The Independent Stitch

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Hello, and welcome!

Chances are you found this site via some sort of Internet search. I think you'll find a lot of interesting information in the archives here, and you're welcome to look around; however, I no longer update or maintain this website.

I have moved all of my blog posts, teaching information, and retreat updates to my new site: The Independent Stitch.

Please visit https://independentstitch.com for all the information you need.

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Thanks so much for visiting! And also thanks to Typepad. It has been a fantastic platform for many years. I just finally outgrew it! (That took a long time.)

— Deb

 

 

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Tough times

It's been quiet around here because life has been intervening.

Yes, we are in the area affected by the Colorado flooding, but our personal household is dry and has utilities, and even when the roads have been closed in all directions away from where we are, we have had access to groceries and other essentials. Much of my life is currently following its normal rhythms, although with a few differences. A group of us get together regularly to write. This is one of the places. We use the basement. It is, miraculously, not flooded, although close to the river.

We are very concerned about everyone still stranded or lost or with their houses swept away by, surrounded by, or filled with water. We await news about friends, especially those with sheep and those I've met through plein air painting connections over the years, who tend to live in more beautiful and more vulnerable places than the one we're in.

This past weekend was the memorial service for one of my longest-term and dearest friends, Ginny Cross. Ginny and I didn't get together all that often—for dinner and conversation every few months—but every time we did get together mattered. Miss you more than words allow, Ginny, and I'll remember your birthday for you tomorrow, with sadness mixed with joy that you were part of my life. And, as I told you shortly before you left this plane, your friends, including me, will be publishing your novel. It should have been published when you were here to see that happen, but we'll carry on. I'm doing the layout and design, and it will be an honor.

Thanks to our mutual friend Cherrie for the photo. I didn't have any.

Early this morning my cousin Christie Ehmann died. She was three months younger than me, and despite the fact that her family lived in Colorado and mine lived in Illinois, we four girl cousins grew up together, often visiting and traveling as a "clump." Since I've lived in Colorado, we've been a couple of miles apart. When I first moved to Colorado, we happened to be in the grocery store together and suddenly there were two fully grown-up women in the produce section picking up heads of lettuce and flinging water at each other and laughing like a couple of ten-year-olds. Again, our times together weren't frequent but they were vitally important, and I thought we'd have a lot more of them. The family became aware of Christie's diagnosis with inflammatory breast cancer three weeks ago tomorrow, and already she's gone.

This was 2008: cousins and aunts, in age order for both generations, from left to right:

Me, Christie (spirit left this manifestation this morning), my aunt Ginny (died three years ago), my mother (died this May), my sister Meg, and my cousin Colleen. I'm so glad we took that trip. (You'll notice they're all more put-together than I am. This is an eternal truth, something to count on in the shifting sands of life.)

More soon. Teaching has been wonderful, and the ongoing Shetland project is giving me a strong and blessed pull forward. As are family members and friends, human and canine.

One day at a time.

May all beings be happy.

May all beings be safe.

May all beings be free from suffering.

Waltz for the Wolves

Last Saturday night was the Waltz for the Wolves, the annual major fundraiser for W.O.L.F. Sanctuary, a rescue and education organization working with wolves and wolf-dogs, which recently has been hit by the High Park Fire, although all the wolves were—over a number of days and by a number of means—relocated to appropriate alternative locations outside the fire area. (I hesitated over adding the word "local" on that description of the fundraiser, but left it off because people attend from quite far away.)

Here's the room where the Waltz was held; I'd guess there were between 300 and 400 people there. 

The slide show primarily documented the relocation process. The wolves normally live in large, customized habitats, a number of which now contain specially constructed fire dens—recent additions that likely made a big difference in the survival of the less socialized wolves who had to be evacuated later, rather than sooner. 

The balloons were part of a raffle for special, donated prizes, one of which will appear later in this post.

Here's this year's program for the event, with the special bookmark featuring Whisper:

Some of the wolves and wolf-dogs serve as ambassadors, because they are able to handle, more comfortably than the others, (1) travel by van, (2) being around people, especially ones they don't know, and (3) unexpected events. These animals are key to the sanctuary's educational programs. I have always seen them taken out together (that is, at least two wolves in each adventure), and their needs always come first. The two ambassadors at the Waltz were Pax and Sasha, who are habitat-mates.

