07/06/2024
Today marks 30 years since South Canyon...To honor those that are no longer with us we'd like to share words from John Reese Fortson, a Jon Kelso award winner, who was able to attend the South Canyon Staff Ride this May with Redding Hotshots.
South Canyon: “The Experience is Worth the Investment”
By: John Reese Fortson
I was privileged to be invited to The South Canyon Staff Ride hosted by OMNA International and Redding Interagency Hotshots. I participated in the virtual delivery of the staff ride at Advanced Academy 89. At the same academy, I was the recipient of the Jon Kelso Award, which brought about the invitation to this staff ride. The following is my best attempt at summarizing the impact the staff ride provided me. The lessons I gleaned from this experience are innumerable, and in many cases, very difficult to put into words. The only way I believe I could retain it all is if I were to have a recording of the two-day experience.
Even with the short time spent with other attendees, the personal relationships I was able to build with my fellow group members and attendees was surprising. Networking, bonding, and talking with many people from a variety of backgrounds and life experiences is a valuable experience all in its own. We were brought together and invited to share what we hoped to gain from the staff ride; many shared a similar sentiment-a desire to develop better decision making and leadership skills through studying an event from the past. Everyone was genuinely eager to learn and participate in all the activities—which I found to be refreshing.
One thing I hoped to gain from the experience was an “on the ground” perspective to the events of July 6, 1994. It is all too easy when reading a report, looking at a map, a timeline of events, or even hearing personal accounts of people who were involved in a tragedy, to introduce your own hindsight bias and make judgements about the people involved and the decisions made, simply because you already know the outcome. I hoped, that with being able to visit the site and put myself in the shoes of those involved, I would be able to paint a much clearer picture for myself. Perhaps I would even be able to relate to decisions made that day and gain a deeper understanding of how I also could have made the same decisions.
“Humbling” is the word that comes to mind but is insufficient when I try to review the impact of hiking in, seeing the terrain, and making “the run” along the west drainage fireline. Having the survivors from Prineville IHC and Eric Hipke follow along with us and help us to understand the perspectives of those on the hill was invaluable in setting the stage for the escape. I decided to test my fitness and make the timed run from 1450 feet below the zero point; I was met with an unexpected and profoundly impactful event. Along the run, it was all I could do not to slow down from discomfort—I was giving it all I had. Mentally I told myself, “I have time. I can just slow down enough catch my breath and continue... This isn’t really happening to me- if I quit, I can just chalk it up to needing more PT.” The facilitators provide motivation with a combination of heartfelt support like: “You got this. Keep that pace and you can make it” and reality checks that sounded like, “GO, GO, GO the fire is coming!” and “You have got to move!” Just about the time I felt that I could no longer physically keep my pace or else my lungs were going to bleed or burst, I came across the first cross. That moment almost brought me to tears. I could look up to see the top of the hill, and just how close everyone was to making it, which gave me the determination to just keep my feet moving. I made it to the top in time, but in pain, both physically and mentally.
I am still unsure if I was there that day how I would react. It seems all too easy to say I can run up the hill quickly enough to make it out—but if it were my crewmembers along with me, still trying to process what is happening, and how is it happening, I am unsure what I would do or if I would be able to do anything at all. Would I stay in the back and push those who were slowing? Would I know to drop my pack? Would I make sure I was last in line so that I knew everyone was accounted for? Would I go back down if somebody tripped, fell, or froze? I don’t know in my heart of hearts what I would do, or if I would make it.
After the run, those who made the run went back down the hill to gather dropped gear, and more importantly for me, pay respects to those we passed on the way up. The night before the site visit, Brian Scholz encouraged us to touch the crosses. I thought I understood the sentiment he conveyed—but I had no idea the weight of the impact it would have on me. It was as if I could feel the heaviness of the life, and a connection to them that I have yet to find the words to describe. In reading a report or even an expertly delivered virtual staff ride, it can be easy to see a name and simply read it and not carefully frame the circumstance in your mind to fully understand what it means. Touch the cross.
I spent a little extra time at the cross of Jon Kelso. I know what the award meant to the apprenticeship program, and I know what it means to me. I feel that the award is important for honoring a life and recognizing a quality individual that brings leadership and an heir of trust to a community, though I wanted to know what Jon Kelso meant to those around him. Brian Scholz shared his thoughts and I hope he would not mind me including them here. “Jon was like a brother. He was one of those people that was on the same wavelength as you. He was just a joy to be around. You know, fire can be a real kick in the pants, but having someone like Jon there with you is what makes it all worth it”. Relationships that are built though difficult tasks and shared misery have become the most memorable aspects of my previous experiences in fire. It is especially true of the time I spent with the Union Hotshots; there are people on that crew who I look up to, seek to model in my own developing leadership, and people with which I hope to never lose touch. I feel Jon was one of those people for the people in his life and for Prineville IHC.
At the end of a staff ride, all participants are encouraged to stand up, and share an important lesson or something they wish to carry with them from the event. Mine came from the virtual delivery and was made clear by the in-person delivery. An OMNA facilitator brought up his granddaughter and how one day, we could be the one to lead her directly, and if not, we would in turn lead someone who would—a lesson that hits home for me as I have a four-year-old son, and I believe it is of paramount importance to bring up those around you. He continues to tell us that if by chance something were to happen to her, and we would have to face him, would we be able to say we did all that we could to give her the tools she would need? Were we going to be a student of the game and learn all that we could to prevent such event from happening? If we could look him in the eye and say we did everything in our power to protect her and teach her, then that is all we could do as a person and a leader. Not all accidents are preventable. Take the time to care for those around you, teach them, protect them, and never miss and never miss an opportunity to learn.
Most people hoped to gain new insight to decision making and create better decision making by “adding slides.” I sought perspective. I believe perspective is the key to develop good decisions and craft the leader in yourself that you wish to become. Matching perspective to reality is the key to good “SA”, something that is often regarded as the most important aspect of what an excellent leader should have. The perspective I gained from the South Canyon Staff Ride helped me bring my perception closer to the reality of July 6, 1994. It has been an incredibly valuable experience and one that I hope to never forget. I wish that others can experience the same. In the closing statements of our integration period, a facilitator gave me the title to this synopsis. He said, “I hope the experience was worth the investment.” For me, it is true.
