Fighting fire ... with fire
California embraces strategy of controlled burning to save its forests
Bending over, Kern River Ranger Mario Melendez flicks a gray BIC lighter under the ignitor end of a drip torch, which he runs along a pile of brush.
Another crew member stands nearby, gripping the nozzle end of a hose.
Standing back with the others, they watch as the pile, a mass about 6 feet tall and 10 feet across, quickly sets ablaze. Within minutes, most of it is charred white, called “bone piles” by those present.
A stream of smoke wafts overhead, joining a thin trail that extends north, toward the Kern-Tulare County border 10 miles up the road.
About the burning brush, formed at a campground that overlooks the Kern River, more debris remains scattered about.
The pile was one of 50 prescribed burns scheduled Thursday by the Kern County River Ranger District in Kernville. It’s the third burn fire crews completed this month, with another three planned in the coming weeks.
Despite what we learned in school or from televised public service announcements featuring Smokey the Bear, some forest fires are a good thing — so long as they’re controlled.
Experts and officials tasked with protecting 19 of California’s 33 million acres of forest increasingly rely on this practice to curb the chance of extreme wildfires before the next catastrophe strikes.
Up from 80,000 acres in 2020, state officials announced last year their plan to burn up to 400,000 acres annually by 2025. It’s predicated on the realization that California, in its natural state, is destined to burn.
“As long as there’s been lightning,” said Arvind Bhuta, the acting district ranger for the Forest Service’s Kern River Ranger District in Kernville.
Between climate change and the Santa Ana winds, the already fire-prone state is increasingly beleaguered by drought and warmer temperatures that result in devastating wildfires.
So much like pruning a bonsai, these controlled burns are a way to clip fiery ends of California’s forests and mitigate disaster — by more than 60% if done consistently, according to researchers with the Stanford Woods Institute for the Environment.
“Burns are good,” said Ron Rozar, the district’s assigned biologist. “Because this whole ecosystem is evolved for regular burns. Without these regular fires, the debris accumulates to dangerous levels… And with climate change, we anticipate that (it will be) more of a problem moving forward.”
In 2023, wildfires consumed more than 100,000 acres, according to the state’s firefighting agency. This number is dwarfed by past figures, such as 400,000 acres in 2022 and a record 4.3 million acres burned in 2020.
The drop in wildfires last year is largely due to record snow and rain that packed the Sierra Range and swelled the Kern River through last June. But it presented a new challenge, as crews starting last fall had to clear all the debris left behind by the storms.
Richard Baker, the district’s “burn boss,” said the
flood came “to the toe” of many mountain slopes in the area, scattering decades worth of debris along the valley floor. Fire teams have already burned more than 1,000 piles of debris since the fall.
That’s a difficult feat considering burns require advance planning and near-perfect conditions: low wind, at least 25% humidity and enough moisture on the ground. In some areas, even the direction of the wind can decide whether a burn will happen.
“The conditions have to be right,” Baker said. “And some areas are just a little trickier than others.”
It also took extra help, more than 1,000 volunteers — rotating on 14-day assignments — from across the state and nation to clear most of the debris.
“Every hotel we had in Kernville was completely full with fire personnel,” Baker said.
With three months left to burn, fire crews continue to plan future pile burns, as well as a 1,000 acres of understory burning — in which crews set ablaze an entire section of forest — in April.
While these operations do not come without risk, for the Kern Valley, the need is obvious.
“This is a very firestricken community,” Baker said. “This community has lived through larger campaign fires that range from 5,000 to a 100,000 acres. A lot of these longtime residents have lost homes.”