the Lowry fire, which burned about 1,000 acres west of S.R. 28 near the Juab-Sanpete border.
The department’s next goal is to get its own fire station in the Indianola Valley, although so far, the Sanpete County Commission hasn’t come up with a way to finance the project.

Lessons from the Trees

A couple of prosaic pieces I wrote some time ago, reflecting upon my relationship with wilderness.

Legacies of Endurance

I made a pilgrimage this weekend to the slopes of Mount Evans, to pay my respects to a grove of peculiar trees that inhabit that locale.

These the pines of a particular breed that choose to live their lives out, at forbidding lofty heights, where other species abjure. Fire and rain, wind and snow, all the elements combine to blast these enduring creatures without pity or respite.

Not the towering graceful beauties of the forest, these. The aged pines are twisted and gnarled into bizarre stunted gnomes. Battle scars from aeons of withstanding the destructive forces of nature cover their flanks.

And yet they endure.

Some of the oldest patriarchs, clinging to life by the thinnest of threads, have witnessed the awesome pagent of an unimaginable span of ages, as time passed before them, hundreds upon hundreds of seasons spinning by, a thousand generations in the lifetime of men.

I consider these trees, with their stunning longevity. They do not complain about the travail or suffering, though many of them have obviously suffered greatly. They do not question their purpose, or falter in the mission -- to live, and keep on living. The trees endure, and do not ask why.

There is an incredible, priceless beauty in endurance. Perhaps it is beyond our understanding today. I feel certain that the trees possess this secret knowledge.

How long will it take us to learn?

Great and Small

Towering firs raise into the blazing blue,
their boughs reaching up in mighty supplication.
Framing the world across mountain tops and airy ridges,
seemingly, holding up the sky.

On forest floor below, humbly graced,
with lacy bracken ferns, lush green, so pleasing to the eye.
Bowed with fronds sweeping low to the earth,
catching the sun's few spare rays.

Climbing Paradise Ridge

I owned the tops of the mountains today. No others tracked the smooth white surface of the cold, clean snow. The mountain heights and I held our secret soul tryst, a chaste and joyous virtue only open to the lone and lonely.

I traverse the high passes, seeming so near to the pale blue sky, bracing against the fierce onslaught of the merciless freezing north wind. Howling gusts sweep up gritty blasts of icy snow grains in a ground blizzard, below a dark horizon troubled by passing storm clouds. As I struggle upward, the icy wind steals my breath away with each passing burst.

In the shelter of the deep shady canyon, I pause before tall green firs swaying and sighing as the force of the gale funnels up the slope, the wind whistling and moaning through the tossing boughs like the keening of mourners. The feet of the great trees stand deeply buried beneath the drifts.

Laboring to slowly climb the steep slope, bundled heavily against the freezing cold, my body is soon dripping with sweat. As the moisture accumulates under my hat and across the back of my neck, a rime of ice quickly forms around my head, into the simulation of a frosted white helmet.

I stop at the summit for a brief respite, in the lee of a swarm of boulders. I comb the ice out of my hair. Over the top of the broad peak, bare crusted snow is sculptured by the wind. The blowing snow appears to form sinuous snakes that writhe and coil and dance like living creatures. A sort of white noise, the continuous susurration of millions of snow grains skittering and slithering along, masks the roaring of the wind and creates a deep dynamic silence. Pressure against my back builds and ebbs from the force of the wild wind.

I have overstayed my welcome. The wind intensifies and the snow turns into heavier pellets that plaster across the front of my jacket and trousers, until I start to resemble an animate snowman. I hasten down the front side of the mountain, and as I pass, drifting snow quickly obliterates the traces of my passage.

Children of Divorce

I've put up a number of links on my personal web pages about divorce. But this article looks interesting by itself.

In online discussion I sometimes find this topic examined, and many of the participants express the sentiment that in cases of Temple marriages that are terminated by divorce, the children "follow the mother".

