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Your Homeland Incinerating Before Your Eyes

Friday August 16th

The clock says it is a few minutes after 3PM in the afternoon. Looking south it is a sunny August day at 6,00 feet elevation on the Valley floor of the Wood River of Idaho in the Northern Rocky Mountains of the United States.  The wind is blowing slightly southwest-to-northeast.  The temperature is 9o degrees Fahrenheit with the humidity pegged at 7 percent.

At the same moment a fireball of flames over a mile wide and and up to 300 feet high consumes the last major ridge line above the valley floor and the Wood River.  The fire waits for no one or thing in it is way. Experts on the subject of wildfires call this a Hot Fire.  Incident Commanders for the United States Forest Service call this beast formally known as the Beaver Creek fire as the Perfect Fire.  Why? Drought, Bark Beetle infestation, warm temperatures, extremely low humidity, wind, old growth forest with nearby grass floors are the finest ingredients available on earth for a hungry fire.  Combined with a lack of manpower and equipment resources to counter the onslaught and voila you have; The Perfect Fire.

Next Stops – The Wood River, Highway 75 and The Lubeck’s.

The Lubeck’s fully evacuate their house by 5PM.  How the house and almost three acres of surrounding property makes out will be what it will be. There are no fears or worries about the material aspects on our part – indicated by how few personal posessions we take with us.  Okay, I will miss my Epson 9900 printer that has been left behind.

The good news is we have our lives and our health.  I also have the great pleasure of sleeping on a single cot in the District Health Offices with Merry [Christmas] Dog and Shae Dog.  Linda says it is quite a sight.

Fire retardant only delays the inevitable; its goin’ to the river.

Somehow the phrase “Better late than never” does not feel soothing to the soul.

A valiant effort, but years of under-funding, lack of resources and ineffective tactics by incident command, leave this pilot over-matched.

Another water drop.

Saturday, August 17th

On this morning the Beaver Creek Fire sits at 92,000 acres – 60,000+ in the last three days alone.  It is hard to predict when and where this one will end. However over the past few days I lost so much of what is more important to me and what I really consider home – The Wood River Valley.

 

Grays Peak- beautiful and varied scenery, and a grunt to the summit

The Pioneer Mountains from the summit of Grays Peak.

With the advent of a number of forest fires in or near the Sawtooth range and a road rally on Highway 75 north of town, Kyle and I decided that a change in itinerary was needed in order to summit a peak in the region.

Grays Peak (10,563′) in the Pioneer Mountain Range is located nearby as the summit is less than 12.5 miles from the front door of my house.  The ascent involves about 4,650 vertical gain in less than 3.5 miles from the Federal Gulch Campground to the summit. The ascent is not highly difficult from a technical perspective but does involve a lengthy section of class II from the saddle of the Federal Gulch Trail (#169) to the summit.  The trail bed of #169  from campground to the saddle is very good and the surrounding terrain and features are varied and interesting.  By July the wild flowers and tall native grasses have the trail at certain points looking like a jungle – which is not common for this area.

We decided to take the girls (Merry [Christmas] and Shae dog) with us for their 2nd summiting of the season.  We we comfortable the shade, creek water all the way to the saddle and mostly overcast skies would keep them from getting overheated.Merry [Christmas] Dog

Merry [Christmas] Dog

Shae Dog

 

The Canal Cities in the Low Countries.

Linda and I just returned from a surgical strike trip (more on that later) to visit the Canal Cities of the Low Countries.  For me that means Amsterdam, Delft and Bruges. Oh the canals.

Click HERE for the full pictorial.

On the way to Rembrandt’s place on a hazy summer morning at the Seven Bridges Canal in Amsterdam, The Netherlands.

 

Looking for Vermeer on a quiet morning in Delft, The Netherlands.

About to have a cup of coffee with Hans Memling in Bruges, Belgium.

On most days, canal means the Chittenden Canal – flowing through The Valley Club – as it waits to receive a golf ball I have just hit. Or it means one of the many agricultural canals carrying water to the ranches and farms.  As a child that meant the canals on Harsen’s Island when I would visit my friend Bill Dawson. As an adult it meant life on the Hood Canal (a misnamed glaciated fjord in Washington state). I really like canal cities such as Venice in Italy or San Antonio in the United States.

So what do canals mean to you?