By far the biggest burns we participated in this past year were a pair carried out on the Massachusetts Military Reservation (MMR). Over two full days the prescribed burns on the MMR covered~330 acres. Both days we had highly active fire behavior, culminating with flame lengths somewhere around 100 feet high and a smoke column that (apparently) was visible from across the bay in Provincetown (35-40 miles). A few days ago I posted pictures from Day 1 of these burns, today is Day 2’s turn.
Again, during the second day our primary job was to hold one of the flanks of the burn. Unlike the first Rx at MMR however, this time we were tasked with keeping our flank burning in lockstep with the far side. Another team was on the true internal ignitions, but we still got plenty of torch time over the course of the day.
The second day’s total hovered somewhere around 230 acres, finishing in a spectacular 100+ foot display that was burning deep inside the unit. We had an easy time on our flank, in part because the vegetation was quite forgiving — A mix of tightly packed dog-hair pitch pines and fuel heavy (but otherwise clear) forest floor. The picture below is a good example of one of the “roughest” areas we were responsible for, the tightly packed pines in the lower portion of the picture acted like ladders, which allowed the flames to reach the upper reaches of their neighbors easily.
There wasn’t much we could realistically do to prevent those trees from torching, instead we mitigated the hazard (of having a tree torch on the perimeter) by having an engine on scene and ready to dowse spots. In large part because of the wind direction that day (note the direction of the flames in the picture below) spotting wasn’t nearly as much of a worry on our flank as it was the first day.
Like the first burn at MMR we participated in, the prescription for this day allowed for full-stand replacement. We kept the pace of the advancing flame front moving slowly in an effort to keep things “cool,” but some torching still occurred. Again, this really wasn’t a concern, just something for us to be aware of all day.
That just about covers the two MMR burns, unfortunately it was around this time that the camera on my phone decided it had had enough life and quit on me. I’m still hoping (somewhat unrealistically) that I can save the pictures I’d already taken, but I haven’t actually “tried” to extricate them from the apparently broken SD card yet. I’ll figure that out “eventually.” Probably.
Next I’ll be covering our year-end (ish) trip to Baker Island in Acadia National Park.
By far the biggest burns we participated in this past year were a pair carried out on the Massachusetts Military Reservation (MMR). A base that now goes by at least three names depending on who you talk to about it. Over two full days the prescribed burns on the MMR burned ~330 acres, both days we had highly active fire behavior, culminating with flame lengths somewhere around 100 feet high and a smoke column that (apparently) was visible from across the bay in Provincetown (35-40 miles). This entry is going to focus on the first of the two Rx Burns.
During the first of the two burns we were primarily a holding group, our job was to watch one flank of the burn unit and ensure that burning embers in the smoke didn’t light spot fires outside of the unit. What we were able to do if and when those embers did cross the line depended heavily on what the fuel type behind us consisted of. When we had our backs to a large grassy field, we were generally able to stomp out the fires before they grew much larger than a campfire. When we had thick brush or trees to our backs we instead called out for help and focused on staying out of the way of the brush-breakers as they barreled through the underbrush to put out the spot.
Luckily for us, the smoke was mostly heading in the other direction, which meant that for a large portion of the day we really didn’t have much to do except watch the fire work its way through the burn unit.
Fire behavior on the first burn was largely mild to moderate. There were a few instances of multi-tree torching, but complete stand replacement (when all of the trees in a clump burn and die in the same event) was within the bounds of the burn’s prescription. There are decent ecological reasons for allowing stand replacement, and since this burn was at least partially “for the bunnies,” the burn bosses were happy to let stands that were well within the perimeter ignite.
This first burn covered around 100 acres, a bit over half of what we’d hoped to do that day, shifting winds and caution kept us from hitting our mark. Day two, which occurred a few weeks later, would more than make up for the day’s potential shortfalls, though. I’ll get to that story next.
We were blessed with good, consistent weather all Spring. It was cool and dry, and over the course of the last few months we managed to get in over thirty (30) days of prescribed burning. I’m not exactly sure, but I think that the actual number is getting close to forty at this point.
