Saturday, January 11, 2014

Wildfire in My Back Yard (And the Front Yard Too!)

Via the Missoulian
I reported on literally scores of wildfires over my nearly decade-long stint as a television broadcaster in Montana. Among them was the 7,000 acre Black Mountain Fire in 2003 that burned four miles from my home. I still remember standing on my front porch at night watching the glow of the flames beyond the ridge top. Several years later, fireworks sparked a small fire less than a half mile behind my house that almost forced us to evacuate. Those were nothing compared to the big burn in the summer of 2013! 

A lightning storm rolled through the Bitterroot Valley on a Sunday in mid-August. Two of the lightning strikes were in rough terrain about 10 miles up Highway 12 from Lolo–one high above the intersection of Elk Meadows Road and the highway with the other in the mountains above Woodman School and the farm house where my friends Clay and Autumn Gilleard lived on the O/Z Ranch, the ranch being a place where I worked for eight summers and remains my favorite place to fish. Little did we know that the best huckleberry picking season in years, located not far from one of the lightning strikes, would come to a very sudden screeching and scorched halt. 

Two small  smoke plumes 
The two small innocent-looking smoke columns grew to 70 acres by Monday morning but then Mother Nature’s fury took over as the fire blew up to 5,000 acres. Then on Tuesday, the fire went on another big run covering 4,000 more acres. By now, the two fires merged into one forming the Lolo Creek Fire Complex. The big blowup covered eight square miles and destroyed five homes. Flames decimated the westernmost reaches of the O/Z’s timber-covered hills. 

Via the Missoulian
With the flames pressing upon them Jim Hayden, the ranch manager, and Clay made a calculated move by herding the cattle cross the highway near the schoolhouse. With thick smoke and embers in the air, that turned out to be a good call. Flames also burned down the mountain to the green grass surrounding the Gilleard’s home and outbuildings. Firefighters evacuated them and many others. Clay and Jim remained on the ranch all week long where they used their heavy equipment to carve fire lines and put out spot fires. Firefighters started pouring into Lolo from around the country and even as far away as Canada. It was definitely “Game On!”



As the fire crept closer to Lolo, it triggered more evacuations for everyone who lived from about 15 to 20 miles up Highway 12 to just a few miles west of town. Those forced out of their homes included many friends who lived up Sleeman Gulch, Mill Creek and along Lolo Creek. Thick smoke filled the air and you could hear the thump-thump of choppers making run after run to the Bitterroot River to fill their huge buckets for water drops. Officials closed Highway 12 for both firefighting and safety reasons. Ash coated our windshields, driveways and yards. As I stood in my front yard one day I saw something boomeranging its way to the ground. I walked out in the street, looked up and caught it. It was a small pine tree branch some eight inches in length. The fire, as others do as well, created its own weather system and wind storm that carried that branch more than a couple of miles to me as it continued to feed the flames.

We had a Missoula County Sheriff's deputy knock on our door Tuesday delivering a pre-evacuation notice to us. He said the next time we heard from law enforcement, we’d have to evacuate our home. So we each packed some small bags, gathered a bunch of baby stuff for Kyler, scooped up photos, journals, Grandpa Vern’s .30-06 rifle, my .22, other supplies and had a pile ready to go by the front door.

We were told if an evacuation warning were issued, a slow-moving law enforcement vehicle would drive through the neighborhood with its siren blaring. Luckily, that never happened but it sure felt like it might. Everyone who lived north of Highway 12 and west of Highway 93, including our neighborhood up on the hill, got a similar notice. The rest of Lolo did not. 

The fire advanced to a mile or less from Sleeman Gulch. The firefighting effort entailed about 770 total personnel and included nine choppers, small planes, 120 National Guardsmen and other law enforcement from around the state. They took over the heart of Lolo where a tent city went up on the Lolo Little League baseball fields. More firefighters poured into town and the Lolo Creek Fire Complex was named the number-one firefighting effort in the nation! More personnel followed pushing the total count to about 900. Thanks to their presence, our small town’s population grew by more than fourth. When the smoke was at its thickest, it was really eerie outside. It was so thick that we could not see the Sapphire Mountains less than two miles across the valley from our back deck.

