Sometimes it’s odd things that stir up memories of the Carr Fire. Last month, it was the way the wind blew on a beautiful summer day that struck fear and dread in my heart.  A few weeks ago, I packed a shirt for a vacation to Tahoe, and the memories came flooding back.  Now, as July winds down, I can’t help but think of the Carr Fire.  A year ago, it changed the lives of thousands of people, including me.

A Fiery Past

Fire has always made me nervous.  Growing up I was told the story of my father catching his eyebrows on fire when he worked as a cook for the National Guard.  Everyone on that side of the family has crazy eyebrows. As a child I attributed it to fire, rather than genetics.

Once, when I was a young child, my parents woke me up and rushed me outside because of a small house fire.  My father had dumped trash into the fireplace. He was unaware that there were batteries hidden among the refuge.  The batteries began exploding, and sparks flew everywhere.  Although tables and chairs had to be replaced, they were able to extinguish flames before too much damage was done, but I remember the chaos.

Growing up, I lived in Southern California.  The little firecrackers that were purchased in Mexico were everywhere and caused me a lot of anxiety.  As a tween, they were thrown into crowds on the Fourth of July.  In high school, the boys would have firecracker wars by throwing them at each other.  Once, when I was on a date, the young man lite a firecracker in the car.  He was going to throw it out the window but missed and it landed in the backseat.  Luckily, he only burned his seat a little, but I was running away from him the minute the car stopped.

Now I live in “fire country”. Even before the Carr Fire, I had friends and coworkers who had lost everything in a fire.  I had been evacuated from my home two previous times because of fire in a nearby canyon. Every time I think of fire, I become a little fearful.

The Carr Fire – Beginnings

For me, the Carr Fire started with a glow on the ridge of the mountain west of our home.  We were saying goodbye to some friends late at night.  When we walked out the front door and looked to our left, the dark mountain had an orange glow behind it, sort of like a halo.  I took some pictures and we prayed that the fire fighters would be able to put it out. I slept restlessly.

The next morning my younger son woke me up around 9:00 am.  “I don’t want alarm you,” he said, “but last night the fire jumped the ridge.  We need to pack up and be ready to evacuate.”

I climbed out of bed and dressed in a shirt that said, “Pray more, worry less”.  I felt it would be a good reminder throughout the day that my hope is in heaven.  I began to pray and pack.

The Carr Fire – Preparations

On the outside, I endeavored to look calm, while actually my body was going into fight or flight mode.  I struggled to keep my mind thinking logically.  I packed in circles.  The first round? What was going to be most important if my house burned to the ground? Insurance information followed by banking and other important papers like social security cards, birth certificates and passports.

Somewhere in the second round we packed modems, electronics, and clothes for 2-3 days.  Since we only had three drivers to transport four cars and a borrowed RV (we had just returned from a camping trip), I made arrangements for some of them to go elsewhere. Two cars were picked up by my parents and their neighbor.   We hoped they lived far enough away that the cars would be safe.

Round three?  I packed more clothes including my jeans and favorite jacket, even though it was 100 degrees outside. If everything burned, I would need these items come winter.  Yay for me, I thought.  I was appearing very logical, even though my head was swimming in a fog of smoke.

Round four included the scrapbooks and some comforts: a few favorite movies, pillows, and sleeping bags.

Finally, I walked around the house and took pictures of each room.

Looking back: What did I forget to pack? A cooler of food.  That would have been very helpful, but I didn’t think of it at the time.

After, my husband and the boys loaded items into the RV, they watered everything in the yard. I don’t know if this holds true, but I had heard one time that if you close the windows to the house, draw the blinds, and move furniture away from the outside walls, you have a better chance of items inside the house not combusting.  So that’s what we did.  We packed up cushions from chairs on the porch and moved everything in the house and garage away from the outside walls.  My husband also trimmed the limbs of a tree that was growing too close to the house.  We were as ready as we could be.  My heart continued pumping rapidly, and I was eager to evacuate.

Throughout this time, fire fighters were holding the fire on the other side of the river.  They had built a fire line and offered hope that it would hold. However, we were warned that if the fire jumped the river, we should be ready to leave immediately!  We wondered how we would know and how much time we would have to get to safety.

