Morning Mountain Essay Feat - Vision specialist

views, and GREATYarnell, Arizona, a former gold-mining town of people, sits on a precipice at the western edge of the Colorado Plateau. Rising above it are the 6,foot peaks of the Weaver Mountains, and nearly 2, feet below are the flatlands and cactus of the Sonoran Desert.

She saw lightning strike article source ridgetop and, a short while later, wispy blue smoke drifting toward the clouds. When Lois pointed it out to Truman, he thought little read more it. Download the Audm app for your iPhone to listen to more longform titles. At 23, he was the youngest of three squad bosses, a senior position that put him in charge of nine men on the Granite Mountain Hotshots, a team of wildland firefighters based out of Prescott.

Brendan McDonough Dan Winters. Family time was precious during the eight-month fire season, lasting from April through November. He and Claire had been married for a little less than a year, and it still felt like the honeymoon.

She was the hippie chick eight years older with an easy laugh; he was the cowboy gentleman wise beyond his years. Robert had an IQ high enough for Mensa and a love of Hemingway. Hotshotting was his identity. It was one of the six full-time positions on the crew. Since April, he and his Granite Mountain colleagues had spent 26 shifts on fires. The praise made the crew uncomfortable, especially Robert, who felt that getting paid to camp and work fires in the most beautiful places in the West was closer to selfish than heroic.

But it was nice to be acknowledged. That night the family ate dinner together at the kitchen table. After Morning Mountain Essay Feat Zion to bed, Robert drank a cup of coffee while Claire did the dishes, then he pulled Morning Mountain Essay Feat into the bedroom. Before nodding off, Robert removed his wedding ring. Ash covered the edges, and the silver was scuffed from the handle of his Rhino, the hoe-like tool he used to dig on fires. Claire took the band and rolled it between her fingers and thought, What if someday this is all I have left?

When the hotshots came to drink in groups, as they often did on rare days off, bartender Jeff Bunch gave them a discount. His son was a former crew member.

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The trio sat by the pool tables in the back of the bar. Strange as it was, Donut his nickname was easier to say than his last name had missed his hotshot brothers. He had on a pink tank top: Seven small blazes had ignited in the mountains around Prescott during the thunderstorm the previous night. One of them, sparked by the lightning strike Lois and Truman had seen on Friday, had become a higher priority blaze after growing to acres. It had been given a name: About the time the hotshots were finishing their beers, the incident commander, the general on the fire, had set up headquarters at the volunteer fire station in Yarnell and was ordering additional resources as fast as he could: Granite Mountain was one of them.

The night before, the year-old superintendent of Granite Mountain had eaten dinner with his wife, Amanda, at the Prescott Brewpub downtown. Afterward she drove home; he crashed at the station, a tin-sided building on a patch of blacktop six blocks from the restaurant.

Sleeping there seemed easier than driving the 30 minutes to their horse ranch outside town, in nearby Chino Valley. Amanda Marsh Dan Winters. Until click to see more Morning Mountain Essay Feat to Morning Mountain Essay Feat him, Eric intimidated most of the hotshots. He was quiet, wry, and guarded—in many ways, a typical superintendent. Amanda was his third wife, but he rarely discussed his personal life with the crew.

He graduated in Five years later, he moved to Arizona to keep fighting fires, developing a reputation as a canny and cautious firefighter. Inthe Prescott Fire Department hired him to help with their fuels crew.

Eric was good at it. In the hierarchy of wildland firefighting, there are link things less glamorous than a job that demands the same backbreaking work of a fire fight but delivers none of the thrill.

He accomplished it in five years, an evolution that takes most crews twice that, some even longer. Station 7, where the crew moved inMorning Mountain Essay Feat a point of pride for Eric. He and the wildland division of the fire department had spent the previous six years trying to convince the city council that it would be safer for Prescott to host hotshots rather than just a fuels crew. Its new headquarters had a workshop, a gym, and a stocked gear cache with a sign on the wall that reads total cost for a well-equipped hotshot: Eric had been sober for 13 years.

Coffee was his only drug, and he took it black. There was no milk or sugar on the fire line, so why get used to it any other way?

