The smell of danger – understanding wildfire smoke exposure

Associate Professor Michelle Lupton and Professor Anthony White examine filters of wildfire smoke particles. Photo: QIMR Berghofer Medical Research Institute.

By Anthony White

At a laboratory in Australia, researchers are trying to develop rapid, accessible tests that can protect firefighters, military personnel, and the wider community from the escalating health burden of wildfire smoke and polluted air.

The olfactory tissue, located high in the nasal cavity, directly connects the outside world to the brain, making it uniquely vulnerable to toxic particles in polluted air and wildfire smoke. By studying cells and molecular changes in this tissue, researchers can potentially identify early biological warning signs of harm before symptoms appear.

This article is first published in Wildfire Magazine – read the full edition.

[Anthony White presented on this research at the 4th International Smoke Symposium in Florida in March 2026.]

The team at the QIMR Berghofer Institute in Brisbane is pioneering the use of the nose as a frontline sensor of environmental harm. Using cutting-edge approaches such as stem cell-derived models, advanced imaging, and profiling of genes, and proteins, the lab investigates how air pollutants trigger inflammation, damage protective barriers, and accelerate risks for neurological diseases such as Alzheimer’s, Parkinson’s, and motor neuron disease.

This work is helping to establish olfactory tissue as a powerful, non-invasive biomarker source for monitoring exposure and predicting long-term brain health impacts.

Understanding the role of the nose

Where there’s fire, there’s smoke, and our noses have been reading that signal for millions of years. Smell is one of our most primal senses, hard-wired to memory and survival. Fire first burned on Earth about 360 million years ago and has been shaping animal, and then human, behaviour ever since.

In Australia, for example, bushfire smoke awakens Gould’s long-eared bats, and fat-tailed dunnarts from rest, triggering escape behaviours. Other species detect smoke and fire in different ways; birds of prey follow smoke columns for hunting opportunities, while fire beetles actively seek out burnt wood to lay their eggs. By about 300,000 years ago, humans were managing fire themselves. For Indigenous cultures across the planet, fire and smoke became a part of seasonal rhythms and land stewardship. Cultural burning practices were designed not only to manage vegetation but to protect biodiversity, including giving animals time and cues to move away from danger. For many early people, the scent of smoke wasn’t just a warning, it was the smell of home. But in today’s climate, as wildfires become more frequent, intense, and prolonged, and smoke plumes drift across continents, what does the smell of smoke mean to us now? Can our noses still help us make sense of this modern environmental threat?

What’s in wildfire smoke, and why it matters

Smoke Pollution Alert – Public Health Notice: Air quality in your region has reached hazardous levels due to wildfire smoke. Children, elderly adults, and people with heart or lung conditions should stay indoors. Avoid physical activity outside. Use air purifiers if available. The smell of smoke may be present even when skies appear clear.

We see alerts like these more often now. But why do we need such warnings? What’s in the smoke that makes it so dangerous?

 Wildfire smoke is more than just the scent of burning wood, it’s a complex, shifting mix of thousands of gases and particles. Fine particulate matter (PM₂.₅) is especially concerning; these microscopic particles are small enough to bypass the nose and lung natural defences and enter deep into the bloodstream.

Mixed into this airborne soup are harmful gases such as carbon monoxide, formaldehyde, acrolein, and benzene, many of which are known to damage cells, irritate tissues, and disrupt bodily systems.

The specific chemical makeup of the smoke can also change depending on what burns: forest, grassland, peat, or homes and vehicles packed with synthetic materials. This matters, as these pollutants can trigger asthma, bronchitis, and cardiovascular issues. They can damage blood vessels, and some have been linked to changes in brain function, increasing the risk of neurological disease with prolonged exposure. Our noses may register that familiar campfire aroma but science tells us it may be a toxic warning signal.

First contact: the nose as a sensor

The nose is more than a breathing gateway, it’s a carefully tuned chemical detection system and our first responder to air pollution. As we inhale, air passes through narrow nasal passages lined with mucus and tiny hairs (called cilia) that trap particles and pathogens. But higher up, near the roof of the nasal cavity, lies a key tissue: the olfactory epithelium. This small, specialized patch of nasal cells contains olfactory (nasal) receptor neurons, cells capable of detecting thousands of different airborne molecules, including those in wildfire smoke. When these molecules bind to the receptors, they trigger electrical signals that travel directly to the brain’s olfactory bulb, bypassing many of the filtering systems other senses rely on. This fast-track connection to brain regions controlling emotion and memory explains why the scent of smoke (and other aromas) can evoke vivid memories or instinctive fear. The nose also plays a frontline protective role, filtering harmful particles and engaging the immune system in response to what we inhale. In the context of wildfire smoke, this makes the nose not just a detector, but a biological barrier, and the first to suffer damage when we breath toxic air.