At this year's Waltz, the main room was quite noisy, so Pax and Sasha came inside and looked around (meaning cruised the WHOLE perimeter of the space, quickly), went outside and got quiet again, then got curious and asked to go back inside for another speedy tour, part of which was captured above. They were on site for about an hour, then taken back to their temporary residence while the humans continued to do their thing. If you have access to Facebook, there are much better photos of Pax and Sasha on the W.O.L.F. page there.

Tunyan and Sigmund are also, as two pictures from 2010 show, quite social, but they aren't ambassadors. Among other reasons, Siggi doesn't like the car-transport part of the equation and Tunyan is a sneak-thief with a special interest in cameras.

Here's Sigmund with Kris Paige, who introduced me to the sanctuary and has spun and knitted items of wolf fur for the Waltz for the Wolves auctions for the past several years. Like many of the others, Sigmund is a wolf-dog, with too much wolf in him to be a good household pet. Tunyan is coming up behind Siggi to see whether she can steal my camera.

She didn't get it that time. (Tunyan is Lakota for "brat.")

These are some of the wolves whose fur I spun for The Fleece and Fiber Sourcebook, thanks to Kris's introduction.

One of the reasons that I am fascinated by and interested in the W.O.L.F. Sanctuary is its strong, clear advocacy and its blend of empirical and intuitive guidance. When faced with thorny questions, they consult various people beyond their immediate boundaries, including bioethicist Bernie Rollin, and they pay a great deal of attention to the wolves themselves: what their behavior indicates about what they need. Also because we know Michelle Proulx, who began as a basic-level volunteer (when she was working at the same bookstore that my daughter did) and is now the educational program director for the sanctuary, in addition to being a brilliant animal caretaker.

Michelle is a reason that one of the program items at the Waltz is belly-dancing, because that's another thing that she does. So we enjoyed the proficiency and variety of the Rocky Mountain Belly Dance Company.

This year, Michelle didn't dance with the troupe because, with the fire, she had too many other things she was responsible for. This year her fellow dancers told her enough.

The Stone People Drummers played for the dancers and also by themselves.

The belly-dancers even, later in the evening, got a lot of people up dancing with them because of this kind of energy. 

The live auction included some of the items made by Kris, who had been working on them both before and during the time when she was evacuated from her home. The GREAT auctioneer for the live auction was Debbie Stafford (for an interesting time, read her bio!), who I gathered is the sister of the sanctuary's clinical director, Priscilla Dressen. She did an amazing job.

Back to those gold balloons. They had ticket numbers on them, and could be purchased for a reasonable sum for a chance to win one of the raffle items. By means of her gold balloon, Kris won a custom skateboard with an image of Shaman, a wolf who has been important to her, as well as to a number of other people involved with W. O.L.F.  Kris looks whomped here because she and her husband Earl lost their house and barn to the fire just a week earlier, and she'd recently seen photos of what was left, although she hadn't been to the site yet—pictures of that are forthcoming. We had to egg her on to go to the Waltz, which is a lot to take in for humans as well as wolves—but a number of us, all over the country, thought it was really important for Kris to be there, even though we knew it would be hard. It was hard. It was also worth it: Shaman said so.

Shaman, who has now (as the sanctuary phrases it) returned to spirit, is a perfect guide for the Paiges' rebuilding effort. Two people came over with offers to buy this item from Kris, but we all agreed that it was the perfect thing for her to have as a cornerstone for bringing into existence what will be the Paiges' new home. Shaman was, for a long-time, one of W.O.L.F.'s primary ambassadors, and he's still doing good work.

Here's one of the items Kris donated to the fundraiser—fingerless mitts from Sigmund's fur:

And another, a hat from the signature wolf for this year's Waltz, Whisper:

In all, Kris made two hats, two pairs of fingerless mitts, and a six-foot-or-so scarf, all from either Whisper's or Siggi's fur this year.

