Fire Fighting Tales from Rural Maine: The Fire Swamp

I had a hard day today. It was the last day of Fire Academy, and in some ways, it was the worst one, which is really saying something. It was the fifth of the last six weekends in a row that we had training, and the third of an unprecedented three-day training weekend. To say I was running on empty is to say that the Titanic hit an ice cube.

What is the word to describe indescribable fatigue of body and mind? Also? My blisters have blisters. Oh, wait. Not any more. They all ripped off today. But my bruises definitely have bruises. And my exhausted self was taken by surprise by a confined spaces challenge first thing this morning, which did not go well for me, and I never really recovered. As a result, my day involved several rather severe crying jags, which always leaves me feeling raw, embarrassed, and pathetic. But several very kind and generous firefighters said and did some things that lifted my tired spirit enough that I was able to arrive at a moment just now where I realized that I can think of today--and perhaps Fire Academy, in general--as being like a journey through the Fire Swamp. As in, after falling into the Lightning Sand and almost dying, Princess Buttercup says to Westley, "We'll never succeed, we may as well die here!"

But Westley says to Princess Buttercup, "No, no! We have already succeeded. I mean, what are the Three Terrors of the Fire Swamp? One? The Flame Spurt. No problem. There's a popping sound preceding each, we can avoid that. Two, the Lightning Sand, and you were clever enough to discover that, so in the future, we can avoid that too..."

See, after this weekend, I know that a career in wildland fires is not for me. That's handy knowledge. (Hanging around with forestry guys/gals is like going to the zoo, by the way--they are a totally different breed from us structural guys/gals! It's fascinating to watch them, with their lean bodies and their beards and their green pants. Well, not a zoo, more like...a forest. A mythic forest full of animals who genuinely like to dig fire lines for ten hours at a stretch for days at a time in the middle of nowhere in intense heat, and often deadly conditions. Weirdly, they think it's odd that *we* want to go into burning buildings.)

Second, I think it's clear that I don't have a future in search and rescue...and rather than feel bad about that, I can be pleased that I was clever enough to discover it, so that I can avoid that in the future.

That really just leaves Rodents of Unusual Size. And I'm pretty sure they don't exist.

You can watch this film clip on YouTube here.