Nose to brain particle delivery. Photo: QIMR Berghofer Medical Research Institute.
Smell to science: sampling the nasal airway

The nose doesn’t just react to smoke; it also records what’s coming in. Inside its delicate lining, wildfire smoke can leave behind markers of biological changes, like a molecular fingerprint of exposure.

Researchers can potentially use this, turning the nasal passage into a powerful site for non-invasive health monitoring. Using simple tools like a nasal brush or swab, scientists can gently collect cells from the olfactory epithelium, the same region that detects smell. This is similar in practice to a COVID-19 nasal test. In some cases, specialists may also perform a nasal mucosal biopsy, using a small surgical tool under local anaesthetic to collect a more in-depth tissue sample. Once gathered, researchers can apply techniques such as RNA (gene) sequencing, protein analysis, and microscopy to uncover how smoke is affecting cellular responses.

Biological clues in the nose

The nasal lining responds quickly to environmental insults, and wildfire smoke is no exception. When exposed, nasal cells may begin to express what researchers call biological clues (or biomarkers) – measurable signs that the body is reacting to harm. These clues can include inflammation signals like cytokines (inflammatory signal proteins released by cells), oxidative stress (free radical) markers, and DNA injury. In high-risk groups, these changes often show up earlier and more locally in the nose than in blood or lung samples, making nasal testing a potentially powerful, and accessible tool.

A gateway to the brain

The brain is normally thought of as well-protected, shielded by a blood-brain barrier (a layer of cells that control movement of substances from the blood into the brain). But there’s one route where this barrier can be bypassed: through the nose. The olfactory nerve, which carries smell information directly into the brain, passes through tiny holes in the skull, directly linking the nose and the brain (Figure 1). This close contact means that toxins or particulates from smoke can, in theory, reach the brain. This pathway is now being studied as a possible link between repeated wildfire smoke exposure and neurological symptoms like brain fog, fatigue, and even long-term disease risk. The nose may be a critical warning system not just for the lungs, but for the brain as well.

Firefighters, veterans, and other vulnerable groups

 Wildland firefighters are among the most exposed people on the planet when it comes to wildfire smoke. Many spend days on the frontline with limited respiratory protection, season after season. Military veterans, particularly those with past exposure to burn pits or combat environments, may carry additional respiratory and neurological vulnerabilities, especially when they transition into firefighting roles. But the risk is also wider. Children, whose lungs and brains are still developing, older adults, whose systems are more fragile, and people with asthma, cardiovascular disease, or diabetes, are all more sensitive to smoke, even at levels lower than what firefighters face.

That’s where nasal testing could make a difference. By identifying early biological changes in the nose, scientists may be able to detect exposure impacts before damage becomes irreversible. These tests could help guide rest periods, determine when a responder needs support, or help families make informed decisions about smoke exposure in high-risk regions.

The potential for early detection

The idea is simple: a quick, low-cost test using a nasal swab that could reveal whether smoke exposure has begun to take a toll on your body, before you feel sick. This could be done in clinics, field stations, or potentially as part of mobile testing units deployed during major fire seasons.

Researchers are developing tools that can read inflammatory markers, stress signals, and other biological clues in nasal tissue to understand how smoke exposure is progressing. The goal is to offer real-time feedback for those on the front lines, and early reassurance (or warning) for the broader public.

With climate change driving longer fire seasons and heavier smoke loads, early detection could become a cornerstone of future health response, and the nose, the unlikely frontline of wildfire resilience.

Protecting the nose and the body

Protecting ourselves from wildfire smoke starts at the source. Indigenous cultural burning has long offered a safer, smarter way to reduce fuel loads, protect biodiversity, and minimize smoke intensity. Supporting these methods, alongside prescribed burns, forest restoration, and land-use reform, helps tackle the problem before it reaches our lungs.

