Tag Archives: forest service

07 Sep

Blowing **** up in the woods, Part 1

Explosives look like sausages. Sausages that come in fifty pound boxes and convert sections of road into little valleys for streams to run through. Sausages that are not filled with meat, but something that looks a bit like vanilla frosting. Sausages that are used, as one of the blasters said, to kill culverts.

First, you get your explosives a few miles up an overgrown ex-logging road. This involves a helicopter. Then you get yourself up there, too. This involves your legs, but might involve an ATV to carry your backpack partway.

Then, at your site, you lay out your string of sausages, like so.

Mmm, sausages…

Then, you tape them together with detonating cord (the purple stuff you see on the spool above). Each sausage, aka ‘chub,’ needs to have intimate contact with either the det cord or another chub, to make sure it all explodes together.

Taping up chubs

Once that’s set, you move on to the next site. For efficiency, you set up 3-6 shots to go off at the same time.

The blasters keep careful notes on each shot.

Then, you go back and load each string into the culverts. The culverts range from 18 to 48 inches in diameter. For the smaller ones, you can send a rope through and then pull the string. For a 24 inch culvert, you can send in an intern.

Elizabeast! My fearless intern.

For a 48 inch culvert, even a fish and wildlife biologist will fit.

A full grown biologist can be over 6 feet tall!
Then a passle of people wrassle this python like conglomeration of explosives into one end of the culvert while someone at the other end pulls on the rope to coax it through. 
Feeding python into the pipe.

When there are a few shots all set up, the blasters string them together with a thin yellow plastic tubing coated inside with an explosive powder. The tubing is called shock cord, and they unspool 1200 feet of it, to make sure they’re setting the explosions off from a safe distance. To be doubly safe, everyone takes cover behind the larger trees.

Just so you know, this is what the road looks like before anything explodes.

Tune in next time for the after view….

25 Aug

I have not been blasted

I am back from the trip to blow up culverts. We went 1200 feet away from all the explosives before setting them off, so I have all my limbs and digits, but no exciting explosion pictures. That’s okay, because I like all my limbs and digits as they are, i.e. attached to me.

Cappy the Blasting Bear

Here’s Cappy the Blasting Bear. He’s made out of used shot cord, which attaches to detonating cord which attaches to the actual bombs and explody bits. The shot cord makes up most of the 1200 feet separating people from the blasts, so there’s lots of it left over for art projects.

I’m leaving tomorrow morning for Prince of Wales, where I’ll be for about 36 hours, I’ll update more after that trip.

17 Aug

Food to feed an army

Your tax dollars at work at local businesses

Let me show where your tax dollars go. They go directly towards supporting local businesses, and to feeding hungry hungry crews of government employees doing field work. We went shopping this morning for food to feed 10 people for 8 or 9 days. Multiply people-days by a per diem, and we had $2670 to spend. That makes about seven shopping carts, and took about two hours of 6 people circling the grocery store.

Not pictured: the carts containing food for vegetarians,

gatorade and pop, dinner for the crew going up today


Us vegetarians got a lot of nuts for protein and fats. The meat-eating majority got a lot of meat. About $800 worth of meat. We got some portabella mushrooms and corn to grill when they are eating steak and burgers.
12 Jun

My living quarters in Sitka

If you’ve been wondering what the Forest Service bunkhouse looks like, here ya go. One story, four bedrooms, two bathrooms. It’s on the edge of a gravel parking lot, which is surrounded by three buildings – a FS warehouse, another FS building which I suppose is a shop for working on boats/ATVs/cars/whatever, and ye olde bunkhouse. I say ye olde bunkhouse, because yesterday someone was visiting from another ranger district and said it looked the same when she first stayed there in the 1980s.

Also, the truck, as all FS road vehicles, are called “rigs.”

Above is my bedroom. It’s double occupancy, and I do have a roomie. Below is our kitchen.


Finally, here is our living room. As many buildings here do, we have a great big pasted together map of maps to show the area where we are. These vary in scale; the bunkhouse map shows Baranof Island and a bit of the surrounding islands. I think it would be 200-300 miles, north to south, in the territory it covers. We also have a television, and two vcr/dvd players because one of them is crummy on dvds, or maybe it was just the dvd from the public library was crummy. What you can’t see is the 15 vhs tapes that are part of the bunkhouse collection, including the entire set of the X Files. If I were into the X Files, that would be pretty exciting.



