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Show A-8 The Park Record Wed/Thurs/Fri, September 23-25, 2020 ‘Nothing left in the bucket’: Wildfire resources run thin Red Card Roberts Blazes have put a historically heavy burden on fighters I have been a homeowner since I was 22 years old. Days after walking across a stage to accept my diploma, I was touring open houses with a Realtor. While many of my friends were taking a gap year to backpack Europe, or renting apartments together off campus, I was learning about interest rates and picking out a lawnmower. Owning a home at such a young age wasn’t a goal of mine as much as it was an expectation of my parents. They had a very well-defined path for me and my sisters. It went something like this: 1. Graduate from college. 2. Become gainfully employed. 3. Buy a house. The steps were expected to be completed within a month or so of each other. And after ticking them off, we were officially adults, able to chart our own course. There are many things I distinctly remember about purchasing my first home. I recall hating the wallpaper and contemplating removing the entire wall before I learned the wallpaper could be peeled off. I remember being delighted when I pulled up the carpet and discovered pristine oak floors underneath. I can still feel that anxious pit I had in my stomach as I sat on the floor in my bare living room and contemplated being in $85,000 of what my dad told me was, “good debt.” I remember meeting my neighbors, learning the definition of “elbow grease,” hauling furniture up two flights of stairs, and swearing I’d never move again because it was so much work. What I don’t remember is pausing to acknowledge the JAMES ANDERSON AND MATTHEW BROWN Associated Press Justin Silvera came off the fire lines in Northern California after a grueling 36 straight days battling wildfires and evacuating residents ahead of the flames. Before that, he and his crew had worked for 20 days, followed by a three-day break. Silvera, a 43-year-old battalion chief with Cal Fire, California’s state firefighting agency, said he’s lost track of the blazes he’s fought this year. He and his crew have sometimes been on duty for 64 hours at a stretch, their only rest coming in 20-minute catnaps. “I’ve been at this 23 years, and by far this is the worst I’ve seen,” Silvera said before bunking down at a motel for 24 hours. After working in Santa Cruz County, his next assignment was to head north to attack wildfires near the Oregon border. His exhaustion reflects the situation on the West Coast fire lines: This year’s blazes have taxed the human, mechanical and financial resources of the nation’s wildfire-fighting forces to an extraordinary degree. And half of the fire season is yet to come. Heat, drought and a strategic decision to attack the flames early combined with the coronavirus to put a historically heavy burden on fire teams. “There’s never enough resources,” said Silvera, one of nearly 17,000 firefighters battling the California blazes. “Typically with Cal Fire, we’re able to attack — air tankers, choppers, dozers. We’re good at doing that. But these conditions in the field, the drought, the wind, this stuff is just taking off. We can’t contain one before another erupts.” Washington State Forester George Geissler says there are hundreds of unfulfilled requests for help throughout the West. Agencies are constantly seeking firefighters, aircraft, engines and support personnel. Fire crews have been summoned from at least nine states and other countries, including Canada and Israel. Hundreds of agreements for agencies to offer mutual assistance have been maxed out at the federal, state and local levels, he said. “We know that there’s really nothing left in the bucket,” Geissler said. “Our sister agencies to the south in California and Oregon are really struggling.” Demand for firefighting resources has been high since mid-August, when fire officials bumped the national preparedness level to critical, meaning at least 80% of crews were already committed to fighting fires, and there were few personnel and little equipment to spare. Because of the extreme fire behavior, “you can’t say for sure having more resources would make a difference,” said Carrie Bilbao, a spokesperson for the National Interagency Fire Center. Officials at the U.S. government operation in Boise, Idaho help decide which fires get priority when equipment and firefighters run scarce nationwide. Government spending on fighting wildfires has more than tripled since the 1990s, to an average of $1.8 billion annually. That’s failed to reduce the problem as climate change, drought and millions of trees killed by pests led to more fires in the Western U.S. over the same period, particularly dangerous “megafires” that burn 100,000 acres (404 square kilometers) or more. The growing severity has spurred federal lawmakers to push prevention efforts, including controlled burns, faster