Glacier burning

First big expansion - the day we were evacuated
from Avalanche at the base of that mountain.

 My daughter-in-law posted one of those Face Book questionnaires a day or so ago. One of the questions was 'when was the last time you cried?' That's easy. Last Sunday morning after we finished evacuating Avalanche and took one last look at our beloved cedars and hemlocks as we locked the gate, not knowing if we would ever see them again.

Montanans, like so many people in the Pacific Northwest and Rocky Mountains, are accustomed to 'fire season'. It's like tornado season for the mid-west or hurricane season for those along the Atlantic or Gulf coast. You can become so accustomed to the dangers associated with these seasons that you become almost jaded. This being only our fifth fire season Pamela and I aren't there yet, but earlier this season we had several long-time and life-long Montanans say "Oh, it's just fire season." They have changed their tune. It isn't just another fire season. It is the fire season from hell. So far we have broken about every record possible to break: (i) longest dry period - 52 consecutive days without rain. (ii) Least rain - only 0.23" since June 16th. (iii) hottest summer in history. (iv) most fires, biggest fires, and most acres burned. Those last figures just keeps growing. To date the northwest has lost around 9,375 square miles. That is an area greater than the States of Connecticut, Delaware and Rhode Island put together. And that doesn't count the Canadian fires which are gigantic and a story unto themselves. 

Smoke is both your enemy and your friend. It can be deadly to people with pulmonary problems and do damage to the lungs of young children. It retards fire because it reduces oxygen. Of course, it reduces oxygen for all air breathing reptiles and mammals. The smoke was so dense when I drove past the lake today I couldn't see the lake. It was less than twenty yards away. For days you haven't needed any filtered glasses to look at the sun. It is nothing more than a large orange disk in the sky. Ash looks like a really light snow or a very bad case of dandruff. The Nat'l Park Service has issued employees respirator masks and we do rounds that we once walked in vehicles. 

Our fire, called the Sprague Creek fire, started on August 10th. We had a night of lightening without rain and had 50 reported lightening strikes inside the park. It started, and continues to burn, in an area that is so rugged that you can't get people in to fight it. All you can do it drop water and chemicals and soak down surrounding areas. We lost an historic 1913 chalet - Sperry Chalet. The firefighters who made a valiant effort to save the chalet had to be dropped into the area by helicopter and climb out through a high mountain pass.

Mt. Brown is on the north side of the fire. For a while it provided a formidable barrier - steep, rocky terrain with little vegetation. That didn't stop the fire. It went up Mt Brown in about six hours.  We learned from a fire behavior specialist that fires can cross what appear to be barren land by following roots and interspersed grass. To the east is Edwards Mtn, and a collection of lakes and glaciers. That's where we lost the chalet. The southern flank was originally Sprague Creek drainage area. In one night the fire burned through that, over a ridge and into an area called the Lincoln and Walton drainage. The fire could follow the Lincoln Creek trail right down to US 2. On the west and northwest are the last of the temperate rain forest and an historic lodge called McDonald Lake Lodge. The fire is currently nibbling at these magnificent 4-500 year old trees and has been progressing toward the lodge. I did learn that the giant cedars and hemlock, because they are a rain forest, are more difficult for the fire to ignite and burn. This weekend we are to have another weather front move through. With it will come high winds and lightening. The last two times that a front went through the fire doubled in size each time. We're at around 13-14,000 acres now.

We live about sixteen miles into the wilderness nestled between four great mountains.  Our water comes from a spring on the side of Mt Canon. It is a completely gravity system and the best water you've ever tasted.  We have no electricity. We have 480 watts of the new photovoltic (solar) system and two 224 amp hour 6 volt batteries, which is much more than sufficient for our needs. Of course, despite the size and power of our batteries we don't have A/C. You generally don't need A/C in Montana. There is no telephone, television, internet or wifi.  The park got us a satellite phone this year but between the mountains, forest and latitude it never worked. We have a special radio with a full meter antenna so that we can communicate with park dispatch. That's our link to the outside world.  We never go to work without bear spray and a radio.  We spent our first 3+ years in a 35 year old 16 foot trailer we called Willy. Last July we got a new 20 foot trailer that we call Nitsitapiisinni - Blackfeet for 'our way of life'.  Our transportation is our 2013 Dodge Ram half-ton heavy.  For us it is a wonderful life, but it isn't for everyone.

