The Holiday Farm Fire
Get Out! Now! A Firefighter’s Account of the Holiday Farm Fire of 2020
Part 10/12
Schwinn and I got onto the highway and headed east. At this point, I was slightly numb to seeing burned houses and forest around me. Schwinn pointed out the melted street signs in Blue River as we left.
He told me, “The signs didn’t completely melt. They’re still green, but it’s like they’re stickers stuck on the metal that are curling up and falling off. That’s so crazy, man.”
It wasn’t long before I came across a tree that was still burning that lay across the highway. I drove towards the tip of the tree and had to leave the highway a bit to get to where it seemed possible to drive over it. I was driving where there used to be a fence, and I wondered if it would be a fence nail that finally gave 91 a flat tire.
Schwinn seemed pretty freaked out as we went over the tree. He didn’t have as much experience as I did with it.
He kept saying, “Wow, I don’t know if we can do it. I don’t like this at all.”
I decided it might do us some good to cheer on this poor vehicle that had been through more in one night than most did in 20 years.
“Alright 91, don’t fail me now. You’ve got this, girl!”
After making it over the treetop, I got out to check if the tires were melting at all or had nails sticking out of them. Now that the horrors of the night were over, and the fear-induced adrenaline had worn off, I was much more cautious. The tires seemed to be alright, so I kept going and repeated it a couple more times before I came across a tree that I couldn’t get around.
The end of it crossed with another tree that was smoldering but hadn’t fallen. In fact, most of the trees were burning but hadn’t fallen. I had driven as close as I dared to the upright tree and tried to drive over the fallen tree.
91 struggled against the fallen tree and Schwinn called out, “Come on 91, come on!”
Her engine moaned and I started to smell burned rubber as the tires spun out against the pavement without us moving. I backed up to try to get a running start. I hoped that some extra speed would help us get over the tree.
As I slammed down the gas pedal I yelled, “Let’s go 91!”
We got some good speed, but then our heads snapped forward with force as we plowed into the tree. We sat there motionless as it sunk in that we weren’t going to be able to get over this tree. I had made it about a mile over about an hour, but now I had no choice but to turn around.
Even though I was disappointed I tried to make Schwinn feel better, “We’ve got to turn around, but we’re not giving up, OK? We’re just returning for supplies.”
He tried to encourage me in return, “Yeah, we’ll make it. We’re gonna make it.”
As I made my way back over the tips of trees and through people’s properties, the longing to wrap my arms around my wife and daughter was too much for me. Driving in the wrong direction made me depressed.
I prayed, “Oh Lord, please let them be okay; and let them know that I’m okay.”
Schwinn pointed and called out, “Hey look, it’s a goat! It looks okay and it’s chewing on something.”
Schwinn continued talking and I smiled a little at the goat. Sadly, not all the animals had made it through the fire, but at least some of them did. It must have been a rough night for that poor goat though. Seeing the goat gave me some hope. Hopefully more animals and people survived the fire as well.
As we continued driving, Schwinn pointed out a metal roof that lay on the ground. It looked a little melted, but still recognizable. I told Schwinn that metal roofs are supposed to resist fire because the embers wouldn’t catch metal on fires they fell.
Sadly, last night’s fire storm didn’t play by the rules. It took out some homes that had everything to prevent catching fire, while skipping some that would be considered a fire hazard. None of it made sense. Schwinn nodded, totally agreeing.
Schwinn pointed out cars that were now just a gray metal frame, and many structures that were now just a warped metal frame.
I got back and found a member of the task force. I explained to him that I really needed a chainsaw to get past fallen trees on my way back up the highway. He was glad to help and gave me an extra chainsaw. After slowly making my way back to where I got stuck the first time, I started working through the tree with the chainsaw. I’d heard horror stories about chainsaw accidents from the loggers that I knew. In one of those stories, the old logger’s saw slipped while he was cutting a tree and it cut a large blood vessel in his leg, and he died. Not the happiest of endings to that story.
