Tag: Cressmans Road

  • James Parr

    James Parr

    James Parr | Cressman Road, Shaver Lake, Pine Ridge

    Originally posted on Facebook, December 4-8, 2020

    During the Creek Fire James Parr was the Chief for Pine Ridge Volunteer Fire Dept. and Assistant Chief for Shaver Lake Volunteer Fire Dept. He is now (in 2021) the chief for both fire departments.

    Saturday, Sept 5th  The Sierra National Forest (SNF) and Cal Fire engines were responding to the Creek Fire, and bringing in engines from outside the area. They were trying to get a lid on it, but it was growing massively fast. I think it grew something like 20,000 acres by Saturday night (having only started on Friday). Even air support was hindered by the massive amounts of smoke the growing fire was producing.  On that Saturday morning, the fire was *only* a few hundred acres.  Shaver Lake Volunteer Fire Dept. was on standby at the station, all hands present, on call for anything in the city.

    I saw a friend from the Sheriff’s station, Matt, and he asked for assistance with the evacuation warnings. The two of us got into the patrol and started going door-to-door in the Shaver area, giving everyone the warning notice: Pack up your important stuff now, leave as soon as you can, when/if the “order” comes in you will have to leave immediately and won’t be able to pack then.

    I only ran into a single family that didn’t know and didn’t seem to care. Everyone else was either gone, or in the process of packing their cars. Most of the houses had the garage open, the car doors open, and people shuttling boxes into the cars.

    Late afternoon we returned to the station and waited to be called out. I was able to return home to sleep since my neighborhood (Cressman Road) wasn’t threatened yet. I don’t think I was nervous yet. With the number of engines and the air resources, I was pretty sure it would be shut down early. At the very least, the big threat was up-hill from Shaver, and that’s mostly unpopulated. I don’t think I had heard about the massive devastation that had hit Big Creek and Huntington Lake yet.  My first few days memories were kind of trampled by the next two weeks activities, so I hope I’m not missing or mixing my days up.

    Sunday, September 6th.   Shaver Lake Volunteer Fire Dept. (SLVFD) was still on call, and the various fire engines coming were non-stop. Again we were asked to help with evacuations. Orders this time, not warnings. I don’t think we found a single person home on our route.

    The winds were changing again, and by afternoon it was all hands on deck because it was going to be coming for the West Village.

    SLVFD embedded themselves with other companies in the West Village and watched as the fire crested over the hill with only a small valley between it and us. The sort of valley that would be easy to cross and only cause it to pick up speed (see picture below from 5:15 pm).

    We are a volunteer company, and we have been on plenty of smaller fires. Several acres, lots of flames and heat. We would go to the fire and fight it on our terms. But this was nothing like it. Our entire world was fire. The black sky was brought by the fire. The intense heat in everything you breathed or touched was the fire letting us know it was there. The embers floating down from the black clouds were just another way of the fire letting us know we were in its territory, and it had home field advantage.

    The fire didn’t arrive with the intensity we expected. We knocked down any fires as they came over the hill and didn’t give it a purchase point. When we folded up after midnight, there was no damage in the West Village.

    This was my last day I went to sleep feeling good about what I had accomplished.

    Monday, Sept 7th. I’m not looking forward to this post.

    Going back a day, on Sunday, Cressman got the evacuation order, and Janet left the house with the dogs. Janet’s mom, Inez Stillwell, was still in hospice care due to a serious fall a few weeks prior. This was a weird blessing since Janet didn’t have to include mom in her evacuation plans. Janet and the dogs had moved to my friend’s house and had packed 2 days worth of clothes and some important paperwork and Rx’s.  I knew that everyone else from Pine Ridge had evacuated. We have a fire department there, but the firefighters have families. They all took care of what was important, and not only can’t I fault them for that (I would have done the same) but it turned out to be a life-saving decision for Pine Ridge Volunteer Fire Dept.

