Marston complex fire
As preppers we take into consideration
what sort of natural or man-made disasters could be a risk in the
area where we live, especially when we approach the possibility of
buying a house or property. In the area where we live the main risk
is wildfire, with extreme cold as another possibility. We have had
one mild earthquake, merely a tremor. that we could actually feel
(in 2006), but we don't get tornadoes or hurricanes and we don't live
near a volcano or power plant, though some people could consider
Yellowstone's caldera 400 miles SE of us to be a risk.
We've had weather as cold as 35 (F)
degrees below zero, but the forested mountains have protected us from
winds that could have given that a deadly wind chill. It's still
weather to take seriously, but for the most part we stayed in the
cabin with a fire in the woodstove and only went outside to check on
the animals.
For our first twelve years on this
property we didn't experience any big wildfires close enough to worry
about. The few small lightning strike-started fires in our valley
were put out while they were still only a few acres. There were a
couple of dry summers that had us nervous but we fared well. Then
came this year. This was the summer of drought and extreme fire
danger.
Our 'rainy season' is usually from
mid-May until the end of June. Some years it rained every day and we
planted the garden in ankle-deep mud. Some years the cold weather
persisted and we had frost and snow flurries clear into the middle of
June. But all of those years, including the 'dry' ones, had plenty
of rain in May and June. Not this year.
There were a few rains in the first
half of May, and then a light shower on May 23rd. That
was the last rain we had until a light shower on July 5th.
There was not a single drop of rain in June. Everything dried up
and on the bright side, we didn't have to mow again for weeks, and
then only because it looked scraggly. June, normally our cool month
of rain, turned into an inferno of heat and dryness. The last week
of June and the first week of July brought us temperatures well over
100 degrees, some days as high as 105 and 106. This, at a time of
year when we think it's too hot if it hits 80.
We joked about escaping to the coolness
of the forest and mountains.... and laughed because we live up
in the 'coolness' of the forest and mountains where most people go to
escape the heat. And there was no escape. We don't know anyone with
air conditioning out here because most years it's not necessary. We
usually do hit close to 100 degrees a few times a summer but it's
brief and goes away before it drains the life out of you. Not this
year. We sweltered day after day.
But
still, there were no wildfires in our valley, and nothing big
anywhere in our county. We watched sadly as Glacier National Park,
to our east, suffered two big wildfires in late July and early
August. We saw terrible wildfires on the news in places like
California, Washington, and Idaho. But here in NW Montana, we were
pretty quiet on the wildfire scene.... until mid-August, when it
seemed like the whole west end of the state went up in flames.
On the
night of August 11th
a lightning strike high on
the shoulder of Mt. Marston was
captured on a security camera at a nearby golf course. Their cameras
are not just for security, they also capture wildlife such as deer,
elk, bears, and the occasional mountain lion. They cover the
mountainsides above and behind the golf course. They've caught
beautiful lightning strikes, cloud formations, and other interesting
phenomena. This night they captures the lightning strike that
changed our valley.
Smoke high on the shoulder of Mt. Marston
By
morning a column of smoke was rising from the location of the strike.
Dispatch started receiving calls of smoke and flames, spotted from a
lake below the fire. The forest service sent their first crews up to
check it out. The wind picked up, causing the fire to race uphill.
At the top of the mountain is a fire look-out building, one of the
few “manned” lookouts still being used. The forest service
evacuated the woman who was this summer's look-out person.
The smoke filled our valley.
Smoke on the flank of Mt. Marston.
As the
fire raced uphill, the forest service raced to protect the historical
look-out building. They wrapped it in a fire-retardant material and
covered that with sprayed-on fire resistant foam. Then they left,
hoping the building would survive as the fire raced toward it. They
had hoped to stop the fire at the top, since fire tends to burn
upward, but this fire spread out to both sides and burned slowly down
the mountain too. Initially the fire died down at the top and didn't
start over over and down the
other side. The forest service checked the building and it had
survived.
The look-out building on Mt. Marston,
taken a few years ago.