I felt ready to leave now!  My thought was we should get gasoline and head away from the fire as soon as possible.  But my family was not in a rush.  Instead we sat together and waited in nervous anticipation.  I paced.  Blood pounded in my ears. We watched the news, set our phones for emergency alerts, gaped at social media.  It was difficult to concentrate because of the blood coursing through my veins.

Will the Fire-Break Hold?

Soon it was late afternoon.  The fire was still across the river, but only 2.5 miles away and burring steadily up the west bank.  Weathermen were predicting the wind would pick up soon. We knew the firebreak would be put to the ultimate test.  The question on everyone’s mind was, “Will it hold?”

If it didn’t hold, I was worried we would be leaving in the middle of the night, amid traffic. We still needed gasoline in one of the cars.  So again, I begged my family to drive away with me.  We could find a spot of safety and get a good night’s rest.  My husband promised we would leave soon and went to take a shower. The plan was to drive to my parent’s house and spend the night there.  They lived 22 miles away from the blazing fire.  We thought we would be safe.

It was while he was in the shower that everything blew up.  We were watching from our living room window.  Colossal amounts of smoke had been billowing and rolling toward us all day, but suddenly the left side of the hillside exploded in scarlet.  Tongues of fire began to cascade down the mountain.  I looked away, and I refused to look at the fire again.  I was too terrified.

Let’s get out of here!

Upstairs, my husband was exiting the shower and witnessed the same event.  He dressed and calmly walked into the living room. “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” he asked.  The boys nodded in agreement. “I’m ready, let’s go!”

I loaded the dogs into the van while he and my older son rush-watered one last time.  My husband would take my younger son into the RV with him.  My oldest would drive the third vehicle.

As we bustled around the yard with last minute details, I still would not look to the mountain.  There was a deafening roar, like the sound of an airplane bomber overhead.  I thought it was a firefighting tanker, flying above the house, preparing to drop water.  Praise the Lord, I thought!  They are going to drop water on my home, and it will be saved!

Only it wasn’t a plane and the water never came.  In reality it was the sound of thundering fire.  Later, my husband and sons would describe it as the sound of a freight train running through our yard.  (See the video below.)

By now I was shaking, and my eyes were tearing up. All I cared about was my family.  I wanted us to make it to safety. “You’re coming, right?” I asked my husband.  “You’ll be right behind me, right?” I asked my son.  I climbed into the car and grabbed the steering wheel to steady myself.

I talked myself through the horrific emotions, “Steady now. Turn the ignition. Back the car up. Now go forward.  Don’t crash! Oh, good, my family members are walking toward their cars.”

Everything was a slow-moving, stop-motion film:

Scene one: I turn right. I am on the road heading out of our neighborhood.

Scene two: A neighbor pulls out in front of me and proceeds down the same road. Wow, they sure are in a hurry!

Scene three: I look to the right.  The car has its trunk open and a suitcase is going in.

Scene four: This house has no cars parked in front of it. They must have already evacuated.

Scene five: Someone is driving toward me.  Yikes, they almost hit the mailboxes!  They must be in a hurry, trying to get family members out.  Has my family pulled out yet? Are they behind me like they promised? I hope they leave the gate open in case a firefighter needs access.

I can no longer hear the roar of the fire over the blood pumping in my ears.

I make it to the end of our road and stop. I gawk at what I see. There is no room for westbound traffic because the two lanes are filled with bumper to bumper cars, all crawling steadily in one direction, east to safety.  To my left is a sky of red and black.  A car stops and let’s me in.  I wave in gratitude to a stranger who is saving my life, and I join the parade.  Suddenly there is a police officer on my right, waving me forward.  “Two lanes!” he shouts, and tears roll down my cheeks in thankfulness. I have never been so happy to pay taxes in my life.  The first-responders are on the job.  They are saving countless lives.

Heroes

 There were many heroes that day and in the days following.  Although the Carr Fire burned 229,651 acres, and 38,000 people were evacuated, there were only eight fatalities (three firefighters and five civilians).  Even as I write this, and remember the events, tears are streaming down my cheeks.  It’s taken me a year to get to this point of being able to write about the experience.

Police and helpful civilians directed us eastward to a main road, where they had stopped all the traffic, so that we could make a right turn to safety.  I drove east, as far as I could, and then south toward my parents’ home.  When I arrived, the rest of my family was there to greet me.