“Thank you” and “We Love You” firefighter signs popped up all over town. The fire raged on but the winds subsided. Thanks to our dedicated firefighters, Highway 12 opened up on Saturday, six days after the initial lightning strikes. A shift in the weather pattern blew the smoke another direction and we finally had clear blue skies, even as the fire continued to burn above us. 


On Sunday, we arrived at church to find a general authority (a leader from the LDS church) sitting on the stand. Elder Vern Stanfill, formerly a stake president in Kalispell, was there as was President Greg Sangster, our stake president. It was so awesome to see a general authority in our building. He said he was there to let us know that the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles in Salt Lake City was following the situation and had been praying for us and those fighting the fires. Turns out he and his wife then went to Hallie’s Sunday School class and then came to priest’s quorum. I asked the boys, “Okay, who’s ever attended a priest’s quorum meeting with a member of the Seventy in the same room?” Silence as I chuckled. 

Fire Camp on the baseball fields
One other thing I learned that day at church was interesting. I’d been attending the nightly public information fire meetings at Lolo School. While there, I’d jot down bullet-point facts and then email them out to our church members in Lolo and Florence so they’d be updated on evacuations, fire growth, etc.
Miller Creek Fire east of Lolo
President Sangster said he took my email, forwarded it to Elder Stanfill who then forwarded it to the presidency of the Seventy who then forwarded it to the Quorum of the Twelve. Go figure, crazy huh?

Just when everything was returning to normal, even though a number of firefighters remained in town for mop up duty, another dry lightning storm boomed over Lolo on another Sunday night about four weeks later. Hallie looked out the window and said “The mountain is on fire!” Sure enough, a lightning strike hit on the bald-faced mountain above Lolo but this time on the east side of the valley. I called 9-1-1, was told they were already dealing with it and we watched the fire quickly spread both down toward the Bitterroot River and south over the ridge top. Firefighters and choppers had it contained a few days later at about 160 acres. We can certainly live with looking at a charred hillside until the spring green-up. Anything is better than people losing their homes and possessions to a raging wildfire. 

Lolo Complex Fire as seen from Missoula (Via Chris Chapman Photography)
This whole experience only solidified my understanding of what’s really important. I remember looking at Lori and then at our furniture and saying something like “This is just stuff.” Yep, all our belongings really don’t matter. It’s all about family, relationships and the love and eternal sealing we share that endure beyond wildfires and beyond this mortal life. We won’t be able to take any of that other “stuff” with us. 

Raging flames but firefighters saved the structure
(via Rocky Momberg)

I am so grateful for the hard work and skills of so many firefighters in leaving their loved ones to knock down both fires, save our town and restore so many people to their homes. It was a Montana summer I will always remember.


Via Missoula County Sheriff's Department
Fire Progression Map

A view from Missoula (via James Rafferty)

Wednesday, September 4, 2013

A Montana Pioneer Trek to 'Remember'

Trekking under Montana's Big Sky
In a word, the Stevensville Montana Stake pioneer trek was AWESOME! It took place on the Hairpin Ranch in the Big Hole Valley. The theme was “Remember," as in remember the Mormon pioneers and how we relate our experiences to theirs.

Ensign Company: Holyoak, Kanenwisher & Revelli families
Here a few of the many high notes:
  • Lori and I were Ma and Pa to 17 great kids from across the Bitterroot Valley
  • We trekked a total of 22+ miles over 3 days 
  • We pushed handcarts that weighed 300 lbs before we loaded any of our gear on it 
  • Our kids never complained about anything, got to be real friends with each other, and loved gathering with their Ma & Pa at meals and other times each day 
Sky turns gray
On the second day, a gnarly looking storm was about to hit when we headed for the trees. We bundled together under some smaller willow bushes as the rain and then pea-, marble-, and eventually grape-sized hail started to pelt down as the winds whipped all around us. Our campsite was on a high mountain prairie in the Big Hole and it got plastered! The winds snapped tent poles and the hail put holes in many tents, including part of the rainfly on ours. Half to two thirds of the tents got blown over and the water poured in and soaked everything. (We later found out this storm caused something like $40 million in crop damage and caused more damage as it rolled through the town of Twin Bridges.) As the companies eventually made it back to camp they all started putting the tents back up and hung up the sleeping bags to try to get them dried.
 
