The Holiday Farm Fire
Get Out! Now! A Firefighter’s Account of the Holiday Farm Fire of 2020
Part 8/12
Last I heard, things were just getting worse and worse tonight. What would happen to all those people that weren’t able to call for help? How could we help when we had no way to communicate?
I tried to close my eyes and pray through the panic eating me up, but just then Hitch repeated, “So, what if someone needs to use the bathroom?”
I took a deep breath and sighed, looked at him sideways and pressed my lips together. With everything else going on I hadn’t been paying attention to him. It was about 1:40 and we were probably going to be stuck here for hours.
“Do you have to go?” I asked as I tried to push the dark thoughts away and stay focused on what I could do.
“It’s either gonna happen in a bathroom or right here on the field,” he said plainly.
After a moment he added, “Pretty soon, too.”
I nodded and formed a plan, “Okay, try to hold it for a couple minutes, Hitch.”
He looked a little confused, and I realized I had never actually called him by the nickname I’d had for him since we met. There were locked restrooms at the track. I didn’t want to do any more damage than I’d already done, but I had to do something to meet people’s basic needs. Fortunately, I knew the track building pretty well from coaching and volunteering for years.
I opened the back of 91 and grabbed an ax. As I walked through the air swirling with embers, I was thankful for the fire-resistant wildland firefighting gear that I’d put on while I waited for Luke to arrive at the station.
I was really starting to notice that the pants were starting to rub me the wrong way though. Walking into the wind, I had to put my head down and hold my arm up to block my face. I noticed some people that I passed in the cars looking at me like I was nuts to be out in the firestorm.
Eventually I made it to the track building and decided that instead of opening a bathroom, I’d open the doors to the main part of the building. I took the blunt side of the ax and brought it down hard on the handle. It took a couple hits, then the handle broke free and I was able to get to the latch inside and get the door open.
I went upstairs to where they hid the keys and unlocked the public restrooms. It was nice to be inside the familiar building with clean, cool air. It almost seemed normal for a minute.
After “testing” the bathrooms to make sure they worked, I went back to 91 and told Hitch, “Bathrooms are over there, and they’re open for business.”
I could see he was kind of scared to get out into the air thick with smoke and glowing bright embers, so I drove 91 up to the bathrooms. After all, if I hadn’t been wearing fireproof clothes, I may have caught on fire walking out in all the embers. It was like a river of air, ash, and embers were flowing rapidly through our valley tonight. It was those embers and the high wind speed to blame for how fast this fire was spreading. I pulled up as close to the building as possible and stopped. Hitch smiled and opened the door.
Before he got out, he looked at me with his head tilted and said, “You know, you’re not so bad. You just might get a tip after all.”
I smiled and put on an accent that sounded like a taxi driver in the old movies, “Thank ya, mista’. It means a lot.”
I parked so that I could point my headlights at the bathroom, and I propped the door open a bit. The others went in too. I decided that while we were there, I’d try to find a track uniform for Frank, so he didn’t have to sit in wet clothes all night. After a while of going through boxes, I found something that looked about the right size. I walked into the dark bathroom with my flashlight.
I almost called out what I’d been calling him in my head, but just barely caught myself. “Uh… sir, I have something dry you can change into if you’d like.”
He came out of the darkness with a polite smile on his face and took the clothes I held out for him. I was glad I could help him out a little, but I wondered why he couldn’t or wouldn’t speak. It took Frank a while to change.
After he finished, we drove back to where we were before, and Hitch said, “Hey, I think my buddy back here might be injured. He seems to be in pain.”
I turned around in my seat to have a better look and noticed what I hadn’t before. Despite the smile, he did look a bit pained with a crease between his brows. I guess I was too distracted before to really notice. I drove up to the ambulance, got out of 91, and knocked on the window of the ambulance. The paramedics looked startled to see me out of my vehicle, but after a moment one rolled the window down just a crack.
I yelled through the roar of the fire and the rushing wind, “I have someone who needs medical attention.”
He nodded and rolled his window back up. I turned around and opened Frank’s door.
“We’re going to get you looked at in the ambulance, okay?” He smiled, nodded, and slowly got out of the vehicle.
A paramedic met us at the back door of the ambulance, and I explained, “We first met at the Blue River Bridge, and he was soaking wet, so I assume he’s been in the river. However, I don’t know what exactly is wrong because he hasn’t said anything since I picked him up. It seems like he’s hurting though. Could you do an exam?”