If a pro could make a mistake and end up dead, what chances did a beginner like me have at not killing himself? I just wished I had chaps (leather leg covers), but since I didn’t, I had to be extra careful. I was determined that I would make it home this morning with my blood still inside of me. It would be sad to survive last night’s firestorm only to die from a chainsaw accident today.
When I successfully cut through the tree, I loaded the saw back up into 91. I used the brush bar, made for moving brush, on the front of my favorite Suburban in the world to push the tree forward. The brush bar on the front of 91 worked, and 91 made my day as she moved that part of the tree all the way so that I had enough room to get by it.
Schwinn cheered her on and gave the dashboard a pat like it was a dog, “Good job, 91. Good job!”
We came across the rockslide, and I repeated what I’d done last night by starting at the far edge of it, slowly climbing over rocks, and praying really hard for my tires. It was easier the second time around with a little more time and a little more light. It was daytime for sure, but what little sunlight came through the thick clouds of smoke was a deep orange. I couldn’t even see the sun through all the smoke.
God answered my prayers again as we slowly made it to the end of the rockslide. Before we had made it much further, we came across another fallen tree that I couldn’t seem to get around. I got out the chainsaw again and started over again. Once again, I cut through a tree with no blood, and 91 pushed the end of the tree out of the way.
Sometimes, I was able to drive to the end of a tree and then over the tip, but I often had to cut through them. One time the chainsaw just stopped working. I was worried I had broken it, but when I checked the gas, I realized it was just empty.
I was extremely tired, sore, and hungry. I had only had a granola bar since yesterday afternoon. My hands were getting blisters from the chainsaw. I bet my feet had blisters too, and my pants were rubbing me the wrong way. In other words, every step was painful. Now I had to turn around and backtrack over everything again.
I was beyond frustrated at this point because it was taking hours just to get seven miles. I was also somewhat sure I was not the easiest person to be around at this point. I could see that Schwinn was not having a good time anymore either.
I looked at Schwinn and sighed, “I’m sorry man, but you’ll probably get there faster by bike than by sticking with me.”
He nodded, and this time his eyes moved to the side for a few seconds. He said slowly, “Yeah… yeah, uh, I think you’re right. I think I’ll give it a try.”
I nodded and wished I could trade places with him. I got his bike off the top of 91 and set it down next to him. I wondered if he was getting back to family or friends and was just as worried as me about them.
When he had his bike, he gave me a hug, patting my back twice, and said, “Thanks, Brent. That was crazy, man!”
I smiled and replied, “Thanks for being my right-hand man!”
He laughed a little and got on his bike. With a little wave he said, “Good luck getting back! I’ll see you soon!”
I figured I may not see him again, but who knew? I also had thought I’d never see the task force again, and yet I was about to head back to them a second time.
I waved back, “Yep, see you later.”
Feeling alone and depressed as I got back in 91 again, I turned the vehicle around and sighed out loud as I started the trip back. I could relate to the chimneys that stood alone while the rest of the house had become a big pile of ash on the ground. Every time I had to drive through someone’s burned property to get around a tree, I prayed that God would protect 91. I decided I needed a little music. I didn’t need to worry about conserving my phone’s battery since it was useless right now. I turned on my phone’s worship playlist and found that it did wonders for my mood.
When I made it back to Blue River, I found the same guy that gave me the chainsaw earlier. I asked if I could have some spare cans of gas for the chainsaw. I tried to describe the tree-littered highway to him.
He nodded and smiled, “I can believe it! We’re having to move a ton of trees up here, too. But hey, it sounds like you’ve already made it most of the way. I’ve got a couple of gas cans you can have. Hope it gets you through!”
He generously offered all that he had so that he would have to get more. That was just the type of people these guys were.
As I started loading the gas cans on the top of 91, I called back, “Thank you. I hope so too!”
