Smokejumping in Russia

National Geographic has a great article about fighting wildland fires in Russia, specifically, smokejumping in Russia, where they have 4,000 jumpers working out of 340 bases across the country. According to the article written by Glenn Hodges, who with a photographer spent over three weeks observing and camping with the firefighters, it is a whole different world compared to fighting fire in the United States or Canada.

Here are some excerpts from the article, which is a must read:

It’s a shoestring operation—just $32 million a year to cover 11 time zones, less than the United States might spend in a few days of a heavy wildfire season. But with their mismatched uniforms and 50-year-old biplanes, Russian smokejumpers do what their countrymen do so well: make do with less. Less money, less equipment, and yes, less caution—even with fire.

When we break camp the next day to return to Shushenskoye, I’m surprised to see that the campfire is left smoldering. It’s a hot July day, which would be bad enough without the helicopter’s rotor wash blowing everything all over the place, but the risk doesn’t even seem to register with Alex, central Siberia’s most powerful firefighting official. In the U.S., firefighters would douse a fire on an ice floe in the dead of winter, especially with journalists around. But here they play the odds the way they see them, and perfect safety is burdensome and unnecessary. Fire shelters and fireproof clothing? Too expensive, but that’s OK, because the odds of needing them are low. Seat belts? Impractical. Thousands of times you will buckle and unbuckle, and probably for nothing. Campfire? It’s not going anywhere.

and…

The smokejumpers are true woodsmen—hunting, fishing, and trapping sable in the off-season to make ends meet, as nimble with an ax and knife as they are with their hands. When they land at a fire and make camp, they don’t just make tent poles and shovel handles from saplings, they make tables, benches, shelves—you name it. I’m amazed to see one guy make a watertight mug out of birch bark.

It’s a good thing their outdoor skills are solid, because their equipment often isn’t. When we return from the fire line, Valeriy discovers that one of his brand-new experimental smokejumper boots has melted. The rubber sole is a mash of black goo. His boots lasted “an hour, at best” he says angrily, before launching into a torrent of complaint about poor Russian equipment. “This tent like from Second World War,” he says, pointing at the canvas tent that will welcome mosquitoes and rain into our lives for days to come. The tents have no mosquito netting, the chain saws are heavy and unwieldy, the backpacks have no waist straps, the pull-on boots are made of cheap synthetic leather (and feet must be wrapped in towels to make them fit), the clothing is neither fire retardant nor water resistant. And everything is heavy.

Author: Bill Gabbert

After working full time in wildland fire for 33 years, he continues to learn, and strives to be a Student of Fire. View all posts by Bill Gabbert