Adam Warwick drives his white truck up a mountain near North Carolina’s Nantahala National Forest taking note of his surroundings. It’s late March, and the trees have yet to bloom. The forest floor is denser than the canopy — a brown mosaic of dead leaves, twigs, and flowerless vines of mountain laurel and rhododendron. I sit in the backseat with a yellow hard hat resting on my boots while Warwick tells me in his Tennessee accent how high the risk of wildfire could be with such thick vegetation.
“Oh yeah,” he said. “This place is dying to burn.”
Read Full Article »