Later
when the fire to the sides send the flames around the back side of
the mountain it once again roared up to the top and this time it
scorched the look-out tower but the building survived. For days, we
didn't know it's fate. The thick smoke veiled the mountains and we
waited. It took more than a week for the smoke to clear enough to
see the look-out building
on top of the mountain, a local landmark visible for miles.
The pre-fire view from the look-out tower.
This building is manned from July to September with a smoke-spotter.
The
fire spread out over five mountains along the east side of our
valley, staying mainly on the National Forest. Fire breaks were made
above the houses closest to the fire, and the local fire department
was on standby for days, to defend the homes and buildings if
necessary. No evacuations were ordered but a few people left anyway.
Crown fire with flames shooting dozens of feet into the air.
Our
house is a few miles west of the location of the fire, and there are
a lot of houses and structures between us and the fire. We
were never really at risk of it burning all the way to our home, even
if the wind changed direction and the fire jumped the highway and
headed toward us.. The only
personal impact the fire had on us was the thick smoke. It burned
our eyes, noses, and throats. We couldn't see the far side of the
yard through the fog-like smoke. The sun couldn't pierce the smoke
to charge our solar electric power system.
A Chinook helicopter dips water out of a pond at the golf course
The
National Guard was called in to help the weary fire-fighters, who's
numbers were spread thin over the 103 wildfires
burning in western
Montana in late August. Chinook helicopters dipped water out of the
nearby lakes and ponds with large canvas buckets hanging
from a cable underneath; a
'cup' of water around 1,500 gallons at a time. Watching from across
the valley it seemed hopeless each time the water trailed out of the
bucket onto the fire. Like a drop of water sprinkled on a campfire.
But slowly the fire lines stopped
advancing as the helicopters circled back and forth between fire and
water, hour after hour after hour.
A helicopter drops water on the fire.
From the Stonehenge Air Museum at the golf course:
"Day 12. 8-23-15
They have been steady again today. There are 3 helicopters going now. Wind has picked up again and so has fire. They are making a round trip every 4:00 minutes. With all three copters running that means 4500 gallons times 15 = 67,500 gallons an hour when they are in the air.
Warmer weather predicted this week so looks like they will be going hard.
Sure glad the Governor called on our National Guard"
A Chinook helicopter hovering over a lake.
The helicopter on the left has just left with water, and the one on the right is
coming in for water.
Full of water, ready to go drop it on the fire.
It's very well coordinated where they are to take each load of water.
The
potential for fire at our
property became more real
when a timber company started logging just off our western boundary
during the fire east of us. There are strict rules for loggers
during fire danger. They have to stop work
at 1 pm (because humidity
levels drop in the afternoon and increase fire danger),
they have to have fire-fighting equipment on site,
and they had to leave someone to watch for fire or
smoke for at least two hours
after they quit for the day. We were still concerned. We moved
valuables to one of our kids' homes 70 miles away in Kalispell.
The
valuables we moved were pictures/photos, journals, financial and tax
papers, memory cards and flash drives, and laptop computers. Here at
home we put hunting rifles, chainsaw, tools,
and similar items in our
camper. If we had to evacuate, we'd drive that out. Those things
are valuable to us, but they are replaceable. We moved our
rototiller, garden tools,
and wheel barrow to the center of the garden, farthest from potential
flames. My canners went to the root cellar. Now we could only wait,
and cough and choke on the smoke, which seeped into the cabin despite
our efforts to keep it closed up.
An airplane drops fire-retardant slurry in a backdrop of smoke.
A black & white photo from the golf course cameras.
After
two weeks of fire and smoke, the temperature dropped and the rains
came. And came and came, in the wild, crazy way of unexplainable
excesses of dry and wet, heat and cold. After a couple of days of
rain the fires were reduced to a few wispy columns of smoke from hot
spots that continued to smolder. For the last week, it has rained
nearly every day, sometimes all day. The grass has the first green
it's had in about two months. Our valley has heaved a huge sigh of
relief and sits, exhausted, recovering.
7,200 acres of forested mountains
along the east side of our valley are charred. In my life time it
will never look like it did, but the forest is a renewable resource,
and my children will see it in it's green beauty again. The cost to fight just this one fire: $6,200,000.
