When You Have to Run

By Travis Dotson

You should read this one. It’s straight up scary.

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We’ve talked about this before, how normal ops can get sketchy in a second.

Here it is. Real-deal run for your life type stuff.

First fire of the season. First shift.

Just scouting a road. Just serving as Lookout.

Normal ops.

Watch this:

Read the report to get the full details.

Read the section on lessons – discuss the questions posed.

Get full report here:


Pinched Bar, Broken Fibula

This is an excerpt from the “Coconino Felling Accident RLS

The assignment for the day was to prep dozer line, cut a canopy break along a handline, and continue with prepping a road that the handline tied into.

The saw prep primarily consisted of limbing, bucking, removal of small diameter trees, and felling any snags that would impact the control lines or affect the safety of personnel.

The Sawyer’s upper body was brushed by the bole of the tree as it came down from swinging in the air. The tree then landed on the ground and pinned the Sawyer’s lower left leg as the individual attempted to use his escape route.

Cutting Procedure

The tree that caused the injury was a ponderosa pine snag approximately 50 feet in height and 26 inches DBH. After completing a “size-up,” under the direct supervision of a qualified C Faller, the Sawyer began his face cut on the right side of the tree in relation to the direction of the fall. The individual then moved to the left side of the tree to finish the face cut as the diameter of the tree was longer than the chainsaw bar and required a “double cut”. At this point, the Sawyer was on the uphill side of the tree when the back cut was started. This required the individual to get on one knee to put the back cut at the appropriate height in relation to the face cut.

The Sawyer began his back cut, but noticed it was sloped and began another back cut under the original attempt. While working the back cut, the Sawyer also attempted to bore the heart wood and unintentionally cut through all the intended holding wood.

While the saw was still in the tree and the Sawyer was still working on the back cut, the nearby C Faller yelled “It’s Going!” and the Sawyer began to stand and attempted to pull the saw from the stump and access the escape route. However, the tree was already hitting the ground as the Sawyer attempted to flee the stump.

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As the tree’s top brushed another tree, it made the bole rise into the air and roll off the stump onto the Sawyer’s leg before he was able to vacate the cutting area.

The Sawyer was on the uphill side of the tree when the back cut was started. This required the individual to get on one knee to put the back cut at the appropriate height in relation to the face cut. The C Faller immediately ran to the pinned Sawyer, grabbed the chainsaw, and bucked out the section that was trapping the Sawyer.

Two EMTs were shortly on scene to assess the patient. They determined that the patient was stable. The Supervisor made the assessment that self-transport to a medical facility was the quickest and most appropriate action.

A cell phone call was made to the Duty Officer to keep them apprised of the situation. The Duty Officer made other notifications at the Forest level.

The Sawyer’s injuries were all sustained to the lower left leg. Those injuries included a fibula break, a puncture wound, and a torn muscle.

Rather than a bunch of hindsight fueled “should haves

Share your personal lessons in the comments

Read the RLS document here:


The Queen Bee, Tokenism, and Pushing Feminine Away

By Sara Brown

Reflecting on eleven seasons as a wildland firefighter, I explore three reasons why women in fire don’t universally encourage more women to join wildland fire by revealing personal, and often uncomfortable perspectives.

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Reason 1: Creating a Persona to “Fit In.”

For the Sake of Safety, “fitting in” with the firefighter culture is essential for safety and a positive work environment. In order to “fit in” with the culture, I created a persona that was not my authentic self. Each time I moved to a new fire crew I found myself needing to prove my worth as a firefighter and working to be viewed a trusted member of the crew such that I would be included (and safe). The easiest way to do this was to create a masculine version of myself. This meant that I didn’t contribute as many of the positive characteristics that females typically possess, such as providing: alternative perspectives on risk taking, alternative ways to get things done, and emotional safety for my peers. Work by Jennifer Taylor, PhD, at Drexel’s Dornsife School of Public Health corroborates my experience.

Reason 2: The Culture Limits Potential Benefits of Diversity.

The well-intended concept of “inclusivity” may be overrun by “exclusivity” of the fire culture. Cultural exclusivity likely defeats many of the positive aspects that are commonly attributed to diversifying a workforce. The current culture in wildland fire attracts people who either naturally “fit in,” or are willing to conform to the hyper-masculine culture. Minorities who join fire, (women for example) stifle many of the unique perspectives they may otherwise contribute to the culture in order to fit in. Cultural exclusivity has limited perspectives and stifled diversity within the overall culture. When women act in masculine ways to fit into a culture for psychological and physical safety, they can’t provide “diversity”–in effect they contribute to the culture the same way as men do.

Reason 3: Pushing “Feminine” Away.

At work I have pushed other female firefighters (particularly “feminine acting females”) away, rather than bringing them into relationship and supporting them. Two theories suggest that conditions in the workplace might contribute to this behavior.