    I went to a Chief’s meeting at the high school on Monday morning before returning to the mountain to start work. I remember getting stopped at the top of the 4-lane by CHP for an hour.   I was working with Shaver Lake Volunteer Fire Dept. (SLVFD) and the related fire departments in the Shaver area, patrolling in an engine looking for spot fires and assisting the out-of-town crews.

    In the afternoon, one of SLVFD’s members had become seriously exhausted, nauseated and weak. He and I were patrolling Littlefield and Wild Rose when we took a detour down to the Pine Ridge community (there is an “escape” route from Wild Rose to Pine Ridge). Our community was emptied out, but I drove the firefighter to my house. I left the patrol at my house and took the Pine Ridge VFD engine 68 which was parked on my driveway.

    I left the firefighter in my house with the instructions “Rest on the couch; if you feel better, bring the patrol back to the fire; if you don’t feel better, take Janet’s car to your home in Fresno”.

    He didn’t feel any better, so he took Janet’s car, which is why Janet’s car survived the fire (she was in my truck). But, and I can literally feel the tears welling up as I type this . . . if he had fallen asleep on my couch that night, he would be dead. Period. I can’t say it any other way. Leaving him there was a bad decision, and his choice not to nap was the only thing that kept him alive. It hurts me every time I think about it; more than the loss of the house quite frankly.

    Back to the fires. After leaving my house in the engine, I contacted the Chief of SLVFD and told him I was taking off my SLVFD hat and putting on my Pine Ridge VFD hat, and I would be patrolling my area. The fire was expected to come downhill through Wild Rose into the Pine Ridge community. There were at least 7 engines assigned to Wild Rose, so I joined them. I showed them all the emergency escape route into Pine Ridge if they needed to run.

    I spent the next 3 to 4 hours at Highway 168 and Littlefield watching for fires coming up from below that threatened to jump the highway. I was busy and had to refill the engine twice. But I was successful (which means it couldn’t have been that bad).  While on the highway, I heard on the radio that the fire had overtaken Cressman Store, and had jumped the highway. I’m honestly not sure what I felt. But my first action was to leave my post and head to the emergency escape route I had pointed out to everyone. If the fire was in Cressman, the escape route would be blocked. I got about 1/4 mile down the escape road before I saw the red glow that was way brighter than I had ever seen. I turned tail and ran. I got on the radio and told the Wild Rose crews that the Cressman escape route was no longer good.

    I went back to my job, putting out of my mind what had happened in Pine Ridge, and I continued to help protect Littlefield.  I have no idea what time it was, probably after 1:00 am, that I returned to Shaver Station and tried to sleep on the floor. Exhaustion wasn’t able to overcome what was going on in my mind, and sleep was fleeting at best.

    Tuesday, Sept 8th. I was up early at the station having not slept well. I was waiting for daylight to start my day.

    I didn’t want to drive E68 through Pine Ridge, so I borrowed the Chief’s rig (a little SUV). I figured it would be more maneuverable. So I drove from Shaver Station to Littlefield since Hwy 168 was so crowded I figured I’d go the back way down. I couldn’t get that far down the emergency escape route to Glenwood since the road was blocked.  Between trees, rocks, and power poles, there was almost no passing. The power lines didn’t bother me because I knew there was no way they would be energized.  I ended up turning around and going to the lower entrance at Cressman Road.  It was then that I saw that Cressman’s Store was gone. I already knew that based on the radio call the night before, but it was weird to see the entire store was only about 2 feet tall.

    Cressman’s was a landmark. Not only in the historical sense, but it was something that my brain used as a reference point. I read somewhere that a lot of people find earthquakes so upsetting because the ground they have always relied on as a fixed thing suddenly became less solid. The brain just can’t handle something that is non-changing being changed.

    That feeling was going to play itself out in my brain for the next several weeks (and still does to this day on my property). Cressman’s being gone made me question where I was; I could have missed my turn because I wasn’t where I was used to.