The paramedic smiled and nodded, “Sure thing.”
He asked Frank to take off his shirt and started the examination. The other paramedic came to the back of the vehicle, and I saw a look of fear in his eyes. He was young, and I guessed he was new to this, while the older paramedic looked like he’d probably seen worse days. While the older paramedic examined Frank, I noticed burns on his arms and legs. It seemed he had a close brush with death tonight. I wished he could tell his story.
I turned to the young paramedic who was just staring vacantly at the wall and asked, “How are you doing?”
He jumped a fraction of an inch and turned his eyes to me. He took a breath then answered, “Fine.”
He shook his head a little while he continued, “This is just crazy though. I’ve never seen anything like this.”
I nodded, “Yeah, me neither. We’ve had bad fires in this valley before, but it has always been slow moving. The first time we had to evacuate was on Labor Day two years ago.
We loaded all our pictures and other things that were important to us into our truck in a day, including my wife’s upright bass. We had a foster baby and three kids. It wasn’t a forced evacuation, but the air wasn’t safe to breathe, especially for the kids. So, we stored all our things and stayed at a camp, which I was just at today.”
That couldn’t be right. It seemed like so long ago that I was leaving the camp. Then I remembered that it was no longer Labor Day. It was probably about 2am Tuesday now.
I shook my head and corrected myself, “I meant yesterday.”
I looked at the young paramedic and realized that I wasn’t really helping. I changed course and continued, “Anyway, after a couple weeks the rain came and put the fire out, and we were able to go home.”
I made eye contact with him and said, “We’ll be going home soon this time, too. We’ve just got to wait for this fire to burn around us. We’re in the best place we could be for that.”
He slowly nodded a few times. The older paramedic smiled at me and finished bandaging Frank.
After he finished, we stood up. Frank smiled gratefully, and I shook their hands as I said, “Alright, thank you guys. By the way, the restrooms at the track building are open if you need to use them.”
“Take care, you guys,” the young paramedic said as they smiled and waved.
The bright lights inside the ambulance were a stark contrast to the deep-orange, smoky air that we stepped out to as we walked to 91. I noticed that the fire was starting to eat up the hill on one side of us during the time we were in the ambulance. An ember hit my shoulder and I brushed it off. It reminded me to hurry Frank into the vehicle. The track suit certainly wasn’t fire resistant.
After he got in, I walked all the way around the vehicle to see how much damage there was. The tires looked okay; the body looked okay. I couldn’t believe 91 looked as good as she did.
Back in 91, Hitch and Schwinn were talking, mostly Schwinn though. I ignored them and started thinking about this crazy day. I had left camp before lunch, grabbed a few roast-beef sandwiches at a drive thru, and worked for hours getting art supplies from various stores around town. I was excited to finally be a real art teacher. I’d taught an art class after school for a couple of years. Now that our school was a charter school it no longer mattered that I didn’t have a degree in education. I had finally gotten the chance to teach art for credit, but now I didn’t think there was a very good chance the school would make it through the night. It could be catching fire at this very moment.
A wave of guilt washed over me. If it weren’t for me making a case for taking shelter at the track, we would be at the school, defending it. If the school didn’t make it through tonight, this community would die. I would lose my job at the school along with many other people. Without a school, no families with kids would want to move here. If there were no families, this community would slowly die, and our church would, too.
My mind even wandered to trivial details. What would I do with all the art supplies in the back of our SUV, now crushed by a tree? How would we even find the students that had to flee their homes tonight? Would our students even have anything to come home to except the charred remains of their homes? How many of our students would die tonight?
I knew my brain was spiraling down into dark waters, which wasn’t useful right now. So, with all my strength I pulled my thoughts back to the present. I tried to focus on finding something I could do.
One of my fears was that the track building would catch fire, which was something I did have some control over at the time. I went to check out the east end of the building. Just as I had suspected, there were a sizable number of embers piling up on the east side of the building. I ran back to the tanker and got the firefighters’ attention.
I told them, “We need to get some water on the other side of the track building.”
They nodded and waved me over. I hopped in the back of the tanker along with the other firefighters. We drove to the other side of the building where the embers had hit the wall. We got the hoses out and I managed one of them, giving the brightest spots the most water. Holding the hose steady as the water flows through it at such high speeds takes a lot of strength. It wasn’t long before I was really feeling tired.
