Big Creek is Smoking Hot! Who else wants to get smoked in the BC? Come see Ada and I this weekend. She is whipping up some goodies tonight as we rock out to 80s music. MY kid!
Facebook Post 9-4-22
This was the day that Ada and I will never forget.
We were in Big Creek, helping open Labor Day at the Big Creek General store. We saw the small plume of smoke, we didn’t think much of it. We baked, we sliced meat until 11:30pm. We were getting ready for a busy day to come and we were so tired.
Ada was baking an order for an anniversary party. She got more hesitant as the smoke grew and the flames were visible. Still, we stayed… It was fire season, and this was a normal scenario for the area this time a year, unfortunately. Ada grew so nervous, she made us move from the house we were at to my aunt’s couch, since I would not let us leave for home, assuring her that the fire would be out soon and we needed to be in Big Creek for the a.m. opening. Little did we know that was the last time we would see that cabin we stayed at, the last time we would see Big Creek in its prestigious historic glory.
The town stood wrapped in girthy oaks and wise tall pines, vibrant with colors and smells that brought smiles and peace to everyone who entered its meandering road to the heart of town.
It was an intense predicament we found ourselves in at 3am. An interesting story if you ever have time for the tale. Flames that blocked exits, a frightened kid, a cancer-sick aunt, a deep sleeper of a cousin, a frail grandmother who wouldn’t leave her A-hole cat, two dogs, an uncle somewhere in the belly of the beast, and me, a mom filled with guilt of mishandling a situation.
Luckily, the town might look different after the Creek Fire, but the heart is the same. The kid might have been shaken, but she knew what to do the next time we got evacuated 48 hours later. The public might not have been able to taste our wares, but the firefighters did.
My drive up to Big Creek these days look a bit different, but it doesn’t change my desire to go as the heart still beats. In no way was our experience as heavy as some others’ that night in Big Creek and the surrounding areas, as they lost everything. But it sure left its mark in our hearts forever. Praying for an uneventful evening tonight. Creek Fire- you sucked.
A Little History of Cressman Road from the 1940’s to the Creek Fire as told to Ari Arroyo
Gene Van Dyne started coming up to the Shaver Lake area in the early 1940’s and moved to Lower Cressman Road in 1947 when he was 12 and his family purchased 160 acres covering the area roughly from 35822 Lower Cressman to the back gate at the end of Lower Cressman Road. There was a small shop on the property at 35822 Lower Cressman Road and they added a small building for his father’s planer (he was a cabinet maker) and a small house where he lived until he joined the Air Force in 1954. Over the years his family sold most of the land and he now owns and lives on 20 of those acres. Gene and his mother built his present house at 36075 Lower Cressman Road. Gene made the money to build the house by logging his property as well as his mother’s adjacent property.
The question arises as to how the Van Dyne’s ended up on Cressman Road. They were living in Fresno and every weekend his family came up to the mountains to camp in Woodchuck Country south of Wishon Reservoir and go fishing and hunting. In 1947 his family decided to move up to the mountain. He does not recall how they found Cressman Road and when they got here in 1947 there was only a dirt road and the trees were so thick they were like a tunnel. Lower Cressman was later paved using funds from the property owners in the mid 1980’s.
There are so many stories. Here are a few. Gene recalls when in 1948 there was so much snow that he and his brother made tunnels in the snow going from their house to the shop building. He would walk down to Peterson Road to get the bus to school at Sierra Elementary in Tollhouse and Sierra High. When there was too much snow to go back and forth he would board with Hubert and Queenie Yelton in Tollhouse. When he was in high school he and his father did the garbage pickup service for all of the Shaver Lake area in their 1937 Dodge truck. He gave that old truck to Ari and Peter Arroyo and you can still see it at the bottom of their driveway on Lower Cressman Road.
Gene joined the Air Force in 1954 and was stationed around the United States from Texas to California to Arizona, in Thule Greenland, Enewetak Atoll, Vietnam and Korea. In 1955-1956 he was in the 55th Weather Squadron as a navigational equipment repairmen working on the B29’s and WB50’s at Enewetak Atoll when they were doing the first atom bomb testing. He recalls being told to put their faces into their knees when the bombs went off and recalls seeing the red glow reflected through his knees. While Gene was in the Air Force, his father built a large cement dance floor, a bandstand and a concession stand for drinks and snacks behind their house. They would have dances every week or so and the locals from Cressman community, Peterson Road, Auberry and other areas all came up to socialize. Many would camp out and spend the night after the dances.
Gene returned stateside in 1972 and was stationed at Sheppard Air Force Base in Wichita Falls, Texas where he met Royella at the NCO Club where she was decorating for Christmas. To hear Gene and Royella tell their story, it was pretty much love at first sight. Gene went to Korea in 1974 for one year which Royella says was the longest year of her life. Since his return to the States in 1975 they have always been by each other’s side.
Gene was stationed in Las Vegas until 1977 when he retired from the Air Force and returned to the mountain and to Lower Cressman Road . . . Gene was home!
They spent the next 43 years living on the mountain in the summer and spending the winter months on the coast or in the Nevada desert and fishing at Lake Mead (Gene and Royella know all the best fishing spots). To the delight of their neighbors and friends, in 2019 they stopped going away and have stayed on the mountain all year long.
Gene has always been an integral part of the Pine Ridge community. In 2008 Gene and eight other community members started the Pine Ridge Volunteer Fire Department and Gene was an engineer, firefighter and mechanic for the fire department. He still works on the fire engines today as an auxiliary member. He served for many years as road commissioner for the community, in charge of determining the needs and doing the work to keep the roads (which are not maintained by the county) in good shape. Although he is not road commissioner anymore, he is always active in the work parties throughout the community. Ari Arroyo recalled that when she came up to the mountain in 2010 she walked into her first Pine Ridge community meeting on the arm of Gene and was truly proud to be on the arm of who she then considered and still considers one of the most important people in the community.
