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“I just have milk gallons filled with water in case a little fire starts I can just at least get it under control a little bit,” Mark Leon said. He poses for a photograph outside the evacuation center in Quincy, Calif. on August 5, 2021. (Richard Bednarski)

How a Local Journalist Reported on the Dixie Fire in His Backyard


 

Read Richard’s feature for The Sierra Nevada Ally and us about the complex legacy of wildfires in the Sierra Nevada, built upon his master’s thesis described in this piece, here.

 

When I shifted careers to focus on journalism, I knew I wanted to cover the environment and climate change.


Long a conservationist, I wanted my reporting to focus on under-told stories. Thus my master’s thesis at the University of Nevada, Reno encompassed both of these beats through the lens of the 2021 Dixie Fire.


This fire burned nearly 1 million acres and acted in ways firefighters have never seen. It jumped fire break lines over and over again. Firefighters remove vegetation and leave behind mineral soil ahead of the fire to build these lines. The fire also leveled two mountain communities. It also happened to burn through the land I grew up in, making it personal.


I wanted my story to reflect both the good and bad aspects of wildfire. Legacy media all too often focuses on large flame photos and burned homes. Often blasting footage on repeat several days after it was created, providing a false sense to the public that the fire is dangerous, devastating, and out of control. In some cases it is; in many cases, it is not.


Legacy media all too often focuses on large flame photos and burned homes. Often blasting footage on repeat several days after it was created, providing a false sense to the public that the fire is dangerous, devastating, and out of control.

I strive to shift the verbiage in my reporting beyond the devastating and catastrophic to include things like good fire and the necessary role it plays in the landscape. This is something that pyrogeographer Zeke Lunder wants the media to do. He operates The Lookout, a fire-focused blog dedicated to educating both the media and public about the nuances of wildfires.


Experiencing the Dixie Fire

I first covered it as an intern for the Reno Gazette-Journal. I covered it a total of five times as a photographer, and each time the story told was a little different.


I photographed firefighters mopping up a backburn. Mopping up means putting out stump fires and hot spots after a fire moves through an area. A back-burn, or firing operation, is the fight fire with fire tactic. When conditions are favorable a fire is ignited ahead of the advancing wildfire front to burn out the fuel load. When the approaching fire reaches this area, the fuels are gone and the fire, in theory, halts forward progress.


Sonoma Valley Fire District firefighters mop up hot spots on the Dixie Fire, on July 27, 2021. Sparked on July 13, the Dixie Fire burned over 208,000 acres, destroyed over 50 structures, and necessitated over 5,000 people fighting the blaze. (Richard Bednarski)

The Dixie fire would jump this fire break. It happened during a red flag warning. These warnings are issued