Theory 1: Tokenism

In the late 1980’s, Robin Ely, then a graduate student in the Yale School of Management, found that women in male-dominated firms believed that only so many of them would make it into the senior ranks, and that they were vying with one another for those spots. This dynamic is known as tokenism.

Theory 2: Queen Bee

A Dutch psychologist, Naomi Ellemers, was trying to understand the near-total absence of senior women in academia. She found that senior women coped with gender discrimination by emphasizing how different they were from other women. She termed these women “Queen Bees.” Ellmers provides conditions in which queen bees emerge: when women are a marginalized group in the workplace, have made big sacrifices for their career, or are already predisposed to show little “gender identification”— camaraderie with other women. According to Ellemers, Queen Bees, “learn the hard way that the way to succeed in the workplace is to make sure that people realize they are not like other women.”

Hopefully these thoughts/experiences, and the following questions will spur discussion about this important topic across multiple levels of the firefighting program.

Is there a tipping point of women firefighters that can be reached beyond which tokenism and Queen Bee syndromes disappear?

Currently our firefighting system seems to support woman deciding to “do fire” on their own with some mentorship. These “self-made” female firefighters meet and accept other woman who made it on their own, but may be skeptical of helping others who didn’t “make it on their own.”

The Challenge – How can we find a way to get the ones who “made it” on their own to want to mentor others who may need a bit more help?

Or should we?

Watch the webinar:


Sara Brown works for The USDA Forest Service, Rocky Mountain Research Station


Please read this important piece by Bre Orcasitas. We have to tackle tough topics with a variety of voices and experiences – Bre is leading by example!

The Evolving Nomad

There’s seems to be this one certain subject that is sooooo complex and convoluted, and at times contentious, that essentially no one wants to touch it with a ten-foot-pole. Each time someone even grazes the topic people get hot under the collar and so, folks keep their distance as if it were a hornet’s nest. I’m almost certain this attempt will end up exactly the same as all the attempts which have come before it, but it’s worth a shot and I like a challenge so here goes…


Ah, that got your attention. The term “Women-in-Fire” is lame for a lot of reasons; namely, it sounds like the equivalent of slapping a visitor’s pass onto a woman’s hardhat or something. Not that it’s an offensive term, it isn’t, and it’s not meant to be; women use it just as frequently as men. Regardless, we don’t wander around…

View original post 3,685 more words

Paul Gleason’s Influence Went Way Beyond Wildland Fire

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Paul Gleason “bouldering” during a day off in the early 1980s when he was the Superintendent of the Zigzag Interagency Hotshot Crew. When Gleason wasn’t on a fire you could most likely find him somewhere on a challenging rock face.


Legendary Rock Climber John Long Credits Paul Gleason for His Initial Teaching and Inspiration

Legendary American rock climber John Long is a founding member of the elite group known as the “Stonemasters”. This group’s famed climbing exploits—from the French Alps to the North Pole—combined with Long’s popular writings, propelled the Stonemaster ethos into becoming a central fixture in the “extreme” adventure sports culture.

Long’s many climbing feats include the first one-day ascent of the most sought after rock climb in the world, the 3,000-foot “Nose Route” on California’s El Capitan on Memorial Day in 1975.

Long’s writings about his climbing achievements inspired an entire generation of “free climbers” throughout the U.S. and Western Europe. He is known for helping to establish “bouldering” in general and “high balling” (high bouldering sans rope) in particular, as a valid and extreme expression of traditional climbing.

Gleason Climbing Blog1

In John Long’s Rock and Ice article on Gleason (pictured above), he writes: “Paul had a concentrated focus when it came to bagging new boulder problems — he’d chart moves out on graph paper and file the edges of his PAs [climbing shoes] with an emery board. For Paul, sending [successfully climbing a route without falling or resting on gear] a hard new problem was not a physical triumph but something to cherish by howling at the sky, dancing in place, and, of course, stoking the old corncob.”

Long popularized “free soloing” (climbing with no rope) during his high school days in southern California—with Paul Gleason providing him his most significant teachings and inspiration.

In the March 2005 Rock and Ice magazine (Issue 140), Long penned an article on how Paul Gleason was a major mentor influence in Long’s climbing ability and perspective.

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Paul Gleason (with black shirt on right) leads a two-day ropes/climbing course with members of his Zigzag Hotshots in the early 1980s. Gleason’s crew, that included several advanced climbers, was known to travel with climbing ropes and gear.

“With his lumberjack frame, shoulder-length red hair and a Van Dyke moustache/goatee combo, Paul resembled Buffalo Bill Cody with 20 pounds of gristle packed on. Paul was entirely free of guff and posturing, which had a calming effect on a tightly wound kid like myself,” Long writes in Rock and Ice. “The challenge was trying to match Paul move for move on the boulders, a nearly impossible task because he was one of the best.”