I was so tired and yet so anxious to get home. I was making slow progress, but I figured I had made it about halfway there at this point. I sure hoped these gas cans would get me all the way back. Once again, I slowly prayed my way over treetops and rockslides. I finally made it to where my chainsaw had run out of gas last time. I was so sore and tired as I worked. My hands and feet were burning in places where I surely had blisters. I finished off one gallon of gas and poured the other one in.
I was about halfway through the second can of gas when I heard an echo from my saw. I thought that was strange, so I stopped sawing for a second. I heard the sound again even though I hadn’t made a noise. Then I realized it wasn’t an echo- it was another saw ahead! I had never been so thankful for the sound of a saw in my life. After cutting through a couple more trees, I saw the Oregon Department of Transportation truck up ahead working on clearing a path through the highway!
I sighed, “Thank God!”
After clearing one more tree, I was able to get to where they were. We talked for a minute, and I told the guys a little about what lay ahead of them. Of course, they would be clearing the road a lot better than I did. Not that they had completely cleared the highway, but at least from here on out, I wouldn’t have to be driving off road and over treetops anymore.
I started feeling some hope and renewed energy. As I drove, I saw Schwinn riding his bike along the highway. We just waved at each other, and I laughed a little in surprise. Soon I drove past where it all started: near the Holiday Farm RV Resort. I was amazed to see that less than a mile away from where it all started, the thick layer of smoke suddenly broke.
I drove out into sunshine, blue sky, and glorious green trees everywhere. I almost cried out of relief that the fire hadn’t destroyed all of this, too. If someone had told me that the world just east of Holiday Farm was normal a minute ago, I couldn’t have imagined it.
I was amazed by how gorgeous everything looked to me in contrast to the dark-orange haze on the other side of the burn zone. The trees and houses in the burn zone were gray with soot — illuminated only by that menacing glow. How strange was it that that world of gray had started to feel normal to me, and that the burst of color shocked me. Here, everything looked so full of glorious color. It was like the filter on a camera app changed from sepia to vivid color. I took off my mask, rolled down the window, and took a deep breath of deliciously clean air.
Next, I stepped on the gas. Now that the coast was clear, there was nothing between me and my home, except for a couple miles of clear highway! As I pulled into our church’s parking lot, I noticed that everything looked relatively normal. Branches made a green carpet that crunched under my tires, and a few trees were down.
Just last week a handful of our church members had worked tirelessly on making the church grounds look amazing. You would never know it now. I shook my head and let out a little laugh of shock when I realized the bikes that were left over from the church’s Labor Day sale hadn’t been blown over by the wind! I guessed the wind didn’t really get to the ground level, it just moved along the treetops.
As I got closer to our house, which was on the left side of the church parking lot, I saw Katie’s car. They were home! I noticed the huge trees spread out from our front yard. They lay across our driveway and on top of our crushed carport. Dead power lines and phone lines ran down from the poles to the trees at an angle on one side and curled in lazy loops along the ground on the other side.
I tried to identify which of the trees from our front yard had broken. I saw one broken stump about fifteen feet up in the air. I had never even really noticed that tree before. I couldn’t figure out where the other tree had come from.
It’s incredible how you may not even really notice a tree until it lays down. Then you realize that on its side, it comes up to your waist, and its length could probably take up more than half of the track.
Thank God it fell where it did, or it would have hit our house. I climbed over the trees that fell together and made my way up to our front door.
As I opened our door, I called out, “Katie? Elizabeth?”
Our dog ran to me, wiggling from head to tail.
With joy I exclaimed, “Ivy! How’s my good girl?”
She licked my hands in reply and when I bent down, she licked my face. I just held her for a long moment, then I looked around.
I called out, “I’m home!”
I waited for a moment and tried again, “Is anyone home?”
I waited for Katie and Elizabeth to greet me, but they never did. I searched the house as Ivy followed me closely. I couldn’t understand why Katie’s car was here, the dog was here, but Katie and Elizabeth weren’t here.
