The pyrocumulous cloud above the Schneider Springs Fire outside of Yakima took my breath away. (This shot was taken from Horseshoe Bend on State Route 410.)

Schneider Springs Fire

California seems to be getting all the media attention on fire right now, while in Washington State we have one of the most critical fire seasons in history. This past week I was up close and personal with the Schneider Springs Fire threatening our family cabin in Cliffdell on Chinook Pass State Route 410 — just a quarter mile up-river from the popular resort Whistlin’ Jacks. The fire started with a lightning strike on Aug. 3. Now it’s a monster — and growing — at 70,000 acres. (For a map of Northwest fires and related data: tinyurl.com/5e9x2w8b.)

Driving into the Yakima Valley last Monday I saw one of the most impressive pyrocumulous clouds I’ve ever seen (at least since the 1980 Mount St. Helen’s pyroclastic cloud). This cloud, visible from portions of the White Pass highway and as far away as Ellensburg and other central Washington towns, was reported as reaching 30,000 feet.

When I first caught a glimpse of it, I gasped, “What a beautiful cloud!” It had ripples and fists of billowing white upon white, like a mountain rising against a clear blue sky, no other clouds in sight. It looked solid enough to climb. In the next second I realized what I was seeing and said out loud, “OMG, that’s the fire…” It was awesome, in all senses of that word.

I found out some days later that this iconic cloud had formed above a section of the Schneider fire that had just busted out of its borders, blazing through thousands of acres of rugged wild terrain just west of Cliffdell where the Naches River parallels the highway. The “Fighting 410s,” from local Nile-Cliffdell Fire and Rescue District #14, had planned to take a stand along forest roads 1600 and 1700, but had to fall back dramatically. There was no way! The day was a fire-loving scorcher — almost 100 degrees with winds of 20-30 mph. The fire was burning fast and hot, feeding off enormous trees, both fallen and in the ground, in an area that’s not seen fire for decades.

Fighting fire with fire

Finally the wind died down and the fire took a breather until a couple days later when it started marching again towards the Nile Valley. Here crews were successful in dozing a line and creating a backburn to keep it at bay. Temporarily. But at 0% contained there’s no end it sight. [As I go to press, the latest fire announcement indicates a 3% containment.]

This past weekend the fire grew again and a bigger fire fighting team has moved in. The new team is a “Type 1 Incident Management Team,” led by commander Rob Allen. As stated on the Facebook site I’m following, “Type 1 Teams are assigned when a fire exceeds the level of regional significance and becomes one of national significance, or requires a large number of local, regional, state, national, and federal resources.” (If you’re interested, there are two sites to follow: www.facebook.com/nilecliffdellfiredepartment, and www.facebook.com/SchneiderSpringsFire.) FEMA has determined the fire’s level of destruction constitutes a “major disaster” and has authorized funds for fighting it. There are around 1,000 homes in the current evacuation area.

So, there are tense hours and days ahead for us folks with homes or cabins in the Cliffdell, Pinecliff and Goose Prairie areas. The fire is also creeping along toward Rimrock Lake and White Pass State Route 12. The life of the fire all depends on the direction of the winds, the weather, the moisture content of foliage, the temperatures and, perhaps, some God above looking down and pulling the strings.

Many of us have been personally touched by the effects of climate change; and unfortunately, my friends, there are more to come.

Oysterville Regatta

In the meanwhile, I returned to the beach, to our misty days and temperatures in the 60s. It’s a little schizophrenic to have simultaneously a foot in the Yakima Valley and one at the beach. It’s like fire and water. But on the Peninsula, the water is winning.

At the same time people were enjoying our amazing Kite Festival and the Peninsula Performing Arts music this past weekend, a small klatch of friends gathered at the Bay to watch the traditional Oysterville Regatta, now in it’s revived version. Head regatta guru Captain Tucker Wachsmuth set the race in motion again this year after a cesura last year because of the pandemic. And, with covid cases rising again, he called off the traditional awards buffet, but the race itself came off without a hitch.

Saturday was a typical beachy day of lazy clouds and cool temps. The only downside was a reluctant wind, not northwest as most Laser sailors are used to but a barely-breezy breeze coming from the south. As racer Allan Dees said, “Well, I wouldn’t really call it a race today.” It was sort of a mosey-along. But still the small crowd of onlookers (and dogs Jackson, Harley, Hooper and Greenie) enjoyed themselves while trying to figure out exactly what was going on out on the bay where the orange race buoys looked like tiny dots in the vast blue-gray waters.

Soon enough Tucker arrived with ice cream bars — Haagen-Dazs and Drumsticks — and explained the five legs of the race around those marker buoys; including a tricky jibe maneuver in which the boom crosses over the boat and sailors must duck so as not to get whacked. No one tipped into the bay this year; and while the three racers puttered along, we on the shore gossiped about the new mask mandate, how the summer was going (as Bill, in his water-proof kilt, said, “It’s not going anywhere!”), and the change of hands at the Berry Patch. (The Port of Peninsula has purchased and is leasing the restaurant and the empty lot next door.)

In the last leg of the race, I left the shore crowd to join another small circle of peeps in Nyel and Sydney’s backyard where the conversation continued on to chickens, how restaurateurs are struggling to find enough staff (Adelaide’s has closed for good), and the classic four-hand piano concert coming up at the Liberty Theater. (It will be over by the time you read this, sorry.) It was a beautiful kick-back, if sunless, summer day.

Surfside’s tree troubles

It was good to be home, though in the midst of rejoicing I heard from a friend that there was an unruly (she even said “ugly”) meeting in Surfside regarding the trees. Several weeks ago I wrote about the big spruce which the membership had voted to keep. But now the board has said that there was no quorum at that meeting (though a quorum had been declared at the time) and that the big tree, and all others of a certain height, must come down.

I can’t tell you how sad it is to come home after I’ve been away and see that yet more trees have been cut down. Trees provide habitat, shade, cooler temps, carbon sequestration, and so many of the idyllic aspects of why we live here. So I just have to ask again: what kind of a community, what kind of landscape, what kinds of values do we want to support where we live? Must we lose what we most love before we wake up and realize it’s too late to protect it?

Between fire and water, I choose water and trees — that’s what the Peninsula is made of and a big part of why we’re all here, isn’t it?