5 Ways Fighting Wildfires Is More Insane Than You Think

Wait, what?

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See, a fire needs three things to keep expanding -- heat, oxygen, and fuel. Deny a fire any one of those things and it stops. What's the best way to get rid of fuel? Use it up. It's the wildland firefighter's job to set off many smaller fires in the path of the main blaze to create a barren fire-wasteland. We do have awesome arsonist porn like drip torches and flare guns (yes, some of us get to be literal firemen), but mostly we use chainsaws and other hand tools to remove fuel sources and dig lines so the fire can't spread as easily. Then we clear the area behind our friendly fire so it can't come back at us and set it off to go meet with the enemy fire. They have sloppy drunken flame sex, merge ... and then realize they've both been cut off from their fuel.

Don't worry about it, Abstract Concept of Fire: Lust makes fools of us all.

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Don't worry: The prison system isn't cruelly sending all the white-collar criminals off to burn in the woods -- these cons actually work as volunteers, and not "volunteers." They willingly go out for fire duty because a few weeks breathing fresh (OK, ash-choked) air in the romantic California wilderness (it may be on fire, but doesn't that only lend to its romance?) sure beats picking up needles in the yard. While professional and convict crews are separate, we do encounter each other: We had some convicts come and bum smokes from us, which we actually got in trouble for (firefighting prisoners are apparently like squirrels, and giving them what they want will only teach them to rely on you for cigarettes instead of foraging for them on their own, as nature intended).

I'm torn on how I feel about the whole thing. It's good that they're getting job experience, living in better conditions than prison, and contributing to the society they once harmed, but these guys are also making $1 an hour. The only reason they're out there is the love for cheap labor, and sometimes they're taking the positions of actual wildland firefighters. We can't compete for $1 an hour wages, and we shouldn't have to, since our job qualifications aren't "got caught embezzling" and "had a shitty lawyer."

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Out battling a wildfire, you are on a 16-hour shift, which sure beats the 24 straight hours of a city firefighter. Except wildland firefighters don't get the next day off. You get eight hours of total downtime to eat and sleep, and that means camping ... in the path of an inferno. We sleep far enough away from the fires to not be at immediate risk of death, but close enough that you can usually see the faint glow ahead. The only thing missing from the full camping experience is a tent, because you're not taking 20 minutes out of your precious sleep/eat/poop time to bother with that. You've got a sleeping bag, and if that's not enough for Fancy Lord Fauntleroy, maybe he shouldn't be fighting fires in the damn woods.

When battling a wildfire, showers and running water are nonexistent. The middle of the forest is notoriously lax in providing amenities. If you spend a few days digging around dirt and ash, you get pretty filthy. They might have some hand washing stations and port-a-potties, but that's about as good as it gets. Most of the time us romantic firefighter types are out there with tiny shovels digging our own poo-holes.

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By regulation, you can only be on a fire for 14 days until you have to take a two-day break, but for really bad fires, it can be extended for another week. That means you might spend most of a month constantly firefighting, then get a mere two days to recuperate. When somebody asks how your month has been, you can honestly answer "on fire."

There was one time we called in a helicopter water drop and the pilot completely missed. He dropped about 40 feet above the treeline, so the water split up as it fell. It sprinkled gently across the trees and didn't do anything to the fire except possibly provide it with a refreshing mist. The guy calling in the drop got on the radio and said, "That was probably the worst drop I've ever seen." We laughed about it, but only because we didn't die from it. Those drops are dangerous. You have to get close enough to point out exactly where you need the drop, but not get so close that the drop lands on you. It would be just your luck to be the one guy who drowns in a wildfire.

And that's not to mention the houses: Houses are deathtraps in a fire. That's why we don't mention the houses -- seriously, the proper procedure is to pretty much ignore them. We let houses burn down. We understand how important they are to people, and we'll try to stop them from catching fire in the first place, but once they go up, we're not going to risk our lives to save them. We don't even know how -- we're not structural firefighters. That's a totally separate thing. If you're out in your driveway watching your house burn down and you yell to the passing wildland firefighter, demanding to know what he's going to do about it -- he's wondering the same thing. Turn on the hose? Clap? Pray? It's a different story if there are occupants inside, of course, but if it comes down to saving your house and letting the fire advance or losing it and controlling the burn, we always choose the latter.

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Somebody yelled "safety zone!" and we all ran like hell. Except for my boss, who shouted frantically at one of the guys closest to him. "Will! Freeze!" he screamed. Will turned toward him, scared out of his mind, expecting to see a firenado towering over him like the Balrog, and that's when my boss ... took a picture.

Because there's always time for a legendary Facebook photo, even when two different elemental forces have actively allied to seek your destruction.

When Drew isn't fighting wildfires, he does stand-up comedy, and he has a full special online for free.

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