For those on the front lines, modern protective tools, from high-quality respirators and improved shelter infrastructure to air quality monitors and ventilation systems, are crucial. Researchers are also exploring nasal sprays, filters, and anti-inflammatory treatments to help reduce harm where exposure starts.

At the public health level, early warning systems, clear air-quality messaging, and potentially even nasal-based health testing could offer communities more agency and real-time decision-making during fire season. By protecting the nose, we may be able to help safeguard the brain, lungs, heart, and future health of those most affected by our changing air.

Anthony White works at the QIMR Berghofer Medical Research Institute in Brisbane, Queensland and has been awarded an NHMRC Senior Research Fellowship. His research has contributed to the development of first-in-class metal-drugs as a potential new therapeutic approach to treat motor neuron disease. He is currently developing new human patient-based models of neurodegeneration and has established a new research direction examining the impact of wildfire smoke on the human brain.

User feedback on the Interagency Fuel Treatment Decision Support System

Monument Peak prescribed fire

By Josh Hyde, Eva Strand, Peter Noble and Kim Ernstrom

Land and fire managers are often tasked to plan complex fuel treatments and apply the best available science across jurisdictions to prioritize, plan, and conduct prescribed burns and other fire mitigation tactics.

Decision support systems – information systems designed to support management decision making – are a key tool for fuel treatment planning.

What follows are the key findings from a recent report by the team that develops the system.

This article is first published in Wildfire Magazine – read the full edition.

Historically, models and systems for fuels management have been developed independently without a great deal of coordination, leading to varying degrees of overlapping functionality.

Additionally, as Gail Wells noted in the December 2009 issue of Fire Science Digest, the onus of reviewing, selecting, and using a specific tool often falls on the fire manager.

To increase efficiency, reduce redundancies, and make the tool-selection process easier for fire managers, a solution was needed that incorporated several fuels management tools in one framework.

The Joint Fire Science Program, a collaborative initiative led by US federal agencies and researchers to sponsor and deliver science to the fire management community, initiated a study to design a system to meet these needs. The result was the Interagency Fuel Treatment Decision Support System (IFTDSS). Initially, a proof of concept was developed by the consulting firm Sonoma Technology in concert with Joint Fire Sciences. Later, the system was approved for use by federal agencies in the United States and was redeveloped by IBM under the stewardship of the interagency Wildland Fire Management Research and Development Applications team in 2017.

BACKGROUND

In the United States, the National Cohesive Strategy in 2014 emphasized the importance of fuel treatments to proactively address wildland fire concerns. The Wildland Fire Crisis Strategy of 2022 built on this and other approaches by outlining a vision of large-scale fuel treatments over millions of acres of land of various ownerships, supported by funding from the Infrastructure Investments and Jobs Act passed the prior year.

In 2022, the National Prescribed Fire Program Review by the US Department of Agriculture recommended better training and incorporation of spatial modeling for contingency planning.

Fuel-treatment strategies often require detailed and collaborative planning across multiple agencies and ownerships. The importance of detail was underscored in the spring of 2022 when escaped prescribed fires in New Mexico burned several square miles and forced a 90-day pause on USDA Forest Service prescribed fires. The pause triggered a National Prescribed Fire Program Review and among its recommendations were better training and incorporation of spatial modeling for contingency planning.

WHAT IS THE IFTDSS?

The system uses a landscape planning cycle approach to fuels management to bring together tools for fuels planning and decision support, including national geospatial landscape data from the LANDFIRE program, fire behavior models from the Fire Modeling Services Framework program, and several geospatial references layers used by land management agencies to help inform decision making. For those tasked with monitoring on federal lands, the system also allows users to enter data into a Fuel Treatment Effectiveness Monitoring repository. All these are included in one convenient online system (Figure 1). Managers can model and examine results in a map, export data for planning documentation, and create stand-alone summary reports for documentation, presentations, and briefings (Figure 2).

Figure 1. The Interagency Fuel Treatment Decision Support System framework, pulling together tools from several sources.

In the United States users may also be familiar with decisions support systems designed to support multiple land management activities, such as Vibrant Planet’s Land Tender or those intended to support wildfire such as the Wildland Fire Decision Support System (WFDSS). The Interagency Fuel Treatment Decision Support System differs from these applications in that it is purpose built for cross-boundary planning of fuel treatments and is developed by an interagency team of fire management practitioners who are experts in planning and implementation; this is reflected in the affiliations of the more than 8,000 user accounts in the system. Roughly 60 per cent of users are federal, state, and local government, with most being United States Forest Service users. The remainder are non-government users including non-profits, universities, utility companies, and others. The system may be used for public and private lands, and anyone may access the system regardless of their affiliation, at no cost; this facilitates interagency collaboration by removing any cost and agency-specific barriers.

