(This image is not mine, nor does it belong to me.  It is being shown for purposes to illustrate the devastation caused by a campfire.  This is the Caldor fire.  It is real.)

Friends, today, my heart is aching.  Not only for the people of Afghanistan, mothers of military men and women who had to bury their children in the conflict there, but also for the forest fire victims in my state.  Living in California, especially in wildfire prone areas, presents sets of risks like every other state.  We do not experience the brutally cold winters of the Midwest, threats from Hurricanes in the Gulf and Mid-Atlantic and tornadoes in the cornbelt.  We instead, deal with wildfires.  

I grew up believing that California was a haven for Earthquakes.  That at any given moment, and several times a year, the ground would shake uncontrollably, lift and heave and cause buildings to topple.  Freeways would buckle, homes would be left in rubble, great canyons would appear where farms and cities once stood.  How silly a thing to think of.  I've been here for almost 20 years now and have felt a grand total of three (3), yes three, earthquakes.  

The earth never opened up in a gaping hole, no buildings collapsed, and no cities were swallowed up by chasms of doom.  

Growing up in the rolling hills of southeastern Pennsylvania, we never feared wildfires and forest fires.  Folks worried about their lawns, gardens and crops when rain went missing for a week.  Here in California, things are far more grave during periods of drought.  

We are in the midst of what is becoming another epic drought.  Lakes levels are at historical lows, the second largest wildfire in California history is still raging and another 180,000 plus acre fire is burning within 30 miles of my home.  My heart hurts.  It hurts because so many of these fires can be prevented.  So many of these fires are absolutely unnecessary.  Yes, lightning strikes have caused some of the blazes, but (according to statistics by the National Parks Service, NPS in a 2018 study.) 85% of fires are attributable to humans.  Yes, that means us.  

Within those statistics are power line failures, house fires (usually caused by electrical wires or faulty stoves/ovens) which morph into forest fires and wild fires.  The other cause of our forest fires and wildfires are a thing I am passionate about informing unknowing/unaware/ignorant humans about; campfires.

Campfires.  This will be subject of this blog.  I am certain that some of you reading are thinking, "But Mike, when we go camping, we love a fire to sit around and enjoy.  We are responsible and can handle it.  We see no wrong in that."  I hear that often and it makes me cringe.  I hear that and my heart hurts.  Why?  Because currently, I turn my gaze away from the monitor where I am typing this to the open field next to my office.  Office buildings 500 yards away were barely visible a few days ago because of the heavy smoke from the Caldor Fire burning in the foothills 25 minutes away.  The fire that has consumed peoples homes (over 600 structures as of today with another 20,000 threatened.  Yes, you read that right.  Twenty thousand), possessions, businesses and vacation spots.  It has killed humans, animals and stately trees.  The air quality on Sunday of this past weekend was the worst in the entire world.  Read that again.

The air quality a few days ago here in the foothills of Northern California, was the worst in the world.  Read it again and let it sink in.  There is a need to repeat it often.  You may be thinking, "Well, that is a risk you take for living there."  Yes, you would be correct in that thinking, but you also are missing the point.  This fire, the Caldor fire, was likely caused by a campfire in the El Dorado National Forest.  Yes.  A campfire.  We are experiencing the worst air quality in the world because of a campfire.

Northern California, and California on the whole, experiences dry conditions for the majority of the year.  We get our water in the form of rain in low lying areas to snow in the high country from October through April.  We rely on those months to fill our reservoirs, cover our Sierra Nevada peaks in 20 plus feet of snow and hope that the spring temperatures are mild enough to melt the snow at a slow pace to ensure we have water for the arid summer.  We are currently experiencing a drought greater than the historic drought which ended in 2017.  We had a short reprieve, and now here we are again.  

Climate change.  Pollution.  Human carelessness.  All causes of California's dire circumstances.  So many offshoots this blog could venture off towards, but I want to keep the focus on humans perceived "need" for fires.