That’s when I started to panic. I had wanted so badly to come home and know that they were alright. I needed to hold them in my arms. I tried to tell myself they were probably safe wherever they were, and we would find each other somehow, but after the horrors of last night, it was hard to just believe that things would all work out. Ivy tried that much harder to comfort me, licking my hands repeatedly. It did little to help, but it did feel good to have my dog in my arms again.
I felt guilty that I had a home when so many people would be coming home to ashes and melted ruins. I was grateful that I didn’t lose everything overnight, but my heart broke for all the people who did. There were so many…
Suddenly my legs lost the strength to stand. I fell onto the bench by our door with my elbows on my knees and my hands in my hair. I was sure that people had lost their lives last night. We couldn’t have gotten to them all. Now that I was home, I finally gave myself permission to have a breakdown.
The horrors of the night all came flooding back. I remembered the people’s faces as I told them to evacuate. I remembered the moments I thought I would die from flames surrounding 91 or from ammo exploding that sent bullets flying in our direction.
I felt such a heavy weight in my chest that it made it hard to breathe. I felt without a doubt that someone I cared for died last night. I thought of all my friends that lived west of us along the McKenzie River Valley. There were only about a dozen of my friends that I did know, without a doubt, had survived. Could I have done anything different to save more lives? Probably.
After a while I pulled myself together again. I didn’t have the energy to make coffee, especially with the power being out. After all, morning had come and gone a while ago. So, I grabbed a soda and found some comfort in that instead.
I looked at the back side of the house and found a hacksaw next to a mangled bush. Katie had used the saw, which meant that she had followed one piece of my advice last night. I laughed and rubbed my stinging eyes. Next, I went out to inspect my crushed SUV. A thick layer of branches covered the caved-in roof. The metal carport had caved in under the force of huge trees and shattered both windshields. Before last night, the sight of this car that I loved would have devastated me. After last night, and all that I’d seen today, I couldn’t really feel anything about it.
I just sat on one of the trees and let the tears fall as all the weight of last night hit me in waves again. After a while, I heard a car. When I looked up, I thought maybe I recognized the car, but I couldn’t quite place it. It pulled to a stop in front of me. I stood up and turned away as I wiped my tears, not wanting anyone to see me like this.
I heard doors slamming and feet running. Arms encircled my waist, and I knew right away it was Katie and Elizabeth. Once I wrapped my arms around them both, I started sobbing even harder. I tried to slow my heaving breaths. They were safe and we were together again. I didn’t want to ever let them go.
When I thought I could talk, I looked down at Katie and asked, “Who’s car is that?”
She smiled at me with wet, joyful eyes, “It’s Fred and Marilyn’s car. Some of the guys at the station told me that my car’s radiator was busted from hitting rocks during my escape from the back of the house last night. I was checking on some of the people from the church. When I checked on them and told them what happened, Fred offered me his car so I could drive up the road to get cell reception. I’ve been contacting everyone and asking for prayer, because …”
Her smile fell and she swallowed, “I didn’t know if you were okay.”
I hugged her tighter and she added, “By the way, I’ve got a list of people that we need to try to find.”
I nodded and sighed heavily. I was thinking about that too.
Elizabeth said in a small voice, “I love you.”
I closed my eyes as I fought off tears again. “I love you, too, kiddo.”
I knew that life would never be the same. Obviously, everything would be hard for a while as we tried to recover. But most of all, I didn’t think I could ever take for granted the feeling of holding my family tight in my arms.
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This is from the book Get Out! Now! 2nd edition. If you’ve enjoyed our story, it is available on Amazon. I hope it inspires many to become everyday heroes and to walk in faith. I’m a wife and mother of four. I teach piano and singing online and in-person, I write, and I’m the music minister and youth minister at McKenzie Bridge Christian Church.
