Not a bad day although still cool. Lawn bowls this pm and bottled wine this morning. I'll change the story later today as there won't be time this morning. I may start doing it later every day as for some reason the blog starts a new day at 4 pm local time. Mind you one of these days I'll probably run out of stories! Here's a picture from ten years ago.
Late afternoon now, not many hits today but I everyone has things to do. The last episode of "Panic" was posted yesterday and can be read down below.
The next story is a bout a forest fire and is called "Fire in the Euchiniko" It is a true story. I hope you enjoy.
SUMMER SMOKE
Part 2
Fire in the Euchiniko
Chapter 1
| I |
t was about 11 AM , late July the summer of 1961, a patrol plane had spotted a fire on the plateau above the Euchiniko River Regional Fire Center Prince George
I had just returned from fighting and mopping up another fire two days earlier and was busy doing up my paper work. My fellow Assistant Ranger, Ron, was busy on another fire west of town. It was my turn again.
The preliminary report from the patrol plane indicated a small lake about 6 to 7 miles west of the fire, which could be used as an off loading site providing the loads were small. Winds were reported as light and variable and there was only minor visible flame. A small creek was barely visible about a mile west of the fire that could probably be used as a water source.
With this information I was able to use aerial photos and plot a fairly accurate position, locate the lake and the creek. Then with the Ranger, Georgio, I worked out a plan for manpower, food, equipment and access.
We decided that we would request a single engine Otter floatplane, if we took 14 men including myself, we could have all the men there in two trips, one more trip with food supplies and another with tools and camping needs. We decided that because the fire was dormant we could free drop the 6000 feet of fire hose I felt was needed. This would save us having to backpack an extra 600 pounds. We fined tuned everything, then I left Georgio and our dispatcher, Corny, to get everything ready and I headed out to the nearby Indian Reserve where my firefighters would be recruited.
I was not totally familiar with all the men on this reserve yet, so Georgio suggested I find Alec Johnny, tell him how many men and when to be ready. He would make it happen. On the drive out, for some reason I decided I would only take men under 40, a decision I never regretted.
It didn’t take long to track down Alec, a short stocky little guy who managed to wear a constant pleasant look while imparting an air of seriousness and confidence. I explained the situation and what I wanted. When I mentioned that the crew would be picked up in the morning and transported down to the Nechako River Prince George seven am . We made one last change. To keep the first crew load busy during the wait for the second half, we decided that we would send the equipment and supplies on the second trip, and that way everything would be ready to move when we were all together. This would still leave adequate time to move all the equipment and supplies out from town during the crew transport. I returned to town and helped prepare everything for morning.
Chapter 2
| T |
he next morning I was back at the office at 5:30 am , did last minute preparations and checked to make sure that nothing had been overlooked, then headed out the 8 miles to the Reserve.
When I arrived Alec was there with all of the crew. I got a little chuckle out of this, as they all knew that the payroll started on their arrival, even though it would be a good four hours before the second load would be getting on board. As we waited for the airplane, Alec asked how I wanted the crew organized. I had already decided that because we were so few I would carry out the foreman role but would need one person as a strawboss. Alec said that he could do it but he preferred to be a cook and suggested that we use his cousin, Moses Joseph, instead. I said that was fine with me as long as he could do the job.
This was my first introduction in how these native fellows had a unique approach to leadership. Obviously looking out for family was an important factor, but with only a few exceptions, once the mantel of authority had been bestowed, the rest would follow. There was no jealousy or animosity. On the next fire Moses could be overlooked and one of the crew he now supervised could be his supervisor and it would be accepted without question. There were exceptions to this approach. When certain band members were involved, they would always be in a lead role. But again this was accepted without question.
Right on time, we first heard the distinctive sound of our single engine Otter, then it was over the lake and settled down with hardly a splash, turned and taxied to the small dock where we waited. The pilot, Pieter Makovich, was a fellow I had flown with several times before. Not the friendliest guy in the world, but a good pilot and I was not unhappy he would be taking us in. Unfortunately Pieter had brought along the Regions Air Observer, Jeremy Adamson, who insisted on occupying the spare front seat. I gave Pieter the co-ordinates of the fire and showed him on my aerial photo where we would be landing. Then seven of us climbed aboard and in moments we pulled away from the dock, taxied the couple hundred yards to the end of the lake, turned and under full throttle were quickly on the step and then airborne at about 60 miles per hour. We climbed to 5000 feet, leveled off and settled into the Otter’s 80 mile per hour cruising speed on a southwest heading.
This was my first flight over the rolling hills and flats of this district and although not spectacular like the mountains and valleys of the Rocky Mountain Trench, it had its own beauty. We were treated to the sight of pine covered hills interspersed with the lighter color of poplar patches, the darker green of white spruce stands on lower ground and the darkness of black spruce around small creeks. Small lakes and beaver ponds slipped by beneath us.
After some 20 minutes we came up on Natalkuz Lake
We circled it twice at about a thousand feet and then I tapped Pieter on the shoulder, held up my aerial photo and pointed to the east where our small lake was nestled. As we left the fire and I looked down I knew we were in for a difficult time. The area we were flying over had been burned previously. From the looks of the small trees sticking out of the grey bones of deadfall, probably 15 to 20 years ago.
In minutes we were over the lake. Only it was not a lake! It was a very large Beaver pond; the ½ mile of water that showed on the photo was a bare ¼ mile of open water with dead trees lining the water around the shoreline! The water was a dark brown so no bottom was visible.
We circled it once, twice and then a third time. Pieter yelled over the engine noise, “I can get you in there but taking off will be the problem!” I yelled back, “You’re the boss, whatever you decide.”
He hunched over the stick and turned the plane into another circle and then continued the circle around one more time, yelled over his shoulder, “We’ll go have a look.”
He broke from his circling and went out away towards the west until we could see the smoke bubble once again. The smoke at the top had a very slight drift towards the northeast.
We turned back again to the pond and approached it from the north. As we approached, Pieter put on half flaps, throttled back and slowly lowered the plane down and down until we were just above the trees. As we slid over the dead trees on the pond’s shore he lowered the plane until we were only a couple of feet above the water. He held the elevation with the other shore coming closer by the second, then suddenly gave full throttle, pulled up the nose and roared up and over the trees at the far end! We gained a couple hundred feet of elevation and as we turned again towards the north, Pieter yelled, “OK, this we can do. Tight for takeoff but here we go.” We turned for the approach and again slid in over the trees and this time as he throttled back, he went to full flap and just flopped us down onto the water! The plane mushed into the water then slid smoothly forward; it truly was an otter!
We turned and headed towards the one small spot on the shore devoid of dead trees. Pieter told Jeremy to get out on a pontoon and sound the water with the paddle that was secured there. When we were still a good hundred feet from the shore the sounding paid off, bottom was only a foot below the surface!
Pieter turned the plane and without a word headed straight toward a beaver house that was near the north west
Pieter taxied over to where we had touched down and swung the plane again, Jeremy paddled the plane back against, and then in between two trees and hurried into his seat, paddle and all. Before the door was even closed, Pieter lowered the flaps to full, opened the throttle and as he cleared the trees started to rock the plane to break the water’s suction. In seconds, under full power, they were on the step and then breaking free were airborne! Pieter flew the plane just inches above the surface, gaining speed and lift. Finally as we watched with bated breath, the nose tilted skyward and the plane clawed up and over the spiked tops of the dead trees! At about two hundred feet Pieter turned into a tight climbing turn and headed north.
[1] Natalkuz Lake
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