The Union's Ivan Natividad drags a 100 foot hose during a structure fire simulation at the Grass Valley Public Safety Training Center. Andrew Rolland/ncpcintern@theunion.com |

A Grass Valley fire truck sprays a stream from atop a 105-foot aerial ladder. Andrew Rolland/ncpcintern@theunion.com |

Grass Valley fire engine 2 at the Grass Valley Public Safety Training Center. Andrew Rolland/ncpcintern@theunion.com |

Grass Valley Fire Captain Robert Bundy and The Union's Ivan Nativdad at Fire Station 2. Andrew Rolland/ncpcintern@theunion.com |

Andrew Rolland/ncpcintern@theunion.com |

The Union's Digital Editor Ivan Natividad lets loose with a Grass Valley fire engine hose during a structure fire training simulation. Andrew Rolland/ncpcintern@theunion.com |

Grass Valley Fire Engineer Chris Oliver and The Union's Ivan Natividad atop a Grass Valley fire truck. Andrew Rolland/ncpcintern@theunion.com |

Digital Editor Ivan Natividad climbs a 105-foot aerial ladder with Grass Valley Fire Captain Robert Bundy not far behind. Andrew Rolland/ncpcintern@theunion.com |

Nevada County Consolidated Fire Lt. Robin Serna (left) explains structure fire protocol to The Union's Digital Editor Ivan Natividad. Andrew Rolland/ncpcintern@theunion.com |

Grass Valley firefighters give behind-the-scenes look at what fighting fire is all about (VIDEO)

Editor’s note: This is the second installment in a series highlighting local fire fighting training procedures.

The Union is covering this in partnership with the Grass Valley Fire Department.

I think the trick to not falling while lying face-first at the tip of a 105-foot aerial ladder is to try your best not to move.

At least that’s what I told myself Tuesday after scaling five-stories of rungs at Grass Valley’s Public Safety Training Center located behind Fire Station 2.

This was my third time out with Grass Valley fire fighters, as they have been gracious enough to let me come out and experience the types of trainings they put in on a daily basis.

Up to that point, I had simulated putting out a wildfire by helping to lay 400 feet of hose, and drove a 40,000 pound fire engine through a cone course.

While I was pretty mediocre in my attempts, I had to be willing to try.

Our local firefighters put in constant hard work and preparation every day in order to be ready for anything that comes their way.

But when Grass Valley Fire Chief Mark Buttron suggested I climb their 105-foot fire truck ladder, I have to admit I was scared.

Throughout the years, I have developed a fear of heights. So much so that domestic tasks like going up to clean the roof of my one-story house was something I had embarrassingly left up to my wife.

Nevertheless, if I was going to write about their training, the best way to understand it was by doing it.

The fire truck and ladder are called out to structure fires that include multi-story buildings, hotels, apartment complexes and even some commercial buildings.

According to Fire Engineer Chris Oliver, local firefighters often practice on buildings up to five stories high, going through fire containment and rescue protocol. Part of their training includes studying the terrain and roads of the areas they serve in order to know what streets and locations have foundations safe enough for the fire truck to be parked during an active fire.

“The truck and ladder make it easier to access roofs for rescue, and to get water up higher for a fire,” Oliver said. “The key is to be slow and methodical, know your procedures and get it done.”

The ladder can support up to two people at its tip, and is connected to a nozzle that can spray up to 1,250 gallons a minute.

The turnout gear firefighters use for a structure fire is thicker and denser than the nomex gear worn for wildland fires. The boots are bulky yet bouncy and not as malleable as your normal hiking boot.

Ancillary to the thickly-padded fire retardant suit, they wear a black mask covering their face and neck, under a bulky helmet that protects their head from falling debris, and a 50-pound self-contained breathing apparatus strapped to their backs that provides up to 45 minutes of oxygen.

This is not optimal yoga attire, but I did find myself sweating my butt off.

I could only imagine in 90-plus degree weather during the throes of an active fire how hot it can get.

With Fire Captain Robert Bundy trailing from behind, I began to climb the 105-foot ladder. The higher up you get, the narrower the ladder. Halfway up I could here Bundy yell “Go as far as you’re comfortable going … You don’t have to go all the way up.”

When I reached the top, I lay face first and latched my waist belt onto one of the rungs. I hadn’t planned on climbing all the way up, but for some reason I did.