Another John Long insight on Paul Gleason: “Like many effective coaches, Paul inspired by virtue of who he was, not through what he said, which was never much. His praise and suggestions were laid on with a feather, which made us listen that much closer.”

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Gleason in his other element besides wildland fire.

Long writes about hearing that Paul had fatal colon cancer in 2003 and calling him. “All I could do was thank Paul for having faith in us long before we did. Most of all, I thanked him for being himself. Paul gave us permission to find our own way, and, in a sense, we did it all for Paul. I told him so.”

In the wildland fire world, we tend to think that Paul Gleason was solely a mentor for our ranks. In this John Long article on Paul—in which wildland fire is never mentioned—we learn that his exceptional influence included helping to inspire this country’s climbing community.

John Long Article Screen Save

To read this article on Paul Gleason’s positive influence on legendary rock climber John Long: http://rockandice.com/john-long-tales/john-long-the-real-deal/






Paul Gleason — Up Close and Personal

Gleason LCES License Plate

Paul Gleason’s original LCES license plate.

[This article originally appeared in The Mountain Times, a monthly newspaper that serves Oregon’s Mount Hood area where the Zigzag Ranger District is located. Paul Gleason lived there for 14 years. Paul Keller wrote this piece a few months after Gleason’s death in 2003. Keller served as a member of Gleason’s Zigzag Hotshot Crew from 1986-89.]

By Paul Keller

Hey, does anyone up here remember that older blue Toyota pickup truck with the custom—and somewhat perplexing—“LCES” license plates?

How about its driver? (We’ll get back to the license plates later.) That guy behind the wheel with the no-nonsense Olympic gymnast-like body, boyish yet tough-guy face, and unmistakable Kris Kristofferson voice—both low and gravelly yet honeycombed sweet—tapping his hands and feet beside his climbing ropes and Whites (special wildfire lug-soled boots) with Hendrix or maybe David Bowie or the Doobie Brothers cranked-up good and loud.

For more than a decade, you might have seen him every now and then tucked back in the booths at Mt. Hood area restaurants fueling-up on coffee and pastry while puzzling over his Einstein-like mathematical equations. He loved to scribble them onto placemats and napkins where ever he went.

Remember? He was the guy in Thriftway with the beeper on his belt two long decades ago. Back when only shady characters and medical doctors enroute to their summer homes wore such new-fangled gizmos.

His name was Paul Gleason.

But if you knew him—like practically everybody up here—you just called him: Gleason.

And you never forgot him.

Gleason made his home with us here on Wy’east (Native American Indian name for Mount Hood) from 1977 through 1991. Of course, even then, we didn’t have him here that much. In the winter, he climbed mountains throughout North America and beyond. And every spring, summer, and fall he led his U.S. Forest Service Zigzag Hotshot Crew into the chaos of flame-fronts all across the United States. (Hence, the beeper. They were on call 24-hours-a-day.)

National Reputation

By the time Gleason’s heralded hotshot boss stint here was up, he had earned an esteemed reputation among the national wildland fire community—that will only continue to grow—for his wiliness at understanding and outwitting fire.

No doubt about it. Where ever they went, when Gleason and his crew with the funny rolling papers name showed up, the fire bosses all smiled. They breathed a little easier. His crews were known for their endurance, their tenacity and their guerilla-tactic savvy—imprinted and inspired by guess who.

During the wildfire off-season, the craggy peaks called to him. Gleason had climbed them all—in several countries. He even summited Mt. Rainier (and got his photo in National Geographic on a spooky perpendicular ice field to prove it) when he was only 16 years old.

For several winter seasons, Gleason employed his mountaineering skills roaming Mt. Hood’s wintry upper elevations as the Zigzag District’s snow/climbing ranger.

Gleason even started ice-climbing frozen Multnomah Falls way back in the 70s when—to the rest of us normal human beings—such a feat would be akin to successfully going to Pluto.

Paul in snag

Gleason squeezes himself inside a snag to mop-up smokes.

Climbs Mt. Hood Twice in Same Day

When Gleason read in the local history books about legendary Mount Hood mountaineer Lige Coalman remarkably climbing to the top of the mountain and back twice in one day, he decided he wanted to do it too.

So he did.

Of course, Coalman’s double climb was accomplished long before Timberline Lodge was ever erected—let alone envisioned—up there at 6,000 feet. No such luck. In Coalman’s hardy day, there was no “Timberline Road”. This Mount Hood pioneer icon started both arduous round-trip climbs from way down there in the trees at Government Camp.

So did Gleason.

National Programs have Zigzag Roots

After a total of 14 years here (the longest he will ever live in one place), Gleason packed-up that blue pickup—with those LCES license plates—and drove off into his continuing impressive wildland fire career. It escalated from District Fire Management Officer to Forest Fire Ecologist with the U.S. Forest Service, Wildland Fire Specialist and Deputy Regional Fire Management Officer with the National Park Service, and, finally, in 2001, he launched into a full time—albeit way too short-lived—teaching post as wildland fire science adjunct professor at Colorado State University.

