Don's Tuesday Column (sorry for late posting)

                THE WAY I SEE IT   by Don Polson   Red Bluff Daily News   9/05/2017

                    Summer of fire and smoke

There's not much debate that this is about the worst in memory for a summer with nearly constant smoke from wildfires. I don't think there is a punishment appropriately harsh for those that, either through carelessness with campfires or field brush clearing, or the incomprehensible and criminal madness of intention, start fires. The legal system inevitably brings them to account but, as with any violent act, victims--including their possessions and the public's enjoyment of our natural resources--will never be "made whole," as the term implies. We must also recall that nature, through thunderstorms, etc., has never been without blame.

As access to news has allowed, we've followed the situation at home in Red Bluff, California, Bend, Oregon and the regions we've traveled and camped in. Impacts on us and folks around us have, until returning to Bend, mostly been aesthetic, like the diminished enjoyment of the views of the Tetons or the Madison Range in Idaho. The drive back west across Oregon's highways still allowed for viewing the Whitman, Umatilla and Ochoco National Forests; the John Day, Strawberry Mountain, Black Canyon, Mill Creek and Canyon Creek Wildernesses; and the stunning John Day Fossil Beds National Monument.

News reports and interactive public information maps online have been helpful to know where the smoke is coming from but it hasn't been relevant if it isn't too bad to see, or impacting our breathing. That all changed markedly for the worse as we approached Prineville, Oregon, en route to Bend for a planned short decamp to shower, do some laundry, check the sprinklers and scope the situation at some lakes in the Cascades for a little more cool mountain camping.

It hit us like a wall as we approached Prineville which, together with Madras, Sisters, Redmond and Bend, comprise the incorporated parts of Central Oregon, home to well over 100,000 souls. Traffic signals faded until you got within a block of them. Then sun, normally bright at 5 PM, nearly disappeared. My COPD, and Barbara's persistent cough, were concerning, while the planned stopover at our Bend home was becoming problematic.

The heat inside, from the home being shut up for months, couldn't be alleviated by opening windows overnight; the window air conditioner, needing outdoor work to restore its vented flow into the house, could not provide relief. The basics became showers, deposit but don't wash dirty laundry, grab fresh under things, and collect a huge bag of mail, prescriptions and bills. The planned stay in coastal Newport, Oregon, became our number one destination, but that meant navigating the highways through Sisters, as well as the Santiam pass and the Tombstone Summit (now a foreboding name) on highway 20.

Those were all close to major fires but had to be traversed if we were to find cool, breathable air on the coast. We had no idea how close until after sitting for a half hour at the Santiam Pass checkpoint waiting for a pilot car to escort us past a fire that, as the flagman told us, "was trying to jump the road." Sure enough, after a few miles of guided travel, the sight of a hillside aflame gave us bit of a lump in our throats and hearts; the closer we got, the closer the flames got to the roadside.

At its nearest point, the sight of a fire crew trudging down in single file, through the pitch black of night, shrouded in smoke, flames directly above, made our mouths drop open. Their still-bright lanterns on what had to be sooty helmets protecting dirty faces reminded us that they had probably started their shift in what passed for daylight; their steep downhill trek meant that they had already climbed, with gear, up that same slope many hours earlier into a burning forest.

The piloted journey finished, we had a late night destination at a campground along the McKenzie River. With no reservation but hoping for an open camp site, we found that our energy, inclination and ability to even search through the camp loop faded. Fortunately, we knew that the boat ramp and day use parking lot was sufficient to allow for our 34-foot rig and small pickup truck to park overnight, knowing it's often easier to ask forgiveness than seek permission.

It was still so thick that, going outside, the lights from inside carved defined lines through the smoke; no windows would open that night. No one rousted us before a few hours of sleep sufficed to get us on the road to Springfield; there, parked in front of a Grocery Outlet (how fortunate for our shopping needs), we grabbed a few more hours of sleep, waking for breakfast at a local cafe across the street. Hopes to take a friend out to eat (his locksmith shop was also across the street) fell upon finding that he was playing golf in relatively smoke-free Cottage Grove.

As anyone in Tehama County would know, arriving at the Pacific Coast from a hot, smoky Red Bluff in August is darn near idyllic. Likewise for Florence, Waldport, Yachats (pronounced Yah-hots) and Newport, Oregon. The same high pressure torturing the interior of the west coast was producing relatively blissful 70s for highs near the water. On Saturday, however, winds shifted; coming out of the north and east, they pushed the fog well out to sea but brought a smoky layer, just light enough to not smell it. The Oregon University Ducks played in a smoky Autzen Stadium in Eugene but had the joy of racking up 77 points against Southern Utah's 21.

The good news is that on-shore breezes will return cool, salty air here and Red Bluff's post-Labor Day conditions may clear up and cool off to the low 90s. That's the hope, anyway.

A fire/hurricane disaster thought: placing no blame on victims, I think it can be said that it is unwise for people to live in flood and fire prone areas. I also think that the government has made conditions for fires worse by a century of fire suppression; and flood damages worse by subsidizing flood insurance and repeatedly reimbursing those living in such zones.