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Opinion: I’m a former firefighter, and I’ve seen climate change intensify Utah’s fire season

As we endure days of smoky, choking skies, remember the men and women that are working on our behalf, right up against the flames.

I spend my Saturdays volunteering for the U.S. Forest Service in the Ashley National Forest — though I am not an official representative of the Forest Service. At 2 p.m. on July 13, I walked up the steep stairs to the top of Ute Fire Lookout, near Manila, Utah. It is the last fire lookout standing in Utah. It is no longer an active lookout, but instead is used as an educational site, where visitors can learn about the history of firefighting. It is always a place worth visiting. However, this visit would be different.

When I entered the 14-by-14-foot “cab” at the top of the tower, Forest Service volunteers excitedly pointed out a distinct column of smoke rising from the trees, miles away. In the center of the cab is the Osborne Fire Finder, a bulky compass dial superimposed on a map of Ashley National Forest. We swung the Osborne around and sighted through it towards the fire and determined that the fire was at an azimuth of 90 degrees — due east of us. It was pointing straight at Speirs Peak. The seemingly antiquated fire finder gave us an exact description of the fire’s location

Throughout the rest of my day, I checked on the progress of the smoke column. At 6 p.m. I was at Flaming Gorge Dam as the Forest Service was gathering their resources for fighting what was now officially named the Speirs Fire. Firefighters in their standard fire-resistant yellow shirts and green pants were checking equipment as they waited to be deployed. It was much like a military operation.

At 7:30 p.m., I was sitting in a “front row seat” at the Firefighters Memorial Trail, near Flaming Gorge Lodge. The Speirs Fire was burning fiercely. No one arrived to watch the spectacle with me. Big trees torched and “crowned,” as huge flames were leaping up. Helicopters made bucket drops of water, and tanker planes dumped pink plumes of fire retardant on strategic spots. Ground crews were advancing through the forest, invisible to me. The climax was watching a squad of smokejumpers float down in their pink parachutes.

I speak frequently at the Firefighter’s Memorial about the Cart Creek Fire, where on July 16, 1977, Dave Noel, Dwight Hodgkinson and Gene Campbell perished when the Cart Creek Fire overran the firelines. A plaque on a boulder describes what happened that day and, from there, a person can view the site of the tragedy across Cart Creek Canyon. I was 23 that summer, a firefighter on a hotshot crew from Idaho.

Firefighters like me can see the link between climate change and the escalating wildfire crisis. Fire seasons are becoming longer, and the summers are hotter and drier. A perfect storm of more people in the woods, combined with a century of fuel buildup, plus a rapidly heating climate, has made the job of firefighting ever more dangerous.

Of course, the needs of the moment are what we pay attention to: Are our people, homes and towns safe? Can we reduce the fuels more quickly?

But it is important to also push for action to address the root cause of this growing threat: climate change.

Six large fires are currently burning in Utah. I sympathize with the U.S. Forest Service as they face this complex and increasingly difficult task. Will our state and federal government move towards real legislative solutions to our climate crisis?

As we endure days of smoky, choking skies, remember the men and women that are working on our behalf, right up against the flames.

Tom Elder is a former U.S. Forest Service firefighter and retired high school science teacher who lives in Vernal.

Tom Elder is a former U.S. Forest Service firefighter and retired high school science teacher who lives in Vernal. He has been intrigued by fire ecology all of his life.

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