A Sunny Day 

Our home from May 1st to October 1st is Glacier National Park, in the northwestern corner of Montana. This year we were taking care of the Avalanche campground. We fell in love with it immediately. Set in the last of the temperate rain forest among giant cedars and hemlock we look from our home up at magnificent mountains all around us. The campground has 87 sites. The average occupancy is 350 people with 75 sites being tent campers and 12 sites having RVs. (Of course anything with wheels is to be recorded as an RV. That means people sleeping in their cars are recorded as RV.)  It is a mile around the campground. We average walking it three to four times a day and biking four to six times a day. We get lots of exercise. We are frequently visited by black bears and both mule and white-tail deer. Nearby, but not in the campground, we have grizzly bears, elk, moose, pine martens, and a host of marvelous animals. Birdwatchers come to stay at Avalanche because of the tremendous variety of  birds - varied thrush, swallows,  two types of owls, three types of woodpeckers just to name a few. 

Then the lightening struck on August 10th. and our lives have been turned upside down. At first there were hopes that it would burn itself out, taking only a few acres. But we hadn't had a good rain since June 16th.  We had rain one day after the 10th. It rained for over an hour but the ground under the heavy forest canopy never got wet. It got hotter, windier, and drier. We knew that we were in trouble when the fire service would drive through the campground at least once a day. By the 17th we had an evacuation plan. Thursday, August 31st was one of the worst days.  Local authorities thought that it would take a long time for the fire to advance up the south side of Mount Brown. It did it in about six hours. It was downhill from then on. Every time there was wind the fire doubled until it is now just shy of 14,000 acres. There have been nine fires inside the park. Three of them are still burning and dangerous.

On Saturday, Sept 2nd we were told to close Avalanche at noon on Sunday Sept 3rd.  We finished our own personal evacuation plan. Later that day they gave those who own land inside the park 'evacuation warnings.' Sunday morning we got up early and removed all of the tags and notices. People were getting up and moving out, but there are always some who poke. When people would ask why they had to leave and what's the hurry my favorite line was "see that mountain right there?" I would point in the direction of Mt. Brown. "No," was always the reply. "That's why we need you to leave . . . . now."  At 10 am the official evacuation notice was issued.  We hustled out the last few campers, did a very basic shut-down,  had Sinni outside the gate and the gate closed when our boss' boss' boss showed up to do the closing.  We locked the gate, took one last look and headed south down Going-to-the-Sun Road toward Apgar.  As I passed our beloved cedar and hemlock forest it was all I could do to maintain my composure enough to drive, but drive I must. Time for tears ... time for heartache and grief would have to wait.  That night we stood at the south end of Lake McDonald with two Law Enforcement Ranger friends, four fellow CGHs, and hundreds of others watching Glacier burn. The fire again doubled in size that night and we watched it come over the ridge.

All of us in the northwest United States and western Canada do feel very sad about those who have and are suffering due to the hurricanes. We are not heartless.  Nevertheless people do need to realize that we too are suffering.  The most recent death count I read on Harvey was 70 (as of 9/9/2017). The number of deaths of firefighters alone (not counting civilian casualties) was 66 just in the US.  To give you an idea of the size of the US and Canadian fires, it is basically equivalent to the country of Switzerland or the entire States of Delaware, Connecticut and Massachusetts.

For those of us who live in and love these mountains and forests, the fires of 2017 is heartbreaking and isn't over yet.  Many of the 89 fires in the US are in areas that will not get snow, nevertheless the heavy snow necessary to suffocate a fire.  Two of the governors of the four states with the most fires report that Washington D.C. rejected our pleas for help.  To see our states burn is devastating. To be rejected by our national government and ignored by the rest of the country is cruel and painful beyond belief.