Suffered a serious back injury. Report is available.
On the Lily Lake Fire August 17, 2020 on the Deschutes National Forest in Oregon, a first-year smokejumper performing a letdown procedure from a tree fell and suffered a broken vertebrae. The patient was treated on scene by U.S. Forest Service EMTs then transported to a hospital via air ambulance. Surgery three days later was successful and a full recovery is expected after rehabilitation.
Once on final [approach] he recognized that he was a little downwind from where the other jumpers had set up.
When he realized he wasn’t going to make the jump spot and no alternates were available, he looked around for a healthy tree and selected a tall green western hemlock to land in. He aimed for it, snagging his parachute in limbs approximately 40 feet above the ground. As he came to rest he quickly shifted into the muscle memory he developed during rookie training that spring, calming the initial nerves he felt.
Initiating the letdown procedure, he called out to his jump partner, “JP, am I hung up well?”
But his jump partner, still making his way to the tree having just landed himself, was not yet close enough to hear or respond. Now that he was treed up, the tree didn’t seem to be as good as he thought. Entangled about midway up the 100 foot tree on the edge of the branches, he was just out of arm’s reach from the bole. He seemed to be fairly level with most of the tension on his left riser. There weren’t many branches around him, and those that were nearby were short and sloped downward. Continuing the letdown procedure, he chose to drop the drogue release handle instead of placing it in his pocket, in order to avoid excess movement.
Three jumpers from the previous load heard over the radio someone was treed up as they continued hiking to the fire. The jump ship maintained orbit, waiting for the jumper to get on the ground before throwing cargo. One of his rookie trainers saw him hung up and ran over to help him through the letdown procedure.
He wasn’t far along in the process when she reached his tree. “Am I treed up well?” he asked.
Looking up at the suspended jumper the rookie trainer didn’t think he was and told him so, encouraging him to continue and limiting her input to only what was needed to expedite the process. As the jumper continued through the steps small branches rained down. Throughout his training he had demonstrated great proficiency in the letdown process both on the units* and during a training jump where he treed up. He felt less stress now than he had during the training jump. His rookie trainer listened as he advanced through his five point check “perfectly correct.”
He slowly released his right side riser and felt little movement. As he suspected, his left riser was holding his weight. Suddenly he had “a bad feeling” and said as much to the jumper on the ground. He then began to release his tight left riser. He had to jerk slightly on the riser to initiate the 3 ring release. As it released and he began to weight the letdown tape he heard a crack and began to drop. He bounced back up slightly “like a spring” before feeling a snap and falling 30 feet.
At the August Complex of fires on the Mendocino National Forest in northern California
Firefighters in a remote location on the August Complex of fires in northern California were recently resupplied with four days of food via four GPS-guided steerable parachutes which reportedly descended through smoke. It was the first time four were in the air simultaneously and dropped from over 11,000 feet.
Firefighters reported that three landed within 100 feet of the target and one snagged in a tree and was recovered.
The video was posted on the Mendocino National Forest Facebook page.
Twelve years after 13 smokejumpers were killed on the Mann Gulch Fire 13 miles north-northwest of Helena, Montana, 20 jumpers were entrapped on a fire in northern Idaho 83 miles southwest of Missoula, Montana.
It happened August 4, 1961 on the Higgins Ridge Fire in the Nez Perce National Forest after an eight-man crew from Grangeville, Idaho had jumped in the area, followed by 12 men from the Missoula jumper base, the last arriving at 1 p.m. The fire behavior on the two-acre fire was fairly benign until a passing cold front brought a sudden increase in the wind at 4:15 p.m. which resulted in the fire spreading rapidly. The 20 men took refuge in a previously burned area. As the wind increased to 50 mph the supervisors of the two squads, Dave Perry and Fred “Fritz” Wolfrum, instructed the firefighters to remain calm and to clear an area for themselves in the ashes.
Lightning was bursting from the pyrocumulus cloud over the fire as the men in their newly issued orange fire shirts covered their heads with their arms when the fire burned around them. They helped each other swat out the flames on their clothes during the ember shower.
They did not hear it because of the roar of the fire, but they looked up and saw the red skids of a helicopter. It was a Bell 47B-3 that had seating for three people abreast, with the pilot in the middle.
Below is an excerpt from the April, 1994 edition of “The Static Line” published by the National Smokejumper Association:
…The pilot was Rod Snider of the Johnson Flying Service and he had spotted the men and their orange [fire shirts].
Fritz and Snider quickly organized an evacuation plan. Snider had to drop down vertically and take off the same way because of old snags surrounding the jumpers [a maneuver that requires more power than departing from a ridge]. On the first few trips Rod took out two jumpers on each run, having them ride in the cabin. Then, with the helicopter getting hotter, Rod told them he would take four out on each trip. Two rode in the cabin and two hung on to the [cargo trays]. Rod was able to ferry all 20 jumpers to the Freeman Ridge fire camp. Fritz and Tom were among those on the last trip out.