Much like the pile burning over the winter, the mechanics of broadcast burning quickly became business as usual. Our standard operating procedure relied heavily on setting up looping hose-lays around the burn area before even lighting a test fire. While this strategy takes a little while to set up, it also greatly increases the safety of the whole operation. And in the long run I’m sure it made our lives a great deal easier.
To set up those crucial loops we used inch-and-a-half hose as our trunk line and every 100 feet we split off a 50 foot length of 3/4 inch hose. Optimally, that meant that we had complete coverage of the burn perimeter. In actual practice that wasn’t always true, but adding more 3/4 inch hose to the end of existing lines was a trivial fix to a generally non-pressing problem.
After the hose lay was in place we’d light a test fire and hold a briefing while watching it burn. Running the test fire simultaneously with the briefing is (apparently) somewhat atypical, but it did give us the advantage of being able to directly observe what the fire-behavior was likely to be before we began proper ignitions. It also sped up the day by getting two crucial steps in the burn process over with at once.
Test fire completed we’d go about the actual burn — using drip torches to lay down lines of fire, then using the 3/4 inch hose to extinguish one “edge” of the thickening line. The other edge was allowed to (hopefully slowly) burn across the unit until until it hit another line of fire coming from the other direction and went out from lack of fuel to burn.
Once there was no more active flame in the unit we’d use the hose ringing the area to soak everything still smoking, spending extra time making sure that rotting logs and other areas where embers could be smoldering were well and truly saturated.
After the last smoking embers were drowned we’d break up the hose-lay, roll everything up, pull our warning signs off the sides of the road, and head home.
Almost every prescribed fire we lit all year followed that same basic formula. Therefore, I’m going to just skip describing most of them and move on to posting the pictures and talking about the few times when things were — for one reason or another — different.
For instance, all of the pictures in this update were taken at a burn we carried out at an old Boy-Scout camp. The Boy Scouts sold the campsites to the Cape Cod National Seashore a few years back and our burn was step two in preparing the site to be used as a special group campground in the future. We also spent the better part of a day dismantling most of the old camp’s decrepit structures.
This burn was a little bit different since there were already defined paths all around the burn unit. Those paths were free of fuel (needles and brush in this case) and provided a secure enough fire-line that we didn’t need to surround the burn area with a hose lay. Instead we carried in 5-gallon backpack pumps and used them to discourage the flames from crossing the paths.
Our fifth prescribed burn took place in the afternoon of the same day we conducted our fourth. Tactically, it was considerably more involved than the burn in the morning. Again, we split into two groups and walked the two flanks of the burn area laying down boxes of flame in tandem. However, this time we also lit point ignitions in the interior of the burn area. This strategy, coupled with our use of a backing fire throughout the burn, led to a much more complete burn than we achieved earlier in the day.
It was remarkable to me how efficient “drawing” the rectangles on the ground with the drip torch was at creating a solid black perimeter. Once the rectangle is drawn the heat from the flames causes the air in its center to rise quickly, air from outside the rectangle then blows in to fill the space. This constant inwards wind creates head-fires all around the rectangle. As I may have mentioned, head fires (fires in which the flames are bent over unburned fuels) burn faster (though less completely) than backing fires. Since the rectangle strategy creates a ring of head-fires, it creates the desired black perimeter faster than the alternative.
The alternative to the rectangle strategy is simply lighting a long line of fire using the drip torch. On the one hand you use less than half the fuel, but on the other it doesn’t burn nearly as quickly (nor, in my incredibly limited experience, so well).
Hopefully, now that Winter is gone (at least as far as the calendar is concerned) we’ll be able to do more of this, it beats the snot out of shoveling.
As I’ve waxed more than is probably necessary about in the past few posts, we’ve been in a bit of a work-rut lately. The truth of the matter is that wintertime is when burning piles makes the most sense and so we took advantage of the often snow-covered ground as much as we were able. Making and burning piles every day had a few notable advantages, it gave those of us who needed it (myself very much included) ample time to practice using and maintaining our chainsaws, it allowed us to stay warm while being fantastically productive during the cold winter months, and it made me pretty much impervious to the smell of own hair burning. Take that last one as you will.