Seeking shelter under the willows
We didn’t have enough daylight so the sleeping bags, including Lori’s and those belonging to 8 of our 10 boys, remained soaked with the temperatures falling. After dinner, the leaders asked everyone with a soaked sleeping bag to load it on a trailer for a run to Dillon (about 25 miles away) to dry them at two laundromats. I’m guessing 60 to 80 sleeping bags got loaded up.
Soaked!

Our seven girls were spared but they didn’t want to go to bed since our boys and I had no sleeping bag to sleep in so we stayed around the fire to wait for the trailer’s return. It was really cool to see all 19 of us jammed shoulder to shoulder around the fire, talking, telling jokes, growing closer and having a good time. Eventually, Lori and the girls went to bed but the guys and I stayed up. Then at about 1 a.m. or later, the trailer returned. We were among the first to greet it. It was so cool to be at the trailer and look back to see kids with flashlights and headlamps sprinting toward the trailer from all across the field. They looked like fireflies in the night as their lights bobbed and they screamed and yelled for joy. Twenty minutes later, everyone was back in their wiped-down tents –those that survived the storm anyway— for the night. A bunch of kids actually slept in their sleeping bags in the trailer and others slept around their fires. (Hallie’s sleeping bag also got soaked.) We trekked another 6+ miles the next day to finish things out. 

Warming our bodies & our souls around the fire

Those are just a few experiences. Again, it was a such a great time. I attended to a lot of church youth and youth-related activities over the years, from the time I was a teenager until now, and this was by far my favorite!

Four of my girls: Ceara, Olivia, Heather & Natasha
Below are the words from a talk I gave at a post-trek youth fireside:
"Everyone, circle to the left..."

Remember…
to recall to the mind by an act or effort of memory; 
to keep in mind; remain aware of, think of again.

A break along the trail
Recognize
Relive
Recollect
Reminisce

E's moose paddle
Remember our trek.
Remember the bus ride there.
Remember meeting your trek family.
Remember thinking these kids (hold up lid) –my 17 kids—are awesome!
Remember the new friendships you made and strengthened.

Remember the closeness you felt to your new brother, your new sister, your Ma, your Pa (put hat on--"Gotta represent!"), your captain and fellow company and camp members –and in the Holyoak family specifically— remember the closeness felt to our “young ‘un” Ephraim, born on the trail that first day and after just 8 hours with him it was as if he was already 8 years old.

Souvenir lid signed  by my kids
Looking back on camp
Remember the steps you took.
Remember walking side by side, helping each other, and making new friends.
Remember willingly changing places on the handcart without being asked.
Remember hauling your ailing Pa and then your sick Ma.
Remember allemande left, dosey doe and promenade home. 
Remember the hot sun.
Remember the building black clouds.
Remember running for cover.
Remember the rain pouring down.
Remember the grape-sized hail stones.
Remember the teamwork of the first trekkers who arrived to a camp in shambles--going from tent to tent, setting them back up, pulling out soaked sleeping bags and hanging them on handcarts and around fires to try to dry them.

Welcome back to camp
Ensign Company...remember returning to camp that same day to be greeted by the cheering Heritage and Legacy Companies.
Remember sitting around the campfire as the temperatures dropped wondering when, where or if we’d sleep that night.
Remember the “miracle of the dried sleeping bags.”
Remember the hoots and howls of joy while running to the trailer well past midnight.
Remember feeling thankful.
Remember the late night firesides with your families.

Pa got "sick" on the trail...pioneer children walked as they sang and sang and sang...Ma got "sick" too
One step down and thousands to go

Remember the feelings you felt as read the letters from your loved ones back home or from your trek parents. 
Remember the critter stew, barbecue chicken, dutch oven peach cobbler, the pancakes, the bacon…and those who worked so hard to prepare it all. 
Remember the planning, service and sacrifice from our stake members and leaders in making the trek possible.