Some of the jumpers were treated at St. Patricks’s Hospital for smoke-burned eyes. Within several days most of the jumpers who had been on the Higgins Ridge Fire were out jumping on more fires.
In June, 2019 a reunion was held in Missoula for the firefighters that were involved in the Higgins Ridge Fire. Eleven of the jumpers gave oral interviews and participated in a panel discussion at the National Museum of Forest Service History (video of the panel). Mr. Snider made the trip and gave his oral history, but unfortunately had to return home the night before the panel discussion due to a family emergency.
Below are excerpts from an article in The Missoulian, August 2, 2019:
“It was hard to find them,” said Snider, 89, a quiet man who received awards for his heroism but shuns the obvious mantle of hero.
“The wind was really cooking in there and you couldn’t see the heliport all the time to get down. I had to come in high and drop down into it when I could see a little break,” Snider said in an oral history interview before he left town.
What made you risk your life to do it? an interviewer in Missoula asked.
“Oh, it had to be done. It had to be done,” Snider replied. “I don’t know. You just can’t leave guys down in the position that they were in.”
His helicopter, a Bell 47G-3 that Snider christened “Red Legs” for its painted landing skids and support legs, was one of the first with a supercharger. But the overload was nonetheless hard on it, he said.
“I felt a little uneasy, because I knew I’d over-boosted everything, But when they gave an inspection later on they couldn’t find anything wrong with it,” Snider said.
The following year Snider received the Pilot of the Year Award from the Helicopter Association of America in Dallas and the Carnegie Medal for Heroism.
In 1976, the nation’s bicentennial year, Tom Kovalicky, 84, of Grangeville and Stanley, Idaho, successfully nominated Snider for the North American Forest Fire Medal, which was being revived for the first time since 1956. Snider and his wife were flown to New Orleans for the presentation that October. And in 2002 he was inducted into the Museum of Mountain Flying Hall of Fame.
The year was 1961 when cumulus clouds built up every afternoon promising rain, but delivering isolated dry lightning storms. This was the year before I became a smokejumper. It was my second year to work on the Moose Creek District of the Nezperce National Forest. The preceding summer I had spent as a lookout fireman on top of Bailey Mountain. This year I had been working trail crew for a couple of months until the sky erupted at the end of July and left fires all over the district.
My trail partner (Ron) and I had been cutting a trail from the Selway River to Big Rock Mountain and were currently holed up in a cabin there when a helicopter picked us up to transport us to a small fire on Higgins Ridge. We were to meet a crew walking in from Elbow Bend on East Moose Creek. We saw smokejumpers parachute into the fire area on our way to the fire. We landed on the uphill side of the fire, grabbed our shovels and pulaskis and started for the fire. We could see the jumpers’ orange shirts through the smoke.
Before we could get to the fire a large cumulous cloud covered the sun and the wind picked up to 25 or 30 m.p.h. The fire blew up in our faces, and we were forced to retreat back into a large rockslide.
The jumpers weren’t so lucky. They were trapped in the middle of it with no escape route. They dug in, buried their faces in wet bandanas in the dirt, and tried to find air to breath as the fire roared from a manageable 2 acres to a 1280 acre holocaust. It was late evening, and the fire was beautiful to watch. It was crowning, and trees several hundred feet ahead of the fire would begin to tremble and then burst into flame like a fireworks display.
The fire was so hot that canteens of water near the jumpers started exploding. When things looked at their bleakest, the cavalry arrived in the form of Rod Snider(NCSB-51) in a Bell 47G-3B helicopter from Johnson’s Flying Service in Missoula. It was getting dark when he flew into the middle of the fire and started bringing Jumpers out four at a time, which is two more than the maximum the copter was supposed to carry. He had two guys on the seat and two more on the runners. He made five trips into the fire and rescued twenty jumpers. The manifold pressure on the copter engine was 200% above maximum, and when the engine was torn down later, two pistons fell apart. I heard that “Crash” received 20 cases of beer the next week.
My trail partner and I stayed on the fire through mop-up. The other crew arrived without tools, which were to be dropped in by air. Unfortunately, communications left something to be desired. We kept requesting tools and instead received three separate drops of sleeping bags. Each person had a half dozen sleeping bags, but Ron and I were the only ones who had a shovel and pulaski to work on the fire. So we did.