Gleason will be forever recognized for his various contributions to the national wildland fire service, including:

  • Developing his LCES brainchild (Lookouts, Communications, Escape Routes, Safety Zones) concept—initiated here at the Zigzag Ranger District—that has become the modern foundation for wildland firefighter safety throughout the United States.
  •  Helping pioneer the wildland firefighter professional tree falling program—which he also started at our Zigzag District.
  •  His relentless quest to spearhead the development of improved fire behavior training.

He is also remembered for his promotion and support of women on the fireline. As early as 1983, the iconoclastic Gleason had hired seven women onto his 20-person hotshot crew. By 1985, often to the bewilderment of other hotshot crews back then, his Lead Pulaski (a crucial firefighting position requiring huge mega doses of endurance and gnarly) was—watch out fellas—a woman.

Heroic Actions

During 1990, inside Arizona’s Tonto National Forest, a persnickety wildfire unexpectedly blows up. As hundreds of firefighters flee up into safety zones (as they should), Gleason opts to scout down into the perils of a burning canyon where a fire crew is entrapped by fire. His heroic actions save a severely-burned firefighter’s life. After Gleason helps get this guy into the hands of some brave paramedics, he continues on—with flames encircling him—to find the bodies of six dead firefighters.

This sobering experience convinces Gleason of the dire need for his LCES.

Gleason on the Dude Fire_Cropped

Gleason (right) and Zigzag Hotshot Crew Assistant Supt. Ken Uphoff on the Dude Fire.

Leaves Us Forever

Living in Colorado, in April of 2002—incredulously—the ever-invincible Gleason is diagnosed with colon and liver cancer. He underwent six months of aggressive chemotherapy. After a heart-wrenching never-say-never fight, in late February of this year (2003), at only 57, Gleason left us forever.

“Clearly, Paul was suffering beyond what any human is prepared to endure,” marveled friend Merrill Kaufmann on the severity of Gleason’s aggressive, fatal cancer. “Though, I can truly say that Paul lived through his recent illness with the same class and grace we have always known of him.”

Before he died, Zigzag District employees—current and former—who know and had worked with Gleason, made him a video. Everyone individually spoke to Paul and wished him well. Some expressed their true appreciation for his impact and influence on their lives.

Back in Colorado, the bedridden Gleason wept when he first watched it. When it was over, he watched it again.


For after he died, Paul had written us a heartfelt farewell message.

Local Gleason Tribute

In early May, a Gleason memorial tribute was organized by this local Mt. Hood area community of friends who had once fought fire beside him. Many of his former Zigzag Hotshot crewmates–literally spread out now from coast to coast–were invited. More than 100 people attended, including Paul’s wife, Karen Miranda Gleason, and his brother, Phil.

His wife spoke. She said that, to Gleason, this area always felt like his true home. She said he always missed Zigzag and the mountain and its people. His brother told the gathering that he felt like they were Gleason’s true clan. He had already attended public memorials for Paul in Colorado and California. He said that while he appreciated these other services, “today I feel like I’m with Paul’s real family.”

Final Goodbye

There were few dry eyes when Gleason’s wife also confided that his last words had been a request for her to play their Zigzag video again.

Yes, our fellow Zigzag well-wishers became the man’s final goodbye.

And, darn it, if Gleason didn’t–beautifully–return the favor.

That’s right. That guy who once drove up and down Laurel Hill in his blue Toyota with those weird plates, penned us all the following poignant farewell:

“When you have walked to the edge of all the light that you know and are about to step into the darkness of the unknown, faith is believing that one of two things will happen: There will be something solid to stand on; or, you will be taught to fly.

The scores of letters, emails, tapes, calls and visits that I’ve received from you have meant everything in the world. They made me feel like my life was meaningful.

The path that I was on has resulted in me passing on, but I want you to know how much each of you has meant to me. I have loved you with all my heart.

When you get to the other side, I’ll be in the most beautiful mountains you can ever imagine, lying on a grassy bench a few feet above a mountain stream.

Please stop by and visit me.” 

Do you have a Paul Gleason memory or story you’d like to share? Please do.














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Underslung Heroes

By Travis Dotson

Remember the Cerro Grande Fire in May of 2000?

  • 230+ Homes Destroyed
  • 18000 People Evacuated
  • Nuclear Facility Threatened
  • Damage Cost – One BILLION Dollars
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Burned homes from the Cerro Grande Fire in Los Alamos NM.

Nothing too outrageous by today’s standards I suppose. But consider this:

It was an escaped prescribed fire.

That’s a huge deal.

So, who were these clowns playing with matches on the doorstep of a nuclear laboratory right in the middle of the southwest spring winds?

Well, here is one member of this lousy light-it, fight-it, and lose-it team—in fact, this goofball was in charge when the fire went over the hill:

Paul Gleason.

