You can't say thanks too often

Every fire season brings back a sense of apprehension and appreciation.

A number of years ago my wife and I signed on with OK Cascade, a Bothell firm that provided support for firefighters.

We did this for two seasons and were at a number of fire situations in both Washington and Oregon.

While the support staff was a ways from the fire, they were essential to any firefighting success.

Our support staff provided food, showers, laundry, and other needed help to those facing the actual fires. We could get a sense of how difficult things were for firefighters by looking at their faces when they lined up for food.

We would cook for and feed hundreds of those fighting the blazes.

They went out clean and in just a few hours were black from the smoke and ashes.

Not only was it dirty work, but highly dangerous.

We also served what they called “spike” camps, located in hard-to-get-to places and right in the middle of the worst part of the fire. While we were also tired from sometimes 20-hour days, serving the “spike” camps was something we took special care in doing.

They got steaks, more than one each, along with the best rations we had. The hot food was loaded on skids, isolated, and on its way by helicopter, dropping the food right in the middle of where the spike crew was. They usually had a dozen or more in those special places and, more often than not, the teams were made up of American Natives from a variety of tribes. They were specially trained and were called on whenever there was a serious fire.

When the fire was under control, they often came by to tell tales of the steak feeds they had and how much they appreciated them.

That was one thing that always touched me — how thankful all the firefighters were to the support staff.

It was always heartwarming when we left camp to return home or take a breather to see all the “thanks” signs out with people everywhere giving the firefighters the thanks they deserved. So a big thanks to all the firefighters who were the front line in our local fires.

We were in the kitchen units most of the time, and when everyone was fed we went right into our routine for getting prepared for breakfast. 

The pay was pretty low, but there was a ton of overtime.

We would drive home after the campsite was cleaned up and wait for the phone to ring calling us to another fire.

Our longest fire was 22 days just out of Prairie City, Oregon. There were some 7,500 firefighters on that one, and we fed 1,500.

The second and other fires of the season were the hardest because we would know how we were going to feel.

One test was to stay awake on the long drive home. There were many cat naps.

The Olympic Games in Japan going on now are robbing athletes and families of the joys of visiting a foreign country.

This year, athletes are so restricted because of the virus that they hardly get to see anything.

The facilities speak well of Japanese efficiency, even though the venues are without spectators.

Because of the restrictions, however, the “Bullet Train” is off limits, as are so many of the sites and experiences that athletes would ordinarily enjoy.

It appears that our athletes are off to a good start. As one US athlete stated, the competition was very keen and challenging.