    Turning onto Cressman Road I saw the mailboxes. Metal boxes bolted into cement. They were laying on the ground, twisted from the intense heat to the point where it looked like the metal had melted. Especially concerning since there was no large heat source nearby (like thick trees or a house).  I dodged a bunch of road debris and made it to my house. I honestly didn’t feel sorrow. I don’t think I felt the scope either. Too many thoughts flying through my head for me to grab a single one and process it. I took a picture and moved down the road. I was there soon enough that there were still flames in the rubble which was once my home.

    I drove as far as I could go (not very) to get a feel for what was ahead. We’d need fallers (tree cutters) to clear the road, and probably some engines. It was yet to be seen that any structure had survived, but there was hope since I hadn’t made the complete circle.

    I honestly forgot how I spent the rest of Tuesday. I think I went back to Shaver and got my engine and came back to work with the fallers and other departments to assess the damage and prevent it from getting any worse. It was a blur.

    It was devastating to call 40 people and let them know their houses were gone, but it was even harder to make the same call to Janet.

    Monday, Sept. 14th  I’ve always enjoyed watching the inmate fire crews working the fires. They work nonstop and do a great job. Giving them an opportunity to continue that work for the state is a really great way for their rehabilitation. I wish them only the best and look forward to seeing them in the wildland.

    Wednesday, Sept. 16th   On the night the fire came through Shaver, someone took the flag off the Shaver Lake Pizza’s flagpole. It was returned to us a few days ago. Here we are raising it up with some out of town help.

    Friday Sept. 18th   Below are three engines from the Pine Ridge Volunteer Fire Department that got burned up in the creek fire. The federal engine was one of our active engines, but it was parked in front of a firefighter’s house when the flames came through. The second engine is a 1985 structure engine that was retired, and we hadn’t got around to selling it yet. Notice the streak of aluminum that flowed from the engine, it was the tank. The third engine was the 1959 water tender I posted about a few months ago. It was sold to a private buyer who hadn’t picked it up yet. It burned down in front of another firefighter’s house.

  • Mariah Colbert

    Mariah Colbert

    Mariah Colbert | Cressman Road

    9-7-20

    CABIN MEMORIES

    So, I just wanted to make this because Avalon meant a lot to me and I know it did to you as well. The Cabin played a huge role in my childhood and I didn’t realize how much I appreciated the place. It was an escape from Berkeley and from stress. Avalon was always a fun place to go. There was so much to do and it was the epitome of coziness. I was crying today after I heard the news and my mom asked me what was really hurting me about the loss of the Cabin. Was it the fact that you were suffering or was it the memories? What made me sad? And of course, it made me sad that I couldn’t make any more memories there but it was also that the Cabin was my security blanket, it was my safe sanctuary. I could forget about my worries there. Whatever drama happened at school or just whatever was stressing me out went straight out the door as soon as we hit the mailbox. Avalon was a little escape from reality. Of course, that is also because of you guys presence but you get my drift. I LOVED the Cabin. That is the basic message that I am trying to get across. So, here are just a few of the memories that I made at the Cabin. Enjoy!