approval of logging projects and upgrading homes to make them more fire resistant. “We are at a critical time: The West is burning. People are dying. The smoke is literally starting to cover our country, and our way of life as we know it is in danger,” Republican U.S. Sen. Steve Daines of Montana said Wednesday during testimony in support of an emergency wildfire bill, co-sponsored by Democratic Sen. Dianne Feinstein of California, that would direct more resources to prevention. Andy Stahl, a forester who runs Forest Service Employees for Environmental Ethics, an advocacy group in Oregon, said it would have been impossible to stop some of the most destructive blazes, a task he compared to “dropping a bucket of water on an atomic bomb.” Yet Stahl contends the damage could have been less if government agencies were not so keen to put out every blaze. Extinguishing smaller fires and those that ignite during wetter months allows fuel to build up, setting the stage for bigger fires during times of drought and hot, windy weather, he said. That’s been exacerbated this year by the pandemic, which led U.S. Forest Service Chief Vicki Christiansen to issue a directive in June to fight all fires aggressively, reversing a decadeslong trend of allowing some to burn. The idea was to minimize large concentrations of firefighters by extinguishing blazes quickly. Fighting the flames from the air was key to the strategy, with 35 air tankers and 200 helicopters used, Forest Service spokesperson Kaari Carpenter said. Yet by Aug. 30, following the deaths of firefighters, including four aviators, fire officials in Boise warned that long-term fatigue was setting in. They called for a “tactical pause” to reinforce safe practices. With no end in sight to the pandemic, some worry the focus on aggressively attacking every fire could last. Allowing instead for more fires to burn if they are not threatening life or property would free up firefighters for the most dangerous blazes, said Tim Ingalsbee with the advocacy group Firefighters United for Safety, Ethics and Ecology. Cal Fire’s roughly 8,000 personnel have been fighting blazes from the Oregon border to the Mexico border, bouncing from fire to fire, said Tim Edwards, president of the union for Cal Fire, the nation’s second largest firefighting agency. “We’re battle-hardened, but it seems year after year, it gets tougher, and at some point in time, we won’t be able to cope. We’ll reach a breaking point,” said Edwards, a 25-year veteran. The immediate dangers are compounded by worries about COVID-19 in camp and at home. Firefighters “see all this destruction and the fatigue, and then they’re getting those calls from home, where their families are dealing with school and child care because of COVID. It’s stressing them out, and we have to keep their heads in the game,” he said. The pandemic also has limited the state’s use of inmate fire crews — either because of early releases to prevent outbreaks in prisons or because many are under quarantine in those prisons, officials said. Aside from the human toll, the conflagrations in Colorado, Montana, Utah, New Mexico, Arizona, and now California and the Pacific Northwest have cost hundreds of millions of dollars. California alone has spent $529 million since July 1 on wildfires, said Daniel Berlant, assistant deputy director of Cal Fire. By comparison, the state spent $691 million the entire fiscal year that ended June 30. The U.S. government will reimburse most state costs for the biggest disasters. Back in the field, Silvera and his crew saved two people at the beginning of their 26-day tour. Two hikers encountered the crew after the firefighters themselves were briefly trapped while trying to save the headquarters building at Big Basin Redwoods State Park. “We got in a bad spot, and there were a few hours there we didn’t know if we’d make it,” Silvera said. “Those people found us, and we wouldn’t have been in there.” “That’s what you sign up for.” State lawmaker may pay fine for ATV protest ride Associated Press SALT LAKE CITY — A state representative who was found guilty several years ago of leading an illegal ATV protest ride through a southern Utah canyon has been given one month to pay in full the $96,000 in restitution he owes. The arrangement was made after an attorney for Utah state Rep. Phil Lyman asked U.S. District Judge David Nuffer during a hearing Friday if Lyman could avoid sending tax documents if he paid up. Nuffer gave Lyman until Oct. 16 to pay the full amount, The Salt Lake Tribune reported. If that doesn’t happen, Nuffer said Lyman must file an explanation about why prosecutors can’t look at his tax records. Lyman’s attorney, Dan McCay, said he hadn’t a chance to review the issue to know why Lyman wasn’t allowing prosecutors to see the tax returns but said, “The question really became whether the U.S. attorney’s office needed to see that information.” “We don’t deal one-sided justice