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Sunday, October 21. 2007
Fire
It’s another day in Paradise, but even Paradise has its price. One price we pay to live in Southern California — besides earthquakes, the high cost of living and the scarcity of decent paying jobs — are wild fires. Actually, wildfires are prevalent all over the West. Regardless of where we choose to live in these beautiful United States, nature will have its way with us. But, when a calamity such as a wildfire hits close to home, the event is much more personal.From reading our family website and message board, I know my dear family members have their own natural calamities to deal with, especially my wonderful sisters Cheryl and Mary Lou. Cheryl lives in Florida and, it seems, is constantly getting ready for Hurricane [fill in the blank]. Mary Lou lives in the Houston area of Texas and often gets the remnants of hurricanes and just recently they had massive flooding.
It was just four years ago this week when I had my bags and those of my dear brother Carl packed and ready to go when the Cedar Fire, which started over thirty miles away from us, came within a mile of burning our condominium. Scary? You fuckin’ bet. Carl, in his best tough guy attitude, said, “I’m not going anywhere.” That provided one of the few moments of humor during the three days we were threatened. I have friends who lost everything to that fire; a couple I will probably never see again, one in particular who was so distraught, he was completely inconsolable and then one day just disappeared off everyone’s radar. He haunts my thoughts now and then.Let me describe it for those who haven’t had the experience of a wild fire. The Cedar Fire started on a Saturday Night, October 25, 2003 in the Cleveland National Forest. I didn’t take much notice, since I was at work at the time and it was quite a good distance away. My work shift started in the late morning and went into the early evenings, so when I got up Sunday Morning to go for a bike ride, I took the trusty Trek out the door and saw the sky was orange, a dark, opaque orange.
After admiring the beauty of it for a few seconds, the realization of what was happening hit and then I noticed the flakes of ash coming down. The bike ride was off of course. I went back inside, turned on the news and began following the progress of the fire.In just 14 hours the fire had reached the Eastern outskirts of Poway, the San Diego suburb right next to where Carl and I lived and further South the fire had already started burning the communities of Scripps Ranch and Tierrasanta. To the North, the fire was already burning the communities up there, including Valley Center and Escondido. The news people were telling us officials were expecting the fire to drive almost all the way to the ocean, which was eight miles due West of where we lived. I, of course, called in to my job and let my supervisor know I would not be there as our place was squarely in the line of fire and we would probably be evacuating. She agreed that was the right choice as many of my Sunday co-workers lived in East County and they had already evacuated, some of them losing their homes.
By noon, the fire was on Marine Corps Air Station Miramar, burning the brush around the runways. For the fire to reach the Miramar runways, it had to jump Interstate 15, which at that point has four lanes in each direction, not counting the various on and off ramps. And if it had jumped over to the air station, then the fire had already — completely — engulfed the communities of Scripps Ranch and Tierrasanta.Scripps Ranch is just three miles from where Carl and I lived and Tierrasanta is the next community South. To the North the fire had reached I-15 as well and it seemed the only thing blocking the fire from reaching our condo complex was the town of Poway, and by noon the fire was already burning into the city’s interior.
My one friend who still haunts my thoughts lived on the Southeastern corner of Poway at the end of the Scripps-Poway Parkway. By noon Sunday he had already evacuated, the fire burning his home as he left.
Carl and I decided to sit tight, we had food in the house and as of that point, the fire was still over five miles away. Plus, we hadn’t had the knock on the door from the police telling us to evacuate, although we were under the voluntary evacuation order. The problem with evacuating — and those who have had to evacuate for a natural disaster know this — the authorities don’t let you back in until they decide it’s safe for you to return. So, if we left, there was no going back for however long the authorities kept the area closed.
The power and water were still on at our place, a bit of gratitude for that, so, through the internet and our phones, we kept in touch with our relatives, all of whom were SCREAMING for us to get out. By five Sunday Afternoon the fire had blocked any escape we might have tried North or South, the fire had already reached the international border with Mexico and had burned all the communities and suburbs directly South of us and to the North, nearly everything between Rancho Bernardo and Temecula was burning, the fire jumping I-15 up there in several locations. Our only avenue of escape was heading West on California Highway 52. Up until the Santa Ana winds died down, the fire was consuming 5,000 acres an hour—think of how much land that is and what it means.
