Citation

Forthofer JM. Sci. Am. 2019; 321(6): e60.

Copyright

(Copyright © 2019, Scientific American)

DOI

10.1038/scientificamerican1219-60

PMID

39010428

Abstract

As the plane began its descent into Medford, we dropped into the blanket of smoke that covered southwestern Oregon and northern California. It was late July 2018, and several major fires were burning in the region. I was en route to join a Cal Fire (California Department of Forestry and Fire Protection) team investigating a fatal incident that had taken place two days earlier. What the group leader told me over the phone had sent chills up my spine: "A firefighter has been killed in a fire tornado. His vehicle was thrown hundreds of feet across the ground."

I, perhaps more than anyone, had known that this might happen someday. Ten years earlier I had gotten my first look at the aftermath of a fire tornado. The object, almost 1,000 feet in diameter, had moved out of the Indians Fire in California and overrun a group of firefighters. So strong was the wind that trying to get to safety felt like running through chest-deep water, one of the survivors told me. Fortunately, the men were standing on a paved two-lane highway, which probably saved their lives: had they been even 10 feet away and among the trees and grass, they would have died. When I reached the site, massive oak branches lay all around, and the ground had been scoured of pebbles. ...

Language: en