In the fall of 2016, I took a day off work to venture around in Desolation Wilderness outside of Lake Tahoe.  It was cool, crisp early October day.  The plan was to hike back to Lake Aloha and have a bite to eat, then turn around and head back.  15 miles round trip and only a shade under 2,000 feet of elevation gain.  A wonderful day hike.  As the miles ticked away and my camera shutter captured the Crystal Range on the opposite shores of Lower and Upper Echo Lakes, I marveled that even with the drought going on, the beauty was still here.  As I arrived at the spur trail to Lake Aloha, my thoughts drifted to finding a great spot to sit and stare up at the surrounding peaks.  Walking into the Lake Aloha Basin a short while later, I was greeted with the smell of smoke from an absolutely illegal campfire being tended to by a pair of young hikers.  The thought of my Cliff Bar and sandwich vanished and my hunger pangs became pangs of frustration.  I walked over to the pair and told them that if they didn't know, campfires are illegal in Desolation Wilderness (at all times, no less.  This isn't a drought related order).  They laughed a bit and told me to "chill out", that they "got this" and are minding their fire.  I explained to them the risk of what they were doing especially under the circumstances of the year and that should this fire get out of control, fighting it in an isolated place like Desolation becomes a very difficult task.  Again, they laughed and told me to "chill out" and stop being the fire police.  

Angered by the complete lack of respect and and disdain for the no fire order, I ate my sandwich and stewed on what the implications could be should their ignorance lead to a wildfire.  Thousands of acres of wilderness would burn and millions of people would lose the ability to see Desolation in its beauty for hundreds of years.  

Campfires have their place, just not in the backcountry, forests and dry areas which resemble tinder boxes.  This is a concession of my opinion which I must live with as so many campers love their fires.  Will I ever agree with folks who insist on having them?  No.  Why, I will never understand, but I sigh and tell the "fire police officer" inside me to "chill out" and let them have their destructive fun.  Yes, campfires do have uses in survival situations, but outside of that, is there really a need?  Why not enjoy the beauty of a summer night under the beautiful glow of the moon, or celestial wonder of the galaxy on moonless nights?  Why not listen to the sounds around instead of the sound of crackling wood?  Why give any ember a chance to spark a fire that will cost the lives of animals, people and countless trees?  Why?

The most recent update on the Caldor Fire shows it is growing.  Fast.  South Lake Tahoe, a place special to me because of its azure waters, myriads of hiking trails, ski resorts, and year round fun, has been evacuated.  The fire is threatening this place of amazing energy and beauty.  Desolation wilderness, a place where my first backpack trip into the Sierra Nevada, is burning.  Peaks which I've climbed including Ralston and Pyramid (which were blog topics here) have been ravaged.  Echo Lakes and Echo Peak are now sitting in the pathway of this inferno.  Ancient trees and hallowed ground will be devastated.  Some of the most precious places where I heal, reflect and seek oneness will be wiped from the topographic maps.  People weep when their local church burns.  This; the Sierra Nevada, is my church.  It is burning.  And why?  Because of a campfire.

My heart is bleeding because someone had to have a campfire.  My soul feels wounded because someone had to have a campfire in the middle of summer.  Their life was not in jeopardy from exposure or hypothermia.  No, they were just being selfish.  Ignorant.  Inconsiderate.  Oblivious to the simple fact that they wanted something which would cause a colossal amount of damage, heartache, pain and tears.  

Next time you are hiking, backpacking or camping and as day turns to dusk and the thought of a campfire comes to mind, ask yourself a few questions.  Is is necessary?  Is it for my survival?  Could it cause damage?  Could it alter the wild and landscape?  Will my fire jeopardize the natural beauty for generations to come?  Then simply put the matches away, lay back on the dirt, grass or space you are in and watch the night sky.  There is no need for a campfire.  You are a steward of the wild if you can refrain from lighting a fire.  You are a friend to me.  You are friend to Smokey Bear and all the others who see themselves as guardians of our national parks, forests, mountains and trails.  Do the right thing and leave fires for the fireplace in your home.  

"Leave nothing but footprints, take nothing but pictures, kill nothing but time."

Namaste, friends.