And then on September 4, 2020 the Creek Fire happened and Gene and Royella evacuated with their 1992 Airstream to the valley. They were blessed that their home did not burn down but their old circular sawmill did. When Royella learned about the sawmill she cried because it was so important to Gene and the whole community. Though their home did not burn, there was immeasurable damage around their home and property but once they were able to return home they buckled down and got to work. Now, two years later, they’re still working to get back to where they were before the fire but nonetheless, they are loving being back home!
Oral Interview with CSRF volunteer, Kristin Telles
On Friday, September 4, 2020, my family and I left for our annual church backpacking trip near Florence Lake. There were probably 30 people in our group of all ages. The littlest kid we had was probably four or five years old. We all drove up to Florence Lake, took the little ferry across the lake and then hiked the four miles to the campsite. The people that put the whole backpacking trip together have a little cabin in a place called Blaney Meadows, right before you get to Muir Trail Ranch. At their cabin they have Wi Fi (it’s kind of spotty) and a satellite phone so they can communicate to people down in Shaver or wherever.
Anyhow, we went up there on the fourth, and then on the fifth we found out that there was a fire in Camp Sierra. At first we’re thinking, “Oh, it’s just a little fire. It’s not going to be anything huge. It’s so far away. We’re safe.” We were sitting around talking, people were saying, “What’s going to happen if it goes out of control?” but everyone was like, “Oh, it’s little, nothing’s going to happen.”
The woman in the cabin was listening to the satellite phone and giving us updates. She told us “It’s kind of headed toward Big Creek now” and I remember my dad, Tim Elming, saying, “Okay, this is kind of getting a little sketchy. It’s getting bigger and bigger.”
On Sunday, September 6, my dad got on the phone with our cousin Justice Jones who is a CHP up here. He said, “I really think that you guys should start hiking back out, at least to your cars at the Florence Lake parking lot just so that you have a way to get out.” So we did hike back out, but then we couldn’t leave from Florence Lake, because the fire had crossed 168 at China Peak. We were actually stranded at that point in the Florence Lake parking lot.
This very sweet lady that owns the little store at Florence, her name is Eleanor Smith, was basically giving us all of her food. We had food still left over from our backpacking trip, but she was giving us little snacks and stuff. She also let us use her satellite phone.
While there, my dad actually got a hold of my uncle and my cousin so they were able to go down to our house at the top of Tollhouse grade, right before Cressman’s. They were able to get some stuff out of the safe, some vehicles, our boats and a few pictures before the fire came through. My brother’s house was actually right below our house so they were able to get some stuff from his house also. They told us that the fires was in Shaver now.”
We stayed the night in the parking lot in our cars on September 6th. On Monday, September 7th, the Sherriff said that there were about 100 more backpackers over at Vermillion Resort at Edison Lake . They wanted us to drive from Florence Lake to Edison Lake to be all together with the whole group to either drive out or be flown out. So we got in our cars and we were ready to go. Then they told us that the fire just crossed the road again so we were stranded again.
Anyhow, that day (the 7th) we drove over to Edison Lake where there were probably 200 people and we stayed the night in the cars again.
By this point, we had learned that our family house had burned. We heard from someone on one of the satellite phone calls that it was gone. That feeling of going home to nothing was hard. That was our childhood home. That was the only place that I called home. My parents raised us in that house, they built that house themselves. That was really, really tough. I felt so bad for my parents because they were going home to nothing. I mean, my mom had just a couple of shirts and pants that she had backpacking with her. We were just thanking God that we were safe. And then we had each other and all the memories.
[Kristin Telles: I was thinking it had to been really scary for your parents to know my entire family is here. My entire family is in this fire. My entire family is on this helicopter.]
It was scary. At first like I had doubts like okay, we are probably not going to get out of here. Every time the Sheriffs told us we couldn’t leave because the fire had crossed the road (again) it was scary. I wondered if we were going to be wading into the lake at one point. I actually felt a little better when we joined up with the big group at Lake Edison. I thought “they can’t let us all go, right? Strength in numbers?”
We knew the fire was not too close to us, but it was really smoky. Luckily, because it was COVID at that time, we all had masks. So we were wearing our masks to help us breathe better without breathing in the ashes and all that stuff. We had our dog with us, though, so that was good too.
On the night of September 8, early in the morning, we were all woken up by sirens. Imagine waking up to the sirens. They had us drive our cars and leave them in the lake bed– that felt kind of sketchy. “Like, okay, we’re leaving our vehicles here. Hopefully, the fire doesn’t get all the way up here.” Then around eight or nine that morning, we were told to walk down and get into a huge Chinook helicopter. A lot of the people in our group were really freaked about it. I thought, “Hey, we’re going to get out of here! I don’t know what you’re scared about!” The whole highlight of the whole ordeal was that helicopter ride. The helicopter had seats, but they fit so many people in there, that there are people sitting on the floor of the helicopter.
[Kristin Telles: What did your dog think about the helicopter ride jam packed with people?]
The Sherriff told us that we had to put a muzzle on the dogs if we were going to take them. All they had was cohesive tape. So, yes, we had to tape our 13-year-old dog’s mouth shut. She was old so she wasn’t going to bite or anything. On the whole helicopter ride my dad was holding her and she was kind of like freaking out. She wasn’t going to bite anybody or anything. Earlier on, one guy told my dad “I don’t know if you’re going to be able to take the dog.” But my dad said, “If my dog can’t go then I’m not going.” And the guy said, “Okay, you know, let me go talk to somebody real quick.” I remember thinking “Come on, really? You want us to leave our dog here?” So on the flight my dad sat there holding her and gently loosening her tape muzzle.
