The Holiday Farm Fire
Get Out! Now! A Firefighter’s Account of the Holiday Farm Fire of 2020
Part 7/12
91 was my key. If the track committee had a problem with me driving through the gate to save all these lives, I could not care. I got to the track and sped up as I approached the tall gate of the chain-link fence. This gate was bigger and probably tougher than the others I’d taken out tonight.
I called out, “You’ve got this 91!”
91 slammed into the gate and I felt the violent force of slamming into a solid object. For a moment I thought it hadn’t worked, then the chain lock on the gate broke apart, and we kept moving forward as the gate slammed against the fence.
I let out a big “Woo-oow! I love you 91!”
I patted the dash and added quietly, “Don’t tell my wife!”
Although it was jarring, I also felt like I was a stuntman in a movie. I headed back to the school to direct people to the track. I recognized some teachers that I worked with, our mail carriers, and a few other folks in the community there in the school parking lot. I got out and started checking on the people in each vehicle and telling them the plan to let the fire burn around us while we parked in the middle of the track.
The guy with the bike, along with Hitch and Frank piled into 91. I secured the bike to the top of 91 with some straps I found in the back of 91, and I saw that his bike was a Schwinn. I think he had told me his name, but I couldn’t remember it and didn’t want to ask, so I started thinking of the talkative guy as Schwinn.
Schwinn was talking to Frank about where he had been over the weekend. I smiled a little as I thought about how Frank and Schwinn were perfect together. One could do all the talking and the other could do all the listening. As we drove down to the track, I tried to ignore them and listen to the radio.
I heard Chief’s voice again, and she sounded tired. “Safety zone for you guys could be the track. It’s a big, huge, open green space.”
Chief was thinking along the same lines as me, which made me feel even more confident that I had made the right choice.
A voice I didn’t recognize said: “We made it up to Blue River Drive and River Street and it is no longer safe to continue further than this.”
Dispatch repeated: “Blue River Drive: no longer safe to continue.”
I settled in, with nothing to do, so I jumped into the conversation: “No longer taking Blue River occupants west. I’ve been at the school redirecting traffic.”
I realized after I said it that they probably already knew that we couldn’t go west. My brain was so fried at this point. I just needed to stay off the radio.
I could see our task force leader talking into his radio as he pulled into the field. “C900: Let medic 5 know they’re not going to be able to exit. The road is blocked from fire on both sides of us. We’re in the safety zone. We’re evacuating all the people to the track at the high school. We are stuck here with fire on both sides of the road, east and west.”
Our dispatcher repeated the message: “Copy. Medic 5, did you copy? The road is blocked from both directions, east and west. They are evacuating to the field in the safety zone.”
Dispatch’s voice came through the radio more clearly than the rest. It was probably because the rest of us had background noise and often not the best radio reception; so, she did a lot of repeating what we said. After several seconds there was still no response confirming that they had heard her.
After a while she repeated her question to medic 5. “Medic 5, did you copy?” Hopefully they were alright.
When we were all settled in the middle of the field, I looked at my phone and saw that I’d missed three messages from Katie.
“One of the trees near our porch fell over our porch and fell on your SUV in the carport. It set off the car alarm.”
“It fell over all of the lines that run between the church and our house too.”
“Do we have a chainsaw that works?”
I wrote back: “No, you need to get ready to go either way, can you get it out? I don’t think that I can get back to you. It’s bad between Holiday Farm and the school.”
I guess I hadn’t had time to break the news to her until now that I would not be coming home any time soon. She had probably been waiting for me to get home when she should have left a long time ago.
She responded: “There’s no way I can get out. The tree is blocking both of our cars.”
A moment later another message popped up: “Even if a tree comes down on the house, I think we should be okay.”
We had talked in the past, during windstorms and snowstorms, about how we should sleep downstairs in case a tree fell on our two-story house. She was still thinking of this as just a windstorm when it was so much worse than a windstorm. I didn’t think we could count on the fire not spreading a few miles east if it had already spread over ten miles west. She wasn’t getting how bad everything was, and now that it was too late to take off in the car she was stuck. Why hadn’t she just left by now?!
I got on our volunteer firefighter chat and asked if someone could help Katie and Elizabeth because a tree had them blocked. Thankfully, the whole Upper McKenzie Fire Department was on that side of the fire except for me.
Luke responded that he would go, so I sent Katie a message: “Luke is coming.”
I wanted to get to them so badly, but I thought about my trip down the highway to Blue River and shuddered thinking about trying to make my way back to them.
I texted: “I cannot get to you, I will die.”
At the same time, I got her response: “No, you guys are needed there.”
I jabbed at my phone. “I need to know that you can get out.”
I stared at my phone waiting for a response, but none came right away. There was still Schwinn’s voice in the backseat talking about where he had been that weekend. I also heard little bits of distorted voices on the radio that I couldn’t understand. I imagined how 91 must look after driving over burning branches and knocking down at least a dozen gates. I made a mental note to go out and check out the damage when the air wasn’t so thick with burning embers.
Soon I saw a message pop up from my oldest daughter, Michelle: “Are you okay?!”
