DON’T LET IT INN

This issue was originally published in the May 31, 2025 Editon

Cory Duro, Fire Chief of the Mono City District, was working a typical Thursday shift at the Shell Service Station in Lee Vining when the town’s fire siren went off. Moments later, the Mono City alarm sounded, too. 

At first, there was no sign of trouble. No smoke, no visible flames. But then a plume appeared in the distance, and Duro knew the situation was going to be serious. 

Duro has served as a firefighter in Mono County for 30 years. But it’s not his full-time gig; it can’t be. All of Mono County’s fire districts are volunteer, meaning they rely entirely on nearby residents to drop what they’re doing and respond when emergencies arise. 

The smoke plume he first spotted would become the Inn Fire, a fast-moving blaze that burned more than 700 acres near Mono Lake, consumed a family home, shut down Highway 395, and forced evacuations in Mono City and the Lundy area. 

When Duro was called into action, his gear was miles away. He jumped in with a crew and grabbed what he could—which happened to be the turnouts of one of the department’s smaller female firefighters. He couldn’t squeeze into the size-six boots, but he managed to fit into the jacket and made do. 

Driving straight into the flames, he described the scene as “Armageddon.” The fire towered on both sides of the truck, licking the roof. The heat was so intense he could feel it inside the cab. High winds swept the fire up the mountainside and across the highway in under 20 minutes. 

“As a volunteer, a lot came down on my shoulders, and I’m like, ‘okay, wait a minute.’ This is way above my pay scale,” he said. “I plug tires and tow cars for a living.” 

Within the estimated 100 homes in the Mono City fire district, there are 10 firefighters. When the fire broke out, one of the firefighters had flown in from Georgia to Las Vegas, and another was traveling home from Sacramento. Both responded to the call. 

While staging at the Mono Inn, one thought kept running through Duro’s mind: his youngest son and their dogs were home alone. As soon as the Mono City evacuation order was issued, that became his top priority. 

By then, volunteers from across the county were arriving to assist, even from its southernmost areas. That left Duro with a more personal responsibility: knocking on doors and evacuating his son and neighbors, some of whom had lived in their homes for over 40 years 

Mono County’s fire districts operate under a mutual aid agreement. That means when one community is in crisis, others step in. But that system comes with challenges. 

Scott McGuire, Long Valley Fire District Chief, said it’s a balancing act determining where to put their resources. Just because a fire starts in one area doesn’t mean there won’t be an emergency elsewhere. 

He thinks about that constantly, especially as summer tourism ramps up and emergency calls peak. On the day of the Inn Fire, he was on standby, coordinating with other fire chiefs and preparing to be called in before he had to. 

Situations like the Inn Fire demand preparation, people, and persistence. Recruiting enough personnel is challenging for any department, especially as fire season becomes less a seasonal occurrence and more a year-round threat. 

“I think a lot of people don’t realize their primary source of medical and fire response comes from their neighbors,” McGuire said. 

In Bridgeport, Fire Chief Nick Way has made recruitment his top priority since stepping into the role in 2023. Under his leadership, the department’s active roster has nearly doubled, growing from 12 to 23 members — a record, by his count. And, importantly, they’re all active. 

“We weren’t focusing on just putting people’s names down. We wanted to make sure that they were showing up. They were showing up to training. They were showing up to calls,” he said. He removes names from the list if the people aren’t involved enough. 

Bridgeport’s recruiting is driven mainly by word of mouth, but Way credits the department’s growth to investing from the inside out. When he took over, he launched an internal training program with monthly themes and activities planned well in advance. 

Since then, training attendance has increased by 146%, and now there aren’t enough lockers for all the members. The department also looks different than many might expect: nearly half the firefighters are women, and only two are retired. 

Recruits receive task books, which are step-by-step guides to becoming a firefighter. After a year of working through one, a new volunteer should have enough training to meet the department’s standards. 

“It’s very rare for us to get someone who does have experience,” Way said. “But we’re okay with that. We have a saying here: there’s a job for everybody.” 

Not everybody’s job at the department requires wildland firefighting or medical service, Way said. Some don’t even like the sight of blood. Some do administrative work. 

Elizabeth Pelichowski, Bridgeport’s Chief Engineer, works at the District Attorney’s Office during the day. She was in heels when interviewed, having just come from court. Her passion is fire trucks, and when something breaks, she’s the one who fixes it. 

“Because the group is diverse, it doesn’t seem like, ‘Oh, you have to be a 35-year-old man with a mustache to be a firefighter,’” she said with a smile. “I’m probably a little too short – I do have to move the pedals on the fire trucks in – it doesn’t matter though.” 

When the fire broke out, Bridgeport was among the first to supply mutual aid. 

“We were able to send a crew down, who worked there for a big part of the night doing structure protection; they put some work in and earned their $5 a call.” 

Volunteer firefighters may be just one part of a wildfire response team, but they’re the first line of defense. Big agencies take time to mobilize. A neighbor, though, is already there. 

As of Thursday, the Inn Fire was 82% contained, with minimal fire behavior. Highway 395 reopened May 25 with traffic controls in place.