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Jackpines are twisted, diseased trees. They are typically infested with insects, and even if they aren't they look like they are, with scabby bark that oozes pitch combustible almost to the point of being explosive. They burn like rocket fuel. The heat from the fire pops open their cones (it is the only natural force that will do so) to scatter their seeds. The new generation of jackpines springs forth from the scorched earth like the weeds they are.
This year's big fire on the jackpine flats south of here burned 8,750 acres, including about a dozen homes. That's "so far." Last I heard, which was last Friday, the firefighters were letting property owners back into the area, but they weren't sanguine that they had the thing out yet.
According to "9 and 10 News," as of Friday my fellow workers in the newly re-combined Department of Natural Resources and the Environment said they had the fire 80% contained. What the heck does that mean? In my opinion, they either have it contained or they don't.
Likely the fire is still smoldering down there even now. Whether it goes out depends on how much wind, from what direction, and whether we finally get some of the rain we've been promised. But I doubt we're done with the fire season yet. Jackpines WANT to burn. They're very good at finding ways to flare up.
Then there was another one about the same time. This was a "prescribed burn" out on the Camp Grayling artillery range. Got a bit out of hand and took out only 1000 acres, with three cabins. I haven't heard about that one since, so I presume they put it out.
Forest fires aren't the only kind we had around here this week. What was left of the Gaylord Lumber Company caught fire and burned to the ground.
According to the paper, this old lumberyard was established in 1914. It would have to be about that old, because it's on the railroad, and consumer goods haven't come by railroad in decades.
It hasn't operated as a lumber yard in twenty years at least, but three buildings still remained. One of these burned down in 2004, the second by arson last year, and now the old warehouse has gone too. You'd think they would have taken a hint and taken down the warehouse before somebody torched that too, wouldn't you?
Especially being right downtown as it is. The fire half-ruined a resale shop and the apartment above it, which were on Main Street with the warehouse behind them. The hairdresser's, bar, and restaurant on down the street took varying degrees of smoke and water damage and are shut down until this can be cleared up. The Subway down the street the other way is still operating, but looks kind of funny; its vinyl siding melted.
As it happened, I was out inspecting some oil and gas sites in the woods on Friday. The roads weren't really roads in a couple of areas, so I was glad to have the big, beat-up Statemobile Dodge 4x4 pickup instead of my personal Mustang. Mustang doesn't do dirt roads that well, at least not when they have cobblestones the size of your head scattered along them from time to time.
Coming back into town, I brought the Dodge to the Clark station. You always bring them back fully fueled if you can. I pulled in behind an SUV with many radio aerials. It had stickers identifying it as belonging to the fire and rescue unit of another small town near here. That's a volunteer force, as they all are. You can sort of tell this had to belong to a volunteer, because no professional would have had so many antennas, stickers, lights, and so on.
I started filling the tank. It took fourteen gallons, forty dollars worth of gas, and the gauge had said the tank was only down between a quarter and a half. Good heavens! Either the guage is busted or this thing has a tank that holds about 50 gallons. Either way, I'm glad I don't drive one of these every day.
I heard a siren down Main Street. The SUV's driver came out of the Clark Station with his bottle of pop and watched the EMS ambulance tear by westbound. He shook his head. "You folks here in Gaylord must be sick of sirens with all the fires you've had around."
"Yeah," I replied. "They're never good news."
This year's big fire on the jackpine flats south of here burned 8,750 acres, including about a dozen homes. That's "so far." Last I heard, which was last Friday, the firefighters were letting property owners back into the area, but they weren't sanguine that they had the thing out yet.
According to "9 and 10 News," as of Friday my fellow workers in the newly re-combined Department of Natural Resources and the Environment said they had the fire 80% contained. What the heck does that mean? In my opinion, they either have it contained or they don't.
Likely the fire is still smoldering down there even now. Whether it goes out depends on how much wind, from what direction, and whether we finally get some of the rain we've been promised. But I doubt we're done with the fire season yet. Jackpines WANT to burn. They're very good at finding ways to flare up.
Then there was another one about the same time. This was a "prescribed burn" out on the Camp Grayling artillery range. Got a bit out of hand and took out only 1000 acres, with three cabins. I haven't heard about that one since, so I presume they put it out.
Forest fires aren't the only kind we had around here this week. What was left of the Gaylord Lumber Company caught fire and burned to the ground.
According to the paper, this old lumberyard was established in 1914. It would have to be about that old, because it's on the railroad, and consumer goods haven't come by railroad in decades.
It hasn't operated as a lumber yard in twenty years at least, but three buildings still remained. One of these burned down in 2004, the second by arson last year, and now the old warehouse has gone too. You'd think they would have taken a hint and taken down the warehouse before somebody torched that too, wouldn't you?
Especially being right downtown as it is. The fire half-ruined a resale shop and the apartment above it, which were on Main Street with the warehouse behind them. The hairdresser's, bar, and restaurant on down the street took varying degrees of smoke and water damage and are shut down until this can be cleared up. The Subway down the street the other way is still operating, but looks kind of funny; its vinyl siding melted.
As it happened, I was out inspecting some oil and gas sites in the woods on Friday. The roads weren't really roads in a couple of areas, so I was glad to have the big, beat-up Statemobile Dodge 4x4 pickup instead of my personal Mustang. Mustang doesn't do dirt roads that well, at least not when they have cobblestones the size of your head scattered along them from time to time.
Coming back into town, I brought the Dodge to the Clark station. You always bring them back fully fueled if you can. I pulled in behind an SUV with many radio aerials. It had stickers identifying it as belonging to the fire and rescue unit of another small town near here. That's a volunteer force, as they all are. You can sort of tell this had to belong to a volunteer, because no professional would have had so many antennas, stickers, lights, and so on.
I started filling the tank. It took fourteen gallons, forty dollars worth of gas, and the gauge had said the tank was only down between a quarter and a half. Good heavens! Either the guage is busted or this thing has a tank that holds about 50 gallons. Either way, I'm glad I don't drive one of these every day.
I heard a siren down Main Street. The SUV's driver came out of the Clark Station with his bottle of pop and watched the EMS ambulance tear by westbound. He shook his head. "You folks here in Gaylord must be sick of sirens with all the fires you've had around."
"Yeah," I replied. "They're never good news."
