The Holiday Farm Fire
Get Out! Now! A Firefighter’s Account of the Holiday Farm Fire of 2020
Part 2/12
Chapter 2
Within seconds, I heard Luke over the radio say that he was in route. Fortunately, Luke lived less than a mile away.
I quickly changed into my wildland firefighting gear and pulled the fire engine out of the bay as I waited for Luke to arrive. Within two minutes, we were speeding down the highway. I sat shotgun as Luke drove the fire engine towards the Holiday Farm RV Resort. We knew every minute counted.
I was anxious to get there, but at least I was confident that we had a record response time. It wasn’t like in the movies in which the firefighters are all sitting around in their gear at the station. In the movies, when the alarm goes off, the movie firemen slide down the pole and jump in the fire engine.
That’s not us at all. Rural volunteer firefighters must rush from wherever they are to get to the station before heading out to the emergency.
Sometimes I am in the middle of teaching a class at the school ten miles away when I hear an emergency call. If no one else responds to the call, I will sometimes get someone to take my class at the school, then rush to the station.
Over the emergency radio we heard Dean call in:
“Can you hear, Chief? I think we need to look at what it is we have to evacuate. We have to pull out on this one. We have too many issues with the wind and trees… and we’re trying to do what we can, but we can’t afford to get anyone hurt down there either.”
Chief Plews of the Upper McKenzie Fire Department replied: “Copy that. I’m almost there. I’ll talk with you face to face when I get there.”
Dean added: “I’m here at the fire. You can’t miss me. I’m just sitting here at the north side of the road. Break.”
After a moment of static, he continued: “I’m looking at evacuating the Holiday Farm and anything south of the Holiday Farm between McKenzie River Drive and the highway here.”
Evacuating the area meant getting everyone in houses, trailers, and even people camping out of the area. I could tell that they were going to need a lot of help to get that many people to safety.
Chief’s voice was clear on the radio: “Copy that. I’ve talked to the emergency manager, and she’s working on getting the school opened up so they can go there. If we need to evacuate more than Holiday Farm, we’ll probably need some more folks up here to do that.”
I heard Dean speak again: “As far as the wildland firefighting goes, we’re doing the best we can for ya’. Break.”
He continued after a pause: “We’re concerned we’re going to maybe have to move down and do point protection as it moves down through here if uh… if we can’t catch it here shortly.”
Chief asked: “Copy, do we need to call the police and other firefighters?”
Dean responded: “Talk to you when you get here.”
Maybe Dean wanted a second opinion on that. I could now spot the flashing lights of two Forest Service fire engines ahead on the highway just a little before the Holiday Farm RV Resort, but it was the huge flames being whipped so fast by the wind that they stretched out like giant flags I couldn’t take my eyes off. Tree stumps were like blowtorches in a movie, the wind blowing huge streams of flames at least 15 feet long.
Luke and I were both thinking out loud, saying some version of,
“Oh no! Oh no! Oh no!”
My mind spun as I realized just how bad this really was, and I found it hard to breathe. Luke pulled up close to Dean and rolled down his window to talk to him, but the roar of wind and fire made it hard to hear.
Dean yelled, “We need the water tanker!”
Luke said, “Alright, be right back.”
He turned around in the tight space like a pro in the huge fire engine and drove back to the station fast.
Luke already knew that I refused to drive the huge vehicles, so he didn’t argue when I said, “You can take the tanker and I’ll take 91”.
I didn’t trust myself with 28,000 pounds and millions of dollars’ worth of machinery. 91 was an SUV that Chief used to use but was still sitting at the station. As I remembered the flames whipping violently in the trees just east of the RV Resort, I thought of all the people that tried to escape the fire in Paradise, California, but they couldn’t.
It was my worst nightmare, and we had similar conditions tonight. We had learned about how the wind speeds had been close to 50 miles per hour in Paradise. Those winds had blown the fire downhill into the areas with homes. Tonight, we had 60- to 80-mile per hour winds and the wind was blowing downhill in our valley, which was one long line of homes along the river.
I closed my eyes for a moment and silently prayed,
“Lord, not here. Please don’t let that happen to my people.”
On the emergency radio we heard Chief Plews introduce herself by her number: “Copy, 28-hundred’s on scene.”
After a pause in which I imagined her taking in the scene, she continued: “Yeah, I’m going to request we evacuate everything west of Mill Creek on McKenzie River Drive and McKenzie Highway.”
I believe the next voice I heard was the dispatcher, who is the person in charge of getting emergency messages and getting more help, like sending ambulances, police, and firefighters.
The dispatcher repeated the message clearly so everyone could hear: “West of Mill Creek on McKenzie River Drive and McKenzie Highway. Do we have a size and position on the fire?”
