This week I intended to be on vacation. Honest, that was my plan. Being a self-employed forester, I don’t take vacations in the sense that an hourly or salaried worker would describe them. My work takes me to some awesome places. Taking a day off here and there allows me to explore those places on the cheap.
My most recent project, for instance, saw me based in Newport, on the Oregon coast. The work itself was tough. The terrain is steep and sometimes has poor access. Much of the timber in the project is so young that it had not yet crowded out the brush. Some days I felt like I was crawling more than I was walking. In order to avoid spending more than I was taking in, I stayed in an inexpensive motel a few blocks from the beach.
But in the evenings after the work was done, I could walk to the beach and watch the sunset. The town is full of good restaurants with fresh seafood. On my days off, I explored the aquarium, and the lighthouse at Yaquina Head. I enjoyed some of the benefits of being a tourist without the expenses of going there, because I had to be there anyway. That is my typical “vacation.”
Last Saturday, after spending a night in Portland, I made the 400-mile drive to my cabin in Okanogan County, Washington. My work had run out, and it would be at least a week before anything else would be available. I really was going to take an entire week off.
On the trip down the Columbia River Gorge and then across Washington, the winds were fierce. This was what’s known as a Red Flag day, when the combination of heat, wind, and low humidity conspire to make the wildfire danger very high. I was aware of a major fire near the town of Chelan; but as far as I knew, there were no fires in the vicinity of my cabin. By the time I made the long drive with one stop for orchard-grown peaches, and other stops for meals and groceries, darkness had fallen. As I drove through Omak, the fairgrounds were packed with people, and all lit up. It was Stampede weekend, and I made a mental note that I could come back in the morning if I wasn’t too worn out from the long trip. The last three miles to my off-the-grid cabin are on rugged, steep dirt roads. Arriving at the cabin around 11:00, I noticed a faint glow to my south, on the other side of the line of mountains that are visible from my porch. Somewhere a wildfire was burning, but it was many miles away.
The next morning, I could see that the fire was larger than it first appeared, and was still growing.
All thoughts of attending any of the Omak Stampede festivities vanished. My focus was on the fire. First and foremost, I needed to secure the cabin to the best of my ability. Anything I could do to make the cabin less vulnerable to fire, I needed to do right away.
Each day’s news is full of crisis and tragedy. To most of us, most of the time, it is someone else’s crisis, someone else’s tragedy. We watch from a distance and say, “How awful.” Then we carry on with whatever has us occupied at the moment. But then the day comes when you or I are part of the news story. That’s what has happened to me. My cabin vacation put me a few miles from the front lines of a major fire that is far from being contained. I have skin in this game; my cabin could easily burn to the ground, and the trees on my land could be reduced to charred skeletons.
There are so many fires burning in the West that it is difficult for the media to report on all of them. The fires farthest from population centers tend to get less attention. Being a forester, I have a decent understanding of what is going on, even when I have no access to fire reports. And being a contributor to Daily Kos, I feel an obligation to share what I’m seeing with my own eyes. So here is the story as best as I can tell it, my pictures and commentary from the North Star fire.
At this point I should add a disclaimer. Despite my best efforts, my account might contain factual errors. Consider this to be an unofficial report on the fire.
Also keep in mind that these accounts and photos cover the fire's progress on Monday and Tuesday. Much has changed since then.
My previous diary, Fire on the Mountain, posted on Wednesday, tells the story through Sunday night. Read it to get an understanding of the early stages of the fire.
On Monday morning, I drove 22 miles into Tonasket. It’s the nearest town to the west. Okanogan County is vast and remote, once you leave the river valleys where the towns and orchards are located. In Tonasket, I can find the basic things that are lacking on my off-the-grid land: food, water, electricity, and a phone signal. Due to the lay of the land, the signal from the cell tower carries only a short distance from town. There’s no such thing as driving halfway to Tonasket for cell service; you have to go all the way there. Typically I go there (or to Republic, a similar distance to the east) every two or three days. Given the danger posed by the fires, I have been traveling there nearly every day.
I visited the local Forest Service office to get fire updates. Their maps and reports were a day old, but I took a set to deliver to Aeneas Store. The store happens to have an outstanding view of Dugout Mountain.
Dugout Mountain, August 16
Dugout Mountain, August 17
In the time that had elapsed since my previous visit to the store, a helicopter had appeared in the adjacent field. More of the mountain was afire. The small fire to the left had grown. At first glance, one would think that the small fire could be extinguished with ease. But it was located on a steep rocky outcrop where a person would have a hard time getting around. I overheard a store customer saying that the aircraft had been temporarily grounded; the heat was so intense and the humidity so low that much of the water being dropped would evaporate before reaching the flames. The pilots can work a limited number of hours, and those hours were being saved for better conditions.
View from Frosty Creek Road, looking south towards Dugout Mountain
Dugout Mountain as seen from cabin towards dark
After dark, I returned to the store for a nighttime view of Dugout Mountain.
Dugout Mountain at night
Tuesday morning began calm. From my front porch, I could see a tongue of smoke extending down the valley. Each day, the smoke gets a bit closer.
Smoke creeps down the valley
My understanding is that there are four separate fires: the giant North Star fire which is mainly on the Colville Indian Reservation; a large fire on the south flank of Dugout Mountain and a smaller one to the north; and the Devil’s Canyon fire to the northwest of the others (for administration purposes, the fires are generally grouped together as the North Star fire). The latter fire is of greatest concern to me personally, because it is closest to the cabin and has fewer roads to jump in order to threaten my part of the world.
Early in the day, it looked like the crews might have a chance to get a better handle on the fires. But shortly after noon the wind picked up, whistling through the trees on the property, and causing trees to go up in flames farther down the valley.
Perhaps an hour later, the Devil’s Canyon blaze reached the ridge. Where only smoke had been visible before, orange flames made their appearance. The fire is still at least five miles from the cabin, but five miles is not much of a comfort zone.
Wide view of fire
As the sun went down, the hot spots could clearly be seen on Dugout Mountain. Bright flares appeared as trees crowned out. Sometimes the spires of flame were several times the height of the tree being consumed.
After darkness fell, I noticed a new patch of fire even closer than the ridge. Was it a spot fire that had managed to go against the prevailing wind, or was it a backfire? A bit later, a long line of new flames confirmed that it was a backfire. With a bit of luck, a good buffer will be established before tomorrow’s winds and low humidity.
This is a saga that I’d prefer not to report. Fire, however, comes with the territory out here. I’m witnessing a big one from close range.
As has been reported elsewhere, three firefighters died last night near Twisp, in the western part of Okanogan County. Fighting wildland fire is a dangerous business. Every day, people are risking their lives to contain these big fires. They deserve our full respect.
One final note: A few minutes ago, I heard that an evacuation order has been given for the entire Aeneas Valley of Okanogan County. If the fire has not crossed the highway, I will go collect my belongings and get out. The fires are becoming more serious by the hour. Everyone I see is very concerned.
I will post another report when I have the opportunity.
7:27 PM PT: Update: I returned to my cabin after posting this diary, in order to get the possessions that I needed, and to rake up a few more pine needles from near the cabin. On the way out, I could not see any new fires. I will spend the night at a campground near Republic.
Many thanks to everyone who has commented and expressed their concerns. More to come.