On a summer evening, Kristi Asplund ascends closer to the overcast sky above her while climbing a 100-foot ladder that sways with every move she makes — it’s propped against nothing but the wind.
“We have to get used to the feeling,” Asplund, 32, said as she swapped out gear with a man in line behind her, also waiting to test his steadiness during a drill that seems more like something you’d expect to see at an acrobatic show, with a net below performers to catch them in case something goes wrong.
But these people aren’t performers, they’re volunteer firefighters, and it isn’t a show they’re putting on at the Hagevig Regional Fire Training Center — it’s careful preparation for the moment any one of them might be called out to save a life.
“That’s why we train, and train, and train,” Asplund said. “We do this all to serve and protect our community.”
That obligation to “serve and protect” is something Asplund lives with quite literally. She is one of three live-in volunteers at the Douglas fire station who, in exchange for free housing, agree to standby a couple nights of the week to ensure that a first responder is always nearby to assist the fire department’s career firefighting staff. Two other volunteer stations (in Tee Harbor and Auke Bay) are set up the same way. Live-in volunteers are rarely all at the station at the same time because they each have different day jobs and are assigned different nightshifts.
The Douglas station is Asplund’s home, and has been for about a year now. It comes with a gym for all Capital City Fire/Rescue employees to use, an office space, a television, and, if the weather is fair, there’s also a great view of the Gastineau Channel from the roof where Asplund likes to watch the cruise ships pass by.
Despite those perks, Asplund said the real pleasure she finds from her live-in volunteering role is the opportunity to respond to more emergencies. Not all volunteers are like Asplund, who is a certified level one firefighter with hazmat technician training, which means she doesn’t only offer scene support to the career firefighters (operating hoses or setting up ladders) but when necessary, she too can head into a burning building.
All of that certification can take upwards of 300 hours to achieve, and that’s all for a role as a volunteer. There’s still a day job to consider for the non-career firefighters. During the day, Asplund spends her time behind a desk working as an environmental program specialist for the State.
“I went to work the other day and I smelled like a fire,” Asplund said. “You may leave at 2 a.m. for a call and be in the office at 7:30 a.m. for your day job. We get (called) out for a fire and you have plumbers, state workers, teachers and stay-at-home parents that all respond. We do what we’re trained to do, then we go back to life.”
For volunteers, responding to an emergency during the workday all depends on what they can manage, and if their employers will allow it. When a call goes out, approximately 36 career firefighters and 70 volunteers will hear about it.
In that moment, it doesn’t matter if it’s close to the firefighters’ assigned stations or if their shift is over.
“Volunteers and career firefighters don’t ignore it if it’s not near their home base,” CCFR Assistant Fire Chief Ed Quinto said. “You show up when you can.”
Sometimes crews can be dispatched to seven different emergencies in the span of 10 minutes, Quinto said, but there aren’t always enough career firefighters on hand to go everywhere, so calls are prioritized and the most experienced firefighters go to the most serious calls first. Ideally, volunteers would handle other calls until more support is available, but “people get busy,” Quinto said. Some volunteers have families to care for and others have two jobs, that’s why Quinto said having more people available to call on is important. There’s another problem Quinto is facing, however. Volunteers are on the decline.
Twenty years ago, the department had well over 100 volunteers and was responding to fewer calls than it does now. The volunteer number now hovers somewhere around 70, but the more than 3,000 square miles of land that need coverage remains the same.
Diminishing volunteer numbers is part of a national trend, according to the National Volunteer Fire Council. In a 2014 report, the council said the number of volunteer firefighters in the United States has declined by about 12 percent since 1984. Because the majority of fire departments in the United States are volunteer (volunteers comprise 69 percent of the country’s firefighters), it’s a dangerous trend.
Some people could be less inclined to volunteer because they don’t realize volunteers can stay out of burning structures. Scene support or emergency medical services are roles that career firefighters often take on in addition to the actual firefighting when enough volunteers aren’t available.
“We’re having to do a lot more work,” Quinto put it simply.
Then there are volunteer positions that have nothing to do with fire such as water or mountain rescue missions. Quinto said it’s about finding what your good at or what you like, and moving on from there. Kathy Miller, a 64-year-old retired nurse, is an example of just that.
Eight years ago, Miller wanted to continue contributing in some way to her community after finishing up her career as a registered nurse. She asked someone at CCFR if they needed a person with an RN’s skills. Today she’s a trained EMT responder and firefighter.
“I’m probably the oldest volunteer,” Miller joked. Turns out, she is, but that hasn’t stopped the 5-foot-1 grandmother from answering calls near her community out the road.
Even though her physical capabilities aren’t what they once were (she said she was in her prime physique at 55), she doesn’t plan on quitting yet. She’ll respond when time permits because she knows that in her neighborhood it can take a while for a station crew to arrive and being the first on the scene to set things up for the fulltime firefighters and other volunteers, or to just assure people that help is on the way, matters in the end.
“You can see people calm down when they know that someone is there who is being calm, saying ‘an ambulance is on the way’ or ‘the engine is on the way,’” Miller said. “They calm down. To me, that’s something I’m grateful to have learned.”
Like Miller, Asplund said hers is the story of an unlikely firefighter — she showed up out of curiosity to a CCFR training session wearing a dress and a pair heels. Once she “bunkered up” and became certified in May 2015, she hasn’t been able to hang up her hat.
“I showed up and found something I loved, something I was good at; but it took and does take a lot of work,” Asplund said.
The physical challenges continue to be many and different each day, just as they are for any firefighter, but gender barriers aren’t something Asplund said she’s had to tackle on the job and any false idea that firefighting is more a man’s job is just that — false.
“I would tell other women and girls to never limit themselves,” Asplund said. “Always show up and try…I can throw a single 24-foot ladder off my shoulder by myself. Does it look different than my 6-foot-2 captain throwing it? Yes. But you do the job safely and you get the job done right … fire does not care (if) you’re a man or a woman, it burns you the same.”
To learn more about CCFR volunteer roles, visit www.juneau.org/ccfr.
• Contact reporter Paula Ann Solis at 523-2272 or paula.solis@juneauempire.com.
Volunteer firefighter Kristi Asplund maintains a chainsaw as part of her duties for living at the Douglas Fire Station.