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Paul Gleason

Hmmmm . . . Paul Gleason. Why does that name ring a bell? I feel like there’s some sort of big-deal significance associated with that name. Oh, wait. Isn’t that the dude who came up with LCES?

How did this happen? Like any other tough day on the line, there’s one slop-over kicking their ass and the Burn Boss (Gleason) suggests they make the magic name change (convert from RX to Wildfire—the most oppressive game of semantics we play).

So, they convert it. Now it’s a wildfire and Gleason is the Type 3 IC. Next comes the most common of all common tactical decisions. Direct or indirect?

We all know the direct or indirect dilemma is a fairly standard operational decision that needs to be made, just like it was that day. In the context of what eventually happened, this particular direct/indirect decision has gotten quite a bit of scrutiny. I think you should let Gleason walk you through it himself – watch this video: (Go right to 11:30 – 15:00 for the direct/indirect decision)


Are You Really Willing to Go There?

The “Bad Apple”. There’s one in every bunch, right?

Are you really willing to go there? Are you willing to boil this entire series of events down to a simple case of: “They should’ve turned left”?

Are you willing to say you would have made a better tactical decision than Paul Gleason?

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The Bad Apple Theory

Paul Gleason said: “I had a preconceived bias against underslung line.”

I don’t like underslung line, either. Do you?

Crucial Decision Points

Yet, this is exactly the type of decision we love to crucify folks with using the perception-twisting kaleidoscope of retrospect omniscience.

As we look back at bad outcomes we create a story and in that story are critical turning points. Of course, these turning points are given significance only through reference to the eventual outcome. Who cares if they went direct or indirect if no houses burned down?

So now we have the story and identified the crucial decision points. We all love to customize these crucial points in our never-ending quest for the adoration of our peers via gaudy display of operational virility. Peacocks we are. We all want to be recognized for our “unique insight.” (In fact, I’m even on this quest myself right here within this article. But everything I’m saying has been said before. Damnit, now I have to find another route to self-esteem!)

What I’m really saying here is we love to parry the “They should have gone direct!” blow with the oh-so-clever “Well they never should have lit it!” mindset. Touchdown! The Monday morning quarterback brings home the bacon every single time!

Newsflash: That is not a clever insight. Neither is its simple sister: “Why were they even there in the first place?” Oh, how we love to toss that one out in relation to the latest entrapment, especially if it is related to structure defense. Again, not clever or even remotely insightful. We all know exactly how we get where we get because we all get there on every fire. We just walk away by the grace of Big Ernie.

The Comfort of Finding Fault

Let’s see here, where were we? Oh yeah, throwing rocks at Paul Gleason for making the wrong decision. Or not stopping the ignition. Or not listening to the weather service. Or listening to the weather service. Or not praying hard enough.

Maybe it wasn’t Gleason. Maybe it was somebody else.

Did you just feel the relief as we moved the crosshairs? Ahhhh, the comfort of finding fault—it feels so natural. I mean, who are we kidding? A prescribed fire that torches a town? SOMEBODY must have screwed-up. It’s not like that was the plan! Please feel free to pause here and let the comfort of that last sentence wash over you.

It should be unsettling to acknowledge how cozy that self-righteousness feels.

The Bad Apple, there’s one in every bunch.

Paul Gleason and Eric Marsh

Let’s time travel our target shooting session.

Hmmm, what year should we jump to? How about 2013? It’s so easy. Eric Marsh might not have been Paul Gleason, but he’d led his crew on a hike off a fire more than once. Bad Outcome = Bad Apple? Try giving Marsh the leeway you give Gleason.

Does it feel any different?

Apples and oranges, you might say. (Considering our current context, that’s kind of funny.)

But is it really that different? An operational decision with an unintended outcome. What if the personalities were reversed? What if Eric Marsh was the Burn Boss/ICT3 at the House Burner RX and Paul Gleason was hiking his crew to the ranch when they were overrun by fire?

Would you make sense of those outcomes differently than you currently do?

I’m guessing you would. You might try a little harder to see what you aren’t seeing, actively asking yourself: “What am I missing here?” But that Bad Apple bucket is enticing isn’t it? It’s a lot less work to just toss the bad operator in and move on. Especially if they are dead. Especially if they weren’t “Agency”. Especially if they didn’t have the right kind of buckle. Especially if, especially if, especially if . . .

Stand Accountable

We are all amazing firefighters. We are all bad firefighters. It just depends on the day and the circumstances. And the outcome.

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“I had to face the fact that there were times that I made decisions that led to the eventual outcome of this fire.” – Paul Gleason

I know the Bad Apple theory is appealing. And it might even be true sometimes. But don’t get lazy and use it without putting genuine heartfelt inquiry and introspection into the matter. Acknowledge the shifts where you were the Bad Apple. Acknowledge the future shifts where you will be the Bad Apple.

