To date, September 13th, it has been
ten days since we evacuated Avalanche Campground in Glacier National
Park, Montana, because of the Sprague Creek Fire. Since that time we
have been in four different camp sites in two different campgrounds
in the park. We finally seemed to have landed at Apgar C121, one of
the two Apgar host sites. The other hosts are the couple who
evacuated Sprague Creek Campground the same day we evacuated
Avalanche. We have two of the five loops of this 200+ site camp group
open, with each couple responsible for one loop. We were expecting a
school group that we were going to put in the group site loop. The
devastating forest fire continued to burn but was making little
headway. The number of campers was increasing, rain and snow were
forecast for tonight and we were actually beginning to feel half-way
normal. Then it happened.
We were in Columbia Falls doing laundry
when we heard the news - an evacuation warning had been issued for
Apgar and West Glacier. Our hearts sank. Pamela immediately called
our ranger office. One of our VUA rangers and the chief Law
Enforcement ranger for the west side of the park were already in our
campground handing out the notices. We finished the laundry and
returned to Apgar as quickly as possible.
It is hard to explain the emotions of
going through this twice in ten days. We're not afraid. We're not
worried that we will die in the fire or that we will lose Sinni (our
camper trailer home). We're in the enviable position of being able
to hook our home to the back of our truck and drive off. The
emotions relate to the fact that an evacuation warning means that
something on the fire line has firefighters worried. Eradic winds,
winds from the wrong direction, high winds, or a sudden change in the
fire's behavior. If the evacuation order is given it means that
things are going very wrong. The last time this happened we spent the
evening of the evacuation watching the fire almost double and begin
to peak up over the ridge near us. The last time the order was given
it meant two campgrounds and a handful of cottages along the north
side of the lake. If the order is given for this evacuation it would
mean one campground, two entire villages, the park headquarters along
with all support services and government housing. We were at the
point that we were almost able to hope that, with the coming of rain
and snow, this fire could be kept to less than 15,000 acres. We
wanted to hope or maybe even believe that it would end without
destroying any more of the rainforest. This evacuation warning
instantly dashed those hopes.
The emotions with which we contend are
dealing with the unknown and the painful anticipation of the
inevitable. Almost everyone has been hit by something - anything from
a ball to a paddle to a fist to a vehicle - and experienced that
sickening and painful anticipation before impact. You remember how
the time from the point you realized the impact was coming to the
actual impact was an eternity, an eternity of that emotional pain
because you knew that there was no hope, no rescue, no escape. From
the first evacuation warning to the predicted rain was twelve hours.
Can the firefighters hold out until the rain and snow began? Would
the winds blow the fire over the ridge forcing evacuation before any
help could arrive? There's no sign of rain or snow on the NOAA
weather radar. Is it coming? Have our hopes been dashed? Will the evacuation order be given?
We have worked constantly since we
returned from doing the laundry at about 1:30 pm. It is now 8:52 pm
and we will be up well into the night. In those seven plus hours we
have gone through the campground multiple times making sure that we
have talked to all of the campers who have elected to stay. They
must know that we might awaken them at any time and say they have two
hours to get out. The rain and snow is supposed to start around
midnight. What is happening on the fire line? Are we going to make
it? Sinni's big back window faces the Belton Hills and Snyder Ridge.
I keep looking up worried that I'll see the red glow from our site.
If we see red, all hope is gone. But as time ticks away should hope
grow stronger? And so we wait.
Some natural disasters strike without
warning and are over almost before one has a chance to figure out what is
happening. Earthquakes and tornadoes fall into this group. Some
natural disasters come rumbling in almost on schedule, like a
hurricane. Fires are not like any of those. Fire is menacing. You
can see it coming but have no idea which way it will go or how fast.
Fire does not hit one thing and not another. It totally consumes
everything in its path. Unlike any other natural disaster which may last from seconds to minutes to hours to maybe days, a fire can go on for months.
This is very much our lives in Montana
right now. The smoke was so thick in the valley today that we
couldn't see the mountains. The fire is destroying peoples' homes and
businesses. Many are being evacuated with only the hope that
everything they own in life will not be consumed. People are dying.
As of September 9th sixty-six firefighters have lost their lives
this year, and the end is not in sight. I have no idea how many
civilians have died directly or indirectly from the fire.
Tonight will be another extremely long
night. As we did ten days ago, we will remain vigilant until the
morning in case we have to get our campers up and move them out. We
will wait and watch for the rain and snow we were promised. We will
keep watching the ridge northeast of us lest the flames come before
the rain. It will be a long night of waiting, wanting to hope but
fearing to hope, anxious for the nightmare to end so that we can
finally rest and the healing begin.
Pamela and Russ
Sept. 13th., 2017 21:39
www.followsinni.com
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