    1) This one is a bit odd but also very nostalgic. Backing into the gravel by the entrance of the house and hearing the gravel underneath the tires while I was half asleep.2) Playing flashlight tag with Braydon, Henry, Ethan and the Hanson kids.3) This one goes back a while. Watering the community garden and playing cars while we wait.4) Visiting “George” the scarecrow with Papa and Old Ugly.5) Going bear hunting in the back of Old Ugly.6) Just riding in the back of Old Ugly in general.7) Playing Tripoly with Grandma.8) Eating Papa popcorn while sitting by the conversation pit.9) Driving the quad around and forgetting how to use he gear shift.10) Having Papa speed down Glenwood while Noah and I were in the back.11) Baking cookies with Grandma.12) Watering Grandma’s rock garden (very therapeutic).13) Crashing the Blue Car into a tree.14) Sledding down the slope behind your bedroom.15) Watching Winnie The Pooh as a kid in your bedroom.16) Getting to bring the gifts up at Church.17) Going to Camp Edison an fishing and swimming at Shaver.18) Going to Shaver an getting sand on our apples.19) Running away from the wasps and meat bees.20) Sitting outside at 4:30 to have our tin cups.21) Chasing Jellyfish around the property.22) Checking how much Grandma’s Redwood had grown in the past months.23) Going for Easter Egg Hunts with the cousins (especially the time when I teamed up with Elijah and he refused to take more eggs from our car because it would be stealing.24) Having the Nerf Gun fight with all our cousins and even the Kuska Boys.25) Climbing up on the rocks right below the deck and trying to balance on those.26) Fighting with Braydon and Henry a couple year back and throwing gravel at each other.27) Visiting all your friends on the mountain.28) Having a snowball fight with our dad and getting soaked in snow and having cold ice running down our back and our nose red. Then we would come inside to be warmer but our feet would be burning because of the quick and extreme temperature change.29) Watching Walker Texas Ranger while having our tin cups.30) Having a cup of hot chocolate in the morning when I wake up.31) Watching Jellyfish curl up right in the tiny corner of your couch.32) Playing with the little doll house upstairs and talking to myself while I create a whole alternate universe.33) Playing the cake making game on your computers.34) Going to the candy jar as soon as we arrived to see what new goodies Granma had put there.35) Watching Dad go to the snacks cupboard when we arrived because that meant we got snacks too.36) Hearing all the mountain stories about how you put this or that together or how Granma ran outside naked because of squishy spiers or how moths infested tour newly built home or how Papa worked on a ranch and leaned to drive at 12 or how Papa sprayed Grandma with water from his breathing machine or how Grandma messed up her mouth while walking Buster and for a few days looked like a gorilla or how Aiyana said Grandma needed air or learning why all of our ears are so big or how my dad was an awful student or Uncle Gary was the mischievous but clever one or how Auntie Lisa was babied by her brothers or how Uncle Tony was the good child or how Auntie Lisa’s doll house got burned or just all the little funny stories that kept me laughing for days.37) Panicking when I opened the screen door too hard because it would take down the Avalon sign.38) Asking you where each of the signs on you little beam by the conversation pit were from.39) Or getting excited because I could actually put ice cubes in my water bottle because the ones at our house didn’t fit.40) GETTING TO SEE YOU AND ALL OUR FAMILY.41) Spinning aroud in the bar chairs and while doing so accidentally stripping the wood off the sides.42) The Turkey Fest. Eating all the good food, hanging out with family and just having the time of my Life.

    Just some little quotes to maybe give you some hope.

    Lots of Love,,
    Mariah

  • Gary Colbert

    Gary Colbert

    Gary A. Colbert | Cressman Road

    9-9-2020

    In the 1980s my parents bought an empty plot of land near Shaver Lake. With their own hands, with a lot of blood, sweat and tears and with some help from a community, they built something really magical. It became our family compound. A place for all of us to relax, to celebrate and, especially for the grandchildren, great-grandchildren and many dogs, a place to play and roam free. For my parents it was their home. Overnight on Monday the Creek Fire took their home but not the product of their labor.

    That labor started with the construction of the little building, a combination utility closet and bathroom, and our tent trailer from earlier camping days. If memory serves me, next came septic, power and the well. The well did not go well. But with the help of a water witch, two sticks, and a LOT of drilling they eventually struck liquid gold.

    The foundation and frame were largely done by a contractor, a nice old guy and his sons. My parents participated in all of it and we, mostly my brothers and sister, helped on weekends. My most vivid memories of the construction phase:

    • I was up there when the a-frames were lifted for the roof but I honestly don’t remember how I contributed • Climbing scaffolding.• Tacking Tyvek everywhere• Using the nail gun to put up the siding• More climbing scaffolding• Trying to get the pinewood ceiling planks just right• My brothers and I spending a very hungover Sunday trying to fix a leak in a water pipe

    But what I remember most about those years is that we didn’t wait until it was done to start using it. Once there were three plywood walls, a roof and a piece of plastic, we started to consider it a cabin. Although “rustic” (plywood floors, not entirely closed space) we still used it. It was wonderful and exciting to see it grow.