We flew in the Chinook, there were two or three Blackhawk helicopters too, picking up people from Vermillion. It was so smoky you really couldn’t see anything. Then we flew into Fresno to the National Guard base and our family members were there to pick us up. We actually got on the news on ABC 30, you can see us waving. That was a cool experience.
So we made it out safely, all of us. As I look back on it, I keep thinking of this Bible verse: “For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” –Jeremiah 29:11
The Night the Fire StartedCamp Sierra is less than a mile up canyon from where the Creek Fire started.
At the time I was the President of the Camp Sierra Conference Association which runs a nonprofit group camp. At the time, the camp was surrounded by 71 private cabins in the Sierra National Forest.
During COVID some of the private cabin owners had social distance happy hours on cabin decks or parking areas. That afternoon at 5 pm the happy hour started at a cabin that overlooked the canyon. Just before 5:30 we saw smoke at the bottom of the canyon a little to the west. The smoke area remained the same size as we watched a helicopter unload two water dumps and a plane drop two loads of fire retardant.
During this time multiple fire trucks drove into Camp Sierra with sirens. Since the camp had five cabins rented, I went down to the Conference Grounds to see how I could help and check on our campers. Multiple fire engines from Cal Fire, the Sierra National Forest Service and the Shaver Lake Volunteer Fire Department, along with two Fresno County Sheriff Deputy cars staged on the Conference Grounds parking lot. There were approximately eight fire trucks and crews waiting to try to save our little community if needed.
Over the daylight hours the emergency responders kept in frequent contact with the firefighters at the fire scene. They reported that the fire was remaining at three to five acres and were hopeful that it might be contained. The mood of everyone lightened but the firefighters reminded me that you can’t tell what a fire is going to do. They would remain all night just in case they were needed.
I opened the Camp Store and some cabins to provide access to bathrooms and a place to rest. Everyone who wanted was treated to ice cream cones and bottles of water. We all remained watchful and hopeful. The on-site incident management crew prepared to protect Camp Sierra. Multiple private cabin owners came to the parking lot to get updates and our campers were kept informed.
When dark came, the wind started to pick up. I wasn’t watching the time, but someone noticed an orange glow in the direction of the fire that wasn’t visible before. The incident commander contacted the firefighters at the fire and learned the fire had just jumped with the wind and the fire was rapidly heading up the canyon.
The evacuation order came immediately, without even time for an evacuation warning. The fire was moving quickly up the canyon wall with all of the bark beetle killed ponderosa pines and drought conditions. Anyone in the mountains fears exactly what was now happening.
A sheriff’s deputy and I went to each of our camper cabins to get them evacuated. Then my husband and I went to our private cabin to load up our things to evacuate. Every minute showed the night sky turning lighter and lighter with glowing orange. It was pretty scary. The only thing we could think about was how to get out before the fire reached us. We only took time to grab our family albums and pictures, some clothes, computers and a few other personal items.
By the time we left at 12:20 am we were the last cabin owners to leave. The fire had already jumped the Huntington Lake Road to Shaver Lake. We had to leave the back way through Big Creek and Huntington Lake. Driving up to Huntington Lake, at every switchback, we saw the fire getting bigger and bigger. We had little hope that we would ever see our cabin or Camp Sierra again.
After the fire passed by Camp Sierra, through the heroic efforts of the firefighters, 67 of 71 cabins survived and the Conference Grounds only lost only an outdoor chapel out of 27 buildings. Close to 20 trucks and crews fought valiantly over three days. Our little community is forever grateful.
My Creek Fire experience is a little different than many that are told from a first-hand, on-the-scene account. I bore witness while those I loved were dealing with the trauma & the fear. I monitored as many scanner feeds & information as I could to give to others who also had loved ones up there.
I spoke with wives of the cattlemen working so hard, trying my best to reassure them it would be ok when they were out of cell range & overdue coming out roads not often used. I bore witness to the stories of the horror of animals that didn’t make it out, livestock & wildlife.
I was on the phone with my husband who was staged at the command post for evacuation help, while watching the fire come over the ridge so it could be seen from near the foothills in Sanger & Clovis. I was on the phone with him looking towards that glow I knew he was below & saw the explosion when Cressman’s was lost.
Watching the people I know & loved working so hard to save, to bring relief, to protect while giving no thought to their own weariness that started showing on their faces was so very hard. Talking to others who also had firefighters, cowboys, volunteers, law enforcement loved ones brought a strange fellowship of shared worry.
The fear was everywhere, it was as thick & heavy as the smoke on the valley floor. But it never ruled over those doing that important work out there, they did it anyway. Those of us at home, held steady & solid so they could do their jobs without worrying about home.
As the days turned into weeks people called for information on how to get water to animals left behind, to feed them, check on homes. A few who were still far from the fire but in the evacuation warning zone, needed to know the fire direction & pending mandatory evacuation. Some called who needed resupplies of food for their dogs but were afraid to leave home. It seems like so little compared to what everyone else did, I but am grateful to have been able to help in a small way & to get them in contact with people who could help. Everyone wanted to help somehow & did the best they could to be there for each other.
The Creek Fire has left us all scarred in different ways, just as it scarred our beloved forest. We still grieve for the tragedy of the whole thing, it still hurts & I think it always will.
Robert Golden | Auberry, Meadow Lakes, Bald Mountain
9- 5- 22
Urgency, with compassion…
When the Creek Fire began, in early September of two thousand twenty, nobody grasped the scope of what was to come. Four months later and 380,000 acres burned by the end of December, all the stories of the heroics can never be told. Heroics may be the wrong phrase……humanity, may be more appropriate.
By the end of December, the lives of all those in the mountain communities would be changed forever, and no life would be lost.