At any rate, although there are plenty of great things about burning piles, it really just isn’t the same as helping with a proper prescribed burn, so when I found out that we’d be returning to that sort of job today I was thrilled.
After collecting everything we’d need for the day and donning an extra layer of protective gear (beyond what we wore every day this winter) We traveled to the Doane Rock area in Eastham to await our exact destination and final instructions. It turns out that the Cape Cod National seashore has more than a few burn plots already established in that area, and we weren’t sure exactly where we’d be working first.
Once we established our objective (and walked around the perimeter as a group) we split into two teams and began using drip torches to burn strips along the outer edge of the flanks, progressing around the burn area in tandem until we met again on the other side of the field. Each strip started out as a 2 by 10-20 foot rectangle placed in such a way that the fire was encouraged to burn inwards towards the center of the plot while leaving a solid line of nonflammable black ground in its wake.
As the strips burned inwards we extinguished the flames that edged out of the boundaries we’d established during our pre-burn perimeter walk. Eventually, the fronts progressing from each flank met each other in the center of the plot and (with all the fuel in the area consumed) petered out without much further interference from us. The whole process (from the perimeter walk to the last wisp of smoke) took a few hours, though it certainly felt shorter.
From here we moved on to a second burn, but I’ll save those pictures for later.
Each day is a little warmer than the last, and now that the clocks have sprung past Daylight Saving time yet again there’s actually a decent amount of light left after the workday is over. The flip side is that unfortunately, its back to being utterly black out when I wake up in the morning. Our service with the National Seashore has remained, unlike the light levels, pretty much static over the past few weeks. Most days are some variation on cutting trees, piling branches, and burning everything. I’ve completely lost my ability to smell wood smoke on my clothes, I’m guessing that’s because everything I own is saturated with it. Think I’m joking, take a look at what my schedule has been for the past month:
There are a few novel projects in there, sterilizing our house while a particularly nasty flu-variant was moving through the other Americorps members like wildfire was a change of pace, as was constructing the educational boards for next years S-212 class at the Seashore. Other than that though, its been all fuels management, and I have the pictures to prove it.
No doubt, as the weather warms our assignments will begin to vary a little more. On the plus side however, we’ve gotten a massive (from my perspective at least) amount accomplished in the last few months. Between the Americorps members and the Fire Crew members we put in 400 person-hours a week on projects like these. Things get done.
Back in December we started a project, while going through chainsaw training with the Cape Cod National Seashore, thinning the forest in front of our house. Ostensibly the reason behind the exercise was to thin the trees to the point where there wasn’t much canopy contact between pines. Doing that reduces the threat of a wildfire moving through the canopy of the forest.
Well, we’ve kept at it — on and off — for the past month and now we’re (unsurprisingly) running out of forest to thin. Each tree we felled we bucked into logs (unfortunately, Pitch Pine makes for poor fireplace wood) and limbed. Half of us stacked the resulting logs and branches into neat piles to burn later. I’ve tried to figure out how many trees we’ve cut down over the past few weeks (mostly while doing my shift hauling branches across the forest floor) but I’m not entirely happy with the accuracy of my guesses. At the very least, I can personally account for somewhere north of forty Pitch Pines. I’m not sure if my numbers are consistant with the rest of the crew, though.
If they are, then we’ve taken down upwards of three hundred trees. We’ve certainly cut down a lot, but that seems absurd.
If the weather holds, we’ll start burning those piles tomorrow. I’m not exactly sure the methods we’ll use to burn the (almost) innumerable enormous branch piles that are strewn around the forest floor, but I know that the process involves using leaf blowers to fan the flames and that those of us with beards have been told that its entirely possible they’ll be singed off by the heat involved.
I’m not really a beard person, but I’m mildly concerned that my hair might suffer the same fate. We’ll see.
