Praying for rain

Like the Weather Channel’s Jim Cantore showing up when a hurricane is imminent, I worry that I’m becoming a harbinger of drought and wildfire.

My wife and I bought a place on Fort Peck Lake in Garfield County less than two years ago. Our first summer there was idyllic. There was plenty of moisture and the land stayed green until August. Cattle grazed on the abundant grass. Fall rains filled the stock tanks and snow covered the ground for months last winter.

Then spring arrived, the snow melted, and the expected rains never fell.

Drought set in and oppressive heat baked the country. Spring greenup was fleeting and by mid June the country had yellowed like it typically does in September.

Then it started to burn.

I was at the lake a couple of weeks ago when a storm blew through: thunder and lightning and actual rain. I stood in the yard hoping to get drenched, but after a couple of minutes the storm moved on and the sun reappeared. I hardly got damp.

A half an hour later, however, a plume of smoke appeared on the horizon. I grabbed a shovel, jumped in the ATV and headed toward the smoke. I was still a couple of miles from the fire when I saw the smoke jumpers, their blaze orange parachutes bright against the pale sky.

From atop a two-track leading down into the Breaks I could see the fire was burning on the far side of a large bay to the north. Although it was headed in my direction, it was also headed to the water where it eventually burned itself out.

On the ride back to the cabin, I stopped to take a last look at the fire, and noticed another plume of smoke rising far to the west, no lake there to stop it.

Two weeks later the Lodgepole Complex is the largest wildfire in the nation, topping 250,000 acres with no end in sight.

I was there in ’88 when Yellowstone Park burned. There was a lot of blame thrown around concerning the cause, and folks demanded the fires be extinguished. This fire is different. It can’t be blamed on beetle kill of a lack of logging.

But there are similarities. An old friend of mine who fought a lot of wildfires during his career with the Forest Service used to say fires burn until they’re ready to go out. They’re seldom put out.

This one doesn’t look like it’s ready to quit and there’s no one to blame, except perhaps me.

All we can do is pray for rain.

Parker Heinlein is [email protected].