State gets big boost from Down Under as Aussies, Kiwis join wildfire battle
UKIAH, Mendocino County — The call came in early August. Wildfires were ripping along America’s western coast from California to Alaska, and there weren’t nearly enough firefighters to respond.
“Preparedness Level 5,” pinged the international alert halfway around the world in places such as New Zealand and Australia. In the fire world, it’s the highest threat level — an urgent call for help when resources are running thin. So within days, 146 firefighting specialists from Down Under flew in.
Their first stop was the headquarters of the National Interagency Fire Center in Boise, Idaho. There, they learned U.S. lingo — a drainage is a gully or ravine and a tanker is a water-dropping helicopter, not a water-carrying truck, which is known as a tender. They practiced taking cover under personal fire shelters for the first time and converting from kilometers and hectares to miles and acres.
By Aug. 6, they were on the front lines helping fight major blazes in California and Oregon.
But soon, the firefighters became a spectacle in themselves. They were an embodiment of good news and cooperation for a state weary from a fire season that had started early and had already destroyed so much. Californians were
fascinated by the international visitors.
“People know us,” said Barry James, 47, a logistics officer from Australia. “If it’s not the uniform, it’s the accent. But they know us. They have a gracious curiosity. They’re outside the camp with signs. Everybody is so thankful we are here and has been so welcoming.”
One weekday morning, at the sprawling temporary fire camp in Ukiah designed to fight the historic pair of fires known as the Mendocino Complex, the crew of international firefighters met with their American partners to map the day’s progress. Beverly Gardiner, a division supervisor from Geraldton, on the west coast of Australia, looked over the fire maps. It was around 8 a.m., and the blaze continued to edge northwest toward Lake Pillsbury.
There were more hand crews, whose members work on foot with special tools, than she was used to. Back home, they lean toward machinery. But everything else felt familiar. There was a comfort to routine, especially in a foreign land. She was one of about 40 firefighters from Australia and New Zealand assigned to the Mendocino Complex, made up of the Ranch and River fires, which together have burned nearly 390,000 acres.
Others were dispatched to the Carr Fire in Redding, which has scorched more than 227,000 acres and killed seven people while producing a monstrous fire tornado. Some went farther north, to Redmond, Ore. For 42 days ahead, the task force leaders, heavy equipment operators and crew bosses, structure protection specialists, logistics and safety officers and helicopter managers would handle the positions Cal Fire had struggled to fill.
Gardiner got a lot of questions about home: What’s the weather like? (It’s winter, so chilly.) How do you manage fires differently? (Fewer hand crews.) Do you have a pet kangaroo? (No.) Do you know Steve Irwin? (Also no.) Do you say “croiky”? (Sometimes.) What does Vegemite taste like? (Salty).
“My division is a mix of Australians, New Zealanders and the Army,” she said, laughing. “So we have three lingos now. Everyone is just finally getting into the swing of things.”
Crews have been flying in from Australia to help since 2000, when the United States began collaborating with the two countries. Last year, firefighters came to help during the Wine Country wildfires. The United States sent personnel to Australia in 2009 and 2010. Firefighters are paid by their home country, and the terrain and tactics are similar enough, so the system works, officials said.
But this summer brought extreme fire activity to California, dramatically shifting the landscape.
Thomas Harre, 33, of Auckland has been studying fire behavior for 11 years. But he had never seen what is known as a crown fire before. The flames spread through the tree canopies, independent of the fire tearing through the brush below. And the Mendocino Complex was far bigger than anything he had seen in New Zealand.
“Wow,” he thought in that moment in the field, taking a deep breath.
“It’s one thing to learn about it and another to do it,” he said back at base camp in Ukiah. “It was impressive and intense to see. The fire had a significant run. The wildfires are getting worse here in California. You see it on TV, but in person, it’s different.”
That’s why he’s here: to learn more about fire, especially as it intensifies with global warming. Harre and his wife, Natalie, had talked about the deployment and whether he should fly to California. He’d have to leave behind 2-year-old William and 7-month-old Georgia. But they decided it was worth it to help.
A few days ago, Georgia learned to crawl. Harre wasn’t there for it, and his stomach sank. “Just tie her to a tree,” he joked to his wife.
They don’t talk about missing each other, because that would hurt too much, so instead they compare notes on their days and talk about the children. It’s never easy to leave family behind, not for a day, let alone 42.
Recently, Harre went with a few others to Walmart — so American! they thought — to buy a pillow. He didn’t have one in his tent, and his neck was starting to ache. The cashier asked for a selfie with the New Zealand firefighters. She couldn’t believe they were all the way out here, in California.
But they aren’t all from New Zealand, protested Harre’s colleague, Warren Hunter, who hails from the Sunshine Coast of Australia. He oversees a brigade of water tankers that support firefighters on the line.
“Whereabouts are you from in New Zealand?” people are always asking the 46-year-old around camp. He will grumble and point to his T-shirt, which has “Australia” printed across the front. And then he will laugh with them.
“Most of my contingent has gone up to the Oregon fires,” he said. “For the first time, the Australians are the minority in the group. There’s a lot of friendly ribbing about football now.”
Things have been going pretty well, he said, except for the issue with the radio. It’s hard for many Americans to understand an Australian accent in a dispatch. He’s had to be extra careful about that. And poison oak — that’s new. Three leaves and shiny. Hopefully, he said, he’ll be able to recognize it out in the brush.
“Some of these things are certainly unique to California,” Hunter said. “Luckily I’ve only seen a couple of dead rattlesnakes. No live ones yet. I’ve seen a lot of squirrels and deer and a chipmunk. We don’t see those in Australia. Same with the amount of hose line. It’s an endless amount of hose and very impressive to see.”
He likes the signs best. Residents from around Mendocino County wait outside camp, wanting to thank the firefighters who have flown around the world to save their homes. Even though Hunter is far from his family — his partner, their 12-year-old twin girls and a 14-year-old daughter — he knows he is doing something good.
“California is really suffering,” Hunter said. “You gotta challenge yourself to get the best out of life. It’s taking the opportunity to step outside of your comfort zone. And every day I see those people waving thank you and sitting on the overpass, it’s a nice reminder of why we are doing what we are doing so far from home.”