An excerpt from the 2016 Peace River Unit Crew season — from the upcoming memoir, When Embers Fade

I’ve been lucky enough to lead some of the best wildland firefighters in the country. Some of them became lifelong friends. A few became family.

This piece comes from a day when the stakes were high and the heat was higher. We were on Division Bravo, trying to hold a critical guard on the Sweeny Creek Fire. That shift was with Farley, one of the most reliable firefighters I ever worked with. Tough as nails. Deadpan funny. The kind of guy you’d follow into a burning forest knowing there was a good chance you wouldn’t come out unscathed.

We weren’t rookies anymore. We knew the risks. But we also knew how to push right to the edge and still get the job done. This is what that looked like.

The age-old question is finally put to rest: Which hand tool reigns supreme—the Pulaski or the shovel?

The bear was circling our camp, lurking just beyond the reach of the firelight, waiting for the perfect moment to move in and claim its dinner. The three of us swept our headlamps through the darkness, straining to catch a glimpse of its hulking form. 

Being a wildland firefighter was the best job I've ever had. It provided me with incredibly unique experiences that enriched my life and continue to guide me today. I'm deeply grateful that I never took those moments for granted and had the emotional insight to appreciate the significance of my position.