Kris is doing much better now. It's one step at a time, and Saturday night was a big and important leap. Thanks to everyone who has sent messages and/or help through the website I mentioned in a previous post. Kris keeps saying things like, "There's someone here who says they came from your blog!" and "Scotland?!" The support, both emotional and practical, is priceless.

Here's another photo of Kris from our visit to the sanctuary in 2010. In this one she's with Rajan, who is a sometimes ambassador (in a pinch, though I hear he'd rather stay home). I think he'd just been nibbling on Kris's hair.

Photos by Judy Fort Brenneman (at the Waltz, because I forgot my camera) and by me and Kris Paige (at the sanctuary).

The wolves have all returned home to their sanctuary habitats now, with much relief all around. W.O.L.F.'s major advance fire planning has paid off—combined with a bit of luck that the fire, when it reached the sanctuary site, was not burning more fiercely than it was. Several small buildings were lost, but the main buildings and most of the habitat—and the fire dens! which worked!—came through.

High Park Fire, 9, relocating dogs

Our friends Kris and Earl Paige have eleven llamas, four livestock guardian dogs, and two cats (one still missing, and we are hoping she found a safe place during the fire: it's possible). Since their house and barn burned down, the Paiges need a place to live, but first the animals need to be settled.

The llamas have been in a first set of temporary digs (two locations, one for the males and one for the females). They are in the process of being moved to a second set of temporary, but more long-term, housing, since it's obvious now that rebuilding will have to occur before they can go home.

Two dogs, Bear and Lady, have been with us, while the other two, Hoss and Heather (siblings), have been boarded at a vet clinic. Just before July 4, Bear was moved over with Hoss and Heather because, while he will protect his llamas from mountain lions, coyotes, and bears, he's afraid of thunder, lightning, and other things that go boom. We have been having daily bouts of thunder and lightning (without much rain), and even with a fireworks ban, we didn't trust folks not to explode things around here. (For the most part, they haven't. But a small handful of people did ignore the prohibition.) 

Hoss, Heather, and Bear now need to be transported to North Carolina to be cared for and to have work to do while demolition and reconstruction happen on the home front. They will be with the friend of the Paiges who introduced them to livestock-dog rescue. The trick is getting the dogs there.

Obviously, with the heat and distance involved the transport vehicle will need to be air-conditioned in the cargo area as well as the passenger area. Unfortunately, it appears that auto rental agencies don't do one-way rentals on cargo vans. What's needed is probably an air-conditioned panel van. The driver who is available and familiar to the dogs has a regular, rather than commercial, driver's license. We're working on finding interior measurements of regular vans to see whether big-dog crates will fit. That information is not readily available online (we keep finding cargo-area width measurements but not length measurements).

Putting this together is like building a house of cards and hoping it doesn't fall over.

All of the dogs were rescues and all have been given appropriate work to do with the Paiges. Directly after the fire, Kris thought she was going to have to turn three of the four over again to guardian-dog rescue for rehoming, until the friend stepped in with the North Carolina solution (offer of housing, as well as support for the expenses of transporting the dogs)—a great relief all around, even if the logistics are complicated.

Bear is a true sweetheart as long as you don't threaten his family, four-legged or two-legged. He's not a house dog or he'd be in our house.

We've done our best to keep him entertained, mostly with frozen peanut-butter-filled bones. When bored or anxious, he tends to go through fences. We thought ours was sturdy. He's determined. It's been reinforced several times during his visit.

We were really sorry to see Bear go to board elsewhere, but we couldn't protect him adequately from the daily weather rumblings and he was so happy to be allowed to share a run with Heather! He was also lonely here, despite our best efforts. We even took our work to the back yard and sat with him to keep him company, but he needs a job to do.

These are Heather and Hoss, in what Kris describes as "an unusual calm moment." Someone in California intentionally crossed Akbash and Irish Wolfhound (I think I have the breeds right) and then, when the pups were ten months old, became alarmed at how large they were getting (this was a surprise?) and wanted to get rid of them.

They're statuesque, and LIVELY. We didn't even consider trying to keep them entertained at our house.

This is Heather:

That's a corner of the house in the background. Kris and Earl were on the property yesterday and in another post I'll share some photos of what is left there. Throughout evacuation and all the other phases of this process, getting the animals settled has come first. Then the people. Then the buildings and property can be dealt with.

