Time to Phase Out the Wildland-Urban Interface

The Waldo Canyon Fire from our east side Colorado Springs neighborhood in 2012.

The almost non-stop catastrophic conflagrations in California, and continuing wildlife conflicts in many areas around the United States are two reasons to re-think what has become known as the wildland-urban interface. The desire of some people to live in wild areas without assuming any of the risks inherent in such locations is going to bankrupt many jurisdictions if trends continue.

Furthermore, entire ecosystems could be permanently compromised as fires, mudslides, and other natural disasters leave few if any pockets of intact forest as refugia for wildlife. Healthy forests are a spectrum of habitats from meadows with a few seedling trees to old growth stands of ancient conifers. Forests periodically change through low grade fires that burn out understory vegetation without becoming crown fires that devastate mature trees. Browsing by deer and the herbivorous activities of insects also affect the structure of forests. Changes in ecosystems from meadows to mature forests represent the phenomenon of "succession," but it is very much a non-linear process. It is cyclical, and interruptions can happen at any stage.

Construction of human habitations fragments forests, taking parcels out of succession entirely, and permanently. Even after horrendous wildfires, we vow to rebuild. We are told to mitigate future fires by de-vegetating wide swaths around buildings. Sure, this protects our private property, but the public domain surrounding you is also compromised by having a reduction in the geographic continuity forest ecosystems. The result is islands of natural forest in a sea real estate managed for human habitation, logging, and recreation.

Risks of land ownership in forests, especially in mountainous regions, abound. They are only going to increase with climate change, and every event is likely to be more severe than the last. Not long ago, the City of Colorado Springs faced demands from private landowners in the foothills for compensation due to severe erosion. Foundations were slipping and cracking, and homes were potentially going to slide off the hillsides. This should be the kind of risk assumed solely by those landowners. If you cannot afford to personally cope with potential catastrophe, then you have no business living there.

During my time living in Tucson, Arizona, we endured an enormous blaze (two fires that fused) that burned most of the back side (north side) of the Santa Catalina mountains north of town. I could see flames coming down the south slope from the balcony of my apartment. Once the fire was extinguished, foothills residents soon began experiencing an influx of wildlife including bears and cougars that were deprived of food and habitat by the fire. Mountain lions in particular posed a threat to pets, and to hikers in the heavily-used Sabino Canyon Recreation Area. Arizona Game & Fish announced they would be closing the area and using lethal force on the cats. This raised such strenuous objections from citizens that they ultimately tranquilized two animals and turn them over to a sanctuary facility in another town.

This is the kind of corner we have painted ourselves into by insisting on the continued existence of the wildland-urban interface: Everyone wanting to live there, no one willing to assume the risks. All the risks are borne by the public at large, regardless of their personal level of affluence, through increased taxes. Valuable resources are used to combat natural disasters, the lives of first responders put at undo risk, and the fabric of natural ecosystems shredded, all because there are people who don't want to live in the city.

They want to flaunt their wealth, and have that stunning view. Maybe they want to be seen, be an example of what we are all supposed to aspire to: the dream home, with neighbors miles away, the ultimate in seclusion and privacy. Those of us in the city are supposed to have a view of their homes interrupting the majestic mountain skyline.

Did I go over the top there? Perhaps, but what we need is to reach consensus on what we will tolerate in terms of what is best for the common good. Right now we assign vastly higher values to private property than public good, and it is costing us dearly every time we respond to a fire, landslide, or wildlife encounter that ends badly. The time to re-assess was yesterday.

Smoke from the Black Forest Fire looming north of our Colorado Springs neighborhood in 2013.

Unfriendly Fire

© KOAA.com

Having military bases as neighbors is not without its irritations, but last week civilians were forced to evacuate when the Carson Midway Fire swept through their neighborhoods after "going off the reservation" as it were. While I support our troops, the men and women on the ground at home and abroad, I do not always endorse the missions they are sent on, nor the leadership calling the shots. It is my opinion that the Army base of Fort Carson clearly compromised public safety by insisting on using live ammunition for training exercises during red flag warning days of high winds, exacerbated by severe drought. Surely, solutions exist.

The Carson Midway Fire actually represents the fusion of two separate fires. The merger resulted in the burning of 3,300 acres, reaching the El Paso-Pueblo County line, west of Interstate 25 near the Pikes Peak International Speedway. It was that portion of the fire that consumed several structures, including two homes, and resulted in at least 250 evacuations. It also ignited an enormous pile of discarded tires. Those tires are still burning as I write this, and evacuees from the immediate vicinity are not being permitted to return due to the dense smoke and toxic fumes emanating from the burning heap of rubber. According to one spokesperson, there are heavy metals in tires that, when there is "incomplete combustion," liberate toxic chemicals, especially cyanide. Terrific.

