A Wildfire Policy Built on Fear of Ashes

by Mike Bader

Ten years ago this month, some of the largest fires on record scorched vast areas in the Northern Rockies. On "Black Saturday," Aug. 20 1988, more than 160,000 acres burned in Yellowstone in a single day. Coincidentally, during the Great Burn of 1910, the biggest day was also a Saturday, Aug. 20. These monstrous fires serve as a poignant reminder that we live in a region that evolved with that seemingly most fearsome of nature's elements: wildfire.

In 1988, while a ranger at Yellowstone, I participated in the largest firefighting effort in U.S. history, including over 25,000 firefighters. The Great Yellowstone Fires of'88 seared themselves into our memory.

Not only were they one of nature's most compelling dramas, they also became the object of a media and political firestorm perhaps hotter than the fires themselves. This was understandable give that Yellowstone is one of America's crown jewels and a living symbol of the national park ideal. The conventional wisdom held that Yellowstone was being ruined, the victim of a misguided policy know as "let it burn." Dramatic television footage chronicled the event daily, and politicians called for heads to roll. America's national fire policy itself nearly went down in flames.

As the snows of September doused the embers, Americans were unsure of what the lessons were from these historic blazes. Even after a decade, managers lurch from one fire season to another implementing confusing, and often contradictory, management policies. Some fires are lit intentionally, while others are aggressively squelched. Media accounts still refer to the '88 fires as "catastrophic." Timber opportunists in Congress exploited the confusion, deriving their momentum for the infamous 1995 salvage logging rider, in part, from the hype over Yellowstone.

However, the vast forests of Yellowstone evolved with large-scale, stand-replacing fires that occur every 200-300 years. Fire is, in fact, as much a part of the ecology of the forest as snow, wind, sun and rain, These fires, while awe-inspiring and dramatic, certainly did not destroy Yellowstone, On a recent visit to commemorate the tenth anniversary of the fires, I witnessed a profuse carpet of hardy young lodgepoles throughout the burn areas. Many are already 6 to 8 feet tall. Yellowstone is back, more beautiful and diverse than ever.

There was high success defending structures: We didn't lose a single high-value structure within the park throughout four months of firefighting effort, and more important, perhaps miraculously, no human lives were lost. A "circle the wagons" approach was used at the many fire sieges of developed areas. This involved thinning of dense fuels adjacent to structures. In some cases "backfires" were deliberately set to reduce heavy fuel accumulations. Fire engines were strategically placed around key areas. Remote structures and power line poles were wrapped with fire resistant materials. Structures were wetted with foam and, in many cases, pumps drew water from nearby creeks, rivers and lakes to feed impromptu sprinkler systems. Helicopters and retardant bombers were used to hit hot spots in the approaching fire front. This system worked remarkably well in the face of some of the most extreme fire conditions ever recorded.

We must plan ahead. We will have more large fires. It's not a matter of if, but when. Good policy decisions cannot be made in the face of panic. A wiser course is establishment of a permanent Fire Management Corps of experts to consult and assist citizens and city, county and state governments in fire prevention and fuel reduction programs well before fire seasons erupt. This program would make use of very carefully targeted thinning and controlled burning of areas directly adjacent to high-value structures and historic sites. If done properly, when fire does approach, successful defense of these areas is much more likely. Moreover, this approach is more cost-effective than last-minute, after-the-fact reaction, which risks lives and usually doesn't appreciably alter the course of the fires. We must also be willing to admit that some remote structures in heavily forested areas may not be defendable and aren't worth the risk to firefighters.

It is true that 80-plus years of fire suppression have led to buildups of heavy fuels, but advocates of "forest health" restoration, including Interior Secretary Bruce Babbitt, have taken a good idea to its illogical extreme. Calls for massive thinning programs ignore the physical impossibility of "thinning" the rugged landscapes of of Western forest, covering tens of millions of acres; nor will budget realities allow such grandiosity. The last thing we need is another logging program in the guise of fire protection.

There is no question that fire suppression still has an important role to play on public lands and we should be grateful for the heroic men and women who put themselves on the line each year. But their efforts should be restricted mainly to defense of life and high-value property such as towns, power lines and historical sites. By planning ahead, and accepting that the forces of nature are far more powerful than us and our technology, we can apply these lessons to an improved national fire policy based on economic necessity and ecological reality.

The time to debate and implement changes in fire policy is now, while fire is on our minds. The fires of '88 will repeat themselves. Let's be ready with better fire policies when they do.