Trail games:  Stick pull...
...and tug o war
Remember the blisters, chapped lips, sunburns and the aching muscles and feet.
Remember the women’s pull.
Remember the looks on their faces as they toiled up the hill without the help of any Ma’s, Pa’s, or brothers.
Remember the heartfelt thoughts and feelings that brought to mind.

Women's Pull: Men not allowed to help because many "died off" leaving mothers, daughters & sisters to do the work

Remember the true pioneer stories of unparalleled courage and sacrifice you heard along the trail.

"Remember, remember my sons and daughters..."

Remember the challenges issued to each of us by our bishops and other stake leaders:

  • Young men: to live a life of virtue
  • Young women: to be a modern day pioneer and serve others
  • To all: to make memories, sacrifice, and to act our part whether at school, church, home or elsewhere 
Teamwork on the trail

Grabbing some shut-eye
Remember the final trek back to the buses.
Remember the feeling of accomplishment as you put down the 300 pound handcart for the last time.
Remember the thoughts and feelings as you gathered as a family for the last time already looking forward to the next time you’d see together.
Our family flag


Remember– again in the Holyoak family, a.k.a. the Hopper Chompers— watching some of my girls eat grasshoppers just as their brother James did again and again and again all trek long.
Remember the real pioneers.
Remember what they sacrificed.
Remember who you are.

Years ago, I was a young sportscaster in Topeka, Kansas. At the time, Lawrence High School in Lawrence, Kansas, dominated high school football like no other team anywhere.
  • 31 undefeated seasons…the most of any school in the entire U-S 
  • since 1945, Lawrence won 26 state championships 
  • entering the 1993 season, the Lions won seven 6-A state titles over the previous 9 years, including the last 4 in a row 
On November 21, 1993, I was on the campus of Wichita State University, with a TV camera on my shoulder, shooting a couple of state championships from smaller classifications.

James the "Hopper Chomper"
Over the loud speaker we heard this scoring update: “From the 6-A championship game in Manhattan, it’s halftime. Derby leads Lawrence 23-0.” Shock and surprise rippled through the crowd. True, Derby was 11-0 on the season but so were the mighty Lions who had won their previous 33 games in a row over the previous 26 months! They had only losses 8 over the previous 10 years! Play continued and just after my game finished there was another announcement: “We have a final score from the 6-A championship in Manhattan: Lawrence 27, Derby 23.” Again, shock and amazement. My question as a sportscaster was: “What did the coaching staff say at halftime to trigger such an incredible comeback?”

Here’s what happened:
Head Coach Dick Purdy allowed the frustrated players to sit in the locker room by themselves and think about what happened in the first half. He then walked in, said nothing, went to the chalk board and wrote four simple words: “Remember who you are,” and walked out. 

The team remembered who it was.
Players remembered they were 4-time defending state champions.
They remembered that they were playing for tradition.
They remembered that their brothers were also state champions.
They went out and played like champions.
They remembered who they were. 


My message to you is remember, remember who you are. 
Remember what you represent. 
Remember who you represent—your God, your Savior, His true church, your ward, your friends, your family, your parents, your brothers, your sisters, yourself! 

Love that Ma Holyoak!
Camp on the horizon
My friends… 
Yes, I am an “old guy,” but you are my friends—my new, young friends. 
On behalf of the other Ma’s and Pa’s, thank you for your example and for what you represent. 

Always, always remember who you are. I salute you and close in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Holyoak family
(top row, left to right: Ian Roberts, Caroline Maki, Ceara Chavez, Sarah Erhart, Karill Apedaile, Heather Hudson, Olivia Vai, Natasha Kitzinger, Josh Jones, Trey Anderson, Kaedin Schweitzer. Bottom row: Nicholas Fullbright, Riley Duce, Bryton Palmer, James Bess, Pa Holyoak, Ma Holyoak. Not pictured: Ethan Recht and Ephraim Apedaile.) 


Sunday, November 11, 2012

Stolen Valor

I don’t get really angry about a lot of things, but flat out dishonesty is one of them.  And this is a double whammy of dishonesty.  