I can only speak for what I witnessed, as a volunteer for the Fresno County Sheriff’s Department Search and Rescue team. We were called, as volunteers, to assist in evacuations, and to assist the Sheriff’s Department, Cal-Fire, United States Forest Service, and all other agencies who were assigned to the fire.
So, here are my memories:
We assisted in evacuating folks who needed help leaving their homes. This included helping pack, not just belongings, but pets and livestock too. The Mounted Unit of Search and Rescue supplied trucks, trailers, and skills, to move large animals off the mountain, and into donated holding facilities such as the Clovis Rodeo Grounds and Urrutia Livestock yards.
We were asked to save the mail in the Auberry Post Office. Yes, almost everything in the post office, will fit in a Jeep. And, yes, the lady postmaster made certain that everything was packed, and moved, to be sent to those displaced.
As the fire spread, and larger areas were forced to evacuate, the Sheriff’s Department used us to check on properties that people had rushed to leave….
I remember checking on a koi fishpond near Meadow Lakes. The homeowners asked that someone feed their fish if they had survived the fire. We found their home still standing, and the fish healthy……We also found a hand written note from Cal-Fire members, that listed who had already checked and fed the fish, with dates and words of encouragement, for when the homeowners returned.
Then, there was “Honey“.
“Honey” is a dog, that got left behind, near Meadow Lakes. Nobody really knows her true name. A fire crew from Arizona found her on “Honey Lane,” burned, bruised, but alive. They kept her in their fire truck all night until the next morning. They shared their food and water with her, and named her “Honey,” because it was Honey Lane where they rescued her.We took her from the Arizona fire team, and transported her to a veterinarian clinic in Fresno. She came out just fine.
Every agency worked together to help safeguard the community. People from all across this nation, came together.
I can only speak from my experience, as a volunteer for Fresno County Sheriff’s Department Jeep SAR team. We were asked to rescue, or feed and water animals left behind, when folks had no time to get home as the fire spread.
We were asked to transport Cal-Fire battalion chiefs into the back country in our vehicles, and we did. We were asked to transport food, water. In one case that I personally know of, medicine was delivered to a firefighter from Auberry, who was assigned to the Bald Mountain Fire station during the fire.
People from the mountains, gave food, water, and shelter to their fellow man. Often, to total strangers, who became like family, beneath the clouds of smoke, and a red sun.I’ll always remember “Honey”, and how she and the firefighters never gave up.
These are memories, that come first.
The truth is, other memories haunt and also lift me.
I watched total strangers become friends, while trying to escape. And I saw friends become family, as they helped each other. I saw a community, provide food, shelter, and comfort.
As a “volunteer” of twenty years, this was the first time I watched men and women age right before my eyes. The safety of the people in the community, and the safety of folks like me, weighed heavy on those who directed us in our duty.
The people who orchestrated the response, from Cal-Fire, to the Sierra National Forest, to The Sheriff’s Department, worked together.
I lost nothing in this fire, except memories of what the mountains used to be.
What I gained was a respect for the men and women of the community, and the men and women who swore to protect them.
I hope I never witness this again. But, I witnessed the best in people, and this is something I shall never forget. Urgency, with compassion, is what I saw in every person who fought this fire, evacuated people and, most importantly, saved every human life.
I’ll never know all the background folks who made it possible to save lives.
But, I know the folks on the frontline, a lot better now.
Growing up in the mountains is the best. We climbed high up into the treetops, built forts, rode motorcycles to friends’ houses taking the backroads, collected and dried flowers, played at the lake for entire days, had intensely fast and steep sledding hills and appreciated feeling the seasons. It also meant that there was an ever present and very rational fear of forest fires.
My first life-changing fire was in 1986. I was nine years old. My mother, my brother and I were in Fresno making a shopping trip. As we were driving back home to Alder Springs, we could see a gigantic smoke cloud. We made plans for what to grab expecting to get home before being evacuated. Our hearts took a massive hit when we got to the top of the Four Lane and Auberry Road was closed. Despite my mother’s most valiant pleading, they would not let us through. We talked about all the backroads that we could possibly use to sneak in and get to our house, but decided against doing that. The thought of not being able to get our pets out was so painful. A friend eventually was able to get in and rescued our pets while we stayed evacuated. Alder Springs survived that fire. But, that intense worry of not being able to get home to grab just a few precious things and all the animals we adored really stuck.
Labor Day 2020 was a chance to spend the weekend riding mountain bikes at Mammoth Mountain. It was nice to be able to travel and be outdoors for a change, after trying so hard to be careful and isolate through the middle of the COVID pandemic. Everyone saw the picture of the little plume of smoke on social media. I largely discounted it–it was close to Camp Sierra and there would be easily accessible roads for trucks to get to it. Surely with the town of Big Creek so obviously in its potential path, it would be easily and quickly extinguished.
We stayed in Mammoth and rode bikes. Then, on the afternoon of September 5th, a massive dark cloud of smoke rolled ominously over the mountain. I wanted to go home then because I knew the sense of panic. Nonetheless, we decided to stay one more night and drive home early Sunday morning.
Mammoth is typically a five-hour drive over Tioga Pass, but it is only a twenty-one minute flight from Fresno airport to Mammoth Lakes airport. In other words, the East side of the Sierras isn’t that far from home as the crow flies. But we were driving home. There was a lot of traffic on a notoriously busy holiday weekend through Yosemite. People from all over came to the mountains to camp, because many of the other vacation options had been unavailable, and were now also leaving the mountains. And, the normal roads through North Fork to home were now closed… We considered taking Highway 108 over Sonora Pass but that would take an extra 2-3 hours. So we took our chances at Tioga… We didn’t have a reservation to pass through and our Auberry zip code wasn’t on the list of local zip codes that could pass through without a reservation. Luckily the Park Ranger gave us a courtesy pass at the East side entrance when we explained how close the fire was to home and that we were likely to get evacuated soon. I’m grateful for that kindness.
