I spent the summer of 2001 chasing fires.
I had often written about forest fires for publications such as The Economist. But that year I had a book contract in hand, and the result was "A Season of Fire," published in fall 2002 by Tarcher, an imprint of Penguin.
Read a chapter about the deadly Thirtymile Fire.
Reviewers said:
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Publishers Weekly
In this thoroughly engaging and
thought-provoking book, Gantenbein, a writer for Sports Illustrated and
Outside magazines, traveled from state to state covering major fires during
the summer of 2001 to show "the strengths and weaknesses of how wildland
fire is fought in the Western United States." Gantenbein has the knack for
presenting complex material in a direct and exciting style, and as he
explains the intricate differences among fires in Wyoming, Yellowstone
National Park and Montana, he conveys an amazing amount of material related
to fires and firefighting: the use of Pulaskis, "the combination hoe and
pick that is the essential tool in the firefighting arsenal"; why the
Ponderosa pine is more dangerous than the Douglas fir; and the key
differences between the physically exhausting work of smokejumpers and the
elite hotshots, who dig the fireline.
Gantenbein follows the forest fire season of summer 2001, but in the process he also examines the evolution of firefighting techniques and the history of forests. Today's American forests, owing largely to changes in logging procedures and decades of you-can-prevent-forest-fires safety messages, are thicker than ever before. "Cycle fires," small fires that would periodically thin the forests and ultimately protect them from the bigger blazes that could wipe them out, have been substantially eliminated. Forests are crowded, and a crowded forest is one that can burn quickly and devastatingly, making firefighting an ever more dangerous occupation. Nicely connecting the historical material to the contemporary survey, Gantenbein examines some of summer 2001's most spectacular fires, including the Washington State blaze that took the lives of four firefighters. This is both a fascinating, detailed look at the men and women who risk their lives to protect the forests and a provocative call to action, stressing that our countryside might be in a lot more danger than we ever suspected.
The Seattle Times
What a time for some provocative reporting on the politics of wildfire. Northwest forest officials and climate experts say our part of the world is set smack in front of a potential catastrophe. Midsummer's climate conditions have been akin to those prevailing when most of western Washington burned 300 years ago.
Douglas Gantenbein examines the mess we're in and how we got there in "A Season of Fire, Four Months on the Firelines of America's Forests." He connects the problem to a U.S. Forest Service policy that governed wildland firefighting for many years; every fire was to be doused by 10 o'clock in the morning the day after it was discovered.
The result: Northwest forests are choked with spindly trees and brush that would have been periodically thinned by natural fires. Now the ferocity of wildfire can be graphed on a vertical line. As a 30-year veteran of firefighting told Gantenbein, "When I started out, a 100-acre fire was a big deal. Last year, on the Bitteroot fire, we'd call it a good day if only 10,000 acres burned."
In a summer like this one, with trees drier than kiln-dried lumber, massive fires become inevitable. Gantenbein examines the growing public debate as to what we should do about it. The prevailing policy, he says, is "put it out and damn the expense." Even if that policy isn't working. Even if it's impossibly costly.
Some costs are beyond calculating. The book offers compelling portraits of the four young firefighters who died in the Thirty Mile fire north of Winthrop in 2001. It's a story with elements of bravado, conflict and incompetent leadership. They needn't have died.
For all their dedication, firefighters don't put out big fires. They may prevent the fire from spreading, but only rain, snow and cool temperatures can stop it.
"One could argue," Gantenbein says, "that for the $1 billion or so a year now spent to put fires out, taxpayers get nothing in return but the risk of worse fires later."
Actually, some taxpayers get quite a bit. "A Season of Fire" explores the growing fire industry: private contractors who provide fire crews, helicopters, trucks, bulldozers, food and clothing for blank-check campaigns against fire. A number of small Western towns where logging has petered out have found a parallel economy in fire.
The author says fire may also have "saved" the U.S. Forest Service. Its traditional mission, growing and selling public timber, has markedly diminished, and fire-related costs now account for nearly half of its annual budget.
Reporting from fire camps, Gantenbein describes the peculiar existential joy of fighting a forest fire, shared by Forest Service and National Park officials. "Working a fire," Gantenbein observes, "is as close to unsupervised fun as anyone in a government agency is apt to find."
Fun or not, the danger and the outrageous costs are causing some within the forest and park agencies to question an ideology that sees fire as an evil to be stomped out.
