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People come together to fight East Fork Fire

When the East Fork Fire blazed across nearly 22,000 Hill and Blaine County acres in the Bear Paw Mountains, many Montana volunteers rose to the challenge and fought with what they had to offer.

North-central Montanans gave their time, spent their resources, cooked food to give away, bestowed their expertise, risked their tools and equipment - some even their lives - to help those in need, to help battle an inferno that will affect some for years to come. Some people were reported to have come from as far away as two counties over on both sides of Hill County, with muscle and equipment in tow.

"There was no quit in those guys," David Molitor, who estimated he lost about 90 percent of his grazing land to the fire, said of the people who came to help.

Although Molitor, who lives on Little Box Elder Creek, lost most of his grazing land, much of which he leases out, he said he didn't lose any buildings and or cattle. He attributed the silver lining to the generous efforts of volunteers.

By the time the East Fork Fire started Aug. 27, fires across the state had already scorched hundreds of thousands of acres. State and federal firefighters - who were putting out fires in order of priority - were already spread thin. The East Fork Fire further exhausted already spent state and federal resources.

By the time it was contained, the East Fork Fire had burned nearly 22,000 acres of grazing and timberland acres in nearly a month. However, not one person died, few injuries occurred and only a handful of structures were destroyed.

From the moment it sparked to life, landowners in the Bear Paw Mountains had no intention of standing by and waiting for the cavalry to come. While the Rocky Boy Office of Forestry was conducting the initial attack on the fire that Sunday, landowners and volunteers started banding together, creating fire lines and shifting cattle around.

Keith Raty, who ranches near Warrick and said he lost about a third of his grazing land, said a volunteer from Zortman arrived with a water truck on the first day. Raty was astonished at how quickly the volunteer got there. Chances are, he said, the man was in the area by the time the fire started.

Molitor, who described the fire as "hell coming to breakfast," said he spent a lot of time building fire lines. Like others who lost a lot, the day most of his land was burned was part of the big blowup - starting Wednesday, Aug. 30 - a two-day segment during which the fire exploded from 1,000 to 12,000 acres. The blaze reached his property about 4 p.m. that Wednesday, he said, and "by midnight, it had finished me up."

Molitor experienced people's generosity firsthand.

Communications had been a problem and remained one throughout the duration of the fire for everyone involved, largely because Rocky Boy and the southern part of Beaver Creek Park are a black hole of cellular service.

To fill the communication vacuum, Molitor said, his nephew, a firefighter with the Havre City Fire Department, rode on his and nearby properties on a quad - with a friend in a side-by-side - acting as lookouts and messengers. His nephew reported to Molitor and neighbors on the fire's whereabouts, it's probable trajectory and any other relevant information. Based on that, Molitor and nearby landowners would act, rushing to create lines or move cattle out of the way, or any other action deemed necessary.

Volunteers had come to help him from Hill and Blaine counties, he said. He knew about 75 percent of those people.

"The turnout of volunteers was unbelievable," Molitor said. "Just people coming and working hard as they could to stop it. It was quite a response."

For Molitor, it seemed anyone with a truck and "anything that would spray a little water" came to help. Others brought their bulldozers to help create fire lines.

"The dozer operators knew what they were doing," he said.

People were also bringing food and water, via the back roads, trying any way they knew to get nourishment to landowners, many of whom had been awake for three days at a time, Molitor said.

"I came out of the hills on a main road, and a neighbor gave me some banana bread," he said. "It went down about as smooth as butter."

Someone else sent down prime rib, which Molitor used to make sandwiches.

Along with a third of his grass, Raty said he lost about nine miles of fencing. Owning a total of 1,000 cattle, Raty had teamed up with neighbors - the Crowleys and Marvin Cross - to watch and move their collective herd out of the wildfire's path.

"We never knew which directions it was going to take," Raty said.

Raty said he took in Cross' herd of cattle onto his land and out of the way on the first day of the fire.

The way Raty saw it, everybody did what was good for everybody else.