The drive home was slow and the smoke was thick and forbidding through Yosemite valley. In Oakhurst the smoke thickened and made it so that the headlights on cars turned on automatically, sensing the darkness. It was snowing ash.
Traffic came to a complete stop on Highway 41 below Coarsegold, well before the Highway 41 and 145 crossing that we needed to turn off on. Highway 41 was the only way out and everybody was getting out. Sitting in traffic with the pressing urgency to get home was beyond frustrating. It was that same feeling of panic about not being able to get home in time to save anything, especially the animals.
We made it to our home with a few hours to pack and shuttle vehicles to park at my Uncle Norman’s house in Tollhouse. We took pictures of what we left behind. It is a weird evaluation that takes place in one’s mind when deciding what to pack and what to leave behind. In retrospect we took very little. We knew the sheriffs were coming to serve the mandatory evacuations that night and we left our little house on top of the hill on Tollhouse grade.
Years before, my husband Steve McDonald purchased a large amount of used yellow firehose. I question many of his purchases, but can really appreciate this now. He left it attached to our water storage tank with a fire pump.
That night we stayed with my in-laws Steven and Mikki McDonald in Sanger. They, too, were anxiously watching the fire as it approached the family’s cherished “Shaver Ranch” on Highway 168. They had been successful in removing some of the historically valuable items from the Shaver Ranch but, like many, didn’t expect the fire to do what it did and so didn’t take as many items as we now wish. The Shaver Ranch did not survive the fire.
The Shaver Ranch is deep with history. There was a post office, a blacksmith shop, a Victorian hotel at one time, an old three-hole golf course, among other things. The property came through the family from C.B. Shaver and his daughter Lena and then on to Doug McDonald, my husband’s grandfather. The property was used for big family events, family reunions, every major holiday, even for making apple cider from prohibition apple trees. My sister in-law Jakki and her husband Jason Pucheu got engaged there. Steve and I were married there by the meadow. Cattle grazed there in the summer. The family had a special tradition of getting a very tall Christmas tree by topping a tree (so that it could grow back) and then using a system of ropes to lower it onto a truck.
The property is one of the most beautiful spots in all of the Sierra’s. I absolutely loved living there. If you were lucky enough to visit there, you know. Actually, if you were just driving by, you could see the beauty. The loss of the Shaver Ranch, the house, the trees, the history is the hardest. Memories survive.
I’ve never thought of myself as being dependent on, or spending too much time on, social media or my phone in general. During the fire I think we all were glued to whatever source of information we could get. Information coming out was accurate, inaccurate, implausible, disheartening, celebratory. It didn’t matter, I felt like we all needed constant updates and news. I saw a photo of the fire after it had come up out of Jose Basin and had destroyed Pine Ridge. The fire was starting to make its way the next day towards the Four Lane and down towards Linson Lane. I was positive our little house on the hill wouldn’t make it. The whole hill was covered in smoke.
Then frantic phone calls came in to both myself and to my husband, Steve. Sahara Saude-Bigelow was calling me and her husband, Frank Bigelow was calling Steve. Frank works for CDF and was driving his work truck (not a water tender, just a regular truck) and decided to go by our house. A McDonald family friend, Jose Rivera, who works for Fresno PD was patrolling the area for suspicious activity and decided to check in on our place. They both arrived at the same time and saw that the flames were licking the shop! A flare up of manzanita had created a hot spot. Steve told Frank over the phone about the firehose hooked up to the water tank and the fire pump he left there. Frank and Jose were able to put out the hot spot. They saved our place. I don’t know how to thank them, other than by saying “THANK YOU” in this story. As a result of this experience, I also am less inclined to be skeptical of the stuff my husband purchases.
After the fire moved past our home but we were all still evacuated, we decided to spend some time with my family. We traveled to visit my mom– who was also evacuated and staying in Marin–with my brother and his family. We, of course, rode mountain bikes there and then at Northstar in Tahoe. We had our cat and dog in the travel van with us. I think they thought it was an adventure.
It seems like within just a few days Sierra Unified, where I teach, was already working to locate every family and ensure their safety. It was the incredible work of the entire #Mountain Strong community, but I know personally that Alan Harris, Sean Osterberg and Melissa Rodriguez did what was still seemingly impossible. They (the district) got hot spots, chromebooks, internet, and/or places to stay for every kid in our district. EIGHTY percent of the student population was evacuated yet we were back to online learning within days.
One of the bright spots in a very sad story has to be about my best friend Allyson Brooks and her family. I grew up in the house next door to her in Alder Springs. Alder Springs didn’t make it out of the fire this time. She lost so much: her home, her parent’s home and her father’s architectural office. Just a year before, her father, Bob Brooks, the locally-famous architect and internationally-renowned cyclist had passed away. The memories of her dad were embedded in that Alder Springs property. The thoughts of rebuilding in Alder Springs were hopelessly gone. Then one of the first houses her father designed that was built up here came on the market and they bought it. I can’t explain how fortunate and grateful she and her family are to live in that house now and to have that memory of her dad.
After the fire, I think that deciding whether or not to rebuild has been a tough choice for people. The McDonald’s are making progress towards rebuilding Shaver Ranch. Steve has helped a number of friends with installing power poles, digging foundations, and helping in the construction of homes for those who are rebuilding. Some people are already celebrating moving into their newly built homes. Others here have chosen not to rebuild– I can understand those decisions too.
There is a difficult-to-describe emotion one feels, when there is no rationalizing why some homes burned and others didn’t. I can’t give a precise account of the feeling I feel about why our house is here. I’d gladly exchange my little house for someone else’s to have survived. Someone called it “survivor’s remorse,” I guess that comes kind of close.
