Like hurricanes, like cyclones, wildfires are named. Usually, by the first responders or dispatchers and after the nearest geographic feature--like a road, creek, mountain, or landmark. No people companies or slag according to protocol. Communications cannot be vauge and tacky when the flames are hot and the wind is whipping.
As we started west from the Interstate, we drove south of the massive 82,000 acre Aspen Fire, the third largest in Colorado history. Highway closures, evacuations, and thousands of fire fighters, the northern sky was a white cloud of smoke. We drove on, eventually getting near the Willow Fire, less than 5 miles from Leadville. No staying in Half Moon campsite near Turquoise Lake, the campsite and the lake were closed.
Plan B was to go north through Leadville to the Hornsilver Campsite near Red Cliff. It was open and elevated, right off the road between massive rock cliffs on both sides and several 14ers (mountains over 14k) stacked and shaded, still burning, still smoking, but partially contained somehow. The best firefighters in the world were snuffing it out one hotspot at a time. We saw them during our earlier slow roll through Leadville-- magnificent, well equiped, organized. The town was calm, by Tuesday we'd know if the race was on, we were optimistic.
