I Thought Wilderness Was A Place To Find Myself, Until I Spent Four Months Living In It
My first forest fire was a mushroom cloud blooming in the rearview mirror of a pickup truck. The driver, a ranger named Joe, was unfazed. The US Forest Service named it the Two Bulls fire, the inaugural spark of the summer of 2014, burning an area of Oregon forest about half the size of Manhattan. That season, 98 fires across the Pacific Northwest incinerated the equivalent of 90 Manhattans. Joe ended up being right — Two Bulls was barely a campfire.
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