We got the call on Saturday night around 9pm, “Fire out of Vale. Be at the station at 0600 Sunday morning.”
But first, let me backtrack. After weeks without fire, myself and the La Grande Hotshots have been getting pretty bummed out about fire season 2014. As much as we love the job, it is a JOB, and we wouldn’t have those if we didn’t need to make money. Paychecks have been skinny without fire.
We tried everything. We shaved mohawks into every head (except mine), we bought tons of groceries, we partied and drank like there was no tomorrow, we made plans to attend weddings and birthdays. Normally, all surefire ways to leave for a fire. There’s only one thing we never do, and that is leave the call-back area, which is two hours.
So I did it. I drove three hours to Lewiston to see Jeff, and within a couple hours we had a fire call, which meant driving right back in the direction I came from. It was worth it, absolutely. I did drive from 2:30 am straight to work at 5:45, which might have been a little dangerous on the crazy steep switchbacks of the canyons on the border, but I made it alright.
Shortly after 6am, we hopped in the buggies and drove an hour or so south past Baker City, to a fire that started right off the highway and up a steep ridge called Gold Hill. After a quick briefing, we had packs on and were hauling ass up a slope so steep, I would probably be a little chickenshit to ski it. But we’re hotshots, and steep is our middle name. The fire was pretty much out when we got there. Not much for a grass-n-sage fire to do once it hits a ridgetop, with a flock of airtankers and hlicopters hammering it from above. We spent the rest of the day gridding, securing the line, and mopping up. The hike down was even steeper than the hike up, and we all felt the pinch in the toes of our boots and the strain in our knees. Still, we were pretty darn happy to be on a fire.
That night we slept in our first fire camp of the season, and it was pretty typical: right next to a noisy highway, with the honking of trains and glow from the cement factory. I, having slept only an hour the night before, couldn’t care less. The mosquitos were pterodactyls though.
The next day we were up by 0530 Mountain Time (we lost an hour) and were hiking right back up the damn thing right after breakfast. It’s about a 1,000' gain over maybe half a mile of walking? Steeper ’n shit. I’m glad we had a tough critical training, because other than the footing hazards, we were more than in shape for the terrain.
A little gridding followed by a LOT of napping under the junipers was day two. We hiked out by 1530, and were home in La Grande shortly thereafter. Indeed, a very short fire. We refurbed our gear and glumly clocked out.
The rest of the week has been station days and project work. It’s raining and cold, with little promise of relenting. I can’t believe it’s almost July and we haven’t left for a full fire assignment yet, let alone come back from a second or third by now. For us, this isn’t just about fighting cool fires or even serving the land, it’s also about making money and supporting ourselves. Fire is a tough job to gamble on day-to-day, we never know what we’ll be doing. But over the course of a season, it’s fairly safe to assume we’ll get more than enough work to refill our bank accounts for the winter. This year, I’m not so sure. I can roll with it, I’m sure, but my friends who have spouses and children and mortgages are getting stressed out. I hope, more for them than for myself, that summer will finally arrive.
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