Xavier Alvarez
Medal of Honor
The 9th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals in San Francisco just ruled that Americans have a constitutional right to lie about military service.  Here’s the deal:  back in 2006 Congress overwhelmingly approved what’s called the Stolen Valor Act, which made it a crime to lie about receiving a military medal or service badge.  One year later, a man in California, Xavier Alvarez, claimed he was a Marine and a winner of the Medal of Honor, the nation’s highest military award.  He is neither.  Alvarez pled guilty on condition he could appeal on First Amendment grounds.  An Associated Press report stated the 9th Circuit judges agreed “that the law was a violation of his free-speech rights. The majority said there’s no evidence that such lies harm anybody, and there’s no compelling reason for the government to ban such lies.”  
Doesn’t harm anybody?  Let me exercise my free speech rights and tell you, Mr. Alvarez, and you, judges on the 9th Circuit Court of Appeals, that your actions do hurt people!  Your actions hurt the men and women of the armed services and their families.  This ruling, which condones dishonest and anti-American behavior, comes at a time when some men and women serving abroad are not returning home because they gave their lives serving in Afghanistan, Iraq, and other regions around the world.

Let me tell you a true story about valor.  It’s about one of my heroes.  His name is Thomas Vernon Holyoak.  Grandpa Vern answered a call to serve in the United States Army.  He never personally told me about his service abroad because he did not like war. Luckily, my father convinced him to record what happened before he died so his posterity would know about his service and his experience.


Grandpa left his home in southern Utah in November of 1942. He endured a voyage of more than two weeks to join his company in Africa.  When he arrived, he witnessed World War II first-hand.  After defeating the enemy in the African theater, his unit took part in the invasion of Sicily.  He spent time in the cities of Catania and Palermo (cities I lived in 40 years later while serving as a Mormon missionary).  After again driving out the enemy, his company traveled to England to prepare for the invasion of France.  Grandpa Vern’s unit landed on Omaha Beach.  He spent more than two years with Allied troops as they pushed through France, Holland, Belgium and into Germany where he fought in many campaigns.  He served as a weapons runner, delivering ammunition to the mortar battalion along the front lines.  Seeking a place to sleep on one particular night, he and some fellow soldiers found a German pillbox.  They removed the German bodies inside to make enough room to lay down.  Severe stomach ailments, which later turned out to be an ulcer, forced him off the front lines in Germany and into a hospital for two weeks back in England.  During that time, 90 percent of his unit lost their lives during a fierce battle with the Germans at the Bridge of Remagen.


Upon his release from the hospital, Grandpa received orders to report to southern France where he assisted in guarding 50,000 German prisoners (see some of them below in a photo Grandpa carried with him as a soldier).  He said many of them looked very young, like they were 10 or 12 years old,  He said he felt sorry for them.


Prisoner of war enclosure near Marsielle, France 1945




Corporal Vern Holyoak & Lieutenant Emma Holyoak (his sister) in Marsielle, France 1945


Grandpa Vern was in Paris on May 8, 1945 for V-E Day, when the Allies accepted the unconditional surrender of Nazi Germany marking the end of Adolph Hitler’s Third Reich.  Three months later, he received orders to return home.  As he flew on board a B-17 to Casablanca, French Morocco, a report came over the radio confirming Japan’s official surrender. World War II was finally over.
 
Bronze Star
Thomas Vernon Holyoak was a man of valor.  He fought in seven campaigns:  North Africa, Sicily, Normandy, Northern France, the Battle of the Bulge, the Rhineland and Southern France.  The Army awarded him a battle star for each campaign.  He was also awarded a Bronze Star for hauling ammunition while under fire in Germany.  The commanding general gave his mortar battalion a commendation for its efforts in Germany.  He also received the Good Conduct Medal at the prisoner of war enclosure in southern France.

I, Mark Vernon Holyoak, am proud to be his grandson and his namesake.

Those who serve in the Armed Services are men and women of valor. They represent us. They fight for us. They protect us. They and their families sacrifice for us. They deserve our support. They deserve our loyalty. They deserve our honesty.

(This was originally published in 2011 when Alvarez was already serving a prison sentence for fraud after his conviction of registering his ex-wife for health benefits with his former employer. On June 28, 2012, the Supreme Court ruled the Stolen Valor Act was an unconstitutional abridgment of the freedom of speech under the First Amendment, striking down the law in a 6-to-3 decision.)