I chalk it up to adrenaline and the fact that I likely would never get a chance to do it again.

When they turned the nozzle loose, I could feel the water — all 100 pounds-per-square-inch of it — blasting out from under my chest. I got a weird flying sensation, and with the ability to manipulate the stream with controls, for a moment I felt like a superhero.

I mean, these firefighters scale up this thing every day, save buildings and sometimes lives with this huge stream of water bursting from their chests.

If that’s not out of some Marvel comic book then I don’t know what is. The difference is they aren’t mutants with magical powers; they simply put in the work and preparation to do their jobs right.

“You have a life someplace in that building and you need to find that life,” said Oliver. “You go in there and potentially save someone’s life. Or you save some memorabilia for the family that they can’t replace, even little things like that. People appreciate the little things … little things mean a lot to people. All the little things we can do.”

Coming through in the clutch

Prior to the ladder climb, Fire Captain Loray Johnston and Nevada County Consolidated Fire Lt. Robin Serna walked me through the simulation of arriving first to a structure fire.

This included connecting a five-inch diameter hose from a fire engine to a hydrant, laying 100 feet of connected hose on the opposite side of the engine and hydrant, and spraying down cones we pretended were actual fires.

At first, I couldn’t get a hold of my stream, but I was able to spray down some cones once I let the water out and the stream loose.

Lugging that thing forward with 84 psi of water pressure coming out felt like I was trying to tame a 100-foot python.

But it was definitely fun.

While a good amount of the time was used to allow Lt. Serna to walk me through the protocol, following the training, I realized it took me a good half hour to complete, something Cpt. Bundy said would take several minutes for a firefighter in real time.

Participating in these trainings I’ve come to realize an undeniable truth about fire fighting — time and preparation are crucial.

“On average, a fire doubles every minute,” Engineer Oliver said. “Those are in optimal conditions, but there are many variables that can affect that … The amount of fuels can make it faster or slower. Wind, humidity and different types of vegetation are all factors.”

Upon receiving a call, firefighters have 60 seconds to get all their gear on, get in the fire engine and out of the station. For them, every second counts because seconds turn into minutes, which turn into crucial amounts of time that could be used putting out a fire or saving someone’s life.

When you think of athletes that have a knack for coming through in clutch during game time situations, you might think of Michael Jordan, Tom Brady or Kobe Bryant.

These types of players seem to have an ability to command the biggest of moments and excel above their competitors at the most opportune time.

Firefighters belong in that same category for the simple fact they are constantly performing in the clutch.

“At any moment at any time we can be called to many types of events,” said Oliver. “And if we’re not trained to do our job when we get there, we’re not going to be able to help them because we don’t know what to do. So just being on top of it all the time. When we get to an emergency situation and somebody needs help we’re there to help them.”

As I was interviewing Fire Engineer Oliver for this column, his shift got called out for a potential toxic gas leak in Nevada City.

When they asked if our intern Andrew Rolland and I wanted to come along, we hopped in the engine gleefully. With sirens rolling, we sped northbound Highway 49 to Spring Street and the old KVMR building.

Cpt. Bundy and Engineer Oliver assessed the situation along with an engine unit from Nevada City. After several minutes, Bundy walked back to the engine and I asked him what happened.

Apparently someone had put on a little too much menthol rub, causing some employees to believe it was a gas leak.

We headed back to the station.

“It’s better to be safe than sorry,” Oliver said following the incident. “Some people will call for nothing, like ‘I got a little scratch on my arm. Can you put a band-aid on it?’ And in you’re mind you’re thinking seriously? But to that person, in their mind, it’s an emergency. So when we walk in there, we need to treat it very similar to if it was a life-threatening situation … You got to put yourself in someone else’s shoes. You gotta try.”

While Oliver says they will get the occasional minimal emergency called in, they aren’t all cake walks.

“When everybody is running away from the incident, we’re running into it,” he said. “There are certain situations we’ve gotten in and thought, ‘Ah, this might be it. Maybe we’re done.’ The winds change, the fuels. It gets hot out there when you’re working. There’s so many things you gotta think of. It’s not just me looking after me — it’s us looking after each other … It’s one big family.”

To contact Digital Editor Ivan Natividad, email inatividad@theunion.com or call 530-477-4242.

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