    When my parents retired they expanded the cabin into a house and moved there permanently. Over the years more infrastructure developed. The ill-fated carport became a full-on garage with doors on each side, one out onto Trudy Way and the other onto Warren Boulevard. My mom built a rock garden and deer feedery(?). They added a cable car. Earlier this Summer my dad and nephew, Noah, built a water fountain. It was all organic and constantly improving.

    My parents didn’t just build their own physical structure, they built a community. They built a volunteer fire department. They built a network of friends that was always looking out for each other. Jerry and I joke that my parents have a larger social network than we do. It’s not actually a joke. They have a whole other family in the people of Pine Ridge and Upper Cressman Road. I don’t know most of them personally but I know the love, comfort and security they brought my parents over the last few years.

    Whatever happens to Pinewood Lane the memories and experiences there will last for a long time. Mom cooking sausage bread and everything else on Easter brunch. Their ridiculously packed refrigerator and freezers. My nephews, nieces, grand nephews and nieces, and our cousins’ kids will remember their time there, long after we’re gone. Climbing the rocks, riding in the quad, “bear hunting“ in the back of Old Ugly, my dad’s Chevrolet pickup, and mountain popcorn will stay with them for the rest of their lives. It didn’t just touch our family. It also touched our friends and friends of our friends that got to experience it. I’ll remember both the quiet times and the celebrations. And I can’t begin to fathom all the wonderful memories my parents have of their time there just alone drinking out of their tin cups.

    What I want them to know more than anything is how much their labors added to all our lives more than any structure ever could. They poured their hearts into Avalon and it was all worth it. And I love them for it.

  • Peter Arroyo

    Peter Arroyo

    Peter Arroyo | Cressman Road

    2-10-21

    The Creek Fire started at 5:30 in the evening on September 4th at Camp Sierra.

    The morning of September 5th was already blistering its way into the oppressive heat that was to be all consuming for the Labor Day weekend. My wife, Ari, and I started out in our routine of coffee and news. We heard about the fire on the news but no one thought that it would come down to Cressman Road. We each knew there were things we wanted to accomplish so by 9:00 am we both went at it. I prepared myself with all the safety gear to collect 16” rounds of oak, cedar, ponderosa and sugar pine. These old trees had been ravaged by the drought and the secondary punch -beetles. It was time to turn them into a source of heat for the winter months soon approaching. At 10:00 am I looked up at the sky to see ominous clouds in the distance that were signaling that something was wrong, terribly wrong. I even mentioned it to Ari, as we went about our business. As the day progressed, we kept hearing rumblings about the fire. We kept on as usual but as the news feeds started spreading, we knew this was getting very serious, but still, we were not too worried.

    The following morning, Sunday, September 6th, our mountain life was interrupted when evacuation orders were issued for most of the mountain as the fire was headed our way. Instinctively, Ari and I turned to evacuation mode and prepared the cats and mother-in-law, not necessarily in that order, to leave the mountain, our home. A place we so love and which we knew would shelter us as we grew older. We got our five cats in carriers and put them in the car with my mother-in-law to go to the temporary evacuation site. There was confusion as to where she was to go and she ended up going in circles, finally ending up waiting for news at Clovis Community College. Realizing later that day that she could not come home, we directed her to a hotel, and to drop off our cats at Elaine’s Pet Resort in Fresno. In taking in our precious fur babies at the last minute, Elaine’s showed us a kindness we were not prepared to receive and gave us strength to go back in and do what we so dutifully trained for. And so, Ari and I stayed behind as firefighters and engineer.

    On Monday September 7, 2020, we were stapling posters at the entrance to each home indicating whether a resident had evacuated to aid the sheriff’s department. One never knows how much land is around until you are forced to make that loop, we call Pine Ridge that intertwines with Cressman Road, Upper and Lower Cressman Road and Glenwood. These roads all lead to people’s homes, places of neighborly affection, endearment and friendship.