I’d seen videos of a fire hose lifting someone off the ground because they were so light. At this moment I was thankful for the weekly punishment my physical trainer put me through so that I could keep the hose pointed the right direction for long enough to defend this building.
I saw another firefighter signal to move to a spot on the roof. My tired mind kept wandering. I didn’t love firefighting the same way it seemed some of the crew loved it. For me, it was more that I’ve always been moved to action by a verse in the book of James, my favorite book in the Bible, that says, “If you know the good you ought to do, and don’t do it, it is a sin.” It’s what guided Katie and me in every big decision.
I made the decision to join the fire department about a year and a half ago after the snowstorm that buried us all in several feet of snow overnight. Trees came down all over the place. I did everything I could to take care of people in our church and our youth group, but I felt that I could have done so much more if I had been a first responder.
When I heard that the Upper McKenzie Fire Department would be shut down because of a shortage of volunteers, I knew that I needed to step up to help. Our area needed first responders and firefighters, and I knew I didn’t want to live in a community without those services. So, I started training and going on calls at all times of the day or night.
The selfish part of me wished I could just live for myself and my family. I could spend my spare time watching TV or playing video games instead of saving people’s lives. If I could sleep all the way through the night without having to get up to rush to a car accident, heart attack, or house fire, I might have the energy to fix things around our house. The less selfish part of me was glad that I had signed up to be a volunteer firefighter/first responder so that I could be there for people when they most needed help.
I wished I could be with Katie and Elizabeth right now, knowing that I could protect them and keep them safe, but I had to trust that God would take care of them. I also had confidence that the rest of our crew would make sure they were safe while I took care of these people. In the middle of the track, I could see about a dozen cars filled with people we had evacuated after the road west of Blue River closed. I was glad that I was able to be a part of the team saving those lives.
However, I also worried that there weren’t enough cars out in that field. My mind flashed back to images I saw on the news of cars on the highway burned in Paradise. I couldn’t shake the feeling that we had probably lost hundreds of people tonight. I found myself on the verge of tears again as I started questioning every decision I had made tonight. What if I forgot about a road or missed a house? I knew that my brain was not doing great tonight through the panic and the confusion.
I was so tired, not to mention scared out of my mind. What if my stupidity got people killed? As my rapid, shallow breaths got harder to take, I realized I needed a different activity. I was going to have a mental breakdown if I kept this up. I felt like I had gotten enough water on these embers, so I decided to take a breather and let the other guys keep an eye on it for a while. I asked them if they were fine without me and of course they said they could handle it.
I started checking on people since that was a way I could be helpful right now. Also, I hoped it would keep my mind from wandering. First, I saw the lady who was in the burned car talking to the officer I’d talked with when we first found out we would be staying the night here.
She was hastily telling him the story of how she was barely able to get her kids in the car before flames completely covered her house. She had driven with the kids through fire to escape. It sounded like a really close call. Judging by the way her vehicle looked now, compared to how 91 looked, I figured what I went through was like a picnic at the park compared to her horror story.
I told people in their cars that the restrooms were now open. One of the guys told me that I didn’t need to wear a mask, assuming that I was wearing a mask to prevent the spread of COVID-19. I assured him that wasn’t the reason for me wearing the mask. I could smell a very toxic smoke that I imagined may be a combination of burning chemicals, plastics, and other things that made me shudder.
In the back of my mind all night I had thought of the first responders after the attack on 9/11 and all the health problems they had for years to come. I wished I had an even more protective mask than the KN95 I was wearing. I encouraged others to wear masks for their protection as well. I offered them the masks that we stocked in our vehicles, but many people said no thanks.
I supposed it wouldn’t make much of a difference at this point anyway. The evacuees would be spending most of their time in their cars, so they wouldn’t be breathing as much of the smoke as the people like me that were out working in that thick smoke. I stopped to talk to someone in the next vehicle. This man was with his mom in the car, and he shared with me the story of their night. He explained that she couldn’t walk, and he never could lift her, but tonight he found the strength to do it so he could rush her out of the house.
I smiled as I said, “That’s amazing! I’ve only ever heard of things like that happening.”