And this is Hoss, up on a hay bale, looking for trouble:

His paws are HUGE. So's his nose. Kris says of that photo, "Hoss, standing on the TOP of the hay, woofing down (from about 8 feet up) at me walking into the barn . . . it's his favorite trick."

This morning, FedEx delivered to our house three GIANT dog crates for the transport of Bear, Heather, and Hoss.

Those boxes weigh more than 50 pounds (23 kg) each. I had to hip-shove them out of the way so we could get our bikes in and out of the garage.

Lady understands how to behave in a house, so she will be staying in Colorado during the regrouping time. She can walk on a leash, and do other tricks. She's not as good a livestock guardian as the others, but she's very protective of "her" people. 

We now count in that number of honored folks.

It took a number of days before Lady was willing to come in the house, even when Kris was staying with us. (She and Earl are now with friends who have more space than we do.) Then it took a while longer before she decided she could go on walks with us. Now she's in the house most of the time, and walks with Ceilidh (the Border collie rescue) and Tussah (the red-dog rescue) twice a day.

Which is pretty darn nice.

I'll be glad when all the transport pieces are in place and Bear, Heather, and Hoss can be past this phase of the dislocation. This morning, we measured big dogs for harnesses to be used during travel, and those are being ordered. Food has been ordered for them (four big bags of dog food burned up). The crates have arrived. Now all that's needed is a vehicle that will hold three big crates and is air conditioned.

One step at a time.

Kris and Lady

(The photos are a combination of mine and Kris Paige's.)

High Park Fire, 8: Sunflower Ridge Ranch

I err on the side of caution about privacy, so have not revealed a lot about what my friends who lost their home have gone through recently, other than mentioning the dogs and some other details. There is now a website created by their adult kids to help them recover from the loss of their ranch to the High Park Fire.

My friends are Kris and Earl Paige. While moving around the country for Earl's job, from which he recently retired to the ranch, Kris has been extremely active in rescue efforts involving llamas and livestock guardian dogs. She's put a lot of miles on getting animals out of bad situations, and is an avid supporter of the WOLF Sanctuary; she's been spending time during evacuation spinning and knitting items, made from Whisper's and Sigmund's fur, for the silent auction happening tomorrow night at the Waltz for the Wolves. If that wasn't enough, she recently completed the rigorous vet tech program at Front Range Community College.

Their property is Sunflower Ridge Ranch, and it took them many years to put it together. On June 22, the High Park Fire jumped the Poudre River (with more than a spot fire: a blast across the river) and ran 7 miles in 5 hours. That was the event that incinerated the ranch buildings.

This is what the ranch looked like before the fire.

This is what it looked like yesterday.

When we hear that fire evacuations have been lifted, or when another event catches our attention, we tend to think it's all over and everything goes back to normal. It doesn't.

Their llamas are in two different locations, and have had to be moved not only out of the fire area but since then. Their dogs are being temporarily moved across the country, and Kris and Earl are hunting for a place to live while they start over at the ranch.

In some ways, perhaps what grows from the ashes will be better. Sunflower Ridge Ranch was built entirely off the grid, and the solar system, while it worked well enough, was somewhat problematic. I hope the new solar system goes in without those complications. It's a small thing to wish for, but it would be nice. And more little nice things like that would be super.

Meanwhile, the people who have lost their homes are taking one issue and one minute at a time: Are the dogs okay now? Are the llamas okay now? Do we have a place to sleep tonight? Even with abundant friends, these questions rise, and they rise repeatedly for all the people affected.

There are, at latest count, 259 other stories of homes lost to this one fire, the High Park Fire; an even larger number have been lost to the Waldo Canyon Fire (with no total currently listed on Inciweb or the Colorado Springs city site), and more fires burning, including the Flagstaff Fire very close to Boulder, Colorado.

______

Susan Tweit's article from Audubon, 2001 and still timely, on some of the effects of wildfire on the natural environment, plants and animals.

Notes from Colorado State University Vet Hospital on animals who found refuge there.