    As the few remaining in the neighborhood, Ari, took time to walk and video the surroundings with the thought of possibly losing everything, as her voice cracked on video stating what we all felt inside, but did not want to say out loud. I held it all inside, as I knew this was not a moment for weakness. That would come much later during dinner a few days into the fight. We waived goodbye to Joe and Curt and were the last to leave. On the way out of Cressman Road it was eerie – so desolate and barren of neighbors, of life.

    The fire took out our community that night and no one was allowed up or down the mountain until Wednesday morning, September 9th. The ride up Highway 168 on the four lane Wednesday morning opened our eyes to the devastation of what a raging fire can do. Our local neighborhood store, Cressman’s, was now a skeletal depiction of the memories that made it the place to go. The landscape was barren of what was once a mighty sight of trees, mountain landscapes and clouds. What once stood as a staple of nature was replaced with smoke and smaller fires still unable to let go of the mountain. Evidence that fire is stronger than one can imagine. My story intertwines with Ari’s detailed version as we were inseparable then and still are. So as the story line follows in chapters so must this one.

    This is the preface to the beginning of an amazing journey we took as first responders with the training that we thought we would never use. We never thought our neighborhood and surrounding communities would be victims of such devastation as that caused by the Creek Fire, so read on to Ari’s story and delve into the strength, resiliency and hope within ourselves, within our neighbors and of complete strangers who came together to rebuild and hold us up until we could do it on our own.

  • Ari Arroyo

    Ari Arroyo

    Ari Arroyo | Cressman Road

    2-1-21

    The Creek Fire

    By:  Ari Arroyo

    Engineer & Firefighter, Pine Ridge Volunteer Fire Dept.

    Secretary/Treasurer, Pine Ridge Property Owners Association

    The Creek Fire was the largest single fire in the history of the state of California and burned 379,895 acres. I am a firefighter and engineer and my husband, Peter, is a firefighter with the Pine Ridge Volunteer Fire Department. We were here from the beginning and will forever be affected by what happened, what we saw, what we did, and the people we met.

    The Creek Fire started in Friday, September 4, 2020. No one thought it would make it down to Cressman Road but still, we had to evacuate on Monday, September 7th. Before departing our fire department went to every home in the community to make sure they had left or were in the process of leaving. It was eerie leaving with nobody left in the community just the evacuation signs at every property entrance. We put two of our fire engines and a patrol at what we hoped was a safe spot in case the fire did come in and then all we could do was leave. The fire came down into the town of Shaver Lake on Monday the 7th and then the most dreaded news of all came, that the fire had taken out Cressman’s General Store. It then jumped the highway and entered Cressman Road and the Pine Ridge community. It was so hot and violent that the firefighters who had been protecting Cressman’s Store had to leave almost immediately. It is estimated that the fire came into the Cressman Road / Pine Ridge community with 50 to 60 mile winds and 100 to 200 foot high flames and that it made it all the way through our community in only 30 to 40 minutes.

    On Tuesday, the 8th no one was allowed up to Cressman Road, nor were they allowed to come down from the town of Shaver Lake above because it was still too hot. On Wednesday morning, the 9th, they allowed the fire departments into Cressman Road and the other surrounding areas that had been devastated by the fire. That morning those still available from the Pine Ridge Volunteer Fire Department caravanned up from Fresno. Although we knew what had happened and what we should expect to see, we were shocked and horrified at how the fire had decimated our mountain. We entered Cressman Road and started to see what had happened to our very special little community which we took such pride in. Almost all the trees were burned and smoldering or still on fire, stumps were shooting up flames everywhere and the ground was black, hot and smoking. The ground was strewn with branches and trees blocking our way so it was a very slow go moving down the road. And then we started seeing the houses that had burned. There were large houses and small cabins and all had been reduced to a pile of ash only a foot or two tall. There are really no words to express how we felt seeing the devastation. We lost 66 of the 88 homes in our community.