LISTENING TO USERS

The development of the Interagency Fuel Treatment Decision Support System is ongoing and is informed by the needs of the fuels and wildfire management community, so user feedback is key. During the operational life of the system, feedback has been solicited in several ways. In 2023, a formal survey was commissioned through University of Idaho partners who conducted hour-long interviews with 47 system users from a variety of agencies and backgrounds.

The goal was to gain a better understanding of a) how users employ the system b) what they find valuable, c) what they would like to see changed, and d) how they prefer to learn to use the system. That information provides an overall snapshot of how the fuels management community learns and uses the system and how well it supports the needs of the users in the field.

HOW THE SYSTEM IS USED

The most widely reported use of the Interagency Fuel Treatment Decision Support System among interviewees was prescribed fire planning and treatment planning, followed by National Environment Policy Act planning, and risk assessment (Figure 3).

Other uses included drafting community wildfire protection plans, developing prescriptions, assessing potential treatment impacts, and estimating contingency resources. Some interviewees also noted the use of the system in developing materials for funding or grant proposals to support fuel projects.

Participants in different positions tend to use the system for different goals. Those who worked as fire management specialists and assistant fire management officers tended to use the system more for prescribed fire planning and National Environment Policy Act planning, while those in fire management officer positions use the system more for treatment planning and risk assessment. For those who worked in a private or consulting role, risk assessment was typically their primary goal.

Figure 2. Common parts of the system interface.
– A treatment polygon overlaid on a landscape in Map Studio. – Fire behavior summary report indicating flame lengths.
– User interface for comparing fire behavior outputs under various weather conditions.
PERCEIVED BENEFITS

When participants described their use of the system, the primary aspects they found valuable included the following.

Ease of use

Participants described the layout of the system as simple and navigable, especially compared to existing modeling and mapping systems, an example being the way in which tasks were laid out in a process that approximates the landscape planning cycle.

“So, the way that the steps are set up, as in, it’s pretty clear from the get go. You can get in there and say, ‘start here’. Build the landscape, then do this, then do that, so the way that it’s laid out leads you through the entire process pretty clearly.”

The most common feature interviewees found useful was the relative ease of learning and using the system. Participants felt the quantity of data readily available in one system, combined with the relative ease of generating summaries, helped make the system easier to use. This was aided by the availability of helpful information in the system.

“There is an excellent set of resources and guides, along with [the system] that are very understandable in terms of what the inputs are, what inputs are required, what they mean and working through that is very good and easy.”

Increased efficiency

Several interviewees indicated the system saved time. Time savings came from the ease of use discussed above, the availability of existing data within the system such as landscape layers, and the ability to quickly create summary reports. Instead of implementing multiple systems, participants could save time by using one.

“I don’t have to go to Landfire and figure out an extent for a fire or project and then request that information. [The system] does that for me. It saves some time and saves some confusion with that.”

Facilitating communication and collaboration

Communication was also among the top areas in which users found value. Interviewees often spoke positively of the visual aids produced by the system reports and their utility in communicating potential fuel treatment alternatives and the reasoning behind them. Fuels planning is often a collaborative effort in which multiple landscape values must

be discussed among experts from several fields. When discussing communication using the system, multiple participants noted the benefits of being able to visually demonstrate their plans and the reasoning behind them to convey information to planners and collaborators regardless of whether they had background in wildland fire.

“It has helped us defend our scale of treatments on the forest. By having the tool available to us, it allows us to defend why we want to do the treatments we want to do to the public and to internal, both.”

“I really think that it’s just such a better visual tool to communicate what we expect with fire behavior in both the burn unit and the adjacent fuels outside the burn unit. Hands down, it’s just simpler and everyone can understand it regardless of specialty or training or education.”

RECOMENDED CHANGES

When asked about what changes they would recommend, interviewees tended to focus on features to enhance analysis capabilities or better facilitate collaboration among individuals using the system.

