A firefighting Sikorsky S64 helicopter with two people onboard crashed on Friday morning in a remote area of central Utah, according to federal aviation authorities. Because when you're battling a wildfire, the last thing you need is a surprise aerial acrobatics routine.
The US Forest Service initially declined to comment on the condition of the helicopter's passengers, asking the public for "patience while we focus on response efforts" in a statement. Which is corporate-speak for "we're not ready to confirm the bad news yet, please stop asking."
Emergency personnel are responding near Richfield, about 160 miles south of Salt Lake City, an agency spokesperson told the Guardian by email. The exact circumstances surrounding the crash are unknown, which is presumably why they're sending investigators to figure it out.
At a media briefing on Friday evening, Tyler Hecht, deputy incident commander with Great Basin incident management team, described the terrain as "very difficult," and said rescuers "have not reached the scene of the accident" in part because the helicopter crash had started a new fire. Because of course it did. The universe clearly has a sense of humor, and it's not a kind one.
Asked about the morale of the firefighters battling to control the blaze, Hecht said it was "very somber with what's going on. You know, they did take a tactical pause, regrouped, and they're back fighting fire." Because that's what you do when your colleague's helicopter goes down mid-shift: you take a moment, then get back to the inferno.
The aircraft was in the vicinity of the Widemouth 2 fire, a blaze sparked by lightning that has raced through 105,000 acres since it began on 27 July. As of Friday morning, the fire was 19% contained with 632 personnel assigned to suppressing it, and seven helicopters were dropping retardant and water on the flames the US Forest Service said. So that's 105,000 acres of "whoops" and counting.
The Widemouth 2 fire is one of eight large fires burning across Utah, which cumulatively have swept through more than 331,000 acres, according to state data. That's roughly the size of Los Angeles, but with more smoke and fewer celebrities.
"Wildland firefighting is among the most dangerous jobs in the world," Utah governor Spencer Cox wrote in a social media post. "Today is a painful reminder of the extraordinary risks these brave men and women accept to protect us." Thanks, governor, we were all just thinking about how fun it must be to fly a giant metal bird into a wall of flames.
The Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) and the National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) are investigating the crash. NTSB investigators are set to reach Richfield by Saturday evening, the agency said in a statement. Investigators expect to wait for fire conditions to subside to a safe level that will permit them to travel to the crash site and retrieve the aircraft. Because nothing says "safety first" like waiting for a wildfire to calm down before you go poking around its crash site.
The crash comes amid a deadly wildfire season for the western US. Three firefighters were killed in June as they battled a blaze along the Colorado-Utah border. Because apparently Mother Nature has decided that one tragedy per season just isn't enough.
In late June, Jamie Barnes, the director of Utah's division of forestry, described the fires as unlike anything in recent memory. "We're seeing fires spread farther and faster under conditions that defy historical expectations. Some of the fires we've responded to this year are behaving in ways veteran firefighters simply haven't seen before," Barnes said. Translation: climate change is real, and it's throwing a rager.
"Our firefighters have been working around the clock, our resources are stretched, and we cannot afford preventable ignitions during the days ahead," he added, referring to statewide firework restrictions. So maybe skip the fireworks this year, folks. The forest is already doing its best impression of a Roman candle.