I wrote back: “Yep, just hunkering down for the night at the track until the fire burns past us.”
She wrote back: “Oh my gosh, that’s scary!”
I nodded and laughed under my breath. “Yeah, just a little.”
She wrote: “Katie called and asked me what I wanted her to grab in case the house burned tonight.”
I guess when you have time to prepare, you can call your adult kids to find out what to pack. All the people that I had come across tonight had just minutes to grab everything, but east of this fire people had the luxury of more time. I’m sure it was still scary for them though.
She continued: “She’s pretty worried about you. We all are.”
I closed my eyes for a moment and smiled just a bit, then wrote back: “I’m fine.”
I continued: “I just wish they had escaped before they got trapped by the tree.”
Michelle wrote back: “They’re trapped?!”
I thought Katie had already told her.
I typed: “Yeah, a tree fell and crushed my car, and Katie’s car is stuck.”
In a moment I saw her response: “Oh my gosh, I hope they can get out!”
I nodded and replied: “Yeah, they’re working on it.”
In a minute I got another message from her: “Well, I’m glad you’re okay. We’ve all been worried about you. Love you.”
I smiled as I wrote back: “Love you, too.”
Another message popped up on my phone from Katie: “Luke can’t cut the trees. He offered to have us come to his house, but he said he hasn’t been able to reach his wife, so I told him to go check on his house and then try to come back for us.”
I wondered why he couldn’t reach his wife if I had been able to text Katie this whole time. We hadn’t actually talked yet, but hopefully soon I could call her once things were a little quieter and I didn’t have a carful of strangers listening.
I asked Katie: “Are the landlines working?”
She replied quickly: “No, the lines are all down.”
Maybe Luke didn’t have enough cell service where they lived.
She added: “I think if I take the car through the backyard and around the other side of the house, I might be able to get out.”
I wasn’t sure. I’d never taken a car through the backyard and around the side of the house between our fence and the forest. It would be a tight squeeze, but she had a small car.
I figured it couldn’t hurt. “Might as well try.”
Katie wrote: “Okay, I’m working on it.”
I added: “Be safe.”
Schwinn kept talking, “Man, this is crazy! Look at that mountain. I wonder if this is what a volcano looks like. It’s glowing on top. God, I’ve never seen anything like this. I just can’t believe it. You can see huge flames coming up from some of the trees. Do you see that?”
I saw in the rearview mirror that he was shaking his head, with huge eyes and was Frank back there with his jaw hanging.
At first when I looked up, I just saw huge embers flying sideways through the air like a fiery blizzard. Then I looked past all that and stared at the mountain in front of us. It was a blinding golden color on top and more of a bright orange color lower on the mountain. Huge pine trees and the track building looked black and stood in front of the bright flaming mountains. A deep orange-red hue filled the whole sky.
The radio caught my attention again. “Sounds good, we’re gonna use Tokatee Golf Course for a safety zone.”
Tokatee was between where the fire started and our house. Maybe Katie and Elizabeth could go there if they couldn’t head east.
A minute later another voice caught my attention on the radio: “C100, just comin’ outta Springfield.”
I said to my passengers, “They’re coming to the party a little late, huh?”
Hitch smiled a little and added, “Better late than never.”
Schwinn never took his eyes off the blazing mountain, but I thought I saw a hint of a small smile.
Schwinn continued softer now, “Can you guys believe this? Do you think we’re gonna be safe here? What if this place catches on fire? Can this track catch on fire?”
I didn’t answer any of his questions because he wasn’t waiting for answers, and I was trying to listen to the radio.
We heard another voice on the radio ask: “C100, do you have a saw with you?”
C100 responded: “Yes, I do.”
I kept trying to cheer my passengers up, “It’s always good to bring a gift to the party.”
We heard someone else on the radio: “Copy that. Just west of me we’re actually kind of blocked in. We can’t get outta here. We’re safe, but by Finn Rock a tree fell across the road, and you may have to cut your way out. We have no way outta here at this point.”
I had nothing clever to say now.
Dispatch repeated the news: “Copy that, trees blocking the road at Finn Rock Store.”
I imagined what it would have been like if I hadn’t been able to drive around the tree when I was with Joe earlier. I would have tried to turn around and head the other direction, but then what if I came across another tree in that direction as well? I would have been calling in, asking for someone to come rescue us.
I started praying again, ‘Lord, please help them to get through and get those people out.’
A message from Katie popped up again: “Thankfully the wind is settled now, but I’m currently stuck.”
I hated that I could do nothing to help. I hated that she hadn’t left earlier.
I bit my tongue and simply replied: “Okay,” and I prayed that they’d be able to get out.
I asked on the fire chat if the fire was moving east.
Danny replied in the fire chat: “The fire isn’t really moving east. The wind is just blowing west.”
Five minutes later Katie wrote again: “I think I’m going to be able to get out, but I haven’t been able to yet. We ran back into the house because the wind had really picked up.”
