Littleton – It’s the height of the summer camping season, and at site No. 161 in Chatfield State Park, Art Betzler, his two boys and his father-in- law are preparing for supper and another evening of sitting around the, uh, lantern.
Campfires and charcoal grills – even tiki torches and citronella candles – have been banned at the popular reservoir on the southwest edge of metro Denver as a result of restrictions imposed in Douglas and Jefferson counties in late July.
Dozens of other parks, picnic areas and summer camps in the foothills also have had to go flameless because of the Stage II alerts.
“I think it stinks, and the kids do too,” says Betzler, sipping a cup of beer after an afternoon on the water. “Making s’mores in the microwave isn’t quite the same.”
Fortunately, the tradition of toasting marshmallows over hot coals hasn’t been extinguished everywhere in Colorado, even though it may be as dry as a graham cracker across much of the state.
The Colorado Division of Emergency Management reports that campfires are currently allowed in most other state parks, national forests and national parks in Colorado – as long as they are built in metal grates or fire pits in developed campgrounds.
But barring a couple of weeks of steady rain, officials say, the fire bans in the central Front Range foothills are likely to remain in effect until the end of the season.
Hence visitors to Denver mountain parks such as the picnic ground near Buffalo Bill’s grave on Lookout Mountain will continue to see orange trash bags covering the raised grills.
The restrictions have begun to spark changes in long-cherished camping practices.
The Girl Scouts, for example, have stopped including cookouts at day camps in Genesee, Bear Creek Lake, Clement Park and other locations in Jefferson and Douglas counties, says the Mile Hi Council’s Rachelle Trujillo.
“We’ve had them do cold lunches,” she says. “It’s not as much fun.”
The Flying G Girl Scout camp near Deckers – which saw 30 percent of its land scarred by the Hayman fire of 2002 – has installed a patio-style propane burner at its campfire circle so the girls can enjoy the light and warmth no matter what restrictions may be in place.
And while Chatfield has seen no wave of canceled reservations, assistant park manager Jim Smith says many campers may be calling around and setting sail for areas where fires are allowed, such as Cherry Creek State Park, which falls under the less restrictive Stage I rules now in force in Arapahoe County.
One thing seems sure in all this: Total fire bans could become the norm if current conditions persist. That’s because wildfires pose a greater risk than they used to as fuel-laden mountain areas have become more populated, more packed with recreation seekers and more laced with power lines, water systems and other critical resources.
“There’s a new level of personal responsibility that people need to take because of the size and intensity of the fires of the past few years,” explains Justin Dombrowski, wildland fire coordinator for the Boulder Fire Department.
“It used to be that you could go camping and leave out food. You can’t anymore because of bears and mountain lions. It’s the same with campfires. They used to be a given, but not anymore. The dynamics have changed in the last 20 to 30 years.”
The real problem, of course, is not people sitting around campfires, but people not sitting around them. About 70 percent of all the wildfires in the Central Rockies are caused by humans, and 60 percent of those can be traced to abandoned fires rather than irresponsible smoking or trash burning, says Ted Moore, fire management officer for Pike National Forest, southwest of Denver.
“What happens is that people will set up camp by the side of the road, and the first thing they do as part of their ‘wilderness experience’ is light a fire then go for a walk. Then a wind comes up and blows a few sparks, and it’s off to the races,” Moore says. “On Monday mornings, our fire-prevention technicians sometimes come across as many as 20 fires that have not been properly put out.”
Jamie Moore, the emergency management director for Douglas County, notes the fire risk often is not apparent to the untrained observer.
“Oftentimes, people will look at the landscape and say that since it’s green, it won’t burn. But that’s simply not the case. It depends on the moisture content of the wood.”
The rules can change literally overnight, meaning that campers who reserve sites months in advance – as Littleton resident Betzler did in April – can get burned financially if they end up facing a midsummer ban and decide to look elsewhere.
“We had the firewood in the motor home until last week,” laments Jim Preston, Betzler’s father-in-law. “Next year, we’ll come in June, when we’ll have a better chance of building a fire.”
While some vacationers may be smoldering inside, most appear to be taking the ban in stride.
“We have made the best of it,” says Preston, a semi-retired dentist from Ken-Caryl Ranch. “We have sat around the fire pit with the lantern and just talked and told stories. You don’t stay home and mope. And one thing is, this makes it more enjoyable when you can build a fire.”
A few sites away, retired sheep rancher Wes Raley, who can remember being conscripted to fight forest fires near Meeker in the 1950s, says the aesthetic benefits of campfires are clearly outweighed this year by the risks.
“People who build these big campfires, with flames shooting up 5 or 10 feet, just don’t have any conception of what can happen. If we don’t have these fire bans, we’re going to have fires all over.”
Raley’s wife of 28 years, Diane, adds yet another log to the rhetorical pile.
“If we had a fire here,” she says, nodding at the empty pit next to the picnic table, “he would make me drown it so much when we went to bed, I’d be out here for an extra 30 minutes.”
Staff writer Jack Cox can be reached at 303-820-1785 or jcox@denverpost.com.