When the tools finally arrived and we got the fire under control, I walked down to the area where the jumpers had been trapped. I found exploded water cans, unexploded gasoline cans (go figure), and a personal gear bag with all their cameras melted together. I could see Minolta, Canon, and Nikon logos on the fused metal and glass. I sent the lot back to Missoula. The fire had been so hot that there were no snags, just pointed stumps and ashes over a foot deep.
I remember two of the rescued jumpers departed the chopper and immediately asked for a cigarette. Now that’s a habit!
I’ve always wondered what that fire looked like from the other side. If anyone reads this that remembers, let me know.
The group that organized the oral history and panel about the Higgins Ridge Fire was organized by the National Museum of Forest Service History. Wildfire Today first wrote about the museum in 2009 five years after they began their effort to raise $10.6 million to build a national museum to commemorate the 100+ year history of the U. S. Forest Service. Their vision began in 1994 when they obtained 36 acres west of the Missoula airport where they hope to build a 30,000 square-foot building.
The museum’s fund drive received a significant boost this month when it received a $2 million contribution from the estate of Bill Cannon, a Forest Service retiree.
From the Ravalli Republic:
…Cannon spent most of his Forest Service years in California and Oregon, with an interlude in Hawaii where he was assigned to state and private forestry work. He finished his career in Washington, D.C., where he worked on program planning for the Forest Service’s state and private programs.
Meanwhile, according to a press release announcing his gift, he used his avocation of studying financial markets to become an adept investor.
Cannon became impressed with the National Museum of Forest Service History on a field trip to the site while in Missoula for the 2000 U.S. Forest Service retiree reunion.
Thanks and a tip of the hat go out to Kelly. Typos or errors, report them HERE.
Many people would be surprised at the extent and complexity of the gear that smokejumpers must put on before they parachute into a wildfire.
From the Bureau of Land Management Alaska Fire Service:
When the alarm sounds at the BLM Alaska Fire Service smokejumper base, these airborne firefighters spring into action, donning gear for a fire jump.
Typically, Alaska smokejumpers have two minutes to suit up and six minutes until wheels up. Airplanes, referred to as jump ships, that deliver smokejumpers to the airspace near a fire fly with closed doors, allowing Alaska smokejumpers to do their buddy checks in the airplane while en route.
In the Lower 48, because the airplanes fly with doors open due to the shorter distances to fires, these buddy checks for equipment are done on the ground, as seen in this video. This prolongs the time it takes to board the plane.
#Smokejumpers are highly qualified, safe and aggressive wildland firefighters who quickly and effectively respond to initial attack, extended attack and point protection missions, especially in rural Alaska.
This group of eight smokejumpers from the Lower 48 – seven from the U.S. Forest Service and one BLM smokejumper from Boise – were quickly headed to the Crater Creek Fire (#585), a new fire less than 10 miles northwest of Venetie.
Typically, once the jump ship gets to the area, it will circle above the fire at 1,500 feet. The spotter will drop a couple of streamers to gauge wind speed and direction over the fire, and adjust accordingly before the USFS smokejumpers using round parachutes launch out a side door.
The plane then climbs to 3,000 feet and the smokejumpers using the square Ram-Air parachutes go through a similar process before launching. All the while, smokejumpers will look out the windows to survey the terrain and fire behavior on the ground before they jump out the door, formulating their flight path to the ground.
Story and photos by Geoff Liesik, Alaska Fire Service, July 21, 2019
A record that stood for nearly 30 years fell this past week when the roster at the Alaska Smokejumper Base at Fort Wainwright was filled with the names of 206 jumpers at the same time.
That’s more than half of the roughly 400 smokejumpers on rosters nationwide this year. The previous record in Alaska was 202 jumpers on the roster at once. It was set during the 1990 fire season, according to Alaska Smokejumper Chief Bill Cramer.
Alaska has 63 smokejumpers and has added up 143 jumpers at one time from bases in the Lower 48 to respond to fires that continue to pop up across the state.
“We were outnumbered, but never outfought,” Cramer said.
Shane Orser with the Redmond Smokejumpers from Oregon said he’s been to Alaska at least six times in his 12 years as a jumper. The camaraderie at the base makes assignments to Alaska fun, he said. “All the guys are pretty welcoming up here,” Orser said.
The Alaska Smokejumper Base’s 10-year average for jumps between April and September is 495. As of July 20, the base had notched 829 jumps during 123 jump missions. It had also delivered more than 500,000 pounds of para-cargo as of July 20, Cramer said. The 10-year average for para-cargo delivery between April and September is 313,000 pounds.
For speed, payload and range, Cramer said it’s impossible to beat smokejumpers as a firefighting resource. “We travel faster, carry more and go farther than anyone else,” he said.
The BLM smokejumper program started in 1959 with the first fire jump happening near Flat, Alaska, on June 3. The Alaska Smokejumpers celebrated their 60th anniversary on June 14, 2019.