With the creation of the Central Sierra Resiliency Fund, another bright spot has been this agency that is associated with the Museum of the Sierra in Shaver. The Fund was created by and is led today by an incredible group of people. With their help, 46,000 trees have been replanted on the mountain so far. This storyteller’s effort to remember our experiences is underway. I’m so proud of their work.
Because of the Creek Fire the forest is forever changed. So are we all.
The Gault family has been a part of the Central Sierras for 70 years. It started with my father-in-law, Wayne Gault, who came to this area as a young boy with his parents. He attended Big Creek Elementary School in 1949 and 1950. His parents purchased a cabin in Shaver Lake to use as a vacation home. Wayne spent his teenage years in Newport, CA where he met Barbara. They would visit Shaver and decided they wanted to raise their family here. They welcomed Lance Gault, in 1973, soon after they purchased the family cabin. In 1977, they welcomed their second son, Dylan Gault. Their love for this area was instilled in my husband, Dylan and his brother Lance. They grew up hiking, backpacking and skiing. This mountain holds a dear place in their hearts.
Both Lance and Dylan attended Pine Ridge Elementary School and Sierra High School and then went off to college. They both returned to our beautiful mountain community. Barbara and Wayne are still full-time residents in Shaver Lake. Wayne owns Blue Line Designs and is a local draftsman.
I also spent a lot of time in Shaver growing up. My parents would bring my sister and I to Shaver to go camping and to go boating on the lake. My mom and her parents also spent a lot of time in Shaver when she was growing up. Shaver has a special place in all our hearts.
Our family has grown as the years have gone on, Lance married Jennifer and they have four children, Andrew, Joshua, Jacob and Mia. Lance and his family reside in Clovis, CA and come to Shaver Lake as much as they can. Dylan and I married in 2010, we have two boys, Grayson and Zackary. We are educators in our community, Dylan teaches mathematics at Sierra High School and I teach at Pine Ridge Elementary School. We love that our boys are going to school where Dylan and his brother went, along with many children of childhood friends.
In September 2019, Dylan and I found our dream home on the Ridge. It was the perfect place, close to family, friends and all of the adventures we enjoy as a family.
September 4, 2020: This day was like any other day. Dylan I and got home from work and noticed a tiny plume of smoke from our back deck, which looked out towards Shaver. We had a nice evening, we went down to town and purchased some flowers to plant around our house.
September 5, 2020: We received a phone call around 6:30am from my mother-in-law. She had heard news that there was a significant fire near Big Creek. It was a bit smokey at our house, but we didn’t think much of it. We spent the day doing chores, planting our flowers that we purchased the night before, cleaning the house and doing laundry. As the day went on, we got some updates from my mother-in-law, it was becoming a more serious situation. My brother and sister-in-law were heading up to Shaver help them pack up and evacuate. I was getting worried. As I completed laundry, I started packing some bags. Throughout the day we watched the plume of smoke get larger. I was making phone calls to friends to see what their plans were for evacuating. As night came, we had some family friends, along with my in-laws come to our house. They were evacuating from Shaver and headed to Clovis, for what we thought would be a couple of days. We all sat on our back deck watching the fire on the ridge above Shaver. It was glowing red. We could see the dozers trying to cut a fire line and we could see tress exploding. Once everyone left, we decided to gather our animals in case we needed to leave in a hurry in the middle of the night. I asked our boys (8 years old and 6 years old) to gather anything they would like to have from their bedrooms. We staged an area in our garage of things we needed to pack in the cars before we went to bed.
September 6, 2020: We woke up around 6:00 am on Sunday, September 6th. It was so smokey, we could barely see. The smoke was filling our house even though the windows and doors were closed. It looked like it was snowing outside with all the ash that was falling. At this point, we decided we needed pack up and evacuate. The order was a voluntary evacuation at this point, but we decided it was best for our family to get down the hill to safety. I loaded my car with all we could fit along with our boys. Dylan decided he was going to finish getting the items on the deck put away and then he would meet us in Clovis at my brother- and sister-in-law’s house.
As I drove away from our house, I was holding back the tears, trying to be brave for our boys. Our oldest asked “Mom, are we going to come back?” All that I could say was, “We can only think positive and know that we did all we could to protect our house. As long as we have each other and we are safe, that is all that matters.” As we made our way down the 4 lanes, there was a long line of cars and trucks at the bottom. I called Dylan and told him to go down Auberry Road to avoid the traffic.
Once we got to Clovis, we felt better being with family and friends. Dylan, his brother Lance, a good friend and my father-in-law Wayne, had decided to go back to our property to cut more trees to hopefully direct the fire away from our house. They went back to our house mid-day and cut an additional 30-40 trees towards the bottom of our property in hopes that would be enough to help save our home.
September 7, 2020: We woke up feeling tired and nervous, we had been watching the news and getting updates from many friends who work for Cal Fire. Dylan and his brother, Lance, decided to go back up to the Ridge to help one of our best friends, Ty Gillett, work on trees at Cressman’s General Store. They were trying their best to protect Cressman’s. Dylan, Lance, Ty, Chad and others worked all day to fall trees around Cressman’s.
As we waited in Clovis for updates from them, we were also getting updates from our friends and from the news that the fire was progressing at a fast rate. News was that it would reach the Ridge and Cressman’s Gerneral Store by 1:30am. Many family and friends were surrounding us during this time, what an amazing gift to be surrounded by such love and support. It was around 9:45 pm when I got a phone call from my husband. All Dylan said was, “It’s all gone!” I couldn’t comprehend what he was saying. The fire had come several hours earlier than expected. How could this be? He then sent me a video from the Vista Point on the 4 lanes. It was unbelievable.