In the initial hours, the fire killed twelve people, as they had no idea it was coming their way. In other words, they had no chance of escape. A mother and daughter, along with a sister-in-law, died in their home when they realized the fire had cut off their escape. The personal — tragic — stories of those who perished as a result of a fire — deliberately set by a hunter who got lost and wanted a signal fire — is heart wrenching.
In a twist you might find hard to believe, some thought the man who started the fire, Sergio Martinez, should not face any charges, criminal or otherwise, since starting a signal fire was a “right” choice when lost in the wilderness, even though there were many signs in the area that said starting fires was prohibited because of the potential for wild fires.
For whatever reason, the Santa Ana winds died down around five Sunday Afternoon, stopping the fire about a mile and a half from our place. Although we opted to stay in our condo, I stayed up watching the news just in case the winds picked up again. We were never seriously threatened after that but for the next four days I kept my attention focused on the fire’s progress.It took about a week to gain some control over the fire and nearly six weeks to fully contain it. The devastation was extraordinary. It had been the largest wild fire in California history. It burned over 280,000 acres, over 2,800 buildings, most of which were homes and 14 people died.
Tracon, the facility that controls the airspace around Southern California, had to be evacuated and closed since the fire had engulfed everything around the building (it sits right on MCAS Miramar). That closed traffic in to and out of Southern California and disrupted air traffic nation-wide. Personally, I lost two days of work. Not much really, about $380.00 total, a pittance compared to so many of my neighbors. All our neighbors in the condo complex had evacuated. Maybe they were the smart ones.
This became a topic this morning because I read in the news Malibu was burning again. Some might think, “Rich movie and rock stars, who cares …” Well, I care. Regardless of one’s personal economic situation, having to flee a fire will twist everyone’s emotions. The fire, so far, has burned just over 1,000 acres, threatened Pepperdine University and jumped the fabled Pacific Coast Highway.Malibu had a devastating fire in 1993 and another earlier this year, which took Suzanne Somers’ home. If Malibu can have three wildfires in 14 years, then it’s no stretch to believe we can have another one here, during one of the driest seasons on record. So far, the sun is out, the sky is blue and taking a bike ride is on the agenda. But, I will be watching the news now and then everyday until the rainy season arrives.
And as sure as I’m sitting here, the sky has turned that scary orange and the smell of smoke is wafting through the house. Outside, flakes of ash are floating to the ground and the eventuality mentioned in the previous paragraph is here. We have another fire. I’ll check back in if possible to update.
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Back with an update: we have two fires here in San Diego County. One in a little community called Spring Valley to the Southeast, and the other in Ramona, to the Northeast. The latter being the one that will threaten us in this area of San Diego. Was just out on my Trek and the Santa Ana wind was gusting to 25 mph from the Ramona area. Kicked my ass pedaling into it, added with the smoke and ash in the air, made for a little difficulty breathing in it.
The smell of smoke is thick in the air, the sky is dark orange and I’m thinking the fire is probably a little closer than Ramona by now. Well, this is the time of year.
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On a sad note, one of the sports heroes from my youth, max McGee, died as a result of a fall from the roof of his home. He was 75 and blowing leaves from his Minnesota home. Geez, how balsy is that! Foolish though, for a man his age. McGee caught the first touchdown pass in Super Bowl history — a one-handed catch from Bart Starr in Super Bowl I against the Kansas City Chiefs. McGee didn’t expect to play that game so the night before he broke curfew and partied all night. He had a raging hangover at game time and when Boyd Dowler was injured, McGee had to replace him — using a borrowed helmet because he had left his in the locker room.One of the great Max McGee quotes: “When it’s third-and-10, you can take the milk drinkers and I’ll take the whiskey drinkers every time.”
Yeah ... you’ll take’em to one of your restaurants and get blasted — after you win the game! R.I.P. Max! Thanks for the memories!
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