More modeling features and integration

Many participants wanted more weather and contingency planning features, such as querying weather data to generate fuel moisture and weather conditions within specific percentiles. Users also recommended having more control over which weather stations data was retrieved from, often expressing these as ways to better utilize data from within a single system.

Additional features for containment and contingency planning were also recommended. Participants explained the need to calculate resources needed to contain a prescribed fire in the event of an escape, an especially pertinent need following the prescribed fire escapes in 2022.

“So [containment] is the big one that’s being promoted right now because of the prescribed fire- the lens that prescribed fire is being looked at through right now.”

Landscape editing tools

The Interagency Fuel Treatment Decision Support System provided a way to easily edit landscape information by creating custom edit rules or using a simplified set of editing rules. These simplified rules were appreciated by users but were found to be lacking in availability. They could only be used with older landscapes and several users recommended updating and expanding these  rulesets.

Suggestions included offering a wider range of thinning treatments to the rules and allowing them to project out for longer periods of time to help model fire behavior further into the future.

Collaboration

The ability to share data with other account holders, as can be done with the Wildland Fire Decision Support System (WFDSS) was another common suggestion. Participants suggested this would increase efficiency by reducing duplicated efforts among team members and ensuring everyone was working from the same dataset.

Figure 3. The most common uses for the system and the relative proportion of responses for each for each. Categories are not mutually exclusive.
LEARNING METHODS

Time isn’t just spent using a system but also learning to use it. Interviewees commonly described the methods they used to learn the system such as videos, the system’s online knowledge base, experiential learning, and online courses.

Videos were one of the most often cited learning methods that were used, preferred by users, and recommend for new users. Some participants found short videos focused on a specific task to be helpful, others found value in the way in which steps were laid out as part of a process.

“I’d have to say that’s probably one of the things that I like about where [the system] has put effort and time, is in the training. I could find and watch a video. I’ve become a big fan of watching a YouTube video.”

Experiential learning was another common method – logging into the system, exploring the interface, and running through various tasks. If needed, users would draw on additional learning methods such as an online knowledge base, videos, or consulting others. Some participants also noted the benefit of example tutorials to use as an overall framework into which they could substitute their own data and learn the system.

“I like watching things demonstrated, but I learned by doing and getting to really put that stuff together myself. I really like those step-by-step tutorials.”

Courses and workshops, in-person or online, were the fourth-most cited way of learning the system for participants. When it came to recommended methods for new users, courses, workshops, and instructional videos were most frequently recommended. In-person classes and workshops tended to be preferred to online ones. Some valued the dedicated interruption-free time that comes with an in-person environment, others found it an easier environment in which to ask questions. Self-led methods such as the online knowledge base and tutorials were also mentioned here, but less frequently than classes, workshops, or the use of videos.

BRINGING THE FINDINGS TOGETHER

Interagency Fuel Treatment Decision Support System users interviewed perceived value in a system that is easy to use and enhances efficiency and communications. But more work is needed. Interviewees recommended additional capabilities in the system to help them perform their duties, allowing them to do more within a single system and better collaborate with others.

Interviewee feedback has been invaluable in better understanding the needs of the fuels management community. Because fuels management evolves over time, the system and other tools must do the same. As these needs evolve, continued dialogue with system users to involve them in development, will ensure newly developed features are addressing the users’ needs and providing the services they require for collaborative fuels management planning and actions into the future.

To summarize key interview points:

  • There were multiple reasons users employed the system, depending upon their roles.
  • The aspects interviewees valued most from the system included ease of use, efficiency, and facilitating communication.
  • The most recommended changes involved adding capabilities that would allow users to do more within the system, which would reduce the need to use multiple systems or models and provide more of a one-stop-shop approach.
  • Multiple methods are used to learn the system, often in combination with each other.

The authors wish to thank all the interview participants who generously provided their time, input, and perspective to inform the development and enhancement of the Interagency Fuel Treatment Decision Support System for the wildland fire community.

Read the Full Report.

Josh Hyde works for the University of Idaho developing and managing application support for the Interagency Fuels Treatment Decision Support System.

Eva Strand is a Professor in the Department of Forest, Rangeland, and Fire Sciences at the University of Idaho.

Peter Noble works for the US Forest Service in Salt Lake City, Utah, as a fuels assistant fire management officer.

Kim Ernstrom recently retired from the National Park Service (Wildland Fire Management Research Development and Applications team). Ernstrom was the technical lead for training and technology transfer and assisted in developing the Interagency Fuels Treatment Decision Support System.

