Church Park Fire

It's been a rough and interesting two weeks around here.

Following my last post, we have met "Shoulder Season" in Middle Park. Summer sweetly lingered through the first weekend of October. Then, in a literal fire storm, winter reared its head.


The fire broke out last Sunday. I was home by myself, supposedly cleaning. I hate cleaning. And, I'm really slow at it. My house eternally suffers for it. Scott called and asked me if I'd heard about a fire near Fraser. He'd received a call from a coworker who was packing his stuff to evacuate. I looked online and the county's emergency website was down. I called my editor. No answer. I called our photographer. Yes, there was a fire. He was on his way. My editor was on a mountaintop somewhere looking down at the fire.

I called my editor again. This time he answered. Yes, he could see the fire and it had doubled in size in the last 15 minutes. I threw one sentence to that effect on the newspaper website and then made a call to the county's emergency public information officer. She said the fire was now 300 acres and that every firefighter in the county was responding. She told me where it was — Sheep Mountain near Church Park, which is located 5 miles west of Fraser. The Town of Fraser is 15-mile-drive south of my house by road, 12 miles as the crow flies. I walked out onto my back deck and looked west. No smoke. I craned my head to the south, in the direction of Fraser. No smoke. I wrote another update online.

The phone rang again. This time it was another coworker who lives up the road from me. "I have pictures," she said. "I can see flames shooting over the ridge." From her house? I looked west again off my back deck. Nothing. And craned around to the south. Nothing. I needed a map so I walked out my front door to the car and — there it was, like an atom bomb had gone off.

What I did not realize, being so new to the area, it that the mountain 5 miles south of my house — the one that appears so clearly as the backdrop in all the photos I take of my kids running through fields — is Sheep Mountain. My heart hit my stomach.


I put photos online and another update. People were being asked to prepare for evacuation. The winds started picking up. I couldn't help but stand there are stare at that cloud of smoke. It was mesmerizing. The slurry bombers came in and for the rest of the afternoon it was a full on air attack and I had a front-row seat. We all did.


From the other side of the mountain it looked like a volcano had exploded.


The weather grew cold and damp that night and hundreds of firefighters poured into the area. They fought to save roads and fought to keep the fire from coming across that ridge. The fire grew to 500 acres and came within 2 miles of houses and a young life camp. But not a single structure burned. Sawyer wanted to know if his Uncle Brian and Uncle Sam had saved everyone from the fire.

In the days ahead, I wrote a least 15 more updates on the fire and two long, feature stories. By the end of what turned out to be a very long week (in one 14-hour day I wrote the story about the fire, put it online, edited fire photos from readers, helped design the paper and then drove two hours to pick the paper up at the press and deliver it) snow had arrived and blanketed the mountaintops. The bone-chilling, moist weather put a final finish to the fire. It is now 100 percent contained and crews are breaking down camp and pulling out.

This was the biggest fire of its kind that Grand County has ever seen. But with 3 million acres of dead trees surrounding us in the Arapaho and Roosevelt National Forests due to the pine beetle epidemic, it won't be the last.