    And then the real work began. . .

    There were not many firefighters left who were able to come up because most of their homes had burned down. A few of those who lost their homes came up when they could and our chief, James Parr, although he lost his home he was up here all the time with us. We would come up the mountain every morning and stay here until late at night, putting out fires, cutting line and protecting homes that had not burned. One of the strangest feelings was when we would simply drive by a small fire or a burning stump and not put it out because there were too many bigger flames that had to be dealt with. Our first day up we were protecting one of the homes that had survived, trying to put out the flames near the home and I called out for assistance on the radio. I called out a few times and eventually someone responded and came to help. Later that day my chief told me to be careful that I didn’t sound frantic when I called out on the radio. Later that day I was up at my house and there were two other engines at the bottom of my driveway and I called out on the radio asking, “Can you please send up another engine, there are 25 to 30 foot flames on the hillside beside my driveway”. I have never spoken so calmly and it was funny because one of the outside firefighters heard my radio call and said, “How can she sound so calm, the flames are at her house”.

    The days were long and exhausting but at the end of every day we always felt proud of what we had been doing. When we left the mountain at the end of the day we were exhausted, dirty, smelled like smoke and hungry. After our second day back on the mountain we stopped by a restaurant in Fresno to get dinner. It was about 10:45 at night and when I went up to the hostess she said we’d have to wait 30 to 45 minutes for a table. While we were fighting the fire I was strong and resilient but then I was done for the day and when she said that to me I almost broke into tears. Looking back at that moment it’s actually rather humorous.

    I took pictures and videos whenever I could and every morning I would get up at the crack of dawn, write an email to the Pine Ridge property owners and attach a video and/or pictures. Peter and I would then have breakfast and return to the mountain to fight the fire. We were not alone though. Strike teams came in from across the state as well as a few from other states.  Frequently one of the outside fire companies would say to me, “Thank you for helping us”.  And every time someone said that I would reply that we were not helping them, they were helping us and that they needed to know that they were not just fighting fires, they were giving hope!

    I was one of the lucky few who did not lose their home in the fire.  Why was my home saved?  The fire blew in hard and about an eighth of a mile before it got to my house the fire took a deep breath and blew just a little bit south and wrapped behind and around my house and a few other houses near mine.

    Because my home had survived and there were a few other homes nearby that had survived as well, the fire companies often stayed on my property on their down time and overnight. Often you would find from three to six fire engines (including mine) by my house.  It was quite a sight.  One day I walked out my front door and noticed that the driveway around my fire engine was all wet.  I walked down to talk to the other firefighters and asked if anyone knew why.  A handsome, young firefighter came up to me, stood tall, puffed up his chest and said, “We washed your rig for you ma’am”.  It was like something out of a movie and I was delighted.

    A few times we made dinner for the firefighters who were staying on our property overnight and then at about 5:15 the next morning I would get up and make them all fresh coffee to start their day.  One night there were twelve firefighters eating at our table and in my kitchen and I asked if they would do something for my community.  I took a video of them all and at the end they all raised their glasses and said “We’re here for you Pine Ridge”.  It was wonderful, but the funniest part was that after I took the video a few of them asked if they could do a retake because they thought they could do better.  What great people!

    One day in late October when the outside fire companies had left and Peter had gone back to work, I was standing on my deck and looked out to see that there was only my lone fire engine and no other people or vehicles and everything was quiet.  It was a strange feeling and I did not know what to do with myself.  I felt totally lost at that moment.  But time went by and we still had the occasional flare up or burning tree and sometimes the outside fire companies would come back or call to make sure everything was okay.  I realized then that the world would go on and although our beautiful forest would be forever changed, there would be regrowth and rebuilding and we would find a way to come back stronger than ever.

    There are so many stories to tell, so many people to thank, so many people to help, so many memories that will live with us forever.