Everyone says: “We all make mistakes.” I think we all make decisions using everything we have learned and experienced to this point. I think we all care deeply about the people next to us. I think we all want to learn from tragedy and heartbreak. I think we can do better.

“There is no way to get around how uncomfortable it is to stand accountable for your decisions” – Paul Gleason


Listen to the related Lessons Learned Center Podcast:

Bad Apples

Saddle Up

By Travis Dotson

Alright folks, listen up. We have a tough piece of line to put in. I’m not going to lie to you, it’s gonna suck. It’s certainly dangerous, but that’s nothing new. This chunk of ground is gnarly. Ground just like this has killed more than a few good firefighters.

Looking at the bigger picture, this piece is absolutely critical and there is no way to avoid it. We have to go direct. This piece has to get tied-in–and we are the ones to do it.


Tactical Briefing

We have a solid safety zone, but it’s a haul to get back down here. We have super-dialed lookouts, the best there are for this type of assignment. We all have to keep track of where we are and keep in close contact with the lookouts. Each one of you needs to keep a pulse on your gut. If anything starts to feel sketchy you need to speak up and RTO.

Here’s the other deal. There’s a couple crews already in there moving dirt. We need to get in there and help. There are crews coming in behind us as well. We all need to chip in on this one, it’s a big chunk of ground and there’s plenty of work for everyone.

You been at that briefing? Of course you have. What did you do when it was over? You saddled up and got to work. Because that’s what you signed up to do: Hard sh*t for the greater good.

Ready to saddle up and get to work doing hard sh*t for the greater good?

It’s just another shift, only this assignment involves a different kind of work.

For this go you’ll need to saddle up and answer tough questions for an important study.

Some of the questions are hard. Hard like personal. Hard like they could make you uncomfortable. But you’ve been uncomfortable before–nothing new there.

“The long-term physical, psychological, and behavioral health risks of wildland firefighters are not well-documented in research.”

We have all seen and felt the fire-specific impacts to our physical, psychological, and behavioral health–both good and bad. We all want to advance our ability to care for each other. We need research to establish an anchor point. That research starts with you.

Get in there. Do the work. Get the line in.

We don’t turn our backs on doing our share of hard sh*t for the greater good. We saddle up and get to work.


What to Expect:

1. First, a few questions to see if you qualify to participate in this study.

2. If you qualify, you will be directed to the Wildland Firefighter Health and Behavior Survey.

This survey will take 15-40 minutes to complete.

Click here to get started: https://umt.co1.qualtrics.com/jfe/form/SV_080qdGFTskXOAVD

“Just Let Me Finish”

By Travis Dotson

This is about a firefighter physical training fatality. Let me tell you why this scares the crap out of me. This PT description sounds very familiar.  We get up and go for a group run fairly regularly. You might point out that this instance is different because it’s a structural department. That is exactly why it scares me even more. These folks are medically trained to a much higher degree than any wildland crew out there.

And he died.

Read this and reflect on your own PT program.


Typical PT Run

Are you ready?

The following is an excerpt from the NIOSH report “Fatal Exertional Heat Stroke During Physical Fitness Training“.

On April 20, 2009, a 26-year-old male career Firefighter Trainee began a 2-month firefighter certification program. On April 29, 2009, the Trainee participated in a 4.4-mile jog as part of the physical fitness portion of the program.

The temperature 73 degrees °F with 87% relative humidity.

The 36 students began the day (Day 6 of the program) with physical fitness training consisting of stretching and jogging two laps around the track (1/4 mile per lap) as a warm-up exercise. At about 0610 hours, the group began a 4.4-mile run/jog in formation on neighboring streets. The group was led by a FD vehicle and followed by a FD squad. Four instructors participated in the run, which lasted approximately 1 hour, 10 minutes.

A Captain led the group, calling cadence while another Captain ran in the back of the class. Nearing the end of the run, students were instructed to break formation and sprint to the finish line, approximately 1/8 mile. Three students were lagging behind, including the Trainee. Two nearby classmates went to encourage the Trainee, who was stumbling and seemed disoriented. When asked if he was okay, he said “just let me finish.” The Trainee stopped running and began walking in an unsteady gait. A class officer, a FD Captain, ran over and helped the Trainee lie down with assistance from the other students. Water and a medical bag (containing oxygen, blood pressure cuff, and a glucometer) were retrieved. According to the students, the Trainee was pale, sweaty, shivering, incoherent, and unable to communicate.

911 was called (0727 hours), and an ambulance was dispatched (0728 hours). A paramedic on the scene found the Trainee to be unresponsive, with a rapid pulse of 170 beats per minute, a rapid breathing rate of 24 breaths per minute, and low blood pressure of 60 mmHg by palpation. Ice packs were placed on the Trainee’s skin, oxygen was administered, and an intravenous (IV) line was placed. His blood glucose level was normal (95 milligrams per deciliter [mg/dL]).