in the United States,” Nuffer responded. “How could that possibly be appropriate?” McCay is a Republican state senator. Lyman is also a Republican lawmaker and former county commissioner in San Juan County in southeastern Utah. U.S. prosecutors were seeking Lyman’s tax returns to determine whether the restitution payments he owes the government should be higher. When he was a county commissioner, Lyman led a 2014 protest of about 50 ATV riders in a canyon in Utah that officials had closed to motorized traffic. A federal court convicted the lawmaker of a misdemeanor and ordered him to pay $95,955.61 in damages. Lyman also spent 10 days in jail, the Salt Lake Tribune reported. Lyman agreed to make $100 payments every month. But in Oct. 2019, a court ordered him to provide tax returns from 2017 to 2019 by May 1, 2020, in order to determine if the payment should be higher. That deadline was later extended, but Lyman never provided the documents, prosecutors said. Lyman said in an email he had submitted tax returns to Judge Nuffer, but not prosecutors. The state rep’s $100 per month payments would only cover a quarter of the roughly $96,000 owed before 2036, when he is not required to con- tinue payments. In addition to Lyman’s salary from his role at the state legislature, he owns an accounting firm, an investment group and a financial advisory group, according to a state disclosure form. Lyman filed a nine-page response to the U.S. attorneys on Wednesday, complaining about past mistreatment at the hands of the court and alleging that he is being singled out by a backroom deal between judges and environmentalists, the Tribune reported. “You may choose to see (and I am certain that you will represent) my arguments as merely a rant,” Lyman wrote. “That is to be expected in this cancel culture. But I am not in contempt of our great country. I love the United States. I love the Constitution. And I, like you and every officer of the Court, has sworn an oath to uphold it. I am not in contempt of the Law.” Lyman later expressed irritation at the government’s threat of arrest a hearing that was scheduled for Oct. 2 before Friday’s hearing changed the plan. “Incarceration for what? The order to appear in person, more than 300 miles from my home ... seems draconian,” Lyman said in an email to the Tribune. By Amy Roberts With gratitude person who made it possible for a single woman to take out her own mortgage. I had no idea that just 25 years prior, doing so wasn’t a right, much less a widely accepted norm. Four years ago when my younger sister Heather passed away, my mother assumed control of her estate. My parents are still married, but my mother handled the selling of my sister’s home and car and the thoughtful distribution of her belongings. Heather wasn’t married and didn’t have children, and she didn’t spec- May the women and men who value progress, equality and decency exercise their right to vote this November.” ify which parent should be in charge. We just all accepted it would be my mom because she’s better at that stuff. It never occurred to me that just a few decades prior, my father would have been automatically appointed executer of her estate, regardless of his lack of desire or skill. Thanks to RBG, my mom was able to handle the details in the way my sister would have wanted. When my older sister was pregnant with my niece six years ago, I never once asked her, “Aren’t you afraid you’ll get fired?” She didn’t have to worry about that because it’s illegal to fire a woman for being pregnant. But neither of us stopped to consider that wasn’t the case for many women before us. Now though, with the news of Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s death last Friday, women around the world are pausing to reflect on the rights we take for granted because of her advocacy and pursuit of equality. From controlling our own finances to controlling our own bodies, RBG didn’t just move the needle on gender equality, she used it to tickle the patriarchy. Her death combined with the unbelievable hypocrisy of a Republican-controlled Senate that four years ago refused to hold a hearing or vote on President Barack Obama’s nominee, saying it was too close to the election (nine months prior) and the American people should have a say in their next appointed member of SCOTUS — threatens to move that needle back to the 1950s. How Mitch McConnell and his mindless GOP cronies, including Utah’s Mike Lee and Mitt Romney, can suggest they care about anyone is this country is inconceivable. The only thing more ludicrous is that people in Kentucky (and Utah) continue to vote for a guy who would rather rush a Supreme Court nomination hearing than pass a relief bill for those impacted by COVID-19. May the women and men who value progress, equality and decency exercise their right to vote this November. Amy Roberts is a freelance writer, longtime Park City resident and the proud owner of two