With his mug full, Eric went to the ready room, where the crew met every morning. On one wall hung a poster common in wildland fire stations. It shows pictures of wildland-fire fatalities, including the two biggest: In both, elite firefighters had been killed battling small blazes that Morning Mountain Essay Feat with terrifying and unexpected speed.

In both incidents, the crews burned to death after being caught off guard with no time to escape. The Granite Mountain crew started arriving at Station 7 at 5: As they awaited the briefing, they sat in the ready room and talked about family and fires. Nearly half of them had children. On the wall were two whiteboards, one covered with a handful of random facts re-upped most mornings by a third-year sawyer named Andrew Ashcraft.

The sun had risen by the time the caravan crested the Bradshaw Mountains outside Prescott and descended into Skull Valley, north of Yarnell. Eric drove up front while the Morning Mountain Essay Feat followed close behind, with most of the hotshots sleeping inside.

Heading to a acre fire in Yarnell. His first sighting of the Yarnell Hill Fire would have come after rounding a bend just south of Rancho El Oso Road, eight miles from the blaze and on the outskirts of the horse ranches in Peeples Valley, a dispersed community of people five miles north of Yarnell. Desert fires are deceptive, though, and Robert knew it.

Arizona, like much of the Southwest, was in a severe drought. The monsoon, a low-pressure mass of moist air that pushes up from the Gulf of California and brings afternoon rains to the region every July, was moving into Arizona, but so far the influx of moisture had done little to cool the plus-degree temperatures. The monsoon cycle had yet to bring any rain either, though its arrival pretty well guaranteed lightning. It was still quiet. The blaze had been divided into eastern and western divisions, and Eric was placed in charge of the west, where Granite Morning Mountain Essay Feat was assigned to work.

With Eric overseeing the division, which would require him to move freely around his section of the fire, command of the hotshots fell to year-old captain Jesse Steed. Hotshots hike in single-file lines. Steed was up front. Robert watched the boot heels of the rookie in front of him. The dust the crew kicked up stuck to the sweat on read more face.

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A little more than a mile in, the thin road veered left and climbed feet to the crest of the Weaver Mountains, where the fire burning. It was now nearly 10 A. Temperatures were in the hundreds, and the last spots of shade had disappeared. Three times they stopped for water.

Some hotshots, like Donut, carried 13 quarts that day—26 pounds of water that doubled the weight of their packs. It sat atop the ridge, which ran in a crescent shape toward Peeples Valley to the north. The sawyers went first, using their chainsaws to cut brush, while the swampers, the men responsible for clearing anything that has been cut, hauled it off the line and threw it down the mountain. Donut, Robert, and the Morning Mountain Essay Feat of the hotshots followed behind, using Pulaskis, Rhinos, and rakes to clear away leaves and needles.

Steed kept one ear to the radio while helping throw brush or cut line whenever he could. Eric, who had gone ahead to scout, stood on the peak of the ridgeline above the crew, watching the fire burn north toward Peeples Valley. It was starting to build up steam. Like all seasoned firefighters, Eric was an amateur meteorologist, and he would have noticed the few small cumulus clouds, puffy seeds of thunderstorms, building to the north of the fire.

Like giant vacuums, these clouds create wind, drawing in hot air and moisture rising from the desert floor Morning Mountain Essay Feat they grow. Eric knew that the bigger those clouds got, the stronger the vacuum and the faster the flames would be pulled toward the houses in Peeples Valley. He got the call to head to Yarnell to act as a safety officer, one of a few lead personnel converging on the fire.

Darrell Willis Dan Winters. He started his fire career inwell before the city launched its wildland-firefighting division. Back then, firefighter culture was so tribal that city, county, and federal departments refused to leave their jurisdictions.

Marty remembers one of the first burned bodies he ever saw. Many of those walls have since been torn down.

Marty was the superintendent of Granite Mountain from towhen Eric first joined and they were trying to become a hotshot crew.

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It was a humbling process. At the time, every one of the roughly hotshot crews in the nation was funded by states or the feds—the Forest Service, the Bureau of Land Management, the Bureau of Indian Affairs—and many of them had decades of tradition. The crew once showed up at a fire in Oregon in white ten-passenger vans. Real crews use buggies.