The ambulance responded at 0730 hours and arrived on scene at 0739 hours. Paramedics found the Trainee unresponsive, with essentially no change in his vital signs from 0729 hours. A 12-lead electrocardiogram (EKG) revealed sinus tachycardia (rapid heart rate) with inverted T-waves (a nonspecific finding). A second IV line was placed, and the Trainee was given fluids to treat dehydration and heat exhaustion. His axillary (under the arm) temperature was 103.4°F, and four new ice packs were placed on his skin. The ambulance departed the scene at 0752 hours en route to the local hospital’s ED. En route, the Trainee’s blood pressure increased to 80 mmHg systolic (by palpation), but his fast pulse and respiratory rate remained unchanged. He remained unconscious throughout the remainder of the 19-minute transport.

The ambulance arrived at the hospital’s ED at 0811 hours. The Trainee’s vital signs revealed a blood pressure of 106/52 mmHg, a heart rate of 150 beats per minute (tachycardia), and a respiratory rate of 24 breaths per minute. He was sweating heavily and had a core body (rectal) temperature of 105.3°F. The initial diagnoses were hyperthermia, severe dehydration, and heatstroke, followed by heatstroke complications including the following:

  • Rhabdomyolysis (breakdown of muscle fibers resulting in the release of myoglobin into the bloodstream)
  • Acute renal failure due to rhabdomyolysis
  • Disseminated intravascular coagulation (DIC) (a blood clotting disorder)
  • Electrolyte imbalances (low potassium and calcium)

He was treated in the ED with ice packs, cooling fans, cool IV fluids, and cold towels. Despite this treatment, his rectal temperature was 104.7°F 3 hours after his arrival in the ED, and 101°F 12 hours after his arrival in the ED.

The Trainee was transferred to the intensive care unit where IV fluids and cooling blanket therapy continued. Over the next 4 days his mental status improved; however, many of his organ systems (i.e., muscles, liver, kidneys, and blood coagulation) began to fail from heatstroke complications. On May 3 his neurological status declined, and he began to have respiratory failure that required intubation. A computed tomography (CT) scan of his brain revealed marked cerebral edema with herniation. After consulting with the family, the physician removed the Trainee from life support on May 4; he died 41 minutes later.

Read the full report here:

Fatal Exertional Heat Stroke During Physical Fitness Training


Unconscious With Agonal Respirations

This is an excerpt from the 2018 “Chainsaw Training Limbing Accident Green Sheet“.

The instructor was diagnosed and treated at the trauma center for a concussion, head laceration, pneumothorax, broken ribs, and a C-5 vertebrae fracture.

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Recreation of the position that FC1 was initially found in.

C-Faller field training on April 24, 2018 started at 0830 hours at CAL FIRE Bear Creek Fire Station in the Tulare Unit. All cadre members and students met for a daily safety briefing, IAP review, emergency procedures overview, identification of training groups and the completion of pertinent documentation (IIPP-6). Following the meeting, all cadre members and students proceeded up Balch Park Road approximately 21 miles to the training location. Once at the cut site, the predesignated groups proceeded to their predetermined cutting areas. Each group worked in areas that were pre-identified to ensure the safety of all personnel. Each group included an Instructor (C Certifier), a Proctor (C-Faller) and two to three students.

One group working at the top end of the training grounds had rotated, and was working one-on-one with their students. The Proctor (P1) had taken his students (S2) (S3) to an opposing slope adjacent to the other half of their group to cut. The area P1 identified provided him a clear view of the area where the other members of his group would be cutting, and was at a safe distance. The Instructor (FC1) from his group had identified a tree to be felled by the student (S1) under his tutelage. The tree was a large, dead Ponderosa pine at the toe of the slope. The tree measured 36 inches in diameter at breast height (DBH) and stood approximately 115 feet tall.

S1 assessed the tree and determined that it was to be felled up-slope to prevent it from obstructing a watercourse downslope, and FC1 agreed. FC1 and S1 discussed the hazards, the type of cut to be made, identified two escape routes, and cleared (swamped) the base of the tree for access and egress. Once a complete size-up of the tree was completed, and the identified escape routes were established and validated, FC1 directed S1 to begin his cut. S1 proceeded with his undercut, and readied himself to put his back cut into the tree. As is standard, and policy, S1 yelled, “back cut, up the hill” to alert the other members of his team, and any approaching personnel of his intention to fall the tree. After validating that he had been heard, S1 proceeded with his back cut.

The tree began to fall in the intended direction of the lay. During the fall, the top portion of the tree brushed the limbs of the oak tree (as FC1 and S1 had discussed) causing some oak limbs to break loose and fall to the ground ahead of the tree. As the tree came to rest on the slope, it split into three sections after contacting ground liter and terrain. The bottom section of the tree measured 45 feet in length at the break. The second section measured 47 feet and had landed atop the fallen oak limbs, and the third section (top of the tree) measured 23 feet, and was entangled at the base of the oak tree in a near-vertical position.