Chief informed her: “Probably pushing an acre now.”
The dispatcher replied: “Copy. East 2. If you copy, we are sending help. Sending Code 3 from Springfield.”
East 2 was our dispatcher. Code 3 signaled emergency services to get to us as fast as humanly possible. I was sure the police would also be on their way.
It sounded like Dean again: “Holiday Farm Park has been notified. We’re gonna move up McKenzie River Drive and then we’ll do another pass through the RV park on our way back.”
Chief got back on the radio: “Copy that, have people get to the school.”
When we arrived back at the fire station, I grabbed the keys to 91 and sped back to the raging fire. As I drove, I got to listen to more of the radio.
I heard Dispatch on the radio again: “So… we have another call at McKenzie highway, Milepost 41. They are telling us about a fire 15 to 20 acres big where the south fork of the river turns into the main McKenzie River. They did not think this was the same as the Holiday Farm area.”
I thought to myself, ‘Of course it isn’t the same fire if this one’s only one acre big and Milepost 41 is about six miles away from Holiday Farm.’ Also, that fire was way bigger than this one!
Dean responded: “Wildland fire engines are being used with the Forest Service and Oregon Department of Forestry right now. We are being told that we are going to be held up over an hour with Lane Electric. Is there a way we can get another power company out here fast to make sure these power lines are dead so we can get water on it?”
Someone else responded: “All of the Lane Electric resources are tied up out here, but we’ll see if we can cut one loose. We’ll give you directions in a few minutes.”
Then another voice added: “Copy that, I have a few ODF units tied up, as well as the bulldozers.”
ODF is the abbreviation for Oregon Department of Forestry.
Dispatch replied: “Copy. When I am able to get a hold of Lane Electric Company, I will ask them to get someone over there.”
I prayed,
“Lord, please send help. We need those lines to be off.”
A few moments later, I heard East 2 add: “The caller was a passerby for that brushfire, McKenzie Highway Milepost 34. We were told that there was a bright glow 1 to 2 miles south of the highway near that milepost.”
Another fire near Milepost 34?! That was about thirteen miles away. ‘Oh Lord, help us!’ With at least three fires starting in our valley and 60- to 80-mph winds, our limited number of volunteers would have little to no chance of gaining control over any of the fires until the winds calmed down.
When I arrived back at Holiday Farm, I saw Chief Plews and Dean there. Luke was just ahead of me. I started working fast on evacuating all the people in the RV Park. I was relieved to see a couple from our church leaving before I even had to tell them to get out. In fact, several people were already leaving. I pounded on each door loud enough that even those hard of hearing could hear me.
For the people that hadn’t noticed what was happening, I broke the bad news, “There’s a fire nearby; and everyone needs to get out of here now. Do you have a vehicle?”
The shock on their faces was awful. Everyone reacted a little differently. Some looked scared, some looked like they couldn’t believe me, and some looked angry. Thankfully, most people had a vehicle to get out. Some places had two vehicles out front. After pounding on a door with no response, I’d sometimes try the door to see if it was unlocked. I was afraid that I might leave someone who was completely deaf behind.
There was another local guy there named Jim who used to work for the fire department. He was helping with the evacuation, too. He came and told me that the guy in Space 14 was refusing to leave. We went together to talk to the guy in Space 14. He was sitting outside in a wheelchair, looking ticked off and stubborn.
I tried to talk some sense into him. “Look, there’s no way we can get this fire under control in these winds. This place is going to burn. If you don’t leave now, you will die here tonight.”
The smoke was burning my throat as I spoke.
He squinted at me and yelled with a slur, “You can’t tell me what to do.”
He shook his head and looked at the door to his trailer. “Just leave me alone.”
Jim tried to talk him into leaving as he slowly made his way out of his wheelchair. Mostly relying on his arms, he hobbled his way into his trailer and slammed the door behind him. Jim and I shook our heads in frustration.
I shouted, “This is crazy!”
It was tempting to just knock him out, pick him up and put him in my vehicle, but I decided I should let the police deal with him instead. Jim and I went our separate ways to continue warning everyone else to get out. There was a guy left behind in all the chaos that needed a ride to the evacuation spot because he didn’t have a car, so we took off for the school.
I called into dispatch: “There is someone in Space 14 that is refusing to evacuate. We need law enforcement to assist with getting him out.”
I drove to the evacuation spot, the McKenzie River School. I tried to make small talk with my passenger to keep him calm while inside I was freaking out about how fast this fire was moving.
I glanced at my passenger, a middle-aged guy with a baseball cap, and attempted some small talk, “You know, we’ve lived here for 13 years. For ten years we never had any trouble with fires, but we’ve had to evacuate three years in a row now. But… this is crazy, right?”