I've never heard any satisfactory explanation for that reasoning, nor do any who echo the idea know of any provenance. They just heard it somewhere.

Here's an authoritative quote that seems to address the subject:

As to the next question, “What happens to the children in the next life when there has been a cancellation of sealing of the parents?” it is understood that in the case of a cancellation of the sealing of the woman to the man, this does not cancel the sealing of the children to the parents, since they were born in the covenant, which is a birthright blessing. They remain in the status of the sealing to their parents and can never be sealed to anyone else. The decision as to with whom they will go will be determined by the Lord in the hereafter. Regarding being born in the covenant the General Handbook of Instructions states, “Children born in the covenant cannot be sealed to anyone, but belong to their natural parents. This rule is not altered by adoption, consent of the natural parents, request of the child after becoming of age or death of the natural parents.”

It should be kept in mind that to be born in the covenant is a birthright blessing, and that if a child remains worthy in this life of celestial blessings, regardless of the actions of his parents, he is assured of that birthright and is guaranteed eternal parentage. One’s worthiness in this life through living the gospel and keeping the commandments, in this as in all things, is the key to eternal life. (Elder James A. Cullimore,  Q&A: Questions and Answers,” New Era)

Futility and the purpose of life

Are we just a waste of oxygen? What am I doing that is worth doing?

A few days ago someone at an LDS blog became perturbed at my participation in the discussion, and activated whatever mechanism they use to try to block me from participating. Why did I care? I wasn't aware that I did until I found that the blog did not even prompt me for a comment any more.

Well, it turns out that this blog and most others use a software black box called Akismet that supposedly filters out unwanted stuff. It is supposed to keep spammers from cluttering up the place.

I decided that anyone rude enough to presume to cut me off deserved punishment. So I started researching the Akismet machine to figure out how to break through.

According to the authors of the software, it is supposed to be very smart. As far as I can tell, it isn't. Akismet just tries to associate comments with a list of IP addresses and other possible junk associated with spammers.

I have known for some time of software servers that anonymize the IP address of a web browser session. So, being the persistent bother that I am, I experimented until I could post again.

Now that I accomplished that feat, I was nonplussed to realize that I had absolutely nothing to say. So I decided to study more about Akismet.

This defense mechanism reminds me of the Star Trek phaser dilemma when attacking the Borg defenses.



Phasers could only penetrate their shields on the first few tries. After that, the Borg shifted the frequency of their shields to restore attenuation.

Blog operators only have a few parameters they can use to check incoming traffic against known spam offenders. This approach doesn't work at all against those who know how to shift the values of those parameters. It is effective against spam only because the spammers are mostly mindless automatons exploiting easy undefended targets.

I suppose most network users do not know what an IP address is, let alone how to manipulate it. To put it simply, IP addresses are assigned by software, and can be changed or manipulated by software. Internet users with a bit of savvy and ambition can easily switch IP numbers and other software parameters. And for every more sophisticated technique of tracking addresses, there are even more elaborate schemes to conceal them.

My web browser voluntarily offers personal information to web pages I interact with. I have no obligation to do this, nor do I see anything unethical about refusing to freely hand over everything demanded. When blog operators use my voluntary compliance as a weapon against me, they forfeit my willing cooperation. The blog security structure is based entirely on voluntary compliance. Unless they resort to a closed system that only allows comments from established, trusted sources, blog operators cannot do much to block anonymous comments.

Not only that, but I strongly suspect that this blog absolutely depends on anonymity to even operate at all. Many LDS Internet users who operate on the fringe have grown paranoid about someone taking note of what they say in open forums. And rightly so. Ironically, I suspect many of those with such concerns do not exactly subscribe to the principle of common consent. They want license to criticize the Church and speak evil of the brethren without suffering any consequence. This blog is not about to jeopardize the mechanism that affords naysayers a forum in which to offer critical remarks without disclosing their identity.