rescued Dalmatians, Stanley and Willis. Follow her on Twitter @amycroberts. Writers on the Range By Char Miller These fires will happen again and again We should not be surprised that much of the West is on fire. Or that more than 3.1 million acres already have burned in California, another million in Oregon and in Washington, and that tens of thousands of people have been forced to evacuate. The downwind consequences shouldn’t come as a shock, either: Toxic plumes have darkened the skies of the small Oregon town of Sisters as well as the metropolitan areas of Seattle, Portland, the San Francisco Bay Area and Los Angeles. The least surprising thing about this summer’s conflagrations is that we have done this to ourselves. We are the architects of the world that is now going up in smoke. Picture this Los Angeles Times photograph: a paintstripped car resting on its buckled roof, its tires and hubcaps incinerated, windows shattered, and wheels weirdly melted. Framing the backdrop are the ash-white remains of a Sierran forest. The photograph was snapped in the furious aftermath of the Bear Fire, since subsumed into the North Complex Fire, which has burned more than 250,000 acres in California’s Plumas National Forest. But it could have been taken at any of this summer’s infernos, because its symbolism is impossible to ignore. Even as we fear for the owners of these abandoned automobiles, and are astounded at the intensity of heat that could turn tempered steel molten, we can’t miss how burned-out cars explain our fiery circumstances. After all, no sooner had this four-wheeled, fossil-fueled, late-19th-century technology been invented, than it became one of the icons of the Industrial Revolution, a sign of economic prosperity. But the greenhouse gases spewing from these vehicles’ tailpipes have contributed to the profound change in the Earth’s climate. As a result of planetary warming, large swaths of the West have been drying out. Since the 1980s, Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona, Utah, Nevada and California have borne the brunt of this process, according to the Palmer Drought Severity Index; and the pace has quickened over the past two decades. Other EPA data indicates that warmer and drier conditions will persist for the rest of the century, altering vegetation cover, endangering wildlife and sparking a significant increase in intense fire activity. The result is anthropogenic, meaning “we did it.” What could halt this suburbanizing march into the woods throughout the West?” Less well understood is that this rapidly evolving human geography has forged a close link between sprawl and wildland fire. Consider that booming Clackamas County near Portland and fast-growing Deschutes County in eastern Oregon are both under a fire-siege. Los Angeles is the poster-child for the history of this larger western experience. Between the 1950s and 1970s, for example, its elite began to build mansions in the Hollywood and Beverly Hills. No sooner had celebrities set up house there than devastating fires ripped through the neighborhoods. In 1961, a tie-wearing Richard Nixon was photographed atop his Bel Air home, hose in hand, wetting down its shake-shingled roof. Since then, a migratory surge has flowed out on a dense freeway network, whose every exit contains an interlocking set of subdivisions, gas stations, restaurants and big-box centers. Fire mitigation has not been high on residents’ agenda, and these insta-towns, some with low-income residents, have generated the same smoke-filled results. Fires have swept through the town of Sylmar, located in northern Los Angeles County, four times since 2008. This pattern of build-andburn will continue in Southern California and elsewhere because city representatives and county commissioners, along with those developers who underwrite their political campaigns, green light housing projects. This includes some that are slotted into high-severity fire zones. One example is the gargantuan 12,000-acre planned community called Centennial that is being built in the flammable foothills of the Sierra Pelona and Tehachapi mountains. When completed, it will be home to 60,000 people, many of whom will commute into Los Angeles on an already gridlocked I-5. What could halt this suburbanizing march into the woods throughout the West? Stronger local control over new development with a hand from insurance companies, weary from shelling out money to subsidize building again and again in fire zones. Everything else seems to have failed. Meanwhile, a bit of unsolicited advice to residents of California, Oregon and Washington: Better keep a go-bag handy so you’re ready when told to evacuate. Char Miller is a contributor to Writers on the Range, writersontherange.com, a nonprofit dedicated to spurring lively conversation about the West. He is a writer and professor of environmental analysis and history at Pomona College in Claremont, California. |