Bruce and Paula Hagemeyer were hiking through the Chewuch River Canyon near Winthrop, Washington, on the afternoon of July 10, 2001, looking for a place to set up camp, when they came across a portion of forest that was charred. The U.S. Forest Service often uses prescribed burns to restore health to ecosystems that depend on fire, so seeing large swaths of burned trees isn’t unusual. They pitched their tent a few miles upriver at a campground that marked the end of the only dirt road in and out of the area. At the time, although the district management officer had requested closing the road to the campground, no action was taken until 3 p.m., hours after the Hagemeyers had passed through.
Not long after, they saw smoke rising high in the sky from the direction they had driven. They broke camp and headed out.
“I said smoke…fire. One way out. We’d better go,” Bruce Hagemeyer told the Associated Press.
A forest fire had broken out in the national forest toward the southern end of the north-south canyon. The blaze, caused by an escaped picnic cooking fire, was covering about five acres of forest lands, but was not near any towns or residences. The narrow canyon was steep and heavily forested with evergreen and cottonwood trees. The area had experienced a lengthy drought and abnormally dry conditions, which according to the federal forest service, increased the probability of ignition to 100 percent and the potential for extreme fire behavior.
Among the firefighters that responded to the fire the next morning was 21-year-old Rebecca Welch from Lancaster, California. Welch, a rookie working her second fire was awakened early in the morning and drove four and a half hours to the site of the fire. She was part of a squad designated to dig fire line breaks to slow the rapid spread of the flames.
By about 3:20 p.m., the fire had grown to about 50 acres in size. Within 15 minutes, it increased to 100 acres in the northern part of the forest.
An hour later, Welch’s commander was told by radio to get the group out of the area. Two squads were loaded into a van and they drove south on the road when they were faced with more disaster.
The fire had burned across the road and cut off their escape route, forcing them to turn around. They traveled back north to an area where the commander believed was a safety zone in order to wait out the fire’s passing.
The area had relatively sparse vegetation that included a rocky bank, a river, and a sandbar just east of the road. Welch and the firefighter crew gathered on the road and the rock bank to watch the fire. At that point, the flames were estimated to have covered more than 500 acres.
About 10 minutes after the crew arrived, the Hagemeyers, who had driven south on the road, arrived at the site. They were informed that the fire had crossed the road and that they were trapped with no possibility of escape. Asking what they should do, the commander told them not to panic but did not offer any other advice or protective equipment.
It was soon after that the fire conditions changed dramatically and crewmembers later reported that the fire came at them fast. The rapid pace of the flames preceded falling ash and what was described as a “fire snowstorm”.
Welch recalled that she saw two columns of fire move toward the group and embers falling around them. The embers were then followed by a rolling wave of extreme heat, smoke, and fire-induced winds that reached 50 m.p.h.
From a Seattle Post-Intelligencer article by Tom Paulson, Bob Beckley, a fire information officer with the Forest Service’s Technology and Development Center in Missoula, Montana, details the roaring sound that comes with extreme fires such as this.
“Those who have survived a ‘burn-over’ say it sounds like you’re being run over by a freight train,” said Beckley. “It’s hard not to panic.”
As the fire approached, the commander told the firefighters to deploy their fire shelters that each crew member carried with them.
The shelters were designed as a last resort option to accommodate only one person, two if necessary. Made of aluminum foil bonded to fiberglass cloth, the shelter protected the user by deflecting embers, reflecting radiant heat, and trapping breathable air inside. While the user was to lay prone on the shelter’s open floor, holding the edges down for a seal, the user could employ the shelter also as a shield during escape. The shelter would start to break down at air temperatures around 475 degrees, causing the layers to delaminate.
As Welch unraveled her shelter near the road in an area with brush nearby, Paula Hagemeyer approached her and shouted, “You have to help us! No one else will allow us in a shelter!”
“They were standing right next to me and screaming,” Welch said in an article from the Wenatchee World. “I didn’t even think about it. I just held it out and we all got under.”
Welch got underneath her shelter, followed by the Hagemeyers, and positioned herself in one corner of the shelter. She used the right side of her body against the shelter to hold it to the ground. Hagemeyer and his wife knelt down and placed their hands over their heads with Paula beside Welch and Bruce at the women’s feet. They held the edges of the shelter down at Welch’s command, along with using their hands and a towel to beat down flames at the edge of the shelter. Using the same towel and a gallon of water they brought with them, they wet the towel and passed it between each other to hold against their mouths.
Paula Hagemeyer later stated that the smoke inside the shelter was thick, black, and gray. According to Welch, Paula also said she could not breathe and that she lifted the edge of the shelter but quickly put it back down.
Welch said she talked to the couple to try to calm them down.
“They were pretty panicky,” Welch said. “We prayed a lot…Other firefighters said they heard the fire going over them, but I was talking to them and I don’t remember hearing anything outside.”
Bruce Hagemeyer felt as though they would die inside the shelter.
“It was claustrophobic. Very hot,” Welch said. “They wanted to get out real bad.”
Fifteen minutes had passed when Welch heard orders for everyone to go to the river. The fire had passed and allowed them to exit to the shelter to find the vicinity blackened and smoky.
They would later learn that their shelter had been exposed to temperatures of at least 600 degrees, and the shelter itself sustained delamination and tears in the seams. Four firefighters died in their shelters.
Welch and the Hagemeyers joined the other surviving firefighters at the river, where a rescue squad reached them about 15 minutes later and evacuated them to safety.
Both Bruce and Paula Hagemeyer sustained burns and smoke inhalation, but would recover.
Welch was taken to a local clinic for first- and second-degree burns to the right side of her body. She recovered in one month.
Two others who had been in that area moved as the fire burned over and survived; one was badly burned. Other firefighters had sustained burns and smoke inhalation.
In total, the fire burned for almost two months and destroyed a total of 9,324 acres. The devastating event would later be known as the Thirtymile Fire.
Joyce Stewart, a Rotary district governor, called Welch “the heroine of the Thirtymile Fire”.
“Her basic instinct was to think of others at a time when human nature would tell you to think only of yourself.”
“It was an act of heroism beyond what a lot of us can ever imagine,” said Sonny O’Neal, supervisor of the Wenatchee and Okanogan National Forests. “Rebecca is a real heroine for firefighters in our area…She risked her own life to save two others.”
According to the Associated Press, Bruce Hagemeyer had no question that Welch’s actions saved their lives.
“No doubt about it at all. We would have died.”
Welch was overwhelmed by the attention.
“I never thought of myself as a hero,” she said. “I don’t think of what I did as heroic. I just did it.”
“Her mother and I are so proud of her and what she did,” said Welch’s father, Alan Welch, in an article in the Antelope Valley Press.
Welch was recognized for her bravery with many honors and awards, including the Carnegie Medal in June 2002.
“She’s received many awards for her heroism,” her father said. “But she takes it all in stride. She’s still Rebecca. When we last talked to her, she was excited about spending seven straight days in the field fighting the fires in New Mexico. She’s pleased with the awards, but the real excitement comes from doing her job.”
Despite the events that occurred that day, Welch was seemingly undeterred and returned to putting out more fires.
“I know she feels honored to receive these awards, but it’s a new fire season and she has work to do,” Alan Welch said. “She is dedicated to her job.”
— Griffin Erdely, Communications Assistant