Once the tree was felled, S1, under the direct supervision of FC1 assessed the area for hazards such as hanging limbs or other collateral debris. S1 yelled “clear” after confirming that the oak limbs that had been brushed during the fall had been grounded. S1 planned to limb the felled tree and to flush cut the stump. FC1 advised S1 that he would assist in limbing the tree due to the length, and that he would start limbing from the first break in the tree toward the tip, and that S1 could start by cutting the stump flush, and limbing from the base up to the first break. S1 agreed, and FC1 proceeded to ascend the hill.

FC1 reached the first break in the felled tree and began to limb the pine. FC1, wearing full PPE including helmet, chaps, gloves, eye and hearing protection proceeded to limb the felled tree with his chain saw. FC1 had limbed approximately 24 feet of the felled tree when he encountered the large oak limbs that both he and S1 had witnessed get broken free from the oak tree by the falling pine. The limb had multiple forks and had come to rest beneath the felled pine tree in a near-vertical position. The limb measured 8 inches in diameter at the break with multiple forks ranging in size from 3-5 inches in diameter. The length of the limb, including the forks ranged from 5 to 17 feet in length. FC1 proceeded to assess the bind of each pine limb and cut it free with his chain saw.

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Overview of the accident site (not to scale)

Unbeknownst to FC1, when the pine broke the oak limbs loose, and they fell ahead of the tree, the broken end of the oak limb contacted the ground first (likely due to weight) and stuck into the soil approximately 18 inches deep. This suspended the limb and the multiple forked branches of the limb into the air only to then be contacted by the falling pine as it came to rest on the ground. As the pine came to rest, it lay atop the broken end of the oak limb and placed the entire load of the felled pine onto the limbs. This downward pressure and the fact that the oak was a live tree allowed the limbs of the oak to bend under extreme pre-loaded tension and pressure. The felled pine tree limbs also directly contacted multiple sections of the oak limbs providing for additional tension.

As FC1 proceeded to limb the tree, he reached the oak limbs and with a single, partial cut released the full, pre-loaded tension of the upper portion of the oak limbs. This violent release of tension projected the limbs of the oak downward and outward, contacting FC1 on the left temple area of his helmet. This contact propelled FC1 backward off the felled pine, and downslope into a field of tree litter. FC1 was knocked unconscious by the initial impact.

P1, S2 and S3 all heard a loud “crack”, and since they were training within view of FC1 and S1, they each turned toward the sound. P1 immediately noted that FC1 was down, and could hear his chain saw idling. S2 and S3 were also able to see that FC1 was down, lying on his left side. P1 yelled FC1’s name as he proceeded to his location. P1 traversed approximately 500 feet across slope to reach FC1’s location. S2 and S3 also made their way to FC1.

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Uphill view from the base of the tree showing the debris field

P1 was the first to arrive and found FC1 unconscious with agonal respirations and an actively bleeding head wound. At approximately 1429 hours, P1 reported “man down” to the designated C-Faller Course Safety Officer (SOF) via the assigned tactical frequency. With the report, the SOF instituted the “Incident within an incident” (IWI) protocol in order to collect accurate and sufficient information. P1 reported “traumatic head injuries with entrapment”. The SOF immediately contacted the CAL FIRE Tulare Unit ECC (Visalia) to report the injury. He ordered an air ambulance to the CAL FIRE Bear Creek Fire Station (pre-designated medivac location in the course IAP) and an Advanced Life Support (ALS) ground ambulance to the scene.

Meanwhile, P1 was not able to fully access FC1 because the oak limbs had fallen and was lying on top of FC1. P1 noted that there was still so much tension on the oak limbs that he was unable to lift them. By this time, S1 had made his way up the hill from the stump having heard the loud crack, as well. He assisted P1 in cutting the still-tensioned oak limbs from above FC1 so that they could further assess his injuries.

FC1 remained unconscious with agonal respirations as they completed an assessment of his injuries. Both S2 and S3 arrived to assist in the care of FC1. All personnel at the site worked to control the bleeding, and care for the injured FC1. After approximately 2-3 minutes, FC1 regained consciousness. He was confused, and became combative with the personnel working on him. Moments later, FC1 began to communicate with personnel, and started to breath normally.

Personnel worked to maintain cervical spine (c-spine) precautions, and to control the bleeding from his head wound. FC1 was placed in a c-collar. He again became combative, and kept attempting to get up. The personnel at the site continued to reassess FC1 for additional injuries. Due to the rural location, and extended ALS care and transport times, the SOF determined that FC1 would be extricated to the road above the accident site, and be transported in a CAL FIRE vehicle to meet up with responding ALS resources.


What “strikes you” most about this scenario?

Lessons about limbing?


Lessons about medical response capacity during training?

Please comment in a respectful way.