I said hi to his mother and talked with her for a minute. As we talked, I got the sense that she was uncomfortable in his truck. I suggested that she could lie down in the ambulance and she seemed to really like that idea. So, we headed over to the ambulance and I asked the paramedics if it would be alright for her to lie down in there. They welcomed her, and we worked on getting her transported into the ambulance. I went back out and checked on the rest of the people in vehicles.
For the most part people seemed to be doing alright despite being scared and in shock. I did what little I could to counsel them and encourage them, but there wasn’t much I could do. I headed back to my car full of guys to check on them again.
Back in 91, Schwinn was still talking nonstop about how crazy it all was. With how much he repeated himself, I was starting to wonder about his mental health. Of course, mine wasn’t great right now either. Hitch seemed to be his usual, confident self, and Frank seemed like he was about to doze off. Hitch reported to me that Frank was feeling better now. It seemed like Hitch could understand Frank, even though Frank couldn’t speak. I tried to shut my eyes for a moment, but soon I heard a knock on my window. I recognized this guy from somewhere.
He said, “Hey, I have a really big favor to ask. It would mean the world to me if we could save my car. I wasn’t able to get my classic car outta there before leaving the house, and it’s gonna break my heart if she gets burned up. Do you think you could take me to my house so I could drive her back?”
As I thought about it, he added, “Please?”
I wasn’t so sure it was a good idea, but it seemed like the fire was starting to run out of fuel around us. The embers and ash weren’t as thick as they were an hour before, and the mountain in front of me had turned a few shades darker than before. I figured we could try as long as he didn’t live way down some scary back road.
I asked, “Where do you live?”
He gave me the directions to his place, and it sounded fairly close, or at least not too far off the beaten path. So, I agreed to try.
“I’ve got one more seat in the back. Why don’t you hop in, and we’ll see how far we can get?”
On the way he described his mint-condition 1969 black Camaro. I could tell it was his pride and joy. With the love I’d developed for 91 overnight, I could sympathize with him. I hoped that he would find his precious baby safe and sound. Of course, it ended up being a little further than his description made it sound, but we eventually made it.
When we arrived, we found his house and his car were fine. He was thrilled, and he quickly got in his car. There was fire in the trees around his house, and I was afraid a tree would come down on the driveway while we were there.
Schwinn pointed at a bit of lawn that was catching fire near us and kept calling out, “I don’t like this! I don’t like this!”
Even though the house and the car were still okay, there was fire all around us. We weren’t safe yet. I waited for his car to start, then I quickly turned around and headed back for safety. As I waited at the track, watching for the Camaro to make it back unharmed, I started to get worried. I wished I’d waited for him to leave, then followed him out. I had to admit that Schwinn wasn’t the only one that had been anxious to get out of that guy’s driveway.
Ten minutes later he still hadn’t shown up, and I was really starting to panic. I had assumed he was right behind me, but what if a branch fell on his car or a tree blocked the road? I decided to give him a couple more minutes before I went back out to find him. Maybe he had gone back in the house for some things. Who knew?
After about five more minutes, I put 91 in drive and started heading back out. Before I left the track, I finally saw the Camaro pull in.
I drove up to where he parked and asked, “What took you so long?!”
He just smiled and replied, “You’ve got to drive these old cars real slow.”
He drew out those last two words for emphasis. I laughed just a little in disbelief at this guy’s nerve.
Shaking my head I disagreed, “Not in a wildfire, you don’t.”
He smiled, chuckled, and shrugged his shoulders. I laughed a little as I drove away. I was relieved that guy in the Camaro had made it back safely, but I was also a little mad at him. I drove to a spot at the track with fewer people and tried closing my eyes. I tried using my superpower of nap taking. I could usually take a nap anywhere, no matter what was happening around me. My family would often find me at get-togethers passed out on the floor, with children playing around me.
Tonight, between Schwinn’s ongoing conversation, an empty belly, and the fear of the unknown, I couldn’t even pull off a nap. I leaned back and tried to keep my eyes closed while my mind worried about everyone.
I prayed more for all the other folks that I had heard about on the radio. The nagging fear that we had missed people was the main reason I couldn’t sleep. Guilt ate at me and made me feel heavy. At some point, Hitch and Frank left the car. Maybe it was to get a little peace and quiet from Schwinn’s endless chatter. I eventually gave up on sleeping and got out of 91 as well.