It’s been painfully cold lately. Cold enough that I really don’t have much of an urge to leave the safety of my house when I’m not actually working. However, I did get out a bit this weekend, long enough at least to see that the bay side of the Cape has begun to freeze. Apparently the persistent wind from the North has been pushing all the frozen and slushy saltwater into the mouth’s of the bays and inlets that dot the bay side of the Cape. Choking them with layers of ice.
Its pretty amazing looking, although I’ve been told its also really unfortunate for the oyster farmers who hadn’t removed their stock from the bay yet. It’s been years (apparently) since there was this much ice around, and it might have taken some unlucky folks by surprise.
As much as I generally find complaining about the weather to be cathartic, I can’t really find a reason to groan about the unseasonably warm weather we’ve had on the Cape lately. Oh sure it’s intermittent at best, but every 50 degree day in January is a cause for mild celebration in my book. A reason to shed layers and play in what passes for the sunshine, if only for a few hours.
This past Sunday the mercury reached a scalding 54 degrees and I took the opportunity to explore Great Island in Wellfleet. Not actually an island, Great Island was apparently (among other things) the site of the Great Island Tavern way back when, and now is the home to a few great trails, some beautiful views of Wellfleet harbor, and acres of ‘wild’ oyster-beds. Due to the nice weather, there were a few other people out enjoying the sunshine, but the area is large enough, and the forest dense enough, that it felt as if we had the place all to ourselves.
The forest on Great Island is almost completely mature Pitch Pine, not particularly novel around Cape Cod, but the lack of undergrowth (specifically the absence of obvious Poison Ivy or Cat Brier) meant that I came home from the hike without having to bath in technu.
Since exploring I’ve looked online to see what other people thought about the place (something I try not to do before visiting on my own) and it seems like my pleasant visit is far from unusual. I’m looking forward to going again during the summer and getting pictures of the Seals that apparently adore the area. As t happened, the only wildlife I saw in any abundance were Oysters, Wellfleet harbor is a premier place for aquaculture on the Cape, but I was still a little surprised to see so many growing wild and out in the open. I’ll admit they aren’t nearly as exciting as a family of Seals would be, but interesting Wildlife seems thin on the ground these days. I should really get my hands on a wildlife camera before Summer. Maybe I’ll have better luck that way.
I actually don’t have much else to say about the hike, even in the strangely warm weather I wasn’t actually there for very long. I’ll have to make another trip the next time the sun rears its head so aggressively. Until then, here are some more pictures from Sunday.
I wake up monstrously early, especially compared to my housemates, but I’m still finding limits on what I’m actually capable of in life. Last Winter I worked briefly as a loader for UPS, a job that required me to be at the depot floor before 5, and I thought that after that I’d be able to handle anything morning-related. Certainly waking up early for work has never been an issue in other jobs. Unfortunately, It turns out I was wrong, or at least I overestimated my abilities, which gives me a new hurdle to overcome in life. I need to make a concerted effort to be awake and active when the sun rises more often. That shouldn’t be too hard a goal, especially this time of year.
Dawn patrol is a surfer thing I guess. I don’t really surf, not with any particular regularity or skill at any rate, so when I was invited along for the ride a few weeks back I didn’t exactly jump at the chance to get up before the sun. What changed my mind was the promise of coffee and a chance to explore some beaches I hadn’t visited yet while my friend braved the biggest ‘ride-able’ waves she’d seen in a few weeks. I took that bait. If only for the coffee.
It ended up actually being a really relaxing morning, driving from beach to beach and hearing how the surf at each was lacking in some small but crucial way. I’m beginning to suspect that the greater part of surfing (especially during the winter) is actually griping about how bad the surf is. Getting wet seems to be largely optional. I could probably handle that.
I did manage to eventually goad my native guide into the water by implying loudly that maybe she didn’t actually know how to surf at all, that it was all just some strange empty boast. Motivated, she paddled out to a distant sand bar and left me on the beach to my own devices.
I ended up spending the better part of an hour watching Gannet’s make their suicide plunges into the ocean, scanning the ocean for the plumes of mist made by passing whales, and cursing myself for not bringing along a tripod. Not a bad morning. I should do it again sometime.