  • Howard V. Hendrix

    Howard V. Hendrix

    Howard Hendrix | Pine Ridge

    9-12-20

    Due to the ferocity of the Creek Fire, my wife Laurel and I are now displaced persons staying in a motel in Fresno. On Sunday, September 6, we were ordered to evacuate from our house in the Pine Ridge community, just south of Shaver Lake. We were out by one in the afternoon, leaving behind our home amid its twelve acres of pine, oak, and cedar forest – at that time all still properly green.

    Sunday through Tuesday were full of conflicting reports of fire behavior: high hopes that the fire would spare the home we had built and lived in for fifteen years, and grave fears that our place would burn down to ashes, rubble, stem wall, and slab.

    On Tuesday September 8 we learned that the much-feared latter possibility had in fact come to pass. Our house full of home was no more. Despite the herculean efforts of CalFIRE, the US Forest Service, Cal OES, local volunteer fire departments, and myriad other agencies, the strong majority of homes and structures in our unique and much-loved community were destroyed when an avalanche of flame poured through the forest of Pine Ridge overnight Monday.

    We take solace in the fact that everyone in our tract got out unhurt. Laurel and I still have each other, our important documents, our old dog and young cats. Our regrets are also eased somewhat by the fact that in our community we had done all we were supposed to do, and more. With help from the Highway 168 Fire Safe Council and CalFire, we had over the previous twenty years put in firebreaks, taken down standing dead trees and, with help from the Sierra Resource Conservation District, had begun removing the remaining log decks of those dead trees.

    Our community prided itself on its long tradition of effort aimed at reducing and mitigating fire hazards. We knew there was a risk to our living in the mountains and we took many steps to lessen that risk. Yet the Creek Fire was so extreme that it overwhelmed all our defenses.

    Perhaps in the back of our minds we believed that the wildfires we knew were coming would somehow always be someone else’s catastrophe, not our own. Even when Laurel and I were evacuating from our neighborhood, we assumed that our place would be safe and we would be able to return to our home and our normal life. Instead we have suffered loss upon loss and are sick at heart over what has happened.

    In our case, insurance has helped a great deal, but it can never replace all that was lost. The particular things our house held within it are too numerous to describe here, and perhaps only insurance adjusters would want that description in minute detail. Outside the house, our old pickup truck, wood splitter, tool shed, well house, and wood shed — with its cords of summer’s split logs that would not wait for winter and woodstove to burst into flame — are all in ashes or twisted metal.

    The adjusters will not be so readily able to quantify many other items. Here once stood the birdfeeders and birdbaths, visited by Steller’s jays, juncos, grosbeaks, finches, tanagers, quail, nuthatches. Here stood the red maples we planted for fall color. Here, planted for their white blossoms, stood the Rose of Sharon bush, and the Carpenteria, endemic to our watershed alone in all the world. Here stood the raspberries, huckleberries, gooseberries and currants, planted for their sweetness. Here stood the daffodils, peonies, yarrow, and penstemon, planted to surprise us with their return each spring. Here stood the blue acres of self-sown wild meadow lupines, waving goodbye.

    The fire expelled us from the mountains into the valley, where the pressures and necessities of masking up and dealing with Covid-19 are much more in our faces than was the case in our small rural community. Nonetheless, beyond questions of beetle-killed trees, forest management issues, overstretched firefighting resources, drought, and climate change writ large, the Creek Fire is, like the coronavirus pandemic, distinctly a Wildland Urban Interface (WUI) problem, in firefighter parlance.

    Our wildfires and pandemics are, paradoxically, driven by our success as a species – by the pressure our ever-growing human population puts on wild environments, not only by proximity and intermixing but also by the exchanging of less-obvious properties (viral RNA and carbon footprint, say) between the “natural” and the “technological” spheres.

    By living in the interface, we were part of the problem – and all the world is, ultimately, in the interface. We cannot truthfully say “We have lost everything” so long as we are still around to say those words. In that lies the hope that we still have time to learn, and to change.