Twenty men clad in orange jumpsuits hoisted a khaki tent over
their shoulders, and heaved it over a fence.
”
Is that a mobile home?
”
hollered a CalFire staffer, walking past.
”
It’s mobile!
”
someone yelled back.
Gilroy – Twenty men clad in orange jumpsuits hoisted a khaki tent over their shoulders, and heaved it over a fence.
“Is that a mobile home?” hollered a CalFire staffer, walking past.
“It’s mobile!” someone yelled back.
Tent by tent, a vast camp has taken shape in Christmas Hill Park, where firefighters refuel, recharge and try to relax before the next grueling 24-hour shift battling more than 11,000 acres of flames. The blaze, dubbed the Lick Fire, drew crews from Sacramento to Orange County, transforming a Gilroy park better known for hosting garlicky Gourmet Alley into ground zero for the firefight.
CalFire is paying the city $500 a day for the use of the site.
The camp sprung up Tuesday, staffed by 350 low-risk inmates and hundreds of CalFire workers and khaki-suited members of the California Conservation Corps. Inmates work on CalFire emergencies through an agreement with the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation. CalFire spokesman Frank Kemper called the camp “a mini-city,” equipped with kitchens, showers, toilets, a clinic and even a wireless command center, abuzz with scanners and printers.
“We’re the grunt people,” said Gabriel Kirkland, a CCC member. “We serve the lunches – and we clean up the trash.”
As of Wednesday morning, the camp was serving 1,300 people, a crowd that kept Vito Rocha scrambling for AA batteries, ice chests and hoses. Rocha, a CCC crew supervisor, was working a 16-hour shift Wednesday at the camp’s supply table; a humid tent awaited him at night. How long he’ll stay there, he doesn’t know.
“Right now there’s no telling,” said Rocha. “It could be 10 days. It could be 20.”
Blazing temperatures and the camp’s hubbub can make it difficult to sleep, said Jim Pope, captain of the Napa Fire Department. Others have been luckier: CalFire crews and command staff crowded Gilroy and Morgan Hill motels, with CalFire picking up the tab at reduced government rates. Roughly 550 motel beds are booked at a time, estimated CalFire engineer Shane Cook, as he leafed through lists of local inns. Space hasn’t been a problem, said Cook, but coordination can be tricky.
“It’s nonstop,” said Cook. “You just keep calling hotels, reserving rooms. Sometimes you get caught up, sometimes you don’t. Sometimes you think you are, but you’re not.
“Ultimately, it’s a safety issue,” Cook added, speaking of the motels. CalFire staff have negotiated a contract that allows them to stay in motels during major incidents. “You’re getting good rest, so the crews are ready to go.”
Before they go, they’ve got to sharpen their chainsaws and bandage their scrapes – the work of two different on-site crews. Martin Tidwell of A-1 Turf Equipment in San Martin repairs run-down saws from his truck, working with limited supplies.
“I’ve got a whole lot of inventory here, but I can’t possibly stock all the parts for every type of saw we have,” said Tidwell, whose father drove to four different shops, one in Livermore, to restock the truck yesterday. “When we’ve got to have it, we’ve got to have it. And we’ve got to have it now.”
Firefighters often give him badly-battered saws to repair in 10 minutes, he said: One chainsaw was plowed underneath a Caterpillar tractor.
On the opposite end of the camp, nurses from the Disaster Medical Assistance Team doled out prescription drugs, Band-Aids and sanitary pads to firefighters in need. Poison oak and heat stroke dominate the complaints, said nurse practitioner Terry Holbrook. Eye and knee injuries from Henry Coe’s rugged terrain are a close second.
“They’re tired puppies,” Holbrook said of the firefighters who visit the tented clinic. “They just want to get treated, and go to sleep.”
As the camp expands, Gilroyans have opened their arms. City Council donated breakfast to the crews; mayoral candidate Craig Gartman carted over baked goods from Nob Hill Foods. Tori Koppelmaa, catering assistant at Famous Dave’s BBQ, asked the restaurant to donate 200 corn muffins and more than 20 bottles of barbecue sauce to the cause. Her boss happily obliged.
“I saw the camp,” said Koppelmaa, “and I just wanted to do it.”