At My Parents’ House

We were all thankful to be together and safe.  My parents turned on the news, and we were glued to the television set.  Meanwhile, questions flew through my brain like vultures circling their prey.  Was my house still standing?  From what I had seen leaving, I doubted it.

Would God grant me grace for that? I believed He would.

Why had there been no “official” notification to evacuate?  The only answer I could formulate was that there had not been enough time.

What if the fire continued to rage?  Shouldn’t we be ready to evacuate again?  The answer screaming in my mind was a resounding, “Yes!”

I considered my parents.  They are older and move slowly.  I considered my parent’s neighborhood.  There is only one way in and one way out with hundreds of homes using the same route.

The television described the fire as it continued to rage.  Friends were helping their elderly parents evacuate across the highway.  I suggested to my parents that they begin to consider evacuation themselves.  They agreed that they should begin to load a few items.  I walked around with my mother, and my boys began to load the items that she pointed out into the car.  Soon I was pacing like a caged tiger.  Finally, everyone agreed.  My family would go east to a friend’s house.  My parent’s would go south to an evacuation center with another friend, and stay in the adjoining hotel.   So instead of getting a good night’s rest, we evacuated again.

Evacuated

 All in all, we were evacuated for 9 days.  For the first two days, we were glued to the Internet or the television and none of us talked about our experience.  We checked on people that we knew, to see if they were safe and where they were staying.  A friend called to tell me her house had burned to the ground.  I wondered about mine.  We were all numb and silent.

The next day, I heard there was hope regarding our home. Our pastor’s wife gave us a call.  “I think that your house made it!” she said.  Although we didn’t find out for sure for several more days, it turned out that she was correct!  You see, one of our neighbors owns a paving company.  This fellow church-member spent the whole day that we were packing, cutting a fire break with his heavy earth-moving equipment.  Just as the fire hit his “road”, firefighters dumped water on the line from above.  This saved our home and our whole neighborhood of about 15 houses.

The Healing Begins

On Sunday, our church decided to do a lunch after service for anyone affected by the Carr fire.

The healing began when I arrived at church.  Warm friendly arms were wrapped around me.  Another evacuee and I began to talk in the parking lot.  As we shared experiences, some of the tension began to escape through uttered words and tears.  In the bathroom before service, there were more tears and more release.

When service began, the pastor asked all of us who were evacuated to stand.  There were about 15 families from our small congregation that were affected.  All of us were safe.  None of our homes had burned.  It was a true miracle.

After service, there was a wonderful lunch.  Friends came by to check on us.  There were more stories, more sharing.  Once we opened up, and began talking about what had happened to us and what we had gone through, I started to feel better.  This was the beginning of the healing. As the days progressed, and we began to share as a family, I began to feel some normalcy.

A week and a half later, we were finally allowed back home.  Smoke from the fire still choked our throats and burned our eyes.  Refrigerators with rotting food assaulted our noses. Still, we were incredibly happy and thankful.  We were all safe and we had a home to return to.  We mourned for those who lost loved ones and for the 1,077 families who lost their homes.

Present Day

Tomorrow is the anniversary of my personal evacuation.  In some ways my experience is unique, but not in others.  Almost 40,000 of us were forced to evacuate our homes, and I would guess there were close to that many who took us in and provided for us.

So where are we all now? We are healing at different rates, but the prognosis looks good.  Construction sites are booming, and friends continue to rebuild what was lost.   I have to admit I am still nervous around fire, and I am not alone. I have colleagues who have not yet unpacked the boxes that they took with them when they evacuated because they fear another fire.  I have friends still living in rentals, some have left the area, but others are beginning to rebuild their homes.

My house is finally put back together and the experience has taught me a lot.   I learned that when a crisis hits, friends, family, and community come together.  Strangers help one another. People are there for each other.  I have heard story after story of the heroes that saved lives and property. I only have to look down the street for the heroes in my experience.  The stranger who let me into the lane during evacuation, the police officers who stopped traffic and waved me through, the neighbor who built an extra fire break to save our neighborhood, and the fire-fighters who tirelessly battled the flames. Then there are the friends who took me in and housed me for nine days and the church members who threw a luncheon for me. And I am so thankful for the friends who were willing to listen when I finally started talking or came and assisted with the cleanup of our yard and home.  Most of all, I am thankful that my friends and family are safe.