 

Scenes from the Burke Gilman Trail, Seattle, part 2 (and High Park Fire note)

High Park Fire: 85% contained, and people are being allowed back in. Even those who are able to access their homes again were, until moments ago, still on pre-evacuation alert, with the potential for fire growth still extreme and terrain still, of course, difficult.

From Inciweb, "Incident meteorologist Mike Chamberlain said, 'I haven't been on many fires with Red Flag and flash flood warnings simultaneously.' " Fortunately, just a little rain fell: "Radar indicated strong rains Wednesday about 4:30 pm, but rain reaching the fire varied from .15" to only .01". Without flooding, the spatters of rain dampened the ash and soil enough to make mop-up easier Thursday. Some roads were muddy overnight."

And as I prepare to post this, the pre-evacuation status for returnees has been lifted. (Those fully evacuated are still evacuated.) The fire is still burning, but the crews expect it will not make more dramatic runs into new territory. Quoting today's report on Inciweb, "Some days the High Park fire did not move at all. Other days, it grew ferociously, running seven miles in five hours June 22, and nine miles in one day back on June 11. The lesson is that in this season of historic drought, dry windy weather can conspire to make for sudden and unpredictable fire growth. Local fire stations have re-staffed to support emergency response within their districts."

That means that conditions in the vicinity of the High Park Fire are approximating what will be the new "normal." It's quite different from the old one, especially for those whose homes and belongings are gone.

_____________

The greenery and water in Seattle have been a reminder to me of how much our perception of reality can shift, depending on our perspective, and may provide some long-distance comfort back home, too. As I post this, I'm on the way there again, having completed the tasks of this trip, along with yesterday's very pleasant bike ride.

Continuing the clips from that ride along the Burke Gilman Trail (part 1 is here), I offer more flowers:

And more water and boats. I like water and boats on normal days, but with the fire at home they are even better to look at.

Not only big boats but little boats, too. I saw kayaks, canoes, and a single-person rowing scull.

Some parts of the trail are wild-feeling, while others are extensively tended.

I loved the diversity of passageways. 

Sailboat out there, too! 

I went under the University Bridge, the I-5 bridge, the Aurora Bridge, and the Fremont Bridge. This is the Aurora bridge, which is apparently officially called the George Washington Memorial Bridge, although I've never heard it called that. To the left, those are houseboats.

Some of the goslings I saw looked like teenagers (one of those is on the right), while others were still quite a bit smaller. The adults were vigilant (yes, there were four) while the little ones focused on learning to eat that green stuff.

West of the Aurora bridge is this statue of Sri Chinmoy.

This plaque is on the statue's base.

The Fremont Bridge, with attached TARDIS. . . .

Built, if my Roman numeral reading ability is still with me, in 1916. 

On the west side of the Fremont Bridge, the trail goes between the Ship Canal and a bunch of corporate offices. Offices of BIG corporations.

And here's the trail heading toward Ballard. I needed to quit taking photos because I had to pay more attention to where I was going.

I've been knitting, too. I have some pictures. But mostly I've been knitting just to stay grounded. Actually, I've got a lot more news. I need to get it written up!

Scenes from the Burke Gilman Trail, Seattle, part 1 (and High Park Fire note)

High Park Fire: Our friends were able to go back up to their land today. There is nothing left of the structures (barn, house, and cabin that predated their construction, which only happened a few years ago) except piles of burned remains. Next comes the clearing phase, before the rebuilding can commence.

Right now, our friends are looking for a place to live while they start their lives from the seeds that exist.

How to help people affected by the wildfires in Colorado.

_____

As a contrast to the charred landscapes back home, I offer some images taken today along the Burke Gilman Trail in Seattle. My sister loaned me her bike, which I used to take my computer to the Apple store for some R&R (fixed; no charge).

On the way to the store, I simply rode, since I wasn't sure how long it would take. On the way back, I stopped frequently to snap a few of the things that caught my attention. This will be in two parts, because I took a lot of pictures.

For friends back home the shiny stuff flowing at the lower part of this photo is water. Amazing. It was just there. Like all the green stuff was just there.

A little farther along the trail, there was a building on the University of Washington campus with something like curtains of water falling in openings—a number of them, with just one shown above. For all I know, it's a new form of wastewater treatment. Whatever: the sound was lovely.

