In September 2017, fifty four weeks ago yesterday to be exact, during a burn ban caused by dry weather and high winds, a 15 year-old boy with a firecracker started a forest fire in the Columbia River Gorge on the Oregon-Washington border. We’re not talking a flame thrower or a napalm bomb, just a firecracker a kid could easily lay his hands on. One hundred and fifty three hikers were trapped by the rapidly advancing flames, requiring rescue. By the time it was declared contained, two months later, more than 50,000 acres had burned and an inch of ash had fallen on Portland. Hot spots were still being discovered as recently as late May.
Wildfires occur in nature, and are part of a cycle of renewal, of death and regrowth, though they have been exacerbated in recent years by over-development, mismanagement of forests, and the effects of human-caused climate change. It seems as if the entire West Coast is on fire at times, and when the fire is finally out, the rains come and the denuded hills slide down, mud engulfing homes, businesses, and bodies.
One of the first to discover that particular wildfire, according to Forbes, was Kevin Marnell, who was hiking along Eagle Creek. Around 3:30pm, he heard a series of loud banging sounds that he at first thought might be gunfire. Then he saw the smoke.
Forest fires are loud. There is the crackle and sometimes explosive combustion as the fire’s fuel is consumed, as sap ignites and trees fall. But the burning does not cause most of the noise. Superheated air moves up and new air rushes in, bringing fresh oxygen to feed the fire. It is this air movement that we hear, effectively localized high winds. And they roar. Wildfires roar.
The author of the text traditionally known as the Epistle of James knows a thing or two about wildfires. He warns that like a firecracker thrown into a gorge, the tongue can start a blaze bringing tremendous destruction. Continue reading “Loud: September 16, 2018”