Snowmass Village hosts a wildfire resiliency event where Angie Davlyn outlines critical steps for home hardening, including roof upgrades, vegetation thinning, and evacuation planning.

“A homes can be as close as 66 to 100 feet from the biggest, hottest burning wildfires and still survive if those homes are effectively hardened from embers,” Angie Davlyn told the packed room at the Snowmass Village wildfire resiliency event on Thursday.
It wasn’t just a statistic to recite; it was a challenge to look at your own backyard, to see if the pine needles choking your gutters were a fuse waiting to be lit. The executive director of the Roaring Fork Valley Wildfire Collaborative wasn’t speaking in abstracts. She was speaking to neighbors who know the difference between a dry creek bed and a fire lane, people who have watched the valley turn brittle this spring. The air in the room felt heavy, not just with the weight of the record-breaking warmth that has baked the Western Slope, but with the realization that the old ways of relying on luck are no longer enough.
The town hosted the event to make one point especially clear: you are your first line of defense. It’s a shift from the era when we waited for the fire department to arrive, hoping they’d beat the blaze to the ridge. Now, the responsibility sits squarely on our shoulders, layered over the work of the nonprofit and the fire rescue teams who are trying to buy us time.
Davlyn laid out the practical, gritty details of survival. It starts with the roof. If you’re still sitting on wooden shakes, you’re playing Russian roulette with every spark that drifts down from the sky. The message was simple, if unglamorous: switch to nonwooden roofing. Then, look at the ground. The first five feet around your home need to be bare, stripped of vegetation, a clear zone where embers can’t catch hold. Then, out to thirty feet, the trees and bushes need to be carefully managed, thinned out so the fire doesn’t climb up the ladder into the canopy.
But it’s not just about the house. It’s about the exit. There are four roads in and out of Snowmass Village — Brush Creek, Owl Creek, Divide, and Wildcat Way — and knowing which one to take when the smoke rolls in is a matter of seconds, not minutes. The community needs to keep an eye on Pitkin Alerts, listening for the recommendation that might save them from gridlock on a single-lane road. And just in case the road closes, a “go bag” with essentials should be packed and ready, sitting by the door like a traveler’s companion.
Beyond the individual home, there’s a larger machinery turning. The Roaring Fork Valley Wildfire Collaborative, working alongside Roaring Fork Fire Rescue, is taking direct action on the ground. They’ve installed Pano AI cameras throughout the valley, a network of digital eyes that can spot smoke faster than a human eye can scan the horizon. In the past, we relied on civilian reports, on someone driving down a road and seeing a plume. Now, the system reacts quickly, detecting smoke before it becomes a roar.
They’ve also been busy thinning the overgrown wooded areas, pulling out the “fire fuel” that has accumulated in the dead vegetation. Davlyn noted they’ve removed 1,000 hazardous trees and over 2,000 tons of vegetation. That’s not just debris; that’s space. It’s room for firefighters to get in, for aerial support to reach the ground. It’s turning overgrown chaos into healthier ecosystems, benefiting the forest habitat and the wildlife that share these slopes with us.
Now, they’re rolling out a wildfire modeling project using AGNI-NAR, an advanced tool that will help us understand how fire might behave in specific spots, which homes might be hit hardest, and where the risk truly lies. It’s data made visible, a map of vulnerability drawn in real-time.
As the event wrapped up, the sun was still high, casting long shadows across the valley floor. The trees stood quiet, their needles dry and brittle, waiting for the next gust of wind. You could feel the heat radiating off the asphalt on Wildcat Way, a tangible reminder that the fire season isn’t a possibility anymore, it’s a presence, sitting just beyond the tree line, watching us back.