Europe’s 2025 wildfire season was its worst ever, by far

Wildfires burned over 2.7 million acres (1.1 million hectares) across the European Union in 2025, by far the highest burned area total recorded since record keeping began.

The EU’s Joint Research Centre recently released its 2025 analysis wildfires, which found the historic season started early in March, with over 379,000 acres (153,000 hectares) burning.

Intensity gradually increased between March and June before skyrocketing in August when megafires burned across several countries in the Mediterranean, driven by a record-breaking heatwave. Firefighters in Portugal and Spain fought 22 large fires that burnt 1.1 million acres (460,000 hectares), around 43% of the total burnt area across the EU.

The only countries among EU member states that didn’t experience wildfires were Malta and Luxembourg, according to the research centre.

An estimated 7,783 fires burned in the EU, which burned nearly double the average number of burned acres recorded between 2006 and 2024. All-time burned area records were broken in Germany, Spain, Cyprus and Slovakia.

“The 2025 season reflects a clear trend: an earlier start, more frequent and intense heat waves, and fires reaching higher latitudes than historically observed,” the centre’s report said.

Click here to read the full report.

Forest Service to undergo ‘sweeping restructuring,’ close all regional offices

The United States Department of Agriculture this week announced the nation’s Forest Service will soon go through massive changes, including the shift of its headquarters across the country.

The agency’s headquarters will move from Washington D.C. to Salt Lake City, Utah, according to a press release sent out on Tuesday. The agency will also close all of its regional offices, transitioning to a state-based organizational model, according to a USDA fact sheet.

The transition would affect 5,000 employees across the country, including the Service’s research stations, which will be consolidated into a single Research and Development organization headquartered in Colorado with multiple facility locations nationwide.

Department Secretary Brooke L. Rollins described the move as a “common sense” shift of the leadership closer to forests and communities. “Establishing a western headquarters in Salt Lake City and streamlining how the Forest Service is organized will position the Chief and operation leaders closer to the landscapes we manage and the people who depend on them.”

“What we’re doing in this reorganization is essentially flattening the organization,” Forest Service Associate Chief Chris French told the Hotshot Wake Up podcast. “This is stuff we heard clearly from governors, a number of other state agencies, federal agencies, state foresters, fire organizations … that when they worked with us, they didn’t want to work with eight different forest services, they wanted to work with one.”

Fire and Aviation Management Deputy Chief Sarah Fisher said on the podcast that the reorganization would not have an impact on the Service’s wildland fire program, saying no changes would be made to the firefighting workforce.

“There should not be expected changes for folks that are working on districts and forests,” Fisher said. “None of this work being done is impactful to the districts and forest facilities, and at this time, there are no intended changes to the locations of the geographic area coordination centers.”

Fisher also said that the reorganization would be in line with how the Department of the Interior plans to structure the U.S. Wildland Fire Service, which currently remains unfunded by Congress.

PREVIOUS COVERAGE: US Wildland Fire Service launched, despite lack of funding and without majority of nation’s firefighting resources

Are you a current or previous member of the Forest Service with thoughts on the reorganization? Share your thoughts in the comment section below or privately by emailing editor@wildfiretoday.com.

Almeda Aftermath: the impact of an Oregon wildfire

By Jennie Englund

The Ashland Pond, a riparian area at the foot of Southern Oregon’s Cascade and Siskiyou mountains, was just waking up on the morning of September 8, 2020. Red-wing blackbirds’ throats warmed in the rust-colored wind, and a family of otters slid over the dry bank to find food. The creatures were oblivious to the Red Flag warning issued by the National Weather Service.

This article is first published in Wildfire Magazine – read the full edition.

High winds and heat, and low humidity prompted critical fire conditions. But should an extreme weather event occur, the local fire service couldn’t count on help to protect the pond — or anything in the two districts of 45,000 citizens. Already, 2,000 structural firefighters from 179 agencies were responding to five megafires and a dozen others around the state. No extra resources were available.

The day fell on a C-shift for Jackson County Fire District 5. My husband, Dave, an engineer, had moved up to the captain’s seat. Around 11 am, when a grass fire was called in near the pond, three blocks from our house, he was immediately concerned.

“This is gonna go big,” Dave told his crew as they drove toward the point of origin. He read the smoke column: gusts lay it down, pushing hard with the potential to move it fast and far.