Fires in rural areas here also affect livestock, so accommodations have to be provided for evacuated horses, cattle, and other large animals, plus smaller pets. Colonel Fitch may have empathy for evacuees and those who lost their homes or other structures, and remorse or regret for how things went south, but if so it was not on display at the press conference on March 16. Instead, he asserted matter-of-factly that imminent deployments of personnel to Afghanistan and elsewhere necessitated employing live rounds during training. Meanwhile, the El Paso County Sheriff's office is the agency left holding the bag.

This is a fast-moving story, and now the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) has taken over the extinguishing the tire fire and subsequent clean-up of the underlying soil contaminants resulting from the fire. Evacuees might be allowed to return today (Thursday, March 22), but no final call has been made.

It remains unclear among the myriad of agencies involved as to which ones will be deemed responsible for compensating for damages, or providing relief in other ways. The Red Cross did set up an evacuation center in Fountain, Colorado, and as usual the state fairgrounds in Pueblo offered shelter for livestock. Two other centers were established to receive smaller animals. What happens next?

An online petition is now circulating calling for the prohibition of live fire rounds on the Fort Carson base during red flag days of high or extreme fire danger. The petition has already secured over 2,000 signatures. The purpose of this petition should not be read as a desire to hamstring our military operations, but instead to insure the safety of both military and civilian personnel, and to limit the impact on precious fire-fighting resources that can be stretched thin given the outbreak of fires off the base.

No matter the jurisdiction, when it comes to fire prevention, everyone should be playing by the same rules. This is simply common sense, and would unite our diverse community instead of dividing it. The Front Range is a unique and complicated amalgamation of urban, rural, military, and wilderness landscapes. Establishing guidelines that respect those diverse interests, public or private, is not without its challenges, as we are learning from this unfortunate event. We need to come to the table and make some tough decisions before the fire next time.

The Waldo Canyon Fire

I am still in relative shock and denial over what is going on just across town here in Colorado Springs. We are facing a wildfire that threatens the entire northwest quadrant of the city, plus the Air Force Academy, Monument, Palmer Lake, Manitou Springs (where Heidi and I were wed), Woodland Park, and several other small communities. All of those locations have either been evacuated or face imminent evacuation as I write this. A total of more than 32,000 citizens have been displaced so far.

The images here are from late Sunday morning, June 24, when the fire was just a tiny, reasonably tame thing. It has since ballooned into a monster, especially as of Tuesday afternoon, June 26. That is when a thunderstorm to the northeast of the fire produced an “outflow” of air that changed the wind direction and intensity. A sixty-five mile per hour gust drove the flames into Queens Canyon, funneling the fire right into the subdivision of Mountain Shadows. The aftermath has revealed many homes and other structures destroyed.

I feel strangely detached, having moved here only last October. Still, I do know some people who have been evacuated. Heidi, my wife, knows far more and is devastated emotionally. Physically we are fine, though we have simultaneously experienced a record-setting heat wave here that finally broke today. The air quality ranges from tolerable to heinous, depending on the wind direction. I itch all over and haven’t worn my contact lenses for two straight days. It is useless, if not downright idiotic, to go outside if you don’t have to.

Many places I have been visiting in search of wildlife and wildflowers are either closed, threatened by the fire, or already burned. City bus service was suspended today. The television is, understandably, non-stop news reports on the fire, those fighting it, and those affected by it. This is my reality right now, with no end in sight. The fire remains only five percent contained. Officials predict it will be at least the middle of July before it is fully contained. We are hoping the annual monsoon storms are on time, if not a little early.

Colorado Springs is one of the top ten cities in the nation for “urban-wildland interface,” making us extremely vulnerable to disasters like this. Now, if rain does come, there is nothing to absorb it. We will face flash floods as a result. Meanwhile, thunderstorms devoid of rain threaten to fan the flames with more wind gusts, and/or spark more fires with dry lightning.

Those inquiring about our safety (Heidi and myself), and the condition of the Cheyenne Mountain Zoo will be relieved to know that our residence is on the east side of town, south of the fire; and that the zoo is also far south of the blaze. Firefighters are unyielding in shielding the south side of highway 24 from the fire. Should it jump that roadway (which is currently closed to all traffic but emergency vehicles between here and Woodland Park), all bets are off.

Interstate 25 marks the eastern boundary of the fire so far, and indeed it has not reached that freeway. Assuming the grasslands of the high plains are as equally flame-prone as the drought-stressed forests, then we need to keep the fire at bay along that boundary as well.

We, as a city, county, and state, appreciate the empathy and sentiments expressed from around the rest of the country. We return those thoughts to those facing catastrophic excesses of rain from tropical storms and thundershowers (Florida and Minnesota). I’ll keep you appraised as best I can on the situation here as it unfolds.