I realized as I said it that I shouldn’t try to be casual about what he was going through. Really, the evacuations we’d been through were nothing like this. We had evacuated because the smoke was so thick, we couldn’t breathe, but the fire had been miles away and moving slowly. As we had evacuated, we’d had some hope of coming home.
Each time we had been able to come home after a time, but this time there was not much of a chance of that. Sometimes in the tops of the trees, I could catch glimpses of golden flames that moved like tall waves in the ocean. The smoke caught my headlights like a thick fog.
I looked at my passenger again and saw the look of shock on his face.
“Sorry,” I said. “I’m so sorry that you had to leave with such short notice. Honestly, we’ve never been through anything like this before… My wife and kid are not far away. I hope they’ll have more time than all of you had.”
He nodded and simply said through a tight throat, “I just…” He swallowed and shook his head, “I can’t believe this is happening.”
I totally understood; this was so unreal. I began to pray angrily and silently,
‘Lord, where are you right now?! Why aren’t you stopping this from happening to us?!’
If God answered my question, I couldn’t hear Him over the radio filling the car with the panicked voices of experienced firefighters, my racing heart, and the rush of wind continuing to stoke this all-consuming fire.
The chief decided that the evacuation site would be west of the fire at the school in Blue River since there was also a fire burning northeast of us which could block the highway to the east. It was about a seven- mile drive to get to the school in Blue River.
Along the way I tried to make mental notes of the fire’s position on my way to the school so I could compare it with the fire’s progress on my way back up to Rainbow. I could then try to call it in.
I heard what I figured was Dean’s voice again: “This is more than the four of us can handle. I’m wondering about how the evacuation of the RV Park is going.
Chief told us: “Holiday Farm RV Park has been evacuated. There are a couple of people that refuse to leave but… can’t confirm.”
Dean confirmed: “Copy that. Yeah, I believe the fire will be nexus there. Probably within the next hour there will be fire in that area.”
Nexus was one of those terms I’d heard Dean use at Thursday night fire drills. If I remembered correctly, it meant that it would be the central point of the fire. In other words, flames would completely engulf the Holiday Farm within the hour.
Static filled 91 for a moment, then another voice cut through the static: “Heading down the highway right now trying to take a look at what’s out ahead of us. I imagine it’s going to probably be at Holiday Farm within the next 10 to15 minutes.”
The fire was already at Holiday Farm, so I assumed the guy that spoke just now meant more resources, perhaps law enforcement.
Plews agreed. “Copy that, I’m right here.”
“Can we get that tender up closer to these engines that are engaging?” That sounded like Luke.
Chief commanded: “Standby for now. These residents that are along the north side of the highway need to get out right now.” After a moment she continued: “Can you confirm that someone has gotten a hold of utilities to shut down these lines?”
Dispatch responded: “Checking. We just got off the phone with Bonneville Power. They are unaware of those lines, so they are likely not shut down. They are going to give us a call back on the fire dispatch line.”
Dispatch came on again: “28 34 says the power company’s crew is on scene. They are asking for the fire to be fought at the initial start points. They can get the lines out.” 28 34 was Luke’s number.
Luke called out: “They’re burnin’ hot!”
I could imagine what the crew working on fighting this fire was going through. It was only a week ago that we were putting out a house fire together and it had felt like we were roasting in an oven.
Chief said firmly: “We are not going to put water on active lines.”
Dispatch came back on: “Thurston Power just called back. They told us that the line from Bear to Quartz Creek #11k89 has been de-energized.”
Well, it was about time the lines were de-energized! You would die if you tried to put water on energized lines. I saw about four cars from different law enforcement agencies come through in a blaze of flashing lights and sirens.
I was thankful because we needed as many people to help with the evacuation as possible. When I got to the school and dropped my passenger off with someone, I saw one of my students and his family. His dad ran towards me, clearly wanting to talk, so I stayed and rolled down my window.
A little out of breath, he explained, “We had to leave our dogs behind at Holiday Farm, and I was wondering if you could rescue them?”
I wanted to just say yes, but I knew better than to make a promise I couldn’t keep, so instead I said, “I can try. What space are you at?”
He breathed: “Number 42,” and I repeated it back, hoping it would stick in my scrambled brain.
I headed back as fast as I could while watching the fire on both sides of the highway. So many trees had huge flames blowing sideways, spreading the fire to anything nearby. Its progress was rapid, and I hesitated to get on the radio to call it in because I didn’t know how to put it into words.
I wondered what I should say. I could say, “This fire is on steroids!” I could say, “It looks like there are hundreds of blowtorches!”
Finally, I called in and simply said:
“The fire is progressing downriver at an alarming rate.”