The fire put Raty and some volunteers in dangerous situations that may have not ended so well had it not been for the help of others.

He and two younger men were building fire lines when a local man with a Hill County Caterpillar bulldozer came in to tell them the fire was heading their way. Instead of leaving on foot, the group decided to stay in the area and build lines, Raty said. And the messenger, instead of leaving, stayed with the group to help build lines around them.

When the flames arrived, they cut off the escape route.

Because there was no fuel in their immediate area, they weren't as concerned about being burned as being overcome with smoke inhalation, Raty said. The men ripped the tails off their shirts, doused them in water and wrapped them around their faces to keep the smoke inhalation to a minimum.

The heat became extreme once nearby trees caught on fire, Raty said. Fortunately, a helicopter arrived and dropped water on the surrounding inferno just in time.

For Raty, the amount of personal equipment people brought in to help was "humbling."

"All it took was a phone call and guys with bulldozers came out and cut fire lines," Raty said.

Contractors, who relied on their equipment for their livelihood, came to the rescue. They didn't ask who was paying - they just loaded them up and brought them where they were needed, Raty said.

Although only partly surprised by the excess of generosity, some things still shocked him, like local Steve McIntosh showing up with a fuel truck. McIntosh not only fueled up the dozers, but also repaired one of his four-wheelers that had a faulty parking brake, Raty said.

"A lot of super good people that put their lives on hold, spent money out of their pocket," Raty said.

Raty banded together with neighbors and volunteers to ensure that someone was always watching the fire while others got much-needed rest.

Like Molitor, Raty fondly remembers receiving culinary treats.

"One day, someone showed up with warm fried chicken," Raty said. "That was a real treat."

Cross, a registered black Angus breeder in Blaine County, said he lost 95 to 98 percent of his grass.

After the fire broke off the reservation onto his property, Cross said he was trying to get his cattle rounded up and herded to safety.

"About half of them ended up staying in a brush pile along a little tiny stream right below a washed out reservoir during the fire," he said, "and it burned all around them and didn't there. They came out the next morning when I called for them. The rest of them Merle and Gordy Young showed up about the time I was trying to get them out - and during the fire. The fire was going like crazy."

They got what cattle they could to safety on the neighboring Setty Place where Raty ranches. Raty helped him cut wires so the remaining cattle could get away from the fire, he said, but none did.

One rancher offered to let him run some of the cattle on a portion of his property, but that pasture was burned Friday, Sept. 8, when the fire broke through its containment one last time before the rains came pouring.

Another neighbor offered pasture, but it didn't work out only because it took a week to get all his cattle sorted out from herds that were run together and by then he had to precondition and wean calves, Cross said.

Despite the hardship and loss, all three men said they were astonished by how the community came to help.

"I tell you, it's pretty humbling all the help and the offers that you get, and they're sincere. I couldn't believe all the people that showed up there - ranchers, friends, customers that showed up from down the river with truckloads of water. You know, it's just amazing to me to realize how wonderful people can be," Cross said.

"Yeah, we lost pasture and we've got fence to build, but we were very blessed to get all our cows back because that's the income that pays for all the other. And so many good people were there," he added.

Cross said his wife told him that if it wouldn't have been for Merle and Gordy Young, he'd have probably been "up there in the fire somewhere."

The two men came on horseback through the smoke to help Cross herd his cattle out of the way and ushered him to safety after he went into the trees for one last cow as the fire was closing in.

"She might've been right because I was up there getting cows out of the brush and Merle's right there and he said, 'Marv, I'm not gonna leave ya, but we gotta get out. The fire's coming our way.'"

While the "pros" came and went, Molitor said, it was the volunteers - the neighbors and regular Joes - who were there helping from beginning to end. There was no quit in them.

"It makes you humble to know that all these who are busy dropped everything and stayed for weeks to help," Raty said.

The generosity reminded Raty of a quote he had recently heard.

"Life is about moments when it all goes wrong," he said. "That's when we define ourselves. ... I did not expect the lengths people went to."

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Pam Burke contributed to this article.

 

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