Harsh terrain, extreme fatigue. Life as a wildland firefighter in a heatwave: ‘It’s not normal for humans’

After 20 years fighting flames for the US Forest Service, the fire captain Abel Martinez has pretty much seen it all.

His lungs are scarred from the smouldering car tires and scorched homes that fed billowing flames alongside highways, through parched canyons, or over treetops in the Angeles national forest, the mountainous wilderness where he works in southern California. Whether it’s a dry year or a wet one, the decades on the job have taught him that every fire season is likely to be a busy one.

But this year, sweltering weather added brutal new dimensions to the already dangerous work.

The summer has been California’s hottest in more than a century, a grim record that’s been felt first-hand by those on the fire line. Heatwave after heatwave blasted the state with triple-digit temperatures for months on end. Meanwhile, the state has seen close to a million acres burn, with months still to go before the highest risks subside.

Related: Burned-out firefighters are fleeing the US Forest Service amid labor disputes: ‘We are decimated’

“In So Cal it seems like it is always hot, but then you get a heatwave,” Martinez said. “Heat waves suck.”

For firefighters like Martinez, the extreme temperatures make an already grueling job even harder. Depending on their role, wildland firefighters carry between 50lbs and 75lbs in packs that they slug up steep, rugged slopes that lack trails or easy routes. During initial attacks, when the aim is to try to corral the flames before they spread, the work is chaotic and fast-moving.

When temperatures climb past 100F (37.7C), it takes an exacting toll on a firefighters’ bodies. “It is not normal for a human to be out there with that much weight basically covered from head to toe in 115F heat,” he said. “Then you factor in the heat from the ground that you’re standing on and the heat from the flames that are burning and the impacts of the smoke.” Without the ability to breathe deeply, hard-working muscles are depleted of oxygen. And in the remote environments where these men and women work, getting enough hydration is a major challenge.

This year as the heat spiked, tactics had to be adjusted and plans put in place. Injuries still occurred. “You can’t push the way you push on a 95-100F fire day,” Martinez said. “When it’s 115F, people are going to end up in the hospital.”

Firefighting has never been a job for the faint of heart. But dangerous and difficult conditions compound when the heat index rises, especially when crews aren’t able to get the rest they need.

“We know if we get a fire, we are probably not going to get a lot of backup soon – if at all,” Martinez said between rattling coughs. A bout of pneumonia took him off the fireline for a week, marking one of the only long breaks he would get in the height of a busy summer.

Wildland firefighting has always been a dangerous, tiring job. But the risks, and the toll they take, have only escalated as California’s climate intensifies. Experienced federal firefighters like Martinez are growing rarer as years of low pay and overwork have pushed many to leave the profession, or at least the federal agencies where conditions are difficult to sustain. Those still in the trenches, like Martinez, have been left to pick up the slack.

We are working folks to the ground. There is no stop to it

Abel Martinez

“We are working folks to the ground,” he said, mentioning that some crews are putting in roughly 1,400 hours of overtime and are still being asked to keep showing up. “There is no stop to it.”

The strain has led to more injuries along with extreme levels of physical and mental fatigue. “A fire environment is really dynamic,” he said, adding that burnout can impact decision-making and increase the dangers to firefighters and the communities and landscapes they are working to protect. “You are not processing information like you would if you had adequate rest.”

But thousands of firefighters like Martinez still continue to brave the conditions, hazards and the mounting pressures year after year, bound by a deep sense of duty despite a dire lack of support. Even as temperatures continue to spike, they strap in for days at a time with little reprieve, taking the harms on the chin.

The impacts to their health and well-being add up. “After 20 years of fighting fire I have lung damage,” Martinez said, noting that there are inadequate respiratory protections for wildland firefighters.

“It’s repeated exposure,” he said of the harmful substances he and others breathe in daily. “Fires burn into some kind of structure or vehicle and that smoke from those combustables – houses, shipping containers, pallets – when you breathe that in, it’s even worse. Especially here, fires on the side of the freeway. Tires, poop bags, you name it – we have found kilos of cocaine on the side of the road.”

Martinez emphasized that there needs to be better preparation for burnout, especially in a future where conditions are only expected to grow more dangerous. Until then, firefighters have tried to protect themselves the best they can.

“I have been pushing our guys to decontaminate,” he said. A 10-minute shower in very hot water to “open up the pores and get all the gunk out” has become a priority. They use strong detergents to wash their gear and suds up with soaps to wash away contaminants that cling to their skin and hair.

“We understand the danger of carcinogens,” he said. After that, he said, “the priority becomes food and sleep – at least until you get another call”.

• This is the last of three stories about the US workers who are struggling to survive a summer of extreme heat that shattered records from coast to coast. Read part one here and t wo here .