In
accordance with the recommendations for properties in wildfire-prone
areas, over the last dozen years we cut out the pines and other
extremely-flammable vegetation within 30' of our house. We thinned
those beyond that, out to 50' to 75' from the house. We pruned
branches up until they were 10' to 12' above the ground. The reason
for this is that a ground fire rolling through won't 'climb' a tree
like a ladder if there are no low branches for them to catch. A
ground fire can have flames 6' to 8' high. The forest is littered
with pine needles and flammable plants like Kinnikinnick
and Juniper bushes.
In a
roll-over the safest place is to be in our house. Our
cabin is built with Larch logs, which
take longer to ignite than
the surrounding dry grass.
After the fire rolls through we
would have time to escape from
our house if it begins.
Second-best place
to go would be the center of our garden. We could
scoop out a depression in the dirt and lay our faces in there for
better and cooler
air. Hopefully we would be far enough from the heat of the flames.
Smoke
is one of the deadliest aspects of a fire, but super-heated air can
fry your lungs and kill you. Flames are less likely to be what
kills. Obviously if we had
a chance to safely evacuate that would be the best plan. However
we'd want to make
SURE the route ahead of us
was
safe before we started
out. We have three miles of a one-lane dirt road winding down
through forest before it hits a small paved county road. The
possibility of fire blocking the road is a danger, and if we tried to
return to our home the fire might have blocked the road behind us as
well. If we're not sure we can make it to safety, we'd hole up here.
I've
been told that our root cellar would be more dangerous in a wildfire
roll-over than staying in our house or going to the middle of our
garden. Something about the duff on the ground and roots burning
underneath causing smoke or heat that could kill us in the root
cellar. Yet that was the first place I thought of as a safe place in
a fire.
Crown
fires burn the tree tops. We
watched the fire burn trees on
the steep mountain slope. Like
candles, one right after another would flare
up and send flames 20' or more into the air, and the next one above
it would go up, then the next. Wildfires
can create their own wind and send embers and burning twigs ahead of
them to start new fires. Ash
and burned twigs landed all over the golf course at the foot of the
fire.
Our
biggest danger at home is
a crown fire that would throw burning debris onto the roof of our
cabin. Even with the evergreens cut back so far from the house the
flying embers can travel quite a ways and land on our roof. We have
aspens and willows in the yard, but they are much less flammable. If
a fire approached and we had time, we'd grab the chainsaw and cut
them out as well.
Our
gardening efforts suffered this year. Since
we don't have a well we rely
heavily on the rainwater that usually fills all of our tanks and
barrels in early summer. We were not able to haul enough water to
keep the garden in good shape in 100+ degree heat and extreme
aridity. We weren't able to pick huckleberries up on the
mountainside since the road up to the berry patches was closed
because of the fire. We normally pick 6 to 9 gallons a year. We
don't know yet whether the berry bushes escaped the fire. Hundreds
of acres of berry plants graced the side of the mountain below where
the fire started.
Huckleberries (like a wild blueberry) that we picked last year.
Fortunately
most years we have an abundance of foods to preserve from our garden,
foraging, fishing, and hunting, and some things have accumulated over
the years. This will give us a good chance to clear out and eat
those foods, and hopefully next year will be a normal year and we'll
have lots of delicious food to preserve again.
And
that's the concept behind prepping (preparedness) and food storage.
It's there when a person has lean years... for any reason. A lot of
people focus on world-wide and political or economic conditions
regarding preparedness, and here we had a situation right here at
home between the drought and the wildfires, which affected our
ability to provide food for ourselves. This winter we'll eat from
the extra we preserved over the last few years, along with the
buckets of flour, grains, sugar, etc. that we stored. And over the
next couple of years we'll replenish what we need to use this year.
We in
this area are emerging from the drought and wildfires
to begin living again, and to get back to the normal activities of
this time of year, such as firewood cutting, bow
hunting, and getting the
garden ready for the winter. We
were very lucky compared to other places. In Washington, California,
and Idaho they had dreadful fires. Homes
and lives were lost. We lost none of either here.
Billowing smoke behind the golf course
Photos courtesy of and used with permission from
Stonehenge Air Museum at Crystal Lakes Golf course
Fortine, Montana
A similar write-up on my blog at Mother Earth News can be read
here