While I knew Dave would prioritize safety, I also knew he’d give everything to saving the people and property he was called on to protect. This was his community, where our kids rode bikes and went to school, where our friends lived, where, for decades, he had immobilized broken femurs, defibrillated cardiac patients, treated diabetic complications, and started IVs. Dave knew every street, every address in the urban and rural areas of our agriculturally rich region. He was no stranger to swift water and ropes rescue, to motor vehicle incidents, to grass and structure fires.

For 33 hours, Dave worked the Almeda Fire. Sustained 40 mph winds fueled flames through nine miles of the Bear Creek corridor’s cottonweed, poplar, and blackberry bushes. More than 3000 structures burned. Three lives were lost.

Almeda became Oregon’s most destructive wildfire in recorded history.

When the big blazes were finally out, Dave came home – grit in the lines around his sad eyes, in his knuckles, under his nails.

“We all worked hard,” he half-answered my attempt to gauge how hard he’d worked, the extent of what he’d been through.

The bottoms of his feet were bruised, his shins splinted, he told me when I pressed, and he “pulled a lot of hose.” That meant he worked his tail off.

 “I brought you a present.” Dave lined four perfect peaches on our kitchen table. Then, he went to bed.

He slept for a couple of hours. When he got up, he said things like “Colver Road.” And “Mobile Estates.”

Were these places that didn’t make it? I minimized my questions. The more I ask, I told myself, the less he’ll be able to process his own thoughts.

A No Vacancy sign sagged over the wreckage of an RV park. The 2020 Almeda fire was Oregon’s most destructive wildfire. Photo: Jennie Englund.

As the day went on, Dave was quieter, more withdrawn.

“What did you save?” I did ask, because the answer was a lot, and I wanted him to see it –  the proof was right there on aerial footage on TV. But he didn’t see it; he saw what he didn’t save, what he held himself responsible for not saving.

Five heavy days later, the sky was orange, and Ashland’s air quality was 495 – hazardous – from the Labor Day weekend fires, Oregon’s historically deadliest and most devastating.

It was Dave’s 49th birthday; he’d taken off the shift during vacation-bidding rounds nearly a year before.

“Wanna go on a drive?” he asked. The offer was a trip to his station to wash Almeda from his turnouts.

I took it.

Colver Road. He wanted me to see it, I didn’t know why. Was it an exceptionally hard loss? Homes he had responded to? Citizens he knew?

On the way to the station, Dave was required to show his badge at checkpoints and roadblocks staffed by the National Guard and the Department of Transportation.

 “It’s still a crime scene,” he told me. “It could’ve been arson. No one’s been arrested yet. They’re preventing looting, too.”

Police and sheriff vehicles wove through empty streets.

We drove past mounds of melted metal, rubble and soot. The fire ate up bike shops, auto repair, a Burger King; it swallowed half of one of the fire department’s stations. Custom homes, rentals, middle-class and working-class neighborhoods were flattened.

The sign sagged over the wreckage of an RV park that seemed to have never existed. “No Vacancy.”

Up the road, skeletal staircases climbed to nothing. A hunched man watered his fence. Just in case.

“Some people stayed here, they never left,” Dave sighed. “They’re still here.”

By the Minute Market, Urban Search and Rescue (USR) teams stood out in their white helmets, puffy suits against the gray wreckage around them.

“Body count,” Dave said.

I felt like telling him, ‘They don’t belong here,’ but I didn’t belong there either.

“Colver Road,” Dave repeated.

We couldn’t get in; the street was barricaded. I wouldn’t see what he wanted me to.

Along Highway 99, water was being restored. Utility crews pulled power lines from wreckage, re-strung them between poles in the haze.

“The bees made it!” Dave was uncharacteristically ecstatic about a Hymenoptera swarm. He took a picture – proof of life.

At the station, as Dave put in his laundry, I watched a relief crew from Portland hosed off their rigs.

“They came from the Obenchain Fire,” a District 5 captain explained. “You wash off where you came from; you leave that dirt behind.”

A half-eaten breakfast burrito wilted on the station counter. I sat at the kitchen table with the guys I’d known for almost 20 years – C-shift – Dave’s shift, back on duty. And yet, I didn’t know them anymore. The fire changed them.