This was just one of several similar scenes, all with different configurations of racks and quantities of bikes.

I couldn't get enough of the green, or of the many colors, sizes, and textures of blossoms.

Stadium.

Along with a line of tall, more normal-looking trees:

Not my best photo: UW Farm. I don't think there was a farm when I was a student at UW. Many things have changed in forty years. The landforms feel the same, but not much else does.

This cool sculptural piece is on the south side of one of the buildings in the university area.

There are multiple intersections of transportation modes along the route. 

The part of the trail I used passed under four bridges: Fremont, highway 99, I-5 (below), and University.

The trail is taken seriously as a travel route.

This next phenomenon, which I turned around to photograph from the far side, was odd enough that I had to look up information about it online.

It's called the Wall of Death. It's public art, and it does refer to something real: it apparently concerns barnstorming motorcyclists of the 1920s and 1930s.

I noticed the smooth surface across from the sculpture had been interrupted with precast concrete parking stops, which I guessed, correctly, had been installed to prevent folks from skateboarding there. I was right, although the process has been through more than one iteration.

 Some people have bookshelves. Others have boatshelves.

Temporarily ending with a bunch more flowers.

Part 2 of this tour is here.

High Park Fire, 7

What does "containment" of a wildfire mean? It doesn't mean control, and it doesn't mean the fire has been extinguished. It means that by some means or other a line has been created, through burning out fuels or digging down to bare dirt, over which the fire is less likely to be able to cross. Containment numbers are expressed as percentages and they go up and down, depending on the fire's behavior.

Here's a map from a government source (Inciweb) that shows the current containment status of the High Park Fire, west of Fort Collins, Colorado. I've marked the large numbers on it in order to refer to specific locations in this post.

The original of that map, with more resolution, can be found on Inciweb.

The fire is the area marked in a pinkish shading, with boundaries in both black and red. The black boundaries indicate containment lines that are currently holding; the red indicate parts of the fire not yet contained. As of today, the fire covers 87,284 acres (just over 136 square miles, 353 square kilometers, or 35,322 hectares) and is 65% contained. As of today, the expected date for full containment is July 30, 2012.

1 - For people who are wondering, this is where we live. Yes, it's not far from the fire, but it's off the main map. Off the main map is really good. On the scale at the bottom, each of those sections is a mile, so the overall scale is 3 miles (4.8 km). The long body of water between us and the fire is Horsetooth Reservoir. The area west of the reservoir and south of the fire (to communities also off the map) have been evacuated from time to time.

2 - The yellow line running east to west above the number 2 is both the Poudre River and Highway 14. The original firefighting goal was to keep the flames from crossing the Poudre. They did cross over the weekend and burned all the area above that yellow line in very short order.

3 - The fire did not burn into this area because it was burned a few weeks ago by the Hewlett Fire, so that little fuel remained. The Hewlett Fire is still active (it's burning), but it is fully contained, and now serving as a fire-stop against the High Park Fire. Unfortunately, it did not stop the fire before it reached our friends' house.

4 - A lot of the High Park Fire firefighting efforts are now focused on maintaining and reinforcing the containment lines and holding what's been saved in the interior of the fire. Those black-contained shapes are the "islands" of unburned land (and buildings) within the main body of the fire. There are some houses standing in there, along with community structures like the Stove Prairie School, which is tremendously important to the mountain community.

The fire is still uncontained on the west and southwest; those are areas full of beetle-kill wood and there are fewer structures. (Rather, "fuller than elsewhere," since beetle-kill is widespread now. That article link is from 2008. We are at the "three to five years" that it mentions for extensive beetle-kill damage.)

Another useful map is this one, which shows the extent of the fire as of a few days ago (it appears to be the latest of its type, dated June 23) but also contains indicators of where there are structures: homes, the school, the volunteer fire stations, and so on. At the time the map was made, the school, at the intersection of Old Flowers Road and Stove Prairie Road, was untouched by fire. Many of us have been poring over this map, trying to determine whether particular buildings are likely safe or likely not.

