On a bright Saturday morning, Kris Skrivseth and his family sat on the porch of their Swantown Road home, entertained by the sight of firefighters gradually reducing a dilapidated farmhouse on their property into a mass of carbonized rubble.

At the same time, a reporter knee-walked into the dark room where North Whidbey Fire and Rescue firefighters torched a pile of wood. Amid the cacophony of voices, crackling flames and relentless beeping, Jobie Gause’s verbal instructions struggled to pass through the layers of fabric protecting the reporter’s ears from cooking.

While staying close to the ground where the smoke and heat weren’t nearly as intense, the reporter squinted her eyes and moved closer to the other end of the room, not sure if the tall shape in front of her was a person she was supposed to get near to.

Suddenly, the battalion chief’s voice thundered, ordering the trio of first-timers to get out at once. They didn’t realized a thick layer of black smoke overhead obscured a drop ceiling in flames.

All those years of avoiding the gym finally hit the reporter’s legs as she knee-ran her way out of the door, weighed-down by the heavy gear. In the rush, she tripped over Samantha Jackson, a Home Depot employee and fellow guest at the training, who was completely unaware that her suit had partially caught fire and that a piece of ceiling had fallen on her — a testament to the toughness of the firefighters’ suit and helmet.

Gause and the group left the one-story house unharmed and ecstatic as the fire academy’s students stormed in to put down the flames. Chris Whiteman, a welding and engineering teacher at Oak Harbor High School who had been invited to attend, said he was surprised at how fast the fire rose, but he didn’t feel afraid.

The lighting and smothering of the fire continued in cycles, with investigators walking in to assess the scene and firefighters taking breaks to refuel with pizza and donuts.

The firefighters could frequently be seen shaking and shifting on their feet to turn off the personal alert safety systems attached to their breathing apparatus harness. These devices, also known as “PASS,” have a high pitched alarm that goes off from lack of movement, signaling that the wearer may be incapacitated and in need of immediate assistance.

With so many people around, it sometimes took a heads up to realize the beeping was coming from one’s own device. Perhaps as a punishment for frequently forgetting to shake, the sound haunted the reporter’s mind as she attempted to fall asleep that night.

While offering old buildings to the fire department can be a cheaper alternative to demolishing for local property owners, it also provides new firefighters and trainees an opportunity to put the knowledge and skills they acquired into practice in a controlled environment.

“This is the best way our firefighters, especially our new firefighters, can learn about fire, the growth of the fire and fire patterns and how to put a fire out,” said Deputy Chief Ray Merrill, who was one of many experienced firefighters keeping an eye on the scene.

This level of safety also allows for a few select non-firefighters to get a taste of what entering a burning building is like — which is nothing like what glamorous TV shows try to show you, except for the wholesome camaraderie and dedication firefighters bring to the job.

After seeing a growing interest in joining the field, the department launched its very own Fire Academy following a few years of training students in collaboration with the Central and South Whidbey fire departments, Merrill said.

Saturday was the first time students practiced with a house. Gause, who leads the academy, said they all did a good job.

Among some of the risks rescuers might encounter in a house fire, there are two particularly dangerous phenomena trainees learn to watch out for.

A flashover happens when the objects and materials in a room reach ignition temperature and catch fire almost simultaneously, Merrill said. Heated objects tend to smoke shortly before combusting, though it can happen so suddenly that many firefighters get injured, he said.

“All of sudden you go from having hardly any flame, to the whole house or the whole room being on fire at the same time,” he said.

Another dangerous event is what is known as backdraft, which occurs when a room that is depleted of oxygen explodes the moment a window or door is opened, letting in oxygen that causes an immediate explosion.

To identify the potential risk for backdraft, firefighters must look for signs like blackened windows and smoke coming out of the walls, Merrill said. To defuse it, firefighters ventilate the room from its highest point, safely releasing heat and smoke and allowing firefighters to intervene.

Still, Gause said, these scenarios are less likely to happen in structures that have been cleaned up and cleared of their furniture, which was the case for this training.

There are other techniques taught at the academy that trainees got to use. Earlier that day, the plywood panel that acted as a makeshift window burst open as water gushed out. According to Chief Chris Swiger, firefighters were applying what is known as hydraulic ventilation, which consists of shooting a water stream out of a window to draw the smoke outside.

The students have two more months of preparation before they can graduate, but some might not make it to the end. When the academy started in early March, the class counted 21 students and had dropped to 10 by Saturday, Gause said.

Drop-outs are common and may happen for a variety of reasons. According to Merrill, some students may be Navy sailors who have to transfer to a different base, or workers with busy schedules.

On top of committing to training and attending classes three days a week, some students may realize the job takes a greater mental toll than they had expected.

With first responders showing high suicide rates due to the stress and trauma that are associated with the job, as reported by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, Gause said the training is meant to prepare trainees for what they might encounter in an emergency.

As of Saturday, Navy sailor and firefighter trainee Steven Richmond was among the 10 remaining students. While finding the training to be physically and mentally challenging, he enjoys the idea of serving and being a part of the community — a key motivator for first responders, Gause said.

Volunteer firefighter and EMT Dylan Van Rensum, a 29-year-old who has been with the department since he was 16, would like to see more people join.

“It’s not a safe job, but it’s one of the most rewarding jobs,” he said in an interview after he kept the reporter out of trouble in a second round of burning.

As the reporter ached from the weight of the self-contained breathing apparatus on her shoulders, Van Rensum described the feeling of working in full gear for long periods of time. After two or three hours, he said, people may struggle to swing their arms while feeling like their legs are made of concrete. On top of that, they may have to carry out injured people.

Saturday’s training was John Fisken’s fourth or fifth appearance as a freelance photographer. While taking photos inside the building in full gear, he knew what was going to happen as he was reminded of his own firefighting training back when he worked in the Navy.

These experiences gave him a greater appreciation for what firefighters do and the risks they take.

“Ultimate respect for anybody that’s willing to run inside a burning building,” he said.

(Photo by John Fisken) After numerous burns, the house was finally burned to a crisp, ready to make way for a new building.

Photo by John Fisken Firefighters and trainees got to put their skills to the test at a house offered by North Whidbey resident Kris Skrivseth.

(Photo by John Fisken) Freelance reporter Luisa Loi poses for a photo after experiencing the first round of fires in the Swanton Road home. As of Monday night, her shoulders still feel sore from carrying the self-contained breathing apparatus. Perhaps it’s time to hit the gym.