One guy in particular looked really worked over. A weightlifter who coached his kids’ baseball teams, I’d never seen him like this – beat down.

“Have you slept?” I asked, and though he said yes, I could tell it wasn’t true. Adrenaline, nightmares, and physical pain would make sleep impossible for a while.

“This looks like actual food!” An engineer, giddy over a donated salad, grabbed a box and joined the crew at the table: another engineer, two captains, a few firefighters, and a seasonal hire who’d gotten more than he’d signed up for.

Help had finally come. Out-of-area strike teams helped mop up hot spots. A crew from the northern part of the state helped run District 5’s calls — to cardiac arrest, nosebleed. A visiting officer vacuumed. Another rolled up an American flag.

The table talk was of cats — some missing, others found. And then, talk of blisters. Bruises.

Not all a firefighter’s wounds, I reminded myself, are visible. Some of these lives wouldn’t seamlessly continue. Things could fall apart – marriages, knees, health, community, even the department itself. No one was immune to the trauma, displacement, and physical, emotional and financial stress. The what ifs – terror, regret, blame, and grief – could stack like the coolers around the station.

Those coolers crammed the kitchen, the patio, the barbecue area; they covered counters and floors, leaning against every wall, spilling out toward the bay. Folks had brought them, with cookies and cards, candies and baskets, bell peppers from their gardens – how, with the road closures?

The coolers had stayed behind — boxy, burdensome, empty. Lurking. Unsettlingly permanent.

“No resources . . .” The talk of blisters and bruises prompted more about the fire.

“That was nonstop!”

 “Those blackberry bushes . . . ” “Colver Road . . . ”

“My feet hurt so bad!”

“How’d you get your boots to dry out?” “No resources . . . ”

“Where’s your family staying?” “The baby’s off his schedule.”

“Do you think you’ll move back when it’s rebuilt?”

Where’s Dave? I wondered. I should leave the station to the crew, let them grieve and heal together, I thought. The crew was finally able to eat fresh food, to get off their feet, and I was as out of place as the USR team – all white suit, moon boots.

Thankfully, Dave walked in. “On the drive here,” he told C-shift, he’d thought about the houses they’d saved in the past. “Once, we put out those house fires, now it’s all for nothing.”

Heads nodded in unison. “Well, let’s go,” Dave told me.

It was hard to know what I should say to the crew. I said the only thing I knew. “Look for the flowers. They’ll come back; I saw them last spring after Paradise.”

The crew knew Paradise, the site of the Camp Fire – California’s deadliest and most destructive wildfire. The blaze ignited less than two years before, only three and a half hours south.

The worked-over guy’s hope surprised me. “Really?” he asked. He wanted it to be true.

“Wild roses, hollyhock, poppies,” I promised.

A few months before Almeda kindled, I had stopped in Paradise on my way back to Oregon from Chico. I hoped to see recovery efforts and share them with the fire officer academy recruits I taught.

“Rebuilding the Ridge,” Paradise’s welcome sign pledged. An impeccable Taco Bell perched on perfect pavement beyond a patch of dirt. A few new frames dotted flattened neighborhoods. Family camps cropped up under skeletal pines. The town had a long way to go.

But the fire hadn’t stopped spring’s arrival. Pinks, purples, yellows, reds pushed through char. Peony, snap pea, lilac, butterfly bush – I tucked the blooms in my memory.

In the hours, days, weeks, months after Almeda, crews reviewed, debriefed, detoxed, wrote reports, restored vehicles and equipment; they were offered physical examinations, peer support, equine therapy, massage therapy, cryo-therapy, meals, thank-you notes.

The cumbersome coolers were returned one by one to their owners, and the station’s counters became clear again, the stacks on the patio and against walls shrinking little by little.

Spring was months away. But it would come. In an extraordinary occurrence, Willamette daisies – pink, purple, white – would ring the Ashland Pond.

Jennie Englund is an award-winning author and veteran teacher whose work has appeared in literary magazines and news outlets. A Harvard Global Studies scholar in climate and culture, Englund is a National Endowment for the Humanities fellow and a Vashon Artist Resident alum. Englund’s memoir, Sap-Souled: A Personal History on Lake Tahoe, is forthcoming.

The 2020 Almeda, Oregon fire ate up bike shops, an auto repair business, a Burger King, half of one of the fire department’s stations. Neighborhoods were flattened. Photo: Jennie Englund.