"Mop up" actions are going on now within the fire perimeter, while the burning continues. Efforts go on to protect still-standing structures within the outer boundaries; to snuff out flare-ups; to remove fuel from areas where the fire can still be stopped; to remove dangerous trees that will impede evacuees' return; to restore power and other utilities.

This is the 8th consecutive day of Red Flag Warning, with high temperatures, low humidity, and potential gusty winds. The growth potential is still extreme, and the terrain difficulty is still, of course, high. People need to be simultaneously ready to return to their homes and to leave again at a moment's notice. The count of homes lost so far is 257.

With fires now burning near Colorado Springs (Waldo Canyon Fire) and Boulder (Flagstaff Fire, no Inciweb page), resources are being shared, allocated, and reallocated as needed to respond to changing conditions.

From Inciweb today:

"As crews gain containment on the High Park fire, fire managers plan to share resources with other fires along the Front Range.

" 'We are going to help those folks out,' said Incident Commander Beth Lund, coordinating the most effective use of resources.

"The High Park fire will retain more than enough resources to meet challenges our fire may offer."

High Park Fire, 6

No photos today, unless I can think of something, like maybe a picture of the rain in Seattle, hoping it'll give the clouds in Colorado a hint about what they're supposed to do, if at all possible.

Meanwhile, I'm learning more about fire-fighting.

Crews work 14 days on and then get 2 days off. That includes incident commanders, so Bill Hahnenberg, who has been on the High Park Fire since it got big enough to warrant a Type 1 command, gets to rest for a couple of days before he's sent out to another fire (there are plenty of other fires around this year that need him). Beth Lund shadowed him for a day to get up to speed and took over at 2000 last night (which I convert to 8 p.m. MDT, but check my math, please: moving fast around here).

Type 1 teams are the most experienced, and are called in on the most serious fires. Here's some explanation of the acronyms used (IMT is Incident Management Team, for example), from Prescott, Arizona. And here's the IMT Center website, with a list of all the teams and their levels. There's a long list of teams, ranging from Type 4 to Type 1, that are called in to help when local resources need reinforcements.

Today's active fire map shows 38 of what are called large incidents burning, of which 3 have Type 1 teams assigned to them: High Park and Waldo Canyon, both in Colorado, and Bear Creek #4 in Alaska. (A large incident is defined as "A wildfire of 100 acres or more occuring in timber, or a wildfire of 300 acres or more occuring in grass/sage.")

Bill Hahnenberg's team is Rocky Mountain IMT1. Beth Lund's team is Great Basin IMT1-Lund (there are two Great Basin IMT1 teams, so they are distinguished by the commander's name). There are a handful of women as commanders; most are men.

Over the past few days, our county alone—Larimer County, Colorado—has had three wildfires burning, although two of those, the Halligan Fire and the Woodland Heights Fire, were not "large incidents" and were expected to be 100% contained by this morning. The Woodland Heights Fire, in Estes Park near Rocky Mountain National Park, was very small in comparison to the High Park Fire, reaching only 27.3 acres, yet nonetheless destroyed 22 homes and 2 outbuildings.

_______

Back to the High Park Fire, with a few things I'm learning:

• It is currently at 87,250 acres (136 square miles).
• Last night, firefighters held the northern line, despite 43 m.p.h. gusts of wind.
• With the recent jump of fire over the Poudre River (the blast that took out the home and barn, and everything else, belonging to the friends who have been staying with us), estimated containment date has been moved from mid-July to July 30.
• "Trees and grass remain as dry as they ever have been during the fire, and mosses and lichens are burning on granite rock." (From Inciweb.)
• "Licensed river guides will transport a few crews across the Poudre Canyon by raft, using flotation devices, so firefighters can mop-up in otherwise inaccessible areas." (Also from Inciweb.)
• The RAMS equipment that was brought in on Saturday is not only able to do infrared assessment of areas of heat during daylight hours (the regular equipment is limited to nighttime assessment) but can also distinguish between different types of heat sources: open flame, smoldering, buried, or diminishing heat. (From the Larimer County Emergency Information system.)

The afternoons and evenings still have Red Flag Warnings in place, for potential high fire activity: dry weather, high temperatures, and wind. Tuesday, today, is the sixth Red Flag day in a row.