Dylan told me that they were joined by a Cal Fire Crew. They had asked the crew if they could stay and help. They were partnered with a firefighter to help fight the fire. They were also instructed that if they heard the horn blare, they had to get out immediately. The flames they saw at Cressman’s were 200 feet tall and the embers being thrown from the fire were huge. Dylan said he could feel the “fire breathing”. The fire fighters along with Dylan and our friends had NEVER seen anything like this before. When Dylan got back down to Clovis, the look on his face said it all. Based on what he had seen, he believed everything on the Ridge was gone. That night was the longest night ever. We slept for about 1 hour. We were staying with Dylan’s best friend from high school, Alex Magallon, and his family. Alex and his wife Erika spent most of the night talking with us and helping sort through all of our thoughts.
September 8, 2020: Still surrounded by family and friends, we were waiting to hear the official status of our home. We were sitting around, chatting and watching the kids play. It was just after lunch we when received a phone call and then a text message photo to let us know our house was gone. It is all a blur, but we will never forget the moment we saw our house flattened and parts still on fire.
As the days passed, we waited to hear about our friends and their houses. We continued to watch the news for updates on the fire. The days were a mix of emotions, happiness for those who had their homes survive and sadness for those who did lose their homes. As things began to settle, we found out that the town of Shaver Lake made it, along with our school, Pine Ridge. These were definitely little victories.
Being with family and friends going through the same thing was such a source of strength. We were there to lean on each other, mourn the losses and celebrate the little wins. Every single home still standing was a beacon of light, giving us a reason and guiding us to get back to our beloved mountain.
October 2020-Present: The support from so many really touched us. It has shown us how big the hearts of our community is and it has taught us and our children what it is like to help and serve others. Such wonderful life lessons come from such a terrible situation. The most important thing is that we are all safe, healthy and together, and together we can do anything.
The work has begun and will continue. We are working on rebuilding. Rebuilding our home, our community, and our beloved forest. The life lessons that we have learned and that we are teaching our children, are going to be lessons that will shape who they will become. During this process we are looking for and celebrating the silver linings in it all. Some silver linings:
– My father in law, Wayne Gault, is designing our dream home – As a mom, my heart is happy that our boys are old enough to help with the rebuilding process and they are still young enough to have many years to make memories in our new home – We have some of our best friends helping build our new home – Through this all, we are stronger; a stronger family and community. – We are embracing the new adventure – We are Mountain STRONG
“Keep your face towards the sunshine and shadows will fall behind you.” – Walt Whitman
Baptized In Fire: Recollections Of A Volunteer Firefighter
Monday, September 7th 2020, 3:30 PM: As flames raced south across Jose Basin, very few residents remained on Cressman Road before evacuating. Those of us left were either scrambling to pack up the last of our irreplaceable items or trying to prepare properties for the inevitable. A wall of flames two hundred plus feet tall was consuming the forest we loved at an inconceivable rate, leaving behind it a kind of destruction rarely seen in history. It was time to abandon ship, and not a second too soon, witnessing the orange glow of an incoming monster obscured by smoke.
For me the story begins five months earlier in April of 2020; an emerging pandemic that rocked civilization had showed some of us that there should be more to life than the hustle and bustle of city life. I decided to ditch my longtime residency on the central coast of California and attempt to make my way to the Sierra Nevada range. Few places in the state stood out as somewhere I could grow roots; Shaver Lake was at the top of my shortlist due to familiarity and recreational opportunity. With no time to waste, I quickly headed up to view potential properties that fit the bill. One of them stood out from the rest, nestled in the close-knit community of Pine Ridge. A modest yet inviting home sitting on five beautiful acres, it was the rural homestead dream realized.
Shortly after moving in I joined the local fire department, Pine Ridge Volunteer Fire Department (PRVFD). A small band of kind and hardworking residents, it became a second family immediately. Having only a few fire behavior college courses under my belt I was eager to train and gain useable knowledge in wildland firefighting techniques, knowing in the back of my head that a time might come to use these skills. Yet I could never have predicted how soon that day would arrive or the way it may unfold.
Following the loss of 75 percent of our neighborhood, there was barely an instant to digest the news as it was time to step up to the duties bestowed on the few of us firefighters able to activate. A handful of PRVFD members, myself included, returned to the mountains two days after the initial fire front had raged across the landscape and left it nearly unrecognizable. Handed my first radio, myself having no idea how to use it, our chief laid out the game plan.
The main jobs for the unforeseeable future were to support incoming firefighting personal and protect the surviving structures of our community. There was also the austere task of assessing all the destroyed properties of neighbors, most of who were unaware the full extent of the damage. This was an especially daunting task, having just moved there three months earlier and not knowing my way around our roads. With potential for fire flare-ups at any moment that could block exits and become deadly, we took on the morose mission of documenting and photographing each address to forward the information to distraught owners.
Of the remaining homes and outbuildings in our “green bubble,” some areas were too dangerous to protect due to thick unburned fuel and no alternative egress. We focused on supplying water to the myriad of engines working to suppress the remaining flames, meanwhile hunting down spot fires with potential to crown out and force another evacuation. For nearly two weeks it was unsafe to sleep on the mountain with the threat of another large burn in these “green and black” zones. I would work all day and into night before heading down the hill to a friend’s house in Auberry. His family had evacuated as well but not left a spare key so camping out on their porch was the only option, and not a particularly bad one for an outdoorsman like myself. It was still technically archery hunting season so sleeping under the stars felt natural anyway, except the stars were nowhere to be found in the thick smoky haze.
Within a few weeks, with the fire still creeping around, a few volunteers were able to move back into one of our houses that survived. This helped us provide around the clock support for the fire crews still working in our area and gave us a place for to rest between shifts. However, we remained ready to evacuate had the fire picked back up into the surrounding canopy. Constantly battling continuing ground fire, we stayed at the property until the end of mandatory evacuation. I was then able to purchase a used travel trailer to park on my own property. It was a place to call home once again; a welcome relief and essential measure to begin the extensive cleanup, rebuilding and reforestation process.
