Ben Hayes... Firefighter?

As part of my ongoing effort to confuse and confound anyone that still reads this so called blog, I'm going to spring back to the present and report some the latest events of Skagway, Alaska. So instead of conjuring up old memories and report them in the order that they occurred, you'll have to bare with me as I discuss things that happened over the last couple of days.

Since my arrival here in Skagway, I have become part of the Skagway Volunteer Fire Department. With an average population of 850, Skagway can not afford nor does it need an entire crew of permanent full time firefighters. On the other hand, the nearest fire department to Skagway is two hours away by road... in Canada. So, there is certainly a need to have one on hand - especially when you consider the fact that Skagway is almost entirely made up of 100 year old wooden buildings. Like many small rural communities, Skagway has a volunteer fire department. Except for three full timers, the entire SVFD is made up of non-professional firefighters with other 9-5 jobs. The department is not only responsible for fighting fire, but more importantly emergency medical service as well as search and rescue. Needless to say, but without some dedicated and talented individuals, lives and property would be lost and things that most people take for granted such as someone responding to a 911 call might not occur. I mean could you imagine if you had a life threatening emergency and when you called 911 the response was, "Oh, I'm sorry, our only emergency medical technician is out of town this week... can you pick up your unconscious father and take him to the clinic yourself?" or "Well, we would like to put out your house fire, but there aren't enough professionals to operate the fire engine." We all expect to have a quick and effective response to an emergency, and thanks to volunteers, the citizens of Skagway always have just that - quick, effective response to emergencies. With this in mind the SVFD is always looking and always welcoming new volunteers. This is certainly the case during the summer season, when the town more than doubles in size due to the addition of hundreds of seasonal workers, many of which live in R.V.'s and tents (literally deathtraps in a fire). As a new arrival, I was interested in becoming part of the department and I was not alone. A couple of weeks ago the department held a kind of 'basic training' over a weekend for new volunteers which introduced basic skills and orientation of fire fighting. Among other things we learned how to operate power tools and hand tools, cut into cars, break windows, break down doors, set up and use a basic tactical hose lay, make and break connections to hydrants, and most importantly how to take down and care for the equipment. It was very well done. I was surprised at how skilled the volunteers were as well as their abundant patience and dedication. Before becoming full members, new volunteers must be voted in and serve a probationary period of six months. Eventually some of the new volunteers and I were given pagers so that we too could begin to help out during actual emergencies. And we didn't have to wait long.
At 9 am Saturday morning, I gathered at the fire hall with the other "probies" to learn about the SCBA - self contained breathing apparatus. SCBA is the equipment that supplies air - one of the most basic tools for firefighting. After learning about it, we suited up in bunker gear (the heavy duty pants, jacket, boots, and helmet) and proceeded on a hike - while wearing the SCBA. It was quite difficult, not to mention hot. The point was to show how much harder physical activity can be while wearing the gear, and that the 45 minutes of air in the air bottle never lasts 45 minutes (my bottle only lasted 29). Like all the training before, it was effective and succinct.

Later that evening, I was back home when my pager went off - someone had reported a burning vehicle! I froze for a split second - was this really happening? I was actually going to respond to a fire? After fumbling with my shoes, I jumped into my truck and raced the ten blocks to the fire hall. About a dozen people, both veterans and probies, were already there - most of them getting "bunkered up" and about to leave. One of the veterans yelled, "only veterans on 23!" meaning none of us new people were allowed to go on engine 23. Instead, we went in the ambulance.

By the time we arrived, police had already blocked off the street. Smoke was in the air, but I could not see anything on fire. The veterans on engine 23 had already made a connection with a nearby hydrant and deployed a hose line behind an older red building. I checked in with the chief, and was told to put on an SCBA from 23. After putting on the mask and gear, I followed the hose around behind the building and saw the burning car - it was an old VW bus. I had been on the scene for no more than two minutes, but the car was already largely extinguished. Flames still lept out of the rear engine compartment, but the remainder of the car, although blackened and smoking, was no longer engulfed. At this point, they were trying to open the doors and hatches and break the remaining windows to gain access to the interior. I was told to go back to 23 for tools. Let me tell you one thing, communication amid the cacophony of noise of the engine, flowing water (or in this case foam), fire and through the SCBA masks is nearly impossible. For the next several minutes, I went back and forth from the car to 23 fetching tools. The rear hatch was finally opened and foam poured onto the flaming engine. It went out, but as soon as the flow of foam abated, flame kicked up again. After another dousing of foam the fire finally ceased and we could see an open fuel line leaking a steady stream of gas. After tying the line off, we opened what doors we could and removed the contents of the car as the hose team continued to pour the foam into the interior of the blackened vehicle. After carefully picking through the car for any possible hot spots, we began break down and clean up. Although the car was a total loss, it was successfully extinguished before the fire had a chance to ignite the building or the fuel storage tank it was parked next to. It could easily have been much worse. The fire was quite an experience, but what surprised me the most was that the newest volunteers, like yours truly, had played a critical role in the effort. While I had only served a gopher, my presence did free up the senior guys to tackle more difficult tasks. About half of the fire responders where as new as me and we all had stuff to do. It was easy to see even with minimal training, new volunteers are important in a fire incident.

I was pondering that very thought the next morning while I ate breakfast when suddenly my beeper went off. Another fire call - smoke spotted from a building on 9th and State! This time I didn't hesitate. In a matter of seconds I was again in my truck headed towards the fire hall, but three blocks from the hall, I ran into a road block, a private citizen had positioned his car blocking the road. I parked my truck and jumped out and began running towards the fire hall. On my left I saw the building - smoke was pouring out of a broken window and I could see flames inside. I quickened my pace to a full out run. Engine 23 was pulling out of the fire hall as I arrived, seeing me, one of the guys yelled something at me - but I didn't understand what he was saying as the fire truck sped away. I quickly bunkered up and looked around but another probie and I were the only people left. There were three other fire engines but no one to drive them. Seconds later another call for help came over the pager (technically this made the fire a two alarm fire) meaning that more help was needed. Knowing that we were not qualified to drive a fire engine, I resolved to drive the department's Ford truck to the scene. As we approached the police roadblock, the police officer quickly removed road cones allowing me to drive closer. After jumping out, I could see that the guys on 23 had already connected to a hydrant and set not one but two hose lays. In fact one team was inside the building with the hose. Again I was told to put on an SCBA and stand by. Soon more guys arrived on another engine. A few minutes later and the fire was out. The building was not only saved, but the fire did not even have time to spread to other rooms (and other business). After the fire was out, I was sent into the building with two other guys with a heat sensitivity device to look for lingering hot spots. The destruction was staggering.

The burned office belonged to a company that ran back country tours of the area. Nearly all their office and hiking equipment was destroyed. The room was completely black and the floor was covered with blackened foam and puddles of melted misshapen plastic that had once been a copy machine and computers. There were overturned racks of burnt and melted shoes, backpacks, and other now unidentifiable gear. A shelf full of small canisters of cooking propane had exploded helping to fuel the fire. It was a stark reminder that modern technology for all its convenience, is as combustible as 100 year old wooden buildings if not more so.

I have been an official member of the Skagway Volunteer Fire Department for less than three weeks and I have already been part of two major fires. Although I am excited to have been able to help fight fire so soon after becoming a volunteer fire fighter, more importantly I am thankful that in both cases, no one was hurt.

That's me on the hose.

A couple of weeks later this article about volunteer firefighters, mentioning SVFD, appeared in Parade Magazine.

A Very Special Blog Edition: Rota

So, now that I am in Alaska - living in the last frontier and all - here is a post that is not only completely unrelated but somewhat old. Unfortunately, there were many things that happened over the past five months that were not immediately recounted on this blog. As time marched on, events, such as the one I attempt to remember bellow, continued to not only occur with surprising regularity, but ultimately became entrapped by sort of intercontinental time vacuum. Time itself was destroyed, vaporized, exterminated, stolen. I would go to sleep on a Monday and would wake up on Thursday - this would happen every week. One time I went out for lunch on a particularly beautiful day and when I finished my meal it was 2009. Recently, as I was preparing to post a new blog entry, I realized that unless I included some older adventures, they would be forgotten - perhaps lost forever. So to address this issue I will weave older adventures along side the more contemporary and future Alaskan adventures under the heading: "A Very Special Blog Edition." So, for your reading pleasure, here is the first Very Special Blog Edition - Rota.





About once a year the Guam Hashers take a trip to a remote tiny tropical island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean - lucky for them it is only about 76 miles (or a 15 minute flight) away. Rota, along with Saipan and Tinian, is part of the Commonwealth of the Northern Mariana Islands. Last November I went on the annual trip to Rota.



Rota is the smallest of the inhabited Mariana Islands, yet rises dramatically out of the sea, boasting the highest elevation of the entire island chain. Although 3,000 people call the tiny island home, Rota remains largely uninhabited. For the first and perhaps only time (until I visited Iwo Jima), I truly felt that I was on a tiny isolated island surrounded by a vast ocean.





We took the Friday evening puddle jump out of Guam, rented a car and drove to the capitol of Rota, Song Song Village. 'Song Song' is a Chamorro word meaning village so in effect the place is called "Village Village." As we drove toward the hotel in the dwindling twilight I noted two unusual things - the almost complete absence of streetlights and everyone of the few people we passed gave us a big wave. Rota is know for its friendly people which is personified by waving at anything and anyone. It was so pervasive that I would not be surprised if there was some sort of local statute that made a failure to wave a jailable offense. Despite the evident hospitality, when we arrived at the hotel - no one was there to check us in. After an extensive search of the village, we found someone to check us in - but I'm still not sure if she actually worked there.



After checking in, we walked over to Song Song's bustling restaurant district - there were three "restaurants" one of which also served as a livestock feed store and gentleman's club. Like all business establishments in the Mariana Islands, each restaurant was equipped with karaoke. Needless to say, I had very low expectations for the culinary arts practiced on Rota. Nevertheless, the most surprising thing about Rota was the outstanding food - seriously. We tried out Rota's pizza place - I had the blackened shishimi pizza (outstanding) - and would visit it again many more times over the weekend. After visiting every bar on Rota (all three of them) we called it a night and went to bed.

The next day we drove around the island. We first stopped at the bird sanctuary. Unlike Guam, Rota actually has birds - birds native to Guam. The bird sanctuary is one of the last protected areas on the islands. Next we went to the ancient latte stone quarry. Before Europeans messed everything up, the Chamorro people would construct houses atop stone pillars called latte stones
Some of them were quite large.


Next we decided to go for a swim in the crystal clear water Pacific and unlike Guam, there was no garbage strewn across the beach.


Finally, after a brief sojourn back at the hotel, came the Rota hash. It was fantastic. We began at the top of the 1,600 foot peak of the island and raced down the steep slopes through thick jungle. Immediately we came across large heaps of crushed and broken blue glass - the remnants of Japanese sake bottles. Unlike the other Mariana Islands of Guam, Tinian, and most famously Saipan, Rota was not attacked by U.S. forces during World War II. Instead the Japanese garrison of Rota was allowed to languish unsupplied for nearly a year and a half with only the occasional bombing raid to break the tedium and near starvation. The garrison finally surrendered after Japan surrendered in September 1945. The most remarkable feature of Rota are the largely intact Japanese fortifications and bunkers located throughout the island. The trail continued but I was surprised at terrain differences between Rota and Guam. The ground surface of Guam is largely covered with soil providing for an easy running experience. The ground of Rota, however, is covered with jagged razor sharp limestone rock - once coral reef. Making matters worse was the generous growth of thorn bushes throughout (Guam also has few thorn bushes). With this in mind, the terrain of Rota was certainly more painful. After climbing down through the jagged rocks for a while we emerged at a vista overlooking Song Song Village just as the sun was making its final approach bellow the horizon.


After a break to savor the view, we again ran through the jungle and much to my excitement, into a Japanese bunker. The bunker was tastefully lit with tea candles courtesy of the hares. It was awesome. The bunker was long and included several different tunnels - a very impressive accomplishment. Those guys must have had a lot of free time.


The trail finally ended at an abandoned water park. The celebration was somewhat excessive, but then again when is the next time we are going to be in Rota? Perhaps a year for some, perhaps never again for others...

The next morning we again awoke to yet another beautiful day.


Again we ventured out to see some of Rota that we had missed. Lucky for me we came across this Japanese coastal defense gun. It was in near mint condition and still pivots with only a light push. Note the red tape - if it is pushed all the way out it blocks half the road in front of it.

Next we explored the large Japanese command bunker complex - fantastic. Afterwards, we boarded the evening flight back to Guam. Rota was by far the most beautiful island in Mariana Islands. Its small, friendly, and trash averse population are truly stewards of Rota's resources. Yet despite the beauty and historic remains, I probably could not live there very long. It is very small and there is nothing there in terms of many modern conveniences and establishments. Like I said at the beginning - Rota was the first time that I truly felt that I was actually on a small island in the middle of the Pacific.