2/19/2023 0 Comments Drip torch![]() They asked again and all too suddenly, aggressively, my calf began to throb like hellfire. Someone asked if I was ok: with a nod, I said yes, determined to continue. As my gaze landed in it, laying in a ring of fire, the sounds of the outside world began to ring in my ears. In the matter of seconds, I successfully extinguished the blaze and shakely rose to my feet, eyes casting around for the torch. Suddenly my mind was very awake and stories of major burn incidents screamed inside my head. Alarmed and noticing how uncomfortably sticky the burning material was beginning to get, I flung the drip torch away from me, dropping my butt to the ground, whacking my calf against the earth and hitting it aggressively, shifting and shaking the pant material as I did. I slapped at it again but the flames only grew. I grunted in bafflement and batted at it, to no avail - the heat licked up my leg. Almost as if deciding it needed a nap, right then and there, my mind blanked out all of a sudden, a flame eagerly searched for a taste of human flesh along my pant leg. I felt my legs start to leaden and each step over brush and thick logs was harder to focus on. But a mutual decision was made to continue. My pants caught fire again, and this time I extinguished it with frustration - why couldn’t I get it together?Īs we started our pass back around, the burn ops supervisor praised us and offered us a five minute break, a chance to catch our breath, sit in the shade, hydrate. Picking up the torch, I followed Mack back out into the sun-drenched block, my right shoulder now screaming in denial of the task. ![]() At the guard, I gulped down sun-warmed water as my torch was refilled - a headache was beginning to make its home in my noggin. Quickly batting it out, I pushed on, later stumbling to my hands and knees, mind starting to get foggy. Well, that and the delicious sound of woody debris catching fire behind me. My focus turned entirely to staying on my feet and maintaining an appropriate distance between myself and the igniter ahead of me. Ego must have won out, because next thing I knew, a line of fire jumped to life behind me as I walked briskly through the slash, shoulder already beginning to throb from the weight of such a seemingly light object. There was a moment of hesitancy, my mind suddenly racing upon hearing this request, questioning all the avenues of this being the ‘right’ thing to do, based on bodily discomforts. I stood on a stump, taking in the view when Mark requested a replacement for Naomi on the torch. I knew there was something funny about this corner. For some reason, I recalled the day before, setting up the green-guarding in this exact spot and the long look I had given that same hemlock at that time. Just before we left the spot, I caught a glimpse of a bucked up hemlock on the green side of the guard. It didn’t take long to contain the little break-away, and after setting up a sprinkler to keep it under control, econo was arm rolled and packed up. And oh, how delightful it was to hear the familiar hiss of a nozzle as it sprayed hot spots in rotten stumps and fallen logs hidden under a blanket of singed moss. Nose and eyes streaming, the latter stinging like mad hell, I crashed through the underbrush after Ben, chasing the right flank of a spot fire - as if we could actually make it out through the plumes of smoke invading our sight.Īfter comms were relayed about the spot, Jake plumbed in and I joined suit, diving back into the trough of smoke and blow down. ![]() Ben dipped off into the tree line, and I followed, sucking in wildfire particulate and being tossed back to memories of mainlining active flanks on a night ops the year before. Along the top of the line, smoke immediately overtook our senses, our ears our only clear reliance. It was probably the fastest I’d ever moved on the line, barring that one time a steep downhill sprint was needed to escape an increase in fire activity. Jake sped ahead of me while Ben and I strained to keep up in the sprinkler’s handiwork - mud. The heat of the burn singed our left sides and radio comms crackled along with the flames. ![]() Regardless, it was like a mantra that kept the machine of my mind occupied and distracted from the intensity of whatever was going on physically. It could be something I’d picked up from a conversation, or a song I hadn’t heard in months. A line from a completely unrelated song rolled through my mind as I trudged up the hill, the weight of my pack digging into my already sore traps from yesterday’s gear carry: “ I’ve got friends in low places… ” My constantly chattering brain had this tendency to broken-record random lyrics or bits of info silently whenever I partook in a physically arduous activity. ![]()
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