So far, the count of homes lost is 257. A full count has not been completed because it's too dangerous in many areas and energy is going into keeping the fire from spreading, rather than inventorying where it's been. We have a lot of displaced people and animals around Fort Collins. There are thousands of people evacuated, and they are bunking in all available spaces outside the fire region, sometimes moving from one place to another from day to day, as open spots shift.

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Staying current with fire information requires checking both Inciweb and the Larimer County site, which update at different times. A few people are being allowed to return to their homes, although still with the awareness that they may need to re-evacuate on a moment's notice (as our friends had to).

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Some good news

Many people here are both affected by the fire and working on it, including reporters, and volunteer firefighters, and many others.

Animal rescue is ongoing. A few stories of that:

• A hell-on-wheels cat rescued despite its temperament.
• The Larimer County Sheriff's Posse has been focusing on large animals, like horses, sheep, and cattle, in collaboration with the Larimer Humane Society, which is coordinating rescue of animals of all types and sizes.
• And, of course, there are many dogs, including these Border collies.
• We hope that "our" brave dairy, Morning Fresh, continues to hold the fire back.

Finding spaces for all the animals has been a challenge. The humane society has been sheltering more than 500, from cats to a peacock. There's overflow being housed at the vet school. Many others are with friends and family. The friends who have been with us have found places to move their llamas (since their house and barn were confirmed as destroyed, temporary housing will no longer suffice for the large animals). We still have two of their dogs (and they get along great with ours).

Meanwhile, a friend in Scotland sent information on a horrific fire he lived through in France in 1989. The website is in French, and my French has become very rusty, but one phrase especially struck me as characteristic of what's happening around the High Park Fire, and that we need to encourage by recognizing the individuals both affected by and working to diminish the damage caused by this inferno: "un élan de solidarité et d'entraide s'était alors déployé pour lutter contre ces incendies. . . ."

My translation: A spirit of solidarity and of mutual aid was brought into action to battle against these fires.

May that spirit prevail. And, as I wrote on our friends' Facebook page this morning, may what rises from these ashes be of more value than what is lost, and may it be impervious to fire, flood, and all other perils.

High Park Fire, 5

I don't usually turn on my phone as soon as it's permitted upon landing. I usually don't need to.

This time, after a flight over the Canadian Rockies, which were absolutely lovely and, from the air, very different from the southern Rockies where I live,

I did turn on my phone as soon as I could. It beeped at me that I had a message. My daughter had called fifteen minutes earlier to let me know that the friends who have been evacuated to our house have lost their home and barn: and, of course, everything else that was there.

Hope and smart building have not, in this case, been sufficient.

We do still hope that the one cat who remained in the house is okay. It's possible, because of how well the house was built, that she found shelter in the basement. The humane society has not found evidence that she didn't. On that hangs one more thread of possibility and optimism.

There's nothing to do or say beyond that right now.

Except to observe that I am learning more things about wildfire.

For instance, there is something called the Haines Index, which is a meteorological assessment used to analyze the potential behavior of wildfires. Quoting the Forest Service website about this tool, "The Haines Index can range between 2 and 6. The drier and more unstable the lower atmosphere is, the higher the index." Also, "This index has been shown to be correlated with large fire growth. . . ." The number 6, the highest level, indicates "High Potential (Dry Unstable Lower Atmosphere)."

The Haines Index for the area of the High Park Fire, the one near home, is at 6.

I have also learned about some new equipment being brought in to help the firefighters battling this monster. From the Inciweb site: "A (Radiometric Airborne Mapping System) RAMS unit was ordered and arrived Saturday afternoon. The radiometric imaging system, attached to the bottom of a helicopter, will provide infrared information similar to what officials have been using, with some key differences. The advantage of the RAMS unit is that it can be used during the daytime, and it can provide real time GPS coordinates for areas of identified heat. In addition it can provide information about the heat source (open flame, smoldering, buried, or diminishing heat). This information will help firefighters determine where suppression efforts should be focused."

So far, the night-time infrared flyovers have been providing some of the most useful insight into the fire's behavior. Information of that type, and of more precision, available during the daytime has got to be beneficial.