More Brushfire Fairytales (thanks Jack Johnson)

The troops are getting pounded. Just getting nailed. The Nanakuli brushfire is now a day short of a week, and Waianae, Makakilo, and more of Waianae is afire. Brushfires, suck. Fighting brushfires, suck. Of all the things we are responsible for, this sucks little doggie dicks. The Westside is a dry spot in this green island. It also holds the most population of lower income families. Drug use is rampant, unemployment high, along with the maladies that come with that one-two combo. So the westside is ablaze.

The ignorant amongst us, they start brushfires...for thrills.

Combine wind, dry earth, plenty of fuel, you get the picture. The fools take it as a challenge to see whose area can have a bigger fire. Really. No concern that it might be their house that burns, just looking for thrills.

Mountain ranges, dry open fields, lava rock, sheer cliff faces; these were not made to fight fires on. Number one problem- there is NO water. In case I never said so, water really helps in putting out fires. So if you dont have water, you do it with your hands. Picks, shovels, this great tool called a brushbeater (invision a large fly swatter, with a rubber mat at the end.) Noone looks forward to brushfires. Combine heat, rough terrain, and ankle hating kneebusting landscapes, it is no fun. A house is extinguished in a matter of minutes. These burn 1000's of acres, for days. But you gotta do it.

My last big brushfire was in a inaccessible part of a valley. We got taken in by helicopter. Flying the bird is nice, but landing on a ridgeline is hairy, to say the least. The view is amazing, the sights astound. The fire isnt looking at what I see, 'tho. We get to the scene at 8AM. We hike, we get to the mass of brush that is burning. 3 miles deep, on a side of the mountain. Helicopter makes water drops, but only 'till nightfall. We are there all bloody day, and afternoon. To reload our water jugs, we gotta hike 3 mi. back to the staging area, 3 mi. back to the fire. Fun. Call your friends.

Not.

So we fight it, we gain headway. And night comes. Now the moral of this story is kinda like 'be prepared'. You hike 3 mi. in and out. You coulda picked up some TP at base staging. But you didnt. So those granola bars for lunch, the water all day, dinner of who-knows-what. It has got to go somewhere.

After it left, I didnt have socks for my boots.

10 sets of blisters the next day. Sore for a month.

I always have TP in my pack, now.

Aloha.