That side of our house was up against an overgrown forest, which, after a huge tree just came down, is a scary place. I could imagine being out there on the edge of the forest seeing the tops of the giant trees blown around by the strong wind and hearing the rush of wind with snapping and falling branches. There were several trees back there that leaned on a good day, and looked half dead, too. I would be surprised if they made it through the night.
From the backseat Hitch asked, “What if someone needs to go to the bathroom?”
My eyes never left my phone as I quickly typed out a message to Katie: “Okay, well, the fire is more going my way. I am stuck at the track. We are all safe, just waiting for it to burn by.”
After texting Katie, I replied to Hitch, “There’s a rest stop about ten miles down the road.”
Katie quickly replied, “Is it getting close to you?”
I was about to respond to Katie when I got a message from Danny on the firefighter chat: “How are you holding up in Blue River?”
I wrote back to Danny: “We’re still alive. Trying to stay that way.”
Another message from Katie popped up: “There’s a really thin tree that’s got me stuck. I’ll probably get an ace.”
I was confused: “An ace?”
She corrected her mistake: “Ax*.”
I quickly wrote back: “Rather a saw.” I decided to add for emphasis: “Please.”
I imagined her with an ax, something I hadn’t seen much before. I could see it going badly.
After a few seconds she wrote back: “Okay.”
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
Another alarming call came in on the radio: “We have located the two girls and mother at 52443 and we have ’em with us. We’re gonna be staying up here in an open lot.”
I wondered how many people had just found any little parking lot or space without trees and bushes, the best spot they could to let the fire burn by.
I felt helpless as I prayed, ‘Lord, please keep them safe.’
The next voice I heard on the radio sounded worried: “Brush 13: That first address that you gave us on McKenzie Highway is completely covered in flames. There’s no way for us to get to it. We’re just now returning.”
I just groaned, not knowing how to pray.
Dispatch responded: “Can you tell us the range where all the vehicles are blocked in?”
“I know Blue River Drive is where I’m sitting and about a mile behind me is blocked, and about a mile ahead of me is blocked.” We were the vehicles blocked in and that was the task force leader answering, whose truck I could see through the ash, not far from us.
After a moment I heard another voice: “We’ve located some people behind some down trees on Delta Drive. We need a vehicle to come around. There’s three to four people on these roads. One, unable to move.”
I was guessing that it was Delta Drive near our home. As far as I knew, the fire wasn’t a threat to them yet. It would probably be Luke, Danny and some others that I’d been chatting with getting them out.
Someone responded to the last message: “Let me see what I can get you. You need to work on a new plan, we’re getting a wind shift.”
Voices were getting hard to tell apart because of poor reception and how tired I was. I wanted to ask which direction the wind was shifting but didn’t think I should add to the busy radio traffic. I tried to watch the embers flying around me to see if I could notice a difference in their direction. It was too hard to tell.
He continued: “I feel the wind shift. We’re working on it, but we’re going to need someone to load and go for them.”
The news kept coming in. “We have located the family from 52494. We’re going to be leading them out there into the pickup truck.”
Dispatch instructed them: “Copy, they need to go to the track because both ways are blocked now.”
If I remembered right, Holiday Farm was just a little east of the location they gave. I thought of what it must be like getting to the track now, hours after I had made the trip. I prayed and started watching the entrance of the track, hoping to see another vehicle added to our safety zone.
After a minute of static, we heard from dispatch again: “There’s another location of McKenzie River Highway and Quartz Creek Road between Blue River and Finn Rock. There were trees across the road, and they were unable to make it out. They were in a Subaru Forester, blue. They have been suffocating in the car and have no air. There are five people inside the vehicle, near the power lines. I repeat, south of Quartz Creek.”
I pleaded with God, ‘Please send someone to help them. I don’t think I can.’
I felt useless as I looked at my passengers. I couldn’t bring them with me if I were to pick up more people, so I’d have to get them to someone else. I knew the road was blocked between us and them, but I had no idea just what I’d be facing if I went back out there tonight.
In another moment I heard: “Asking Oregon Department of Forestry to help with cutting the trees to help with evacuation on Quartz Creek.”
I would often go pick someone up for a youth group on Quartz Creek Road. It was a long, rough road. I wouldn’t want to be living that far from the highway during a time like this. I prayed that the family I knew from there was safe. With each moment that passed as I waited to hear about what happened, I became more anxious.
I kept praying hard for those people, then finally we heard: “All houses on Quartz Creek have been evacuated.”
I hoped that meant they were able to get that car full of people by Quartz Creek out. I was so thankful for that one piece of good news tonight. Just after that, the radio went silent. I messed with the radio for a second, thinking there was something wrong with it. It still had battery life and was still set to the right frequency. The quiet was eerie and made me panic more than ever. My phone was suddenly showing no data or cell reception, just the last message from Katie: “Okay.”
The cell towers and the emergency radio system must have just burned down together. Now there was no way to know if Katie and Elizabeth got out alright. I wouldn’t get to hear what happened with all those rescues, and worse, it probably wasn’t just us that lost communication. From what I knew of the communications system, the system that just burned on the mountain west of us was going to affect everyone in our area the same way.
There was no longer any way for us to talk and work together.