Having fought the fire for over a month, I returned to work and attempted to gain normalcy in my daily routine. Staying vigilant and living amidst the wreckage of our community was really the only option for me. There was no emergency rental clause in my fire insurance policy and I also preferred to be on site for the purpose of logging all the dead trees. There was much to be done going forward and no time to waste. Winter came in late November with Thanksgiving snow extinguishing all but the most stubborn of smoldering stumps and hollow trees. Armed with some essential snow gear saved from the flames, I spent plenty of days at China Peak during the ski season, clearing my head of the past fall and focusing on the future.
Spring and summer finally came around so it was time to clear more hazard trees to prepare for the eventual rebuild of my house and planting of seedlings. By fall of 2021 cement was being poured after all the building plans and permits were approved. Just having a slab going into the next winter was reason to celebrate, but framing and all construction would have to wait until 2022. Beginning again mid-April, things have moved along at a desperate pace, in hopes to complete and move into a home before yet another winter. I feel so fortunate to have lived up on the mountain nearly the entire time since the fire, with many other neighbors having to relocate to less elevated locations. I am blessed to have had fire insurance and very helpful adjusters striving to get the absolute most from the limited coverage. I know it has been an ongoing fight for many others with insurance companies, and horribly devastating for those without insurance. My heart goes out to all affected.
The story doesn’t end there, it will continue throughout the rebuilding process and into the rest of our lifetimes, shared with anyone interested and through this Storyteller program. I would like to thank all the organizations, clubs, businesses and individuals who stepped up to provide assistance in any and every way possible. Thanks also to the firefighters and law enforcement, local and from all over the country, that came to battle the blaze in our neck of the woods. The support from the whole entire community was essential to get survivors back on their feet, and help us to realize a way to conquer the monumental tasks laid before us. We remain mountain strong now and forever, and we will always be connected by the severe trials and tribulations of the Creek fire.
Home at last. At least that is what Mom (Florence Thomason) thought when she arrived each summer at the Acres. Each year she wanted to stay and never leave. Dad (Gordon Thomason) would not hear of it. His home was in the desert, Apple Valley to be exact. He had built their house with his own labor, although Mom, wanting a cool hideaway, dug the basement. Even though he was from North Dakota with a home near a fishing river he adjusted to desert life and made it his place. Not Mom, she made friends and tolerated.
When she inherited a small amount of money in the 70’s from her father, she made it clear that was going to purchase property in Meadow Lakes, where they had visited over the years. Her money, her decision. She was done living summers in the desert. He could come with her or he could stay.
Each spring they traversed over Tehachapi Pass in their 1955 Green Pontiac station wagon, at first staying in their old camping trailer hauled up from down south. Fortunately, the property had an excellent well. Soon Dad was wrapped up in projects, making the place livable by hooking up the water and sewage, adding an outside porch and storage buildings. Mom decided the camper was too small and found a mobile to move onto the property. Two additional outbuildings were added–one for storage of tools in the winter and another for guests called “Stevie’s Room,” named for the grandson that came to visit from Maryland each summer. Since it was not convenient to drive for laundry, Dad built a large “washroom” with a shower, toilet, washer, dryer, and sink area. Dad built wood sidewalks to go from one building to the next.
As soon as possible each spring they arrived at their “home” away from home, Mom raking and cleaning to pass fire inspections, and Dad continuing to build. Grandkids spent the summer and family reunions were held at the Acres. It was a hub of activity for the entire family. The Meadow Lakes’ pond was a draw and Grandpa and the kids spent many an hour there, always catch and release. When age prevented their traveling to the summer place they reluctantly sold it to a family member.
The following are stories by one of the grandchildren and his wife on what the Acres meant to them:
Mike Darnell, September 2020:
You know it [the Creek fire] may have took the wash room, but it can’t take the memories of me and Grandpa building it. I enjoyed that so much. They, Grandma and Grandpa were two of the most important people in my life. And the memories are clear as day, I can always see their smiles. And Mikey and Shar have so many of their own with them and the Acres. I don’t know where we go from here. But fire cannot destroy memories. I’ll just say the serenity prayer, cry a lot, and just keep on trucking.
Marlene Darnell, September 12, 2020:
Today we got the confirmation that our family’s property by Meadow Lakes was lost to the Creek Fire……. although this was not a primary residence, it held so many memories of 4 generations of our family. Big Papa and Big Grandma, as my kids called them, built the “Acres” with love and enjoyed it to the fullest. Although this is a huge loss to our family, we feel fortunate that it was not our primary residence, so many families are not this fortunate and our hearts go out to them. Our memories cannot be taken away, ever! Mike is so sad, remembering all of the projects he and Grandpa did together up at the Acres…… GREAT memories…… Sharlynn Webb and Michael Darnell spent so much time up there every summer when Big Papa and Big Grandma were there. We lived there when we were moving in the new mobile at the Prather property, in the winter, walking the kids in the snow to the bus stop….. so many memories…… and all of you with the childhood memories of cousins congregating….. I feel so bad for the family’s loss….. We will rebuild from the ashes and as a mountain community we will unite and stay strong and be there for one another. Sharon Darnell:2021:The time has come, we decide, to visit the Acres. “Be brave,” we said, “we can handle this.” But of course we could not. The memories flooded back, the tears flowed, and the neighbor whose property was spared climbed up her hill to share her sympathy and thoughts with us. There was nothing. Stark remains of the vibrant trees. Holes, where they once reached to the sky, still burning months later. Twisted metal frames of the mobiles. Stark, naked, depleted, charred and empty are just words describing the devastation left. The home away from home, gone.
