The Fascination with Firefighting
Fred
Precipice, July 20–22
During the night of July 19 there was a violent thunderstorm. We worried about more lightning strikes but were delighted when we began to hear the rain pelting our roof. Mark had installed a rain gauge on his second visit to our valley. I got up very early and messaged Arlen and Mark: “seven millimetres of rain last night!”
“Thanks, Fred,” Arlen quickly responded. “That changes our strategy… I was feeling pretty deflated until this email. You made my day.”
We had heard a lot of criticism of the BC Wildfire Service and how they fight fires. Some of the people of Anahim Lake were getting impatient with the fire and made accusations that those fighting it were just farming the fire. Many people thought they were not fighting it at all because it was in a provincial park. These comments trickled through to us, causing some dismay, because we saw nothing but the firefighters’ dedication to protecting us with the limited resources they had. News services enjoy highlighting dissatisfaction, and they dwelled often on conflict between the public and the Wildfire Service. Since the beginning of the fires, I had been shaken by such negative comments. Statements about lack of communication, poor management, out-of-control back burns and the reticence in using local resources were common. Our experience was very different. We understood and accepted the work the professional firefighters were doing, and received copious information from Mark and Arlen. We were learning so much about fighting wildfires—the utility of helicopters, the mechanics of a back burn, the risks to firefighters on the ground.
Our place had become the major staging area and was a hive of helicopter activity. Helicopters were guaranteed a minimum of four hours’ airtime and the IC tried to share it equitably. We welcomed the pilots who were grounded during the day and fed hungrily on their stories of past battles and strange encounters. Monika and I were very happy with the Coastal Fire Centre and the Incident Command.
David J phoned to ask about the rain. He was concerned about the flames we had seen on the south side of the Hotnarko Canyon. He had lived in the Precipice for three years and had hiked to more places than most. He knew the area well and felt that the rain would give them a chance to put a fireguard on our south flank parallel to Telegraph Creek to block the flare-up from a couple days before.
I emailed Arlen with David J’s proposal. “There is an old road above our place that leads to Telegraph Creek and a trail that goes next to the creek for a ways. David J thinks there is maybe a chance for a fireguard there. I cleared the road a while back but have not been up there for three years. David says he wants to get in there and fight that thing.”
Arlen responded. “Thanks Fred for the update, I passed on the info to Mark and he said that he is aware of that area. Please do not let David ‘get in there.’ After what I’ve been seeing the past couple days it is way too dangerous for anybody. Also, I went for a quick flight this morning and couldn’t see anything because of the smoke, I will try again at 11:00 and stop in. Take care and see you soon.”
The bucketing helicopters started to roll in at 2:00 p.m., another late start because of a mixture of fog from the new moisture and smoke from the constantly smouldering fire. Arlen came by in the early afternoon and for the first time he tried really hard to convince us to leave. The fire was very large now, and displaying a lot of erratic behaviour. Even with the rain they had lost control of most of it. Flames were again creeping along the Atnarko Trench and they had to redeploy twenty firefighters to prevent it from crossing the river and surging up the steep slopes to the west (a priority for BC Parks). The IC was struggling to model what the fire was doing and to develop a plan to fight it. They were now besieged on many fronts and we worried that they might have to divert their attention to other areas of the fire. Arlen consoled us somewhat with the assurance that protecting us and our property was a priority. He also had some good news. The Beaver Lady Cabin was still standing.
By the end of the day over ten millimetres of rain had fallen. The last helicopter left for Anahim Lake at 9:00 p.m. The fire remained active but it settled for the night.
Although one could never rely on it, the saving grace for VA0778 was that it continued to burn at an elevation below the strong winds of the plateau. It sputtered mostly on the ground. Helicopters were effective at keeping it cool and directing it to areas of lesser harm, but it was now nearly two weeks since we first reported the fire, and there were still only twenty-five firefighters on the ground. Meanwhile, by July 18, professional firefighters were starting to arrive at the Puntzi fire camp between Tsi Del Del and Tatla Lake, to fight the Kleena Kleene Fire. We still had a growing faith in the Coastal Fire Centre and the professional firefighters but shared their frustration with the inability to obtain more resources to battle the expanding fire.
I woke early after a night of bad dreams. Since the rain, I had begun communicating morning weather reports to the Wildfire Centre in Bella Coola as well as directly to Mark and Arlen. The morning was beautiful—no smoke, no wind, no firefighters and no helicopters. Birds were singing. I vaguely wondered if they sang every morning or had I been too involved with the fire to notice. Maybe I was just up earlier than usual. The low sun’s light was filtered through a haze of smoke, magnifying the beauty of the valley. But though I recognized its wonder, it was not enough to bring me out of my funk as I trudged toward the rain gauge.
Upon my return, there was a message from Mark. “Good morning Fred. Today is Arlen’s last day, and David P will be taking over for him. If you could include your morning, and any afternoon/evening weather updates to everyone listed above that would be greatly appreciated. I will also be transitioning out Sunday afternoon, and Kate M will be taking over the IC [Incident Commander] role. I will be flying up shortly and having a visit with both you and Monika to ensure you have a formal introduction. The phone number here at the office is ***-***-**** if you need to get hold of myself or Kate M. Kind Regards.”
I had come to rely on Mark and Arlen’s leadership so this news was disheartening. But I made no mention of my feelings when I emailed Arlen: “Cloud cover is relatively high, no smoke, calm, ten degrees. No rain in the night. Getting more calls from local people wanting to come down and fight that thing.”
“Thanks Fred. We are having discussions right now on how to utilize local help but it’s challenging from a safety and supervision perspective. I’ll be out there by around 10:00.”
I struggled to stay positive throughout the morning. I felt that we were on the cusp of losing something special, be it the Precipice itself, trust in the Wildfire Service, or loss of local friends—the latter because they disagreed with our defence of the Wildfire Service.
It was a hectic day. Helicopters were flying in and out. We were introduced to many new people. Two members of the RCMP arrived on ATVs—just doing a check in. They brought Monika, Caleb and me treats of candy bars, beef jerky and cashews. They were surprised that the air in the Precipice was less smoky than at Anahim Lake. They didn’t ask us to leave. We knew it was frustrating for ranchers and other resource people who wanted to move around the interior of British Columbia. The RCMP were responsible for people in an evacuation zone and thus received a lot of the public’s scorn. However, they were so nice to us and we felt privileged by their kind gestures toward us.
By the late afternoon I was able to pull partway out of my funk and tried to sort out the conflicting ideas about fighting wildfires. Anahim Lake folks were supportive and so anxious to help. They were in the Cariboo Regional District and frustrated by all the news—or lack of it—about the fires; they did not have the close communication with the Wildfire Service that we did. I felt we were undeserving of so much attention. I buried my internal conflict in what had now become a nightly Facebook post: “The news—what can I say about the news—just ‘fuck off’ I guess. So much on the negative. So sensational. Still only twenty-five firefighters on the ground and we have not met many of them. They will be rotating out soon. We are very grateful to them because they are truly the front line. Arlen and David P are hopeful that we could be up to forty ground crew by next week. The fire was very quiet today. Cool temperatures and high humidity with a little bit of rain is doing wonders. Five helicopters dropped water and retardant on two hot areas of the fire, one being the front nearest to us. The last helicopter to leave dropped its water bucket on our meadow at 7:50 p.m.”
We had a tearful goodbye with Arlen. Somehow I managed to hold it together. We loaded him up with strawberries, cheese and fresh milk. He was able to squeeze Monika in on one of the flights to monitor the fire. She was so surprised and excited that she forgot to take a camera.