Also, here’s my bike. I’m glad I waited and refused to take any of the rusting mountain bikes that were offered to me, because not only were most of them too big, they were not nearly as nice as this bike.


Although I have been to the bikeshop with it three times in the first week – first to get it checked over and air in the tires, second to fix a flat because I went through the spare tube I bought, and third because a piece of the derailleur fell off, and I didn’t really want a single speed bike even though it is super flat here.

28 May

Safety training

My training has continued… I have now been certified for first aid and CPR, to ride an ATV, and yes, to exit underwater aircraft. I did not expect these trainings when I was signing up for a job in communications, even if it is communicating in Alaska. But I guess it is Southeast Alaska, the Panhandle, which is mostly made up of islands. Sitka, where I am living, and will be for the next six months, is on one of the three largest islands, the ABCs. Admiralty, Baranof, and Chichagoff. (Sitka is on Baranof. Baranof was in charge of the Russian American Company, way back when.) To go anywhere involves going over water, by boat or plane, and thus all the safety training.

Hypothermia you can go read about on your own, and you can take the same standardized first aid and CPR training anywhere in the country, but I bet you can’t get the underwater egress training, so I’ll talk about that one.

The training was run by Dug Jensen, who also did most of the water and survival trainings on the previous days. For this one, he also brought in a retired Coast Guard pilot and helicopter mechanic. We watched a video, and learned things like if a plane (including float planes) has its landing gear down when it hits the water, the gear catches and flips the plane. Boom, you are upside down and underwater.

One of the Forest Service folks who has been around for a while recounted how he narrowly missed being on a flight where this happened. The pilot was running a couple of loads of gear back and forth to a camp on a lake, and this guy needed to go back for something at the last minute, and so didn’t get on the plane. The pilot forgot the landing gear, and flipped. An unsecured propane tank from the back shot out the front window, directly through the passenger seat. Very lucky that he wasn’t sitting there! The pilot got out, and wasn’t able to convince the crew waiting at the camp that there was no passenger — they figured he was disoriented — and they dove in the lake to look for him for a while before it all got sorted out. This is just one of many war stories we have heard during the training period.

Anyway, we had the classroom portion of this training and then we divided into two groups for pool time. All the talk and anticipation was making me nervous about it, so I volunteered myself for the first group to get it over with.

At the pool, as I had heard, there was indeed a cage structure made of yellow PVC pipe, with a blue seat of laminated nylon sort of stuff in the middle, and a five point harness like you might have in a helicopter. You sit in the seat, and fasten up the harness, which has a release in the middle. You twist the release, either direction, and it all comes off immediately. You also wear a helmet, because you probably would in a helicopter or small plane, and be attached with some inflight communications system.

Here is what you practice.

1. Open your door, and lock the mechanism so it can’t relatch and trap you.
2. Undo any cords attaching you to the comms system.
3. Find a point of reference for your hand near the door.
4. Now, instead of leaving your hands on that point where your arm is rigid and could get broken, put them under your legs, or wrap them around you so your face is protected in the crook of your elbow. Don’t put your hand on the harness release, because you want to be strapped in at impact — that’s what the harness is there for!
5. Take a couple deep breaths before you hit the water, but not so many that you’re hyperventilating and will make yourself pass out. The instructor asks if you are ready. Say yes, and listen to the count of 1, 2, 3.
6. Now you’re in the water, upside down. Don’t flail around; stay calm and wait for the cage to settle. In a real crash, don’t wait so long that you are 300 feet below the surface, just long enough that the helicopter rotors or other dangerous moving debris is done.
7. Undo your harness.
8. Put your hand out to your reference point. From there grab another solid point, and so on until you are outside.
9. Head to the surface. Don’t kick anyone who is trying to get out behind you.

My first immersion I flailed a bit, but got out. The next two I was calmer and did fine, but not so well that they offered to tip me in backwards instead of forwards, although I did I have a simulated blocked exit (i.e. the Coastie splayed himself on the side I had been going out on) on the last one.

Throughout the practice, there were a couple snorkel masks being passed around so we could watch other people underwater. There wasn’t a whole lot to see, though. Some bubbles and moving limbs. Nobody stayed in for very long. Apparently, after I left, there was a person in the second group who really freaked out on the first dunk, and had to be calmed down, but went right back for the next one and finished the three times successfully.

Hopefully I never have to do this anywhere other than in a pool, but it is good, of course, to have a plan and a laminated card that says you’ve completed the ‘Survival Egress Aviation Safety 4 Hour Dunker Course.’