Overtime Half Shift

Today I worked a 10 hour OT shift, providing coverage so that on-duty companies could attend a hose lay drill. I worked on a reserve (extra, spare) fire engine, but we had also had a reserve aid car in service. We covered the north end of The City in the morning and the south end, in the afternoon. Having half of The City's companies out of service would guarantee us a busier-than-average day, but home for dinner.

Half way through the morning, we were dispatched to a bark fire on the side of the freeway. The address was somewhat vague, essentially a long stretch between two exits. En route, we discussed the locations where we thought The State had used beauty bark in its post-improvement landscaping. Before we even got on the freeway, our driver, KT, pointed out smoke on the side of the road, 300 feet north of the on-ramp.

Bark fires are one of my secret pleasures. When summer rolls around, everything dries out and all the beauty bark in The City becomes like so much charcoal, waiting for a spark or cigarette butt to start a surprize barbecue. It might occur next to a bus stop, where a citizen could easily stomp it out, but they always call 911. It might happen down some quiet cul-de-sac, in a yard next to a house, where it could invisibly smoke for hours, growing to many feet across and surprisingly deep. I don't care much to wait around the station for something to happen, and bark fires keep us just a little busier in the summer months. I might get to pull a hoseline, but usually a portable extinguisher or "brush bag" and a shovel suffices. I am confident that I am entirely alone in my enjoyment of bark fires.

We pulled over, parking on the sidewalk, facing traffic. I jumped out, grabbed a (pressurized water) extinguisher, and soaked the smoldering bark behind a chain-link fence, fearing the wind could lift an ember and ignite more bark or (worse) dried vegetation. While I unloaded the PW, KT hooked up a short hoseline and a nozzle to the pump. He pressurized the hoseline, and I churned up the smoking bark, driving the foamy water into the mulch.

Satisfied that we had solved the problem, we started to clean up, but KT noticed a smoking guardrail post, 30 feet above us, on the side of the freeway. Crap. I tried to reach the post with the firestream, but it wasn't hitting the hot side effectively. We extended the hoseline with a section of 2 1/2 (inch diam hose) and addressed the problem of access.

We considered using a ladder to scale the fence, but our ladders were all too long, and getting hurt for such a silly fire would be stupid. KT pulled out the bolt cutters and we soon had a narrow door through the fence.

I followed my captain, PD, who scampered up the slope. Slogging up the hill, over the wet loose bark, dragging a charged hose was difficult. The guardrail post had burned more than half way through, including all of the block that spaced the rail from the post. It would have been easier to wrestle the hose over the rail and hit it from the shoulder of the freeway, but, again, getting hit by a car while extinguishing a burning post would be a very stupid way to die.

We got an axe from the rig and I trimmed the char from the post as well as possible and then soaked the hot surface with a light fog of foam. Done with the post, I worked water into the bark below the shoulder, hoping to drown any embers hiding in the chips. A highway dept. vehicle rolled up and the crew theorized that the smoldering fire had been started by hot asphalt the night before. I came down and hit the dryer areas with the foam, for good measure.

The "fire" out, we cleaned up our tools and hoses, stowing everything in its proper